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55,902 | 1,531 | 27 | 1,787 | 2,152 | Joakim turned to Tomas. It seems that Tomas hadn't understood that he wanted some peace and quiet, away from the feasts that he loathed. The only good feasts were the ones after a tourney. Now, it was just noblemen licking eachothers boots clean. “You'll find the armory in the keep suits your needs - the blades are not exactly masterworks, but they cut like any other blade. They're free of charge, as long as you'll be around to protect the Wintershouse.” After that he continued looking into the distance, not paying Tomas much more mind.
Then, with sudden movements, he turned to Tomas with his full body. “Why abandon your home? You're a bastard, so I guess you don't like your home as much. But even a bastard must have some feelings of homeliness. You should've stayed to defend it.” His words were fast and were intended to cut like a blade, testing what Tomas was made of, and to reflect how Joakim felt about it. It was clear he thought lowly of the 'betrayal'. “Amber shouldn't of fled either. It was her throne, lost now. There must've been Forkish men and women willing to fight for her. Any respect they had for her, it must be gone now.” He looked Tomas straight in the eyes, ensuring every word he spoke was heard by him. He spat on the ground and made way for the stairs again, stopping briefly to say something else. “I know I wouldn't fight for her if she fled the Wintershouse when we needed her.” And with those words spoken he headed down the snow white stairs to fulfil some duties as the marshal of the Wintershouse.
Tough, heavy steps approached the armory, where a quartermaster was at work along with several servants, organizing weaponry and armor. Joakim entered through the doorway, which was made of thick dark wood, and nodded at the quartermaster. “Morning. I need an account of the weapons we have available for our own troops, though I assume we have plenty. You know how it works, if you think we need more of anything, let the smith make it. I'm sure he doesn't mind the extra work.” He picked up a blade and balanced it in his hands, testing how it felt. After that he laid it down again and smiled at the quartermaster. “Or the extra pay. Good day.” He turned around and headed back for the great hall, in an attempt to find Gavin. The man was never there when Joakim needed him.
Entering the hall once again, he quickly found Gavin and struck up a conversation with him. “Gavin, please follow me to my quarters. I need to attend to some bussiness while my brother,” he said while looking at Gregar, who was entertaining the black knight still. “.. is busy doing lordly stuff.” He gave Gavin a short trademark nod, with a dedicated look in his eyes. If Gregar wouldn't attend to the matters that needed attention the most right now, Joakim would. He headed back to his quarters once more, no doubt with Gavin on his tail as the man was his servant after all. Well, he was more than a servant, but not many people knew of that. As they arrived at Joakims room, he unlocked the door and headed inside. He took up a seat in a chair and offered Gavin a chair as well, though he knew that Gavin wouldn't stay for long. He wasn't here to talk about Gavins' life, and even if he wanted to, Gavin didn't seem to appreciate those talks that much. A secretive fellow, him.
“Gavin, I need a count of heads. I need to know how many men we have ready after the war. Surely we lost many, too many. I also want to know how many troops the lords can supply, and how many are already here.” It was clear Joakim was doing calculations for the battles to come, and for supplies to be arranged in time to defend against possible sieges, although Joakim would prefer to meet the enemy on the fields. “Also, I know that you have contacts in Harrighfields demesne. See to it that you get your hands on information detailing their troop numbers. I know that they'll be inaccurate, but it's better than nothing.. have you learnt anything of the foreigners?” It was clear that after the orders and the information of the foreigners, Gavin could go.
Gregar paid close attention to the foreign warlord. The man was armed to the teeth, even during a feast. As bad a sign as any. The man drew attention away from the black knight, as was to be expected. The black knights' answer would have to wait in favor of this foreigner. Gregar looked at him with skepticism, holding his cup of wine and toiling it around. As the man made his gesture of.. whatever it was that he did, Gregar noticed a smile on the mans face. It wasn't the smile of an amused person. Gregar returned the favor with a smile that said 'good show.' Gregar feared little, not even this man with his imposing posture and many weapons. For every blade the man had, Gregar had four men in the room willing to draw blades, and if need be, blood, to protect the lord. That was a positive thing about being regarded a good, honorable lord. Many men were willing to die for you, simply because you were nice to them. That, and Gregars fame in the world, drew many men to him. Men that didn't seek coin but honorable servitude.
“Rosemary- please seat the man next to lord Berengar,” he said to Rosemary, whom he had noticed coming in with Arryn and sitting down with the duchess. Lord Berengar was a young lord, ugly too, who had no skills with a blade, with coin, or with his tongue. The man was dimwitted and incapable of ruling. If it weren't for the influence his father had had, the boy would've been lynched by his own people. Most of all, he enjoyed drinking. That's why the lord was already drunk off his face early in the morning. Sitting next to him wouldn't be pleasureable for the warlord, but then again, the warlord held no real title in Borhilon, and as such had no entitlement to any seating at all. He should hold himself lucky that he was even offered entrance to the castle, being a foreigner. Gregar looked back at the man, smiling more sincerely now. “.. unless you had wished to sit elsewhere?” Truth be told, the man would be a valuable ally, but it seemed the man wasn't here for anything of the sorts - he was here for a show of power without even telling his name. He was still largely unknown to Gregar, so putting on a show like that for him was only terribly arrogant of him.
Arryn smiled at lady Amber, who told her name and rank. She had no idea, but was glad she got invited to take a seat next to her. She could atleast see the party with better vision than before from that seat. “Yes, lady duchess. It would be my pleasure.” she said, softly as always. She got up and walked around the table, taking the free seat next to lady Amber, keeping her eyes on the men in front of her. There were some men standing, talking with eachother. They were of different levels and ranks. Some were knights, others were sons of noblemen. These groups shared a similar standing. Some of the peasants were standing at the back of the hall, conversing as well, but mostly drinking and enjoying the food that they rarely saw. And then, in the center, there were a black knight and a man in strange armor, though beautifully made. Rosemary got told to seat the man next to lord Berengar, a terrible young boy, who was barely two years older than Arryn. He was already drunk, and was attempting to coerce a young peasant lady into his bedchamber. To anyone versed in the political nature of feasts, it was quite an insult to be seated next to someone so unimportant and, even more so, someone so rude and annoying.
Then Arryn looked at Amber, a lovely lady, although not very feminine. She had a certain charm about her, something that said 'it doesn't matter that I'm not feminine, I'm still attractive.' Though Arryn wouldn't say that. “I am a handmaiden to lady Catryn, as I said. I mostly take care of her, now that her husband is dead. Such a pity, lord Rikard was truly one of a kind. May God and his children rest his soul.” She would smile at Amber, waiting for a counter remark before continueing. “It's very friendly of you to let me sit here. Other duchesses would've sent me away. And I'd hate to sit next to someone like lord Berengar.” | Joakim, the Young Lord, Weade
'Sine labore nihil'
Full name: Joakim Mirke Weade
Titles: Young Lord Regent of the Whitelands, 'Mir'
Social rank: Nobleman
Job or societal position: Regent over the lands of the Northern Demesne
Age: 16
Gender: Male.
Appearance: Reference picture above.
Personality: Joakim is a young man who has been trained in the northern version of etiquette. As such he can be seen as rude, straightforward and unsubtle by those in the more southern regions. However this bring up has given him a thorough understanding of hierarchy, and more respectably a large dose of respect for hierarchy. As such he can be considered one of the most loyal people in the realm of Borhilon. Along with this respect also came a natural affinity for all aspects of combat -- archery, swordsmanship, architectural designs and logistics are things that he has learnt to become skilled enough in. Being the third son, he was never meant to be a leader, nor was his older brother. That as it may be, this means that he might fall back on his military knowledge rather than diplomatical skills or economical know how to solve the incoming conflict. Besides that he is caring, generous and infinitely prepared for self sacrifice for the good of his people.
History: Joakim was born as the third son to his father, Rikard Weade. This means he has barely any right to the throne of the Whitelands. His older brothers, who were twins, Janus and Gregar, were both destined for greater things according to his father. Janus died early in his infancy as he was born sickly, and the healmaster could not do anything for him but pray to the Old Trees. Gregar however was born healthy and sound, and grew into a strong boy. It helped him that he was pretty in his face, as many noble girls swooned over him as soon as they heard his name. Being the first in line, he was not destined for war as much as Joakim. Instead he learned to govern from an early age. Economics, governship and reading and writing were things that Gregar learned, and in his spare time he learned how to properly use shield, sword and armor, as well as the horse and lance. When Gregard was 8, young lord Joakim was born, just as healthy as his older brother was born.
This is not the sobstory that other noble third-born sons would tell, but rather, the story of a young man who had a strong role model in the form of his older brother. Gregar was not the stern, strict older brother that other families had, but rather was kind and caring as much as his father and mother were. Joakim fit right into the family with ease. From the age of 8, he started learning how to wield a sword, shield, and all other assortments of weaponry. Being the third born, second-in-line heir, he was meant to be a commander of forces for his brother, and whenever possible a personal bodyguard, too. Enjoying the company of his brother, he had no remorse about this fate, and embraced it with open arms. This resulted in Joakim becoming quickly familiarized with large amounts of weapons, strategies, tactics and personal combat skills. This is not saying he is a master of the blade, but pit any common soldier of the duke against him and he will emerge victorious -- with remarkable grace, too.
As of the death of his father, lord Rikard, he has been forced to take over day to day command of the estate, waiting for his brother Gregar to return to the Whitelands to assume his rightful position on the throne.
Skills: Proficient in swordsmanship, personal combat, maces and hammers, horseriding. Above average tactician and strategist.
Dreams and fears: Joakim lacks any higher aspirations, other than to serve in a prestigious knighthood. His fear is however to lose the families lands, his family members, close friends and subjects.
Favored equipment: A bastardsword, wooden shield, chainmail leggings and hauberk, with a surcoat over the hauberk. His right arm (sword arm) has a metal plate shoulderpiece and a metal plate elbow piece. His shieldarm has only a hardened leather shoulder piece and no elbowpiece. On both his hands he wears metal gauntlets. His leggings have metal kneepieces. His footwear is rather simple compared to the metal armor, as he wears rather simple leather boots which are tightly strapped.
Extra: His insignia is the Weade's insignia, the Old Tree. The family dog is 'technically his' he claims, as he was the one that paid the smith for the dog. The dog does not confirm this.. but he sleeps in Joakims' room an awful lot.
Gregar Weade
'To God and his Sons, the world'
Full name: Gregar Weade.
Titles: Duke of the Whitelands, Master of the Hunt of Borhilon, 'The Oakheart'.
Social rank: Nobleman.
Job or societal position: Captain under the banner of king Etwine the Stout, commander of the 3th regiment of heavy infantry, duke over the Whitelands and rightful heir to Rikard Weade.
Age: 24.
Gender: Male.
Appearance: Reference above picture.
Personality: Gregar is a kind man that can be described as harsh but fair. Being trained as a lord he has learnt that this position is not one of fun and pleasure at all times, but rather a position of making hard decisions time and time again. Over the years the smile has faded from his face because of this. However he is utmost prepared to make these decisions for the greater good of his people. Truly, he is the pinnacle of God's virtues, being temperate, chaste, and content with what he has. He is also very trusting, which can be seen as a good thing. It is, however, not a good thing for a lord. Numerous times he has unknowingly invited people into his halls, who seemed to be down on their luck, only to find items missing. His father's scoldings were often not enough to stop this happening again.
History: Gregar lost his twin brother Janus early on, but didn't realize this until much later as his brother died in infancy. It was said that his brothers will lives on through Gregar, something that's always pushed him harder to do well for some reason. From an early age the notion that he would be the image of the Weade family was instilled into him, forcing him to abide etiquette at all times, even when nobody was present. The youth of a first son is relatively harsh, but once they get older, they can slow down and take it a bit more easy. As it did for Gregar.
When he was 16, and came of age, his mother and father had to find a suitable bride for him. Being the famed 'Gregar Oakheart' did him much good in this regard and he was married to the daughter of king Etwine in order to form an alliance between the two families. The lady he was married to, lady Elisandre, was a lady fair and beautiful. She took up residence in the Wintershouse and lived there for two years, until she became ill and died of the cold weather and other nasty effects the illness had upon her. No child was birthed from this marriage however, as Gregar mostly found himself away from the Wintershouse to fulfill his duties to his liegelord king Etwine which caused him to be unable to consume this marriage. Luckily king Etwine wished the alliance between the families remained intact and issued a decree that stated that the two families were still bound, although the families would never be as close as during the marriage. As of yet, Gregar is still unmarried and his time spent in the army of king Etwine has not done this fact any favors.
Skills: Gregar has become skilled in the art of managing his estate, although the economics often go unnoticed by him and the slack would be picked up by the local scribe and his ward. He is inspiring for his troops and can hold his own in combat, however he is not a skilled fighter in the sense of being a legendary warrior. He is about as good as is expected of a nobleman. He is quite charismatic and a sort of symbol for the Whitelands, however how much of this he can make true is another question.
Dreams and fears: His dreams are to explore the regions East of the mountains when the time comes. His fears are the fall of his estate, family, or the death of the King due to intrigue or political struggles.
Favored equipment: For the armor, reference the picture. As for weapons, he prefers to wield an arming sword and a wooden shield, painted with the sigil of the Weade family. On horseback, he would wield a lance where possible.
Extra: Logically, his sigil is the Old Tree of the Weade family.
Gidja Jorvsdottir
For the White!
Full name: Gidja Jorvsdottir
Titles: 'Giddi'
Social rank: Lowborn courtier.
Job or societal position: Castle guard.
Age: 21
Gender: Female.
Personality: Gidja is a typical Northern woman. Cold and warm at the same time, she seems to omit an aura of tranquility, order and peace. Outside of battle she smiles often, atleast when she is not on duty. When on duty or in the heat of combat, her face grows stern, authoritarian and holds a respectful gaze on those above her. She is one of the few women in the entirety of Borhilon, save the few such as the duchess of the Forklands, who is in a combat role and is accepted as such in more or lesser degree. As such she has grown to become slightly more than a castle guard, and holds an esteemed position within the dukes militia even.
History: Gidja was born on September 18th, which was coincidentally the name of one of Gods' children, the lady Gidja, fierce housemaiden. As such it seemed appropiate to name her after the child of God. Her father was Jorv, a strong man who served in the dukes army, and her mother was Herietta, a scrawny woman who served in the dukes castle-keep. She was supposed to become like her mother, a servant in service to the duke, but her strong believe that her name was given to her for a reason led to her requesting audience with the duke at the mere age of 14, when she was appointed to become a servants' assistant to learn the trade.
What followed was a shock, namely the duke accepting her request of audience. She got called in by her father, who told her to watch her tongue as she spoke to the duke, more so for her own safety than theirs. Her mother teared up, thinking that she would run her mouth and face punishment. But duke Rikard wouldn't be called the Just if it weren't for his friendly demeanor. Gidja approached the duke slowly, bowing slightly before standing straight again. What followed was a barrage of pleas, reasons and promises about her becoming a warrior, just like Gidja, the daughter of God, the Father of Earth.
Many objected but the Duke raised his arm, the hall deafening with silence. Then he granted her permission to become part of the castle guard, as she wasn't the first female to join a military group, and she certainly wouldn't be the last. Besides that, she had the spirit of Gidja in her, and he deeply believed that she was right when she said Gidja lives in her.
After that she spent most of her years until now guarding the castle from thieves, bandits, and guarding the halls during festivities.
Skills: She is capable at fighting with a spear, this being her preferable weapon. As a backup weapon she uses a sword that's sheathed on her left side. Her skills with a shield are also quite good, to the point where she knows how to actively use it to force an enemy into certain positions, guarding her sides and is also able to use it offensively to good effect.
Dreams and fears: One day she hopes to be lifted into a noblemans status, which would allow her to become knighted, or at the very least become part of a more prestigious order than being a castle guard. She fears death deeply, as any sane man does.
Favored equipment: For her armor, see her appearance. For weapons she has a medium sized spear, and a sheathed sword on her left. Her shield is also on her left arm. It's a round wooden shield, with the castle guards insignia on it.
Extra: She owns a cat, but he mainly roams the courtyards and her quarters. |
55,903 | 1,531 | 28 | 899 | 318 | The Black Knight did little to Draw Gavin's attention. He despite his armor he still was a simple sell-sword, many looked down on them, mistrusted them and for good reason. Sell-swords have been known to betray the people who paid them for more gold. That was something Telth couldn't stand for, assassins were a small group. Your word meant everything, the contract meant everything. If you couldn't be trusted to keep your contracts, you wouldn't get any. Mind you as soon as the job was done, so were all loyalties with the person. If you had a contract on him after the fact...bad day for him. The black night kept his word, fought against the north and now at the end of his contract with the south he was here. To many that was distasteful, to Telth that showed character.
Soon the foreigner came up though, talking with the bravado you would expect for a Warrior. Telth watched him, he was in the back cornor of the room remaining unnoticed as he liked it. The way he moved and dressed, you could tell politics meant little to him. Though from his armor this Hesh was more Civilized then the barbarians that seemed to separate the two nations. He kept his armor polished with pride, though unlike the knights, he assumed the man did it all him self. Telth did the same, bringing weapons wouldn't be un-usual, but his personal weapons were more, unique. Plus he didn't really trust others to maintain his gear. He kept an eye on that man watching him. That smile though, cold, calculated,....and murderous. Telth smiled back, he doubted the man could see it. His own expression was less, but at the same time it was more. That cold emotionless gaze, like death. It was a half smile and looked of man not stranger to killing with out hesitation. Knights learned to fight most of there lives, but unlike them he and this man learned to kill with out mercy, with out remorse. Telth liked this man, He wanted to kill this man. He was the only person in this castle that would give him a challenge.
That moment was over very quickly, only lasting a second, and Gavin smiled his hearty warming smile once more remembering where he was, luckily everyone was focused on the events in the center of the room and even then nobody paid any mind to the servant who was off to the side simply directing other servants. Soon though he was speaking to another servant as she had returned from outside the castle. She wasn't one of his, his own people were still there 'entertaining' the men, but she had useful information none the less. He didn't even have to ask either, she started gossiping like the servants did as soon as she was back.
Joakim came up to him though as he smiled and laughed "Oh and what would that stable boy who has been trying to woe you think of that" he said as she blushed bright red and Gavin laughed. Looking to Joakim "Work to be done Ansie, back to it" he said as she bowed to Joakim and wondered off. Telth was always taught to learn from every position. There were simply some things that couldn't be taught, since working here Gavin has learned how to maneuver through gossip, a skill he would of never had otherwise. "Of course m'lord" He said as he clasped his hands behind his back and fallowed him leaving the hall and fallowing him to his bedroom. Once inside Gavin turned and locked the door, best to not have anybody coming in un-announced. Taking a seat he droped the guise of Gavin. His face was fell flat, his smile gone. Nothing like the killer he showed earlier, those cold death like eyes of his were something he always had once Gavin was gone.
"Not enough, we had roughly seven thousand when we started this war, we are down to just below five now. The individual lords had less, but combined to roughly ten thousand, of those there is roughly eight thousand left. Though the ranks should be filled some, maybe three thousand were in reserves to defend the holds and train more. Also, you could always send out a call to war. They will be lightly trained, but they will make bodies to fill out the rank, that will make them more expendable. He paused for a moment, Telth held little value to human life, everyone had a price tag on them. "Most are still marching back, heading to their own holds. The lords only brought a small amount with them here, mostly personal guard"
"As for the Harrighfields, there position is strong. There coup was fast and strong, they knew where to strike and how to finish it quickly" No doubt Clovis's doing. "Any supporters to the late duke are dead or hiding for there lives." That deadly smile returned to his face "As for the warriors" he leaned forward "my own people are still with them, but what I learned from the others that have returned. They came from Hesh, a kingdom beyond the tundra of the north past the barbarian tribes. I don't have exact numbers yet, but they are conquerors, a tide of an ever expanding kingdom. he took a moment to collect his thoughts "They however do not seem very forth coming about about there lands however. He looked out the window "Their long march makes them weary, as they were a bit...withdrawn. My own people have ways of getting information so when they return in the morning I should have real information. He stood up as he smiled "you would be wise to keep your blade close." He clasped his hands behind his back as he normally did. Bringing his arms back around he held two daggers in them as he twirled those blades of his "You should probably keep more then that as well, I have offered it before, but I can have armor and clothes with places to hide weapons made" Soon enough he put his arms back behind his back and smiled returning to Gavin "Unless you have further need of me my young lord, I must be off to my last night of my honorable duties." He said with a bit of sarcasm as he walked to leave the room and return to his duties. | Telth
"Always appear less then you are"
Full name: Telth
Titles: Gavin Simon
Social rank: none. Peasant
Job or societal position: Assassin, spy, Personal Servant for Joakim
Age: 28
Gender:Male
Appearance: He stands at 5'10 and dresses smartly. Being the personal servant to Joakim he is required to keep a certain level of presentation. Also he appears rather skiny, but his body is very well toned from years of training.
Personality: Gavin is a very happy fun loving person. When alone with other servants he is often found making jokes with them and is a happy person. When working as the personal servant to Joakim he often has a smile on his face as the age of his lord maters little to him. Though he knows when to put his carefree little smile away when important matters are being talked about. He is also very serious about his job, doing everything in his power to help his lord.
Telth is very different. Telth is quite and reserved, speaking only when spoken too and choosing his words very carefully, often taking a few moments before answering. He is ever observant, watching everything around him, assessing everything and everyone, from threat level to the quickest way to strike a killing blow if need be.
History: Telth in truth doesn't remember his true name. He has been an orphan as long as he could remember. Living in an orphanage in the Falklands children were often used for the criminal element. Delivering packages or messages, spying on people as the orphans were fore the most part ignored by people. The "Ring" was organized by one of the older children ,Rickard, who worked with the adults taking jobs and passing them down to the younger children. The boy was of course roped into this, and it wouldn't of been to much a problem, If you did well you were rewarded with food. However if you failed you were beaten by the older kids. Rickard was a cruel and sadistic person. He would beat the younger kids for no reason other then to prove that he was the biggest and the strongest of them all. The boy kept to himself, though did his job and tried to ignore what was going on.
When The boy was eight though things changed. One of his friends was beat to near death. She couldn't move for days, and Rickard ordered that no one was to feed her or help her. The boy ignored this and would sneak her food and bandage her up as best he could. He was discovered however and ended up having running, but he couldn't get away as they caught up to him and beat him. He was left to die in the streets. He laid there awaiting death when some one walked up to him "You just going to lay there and die" the man said as he looked up "no one is going to help you, you have to help your self". The boy didn't know what was going on, why would some one stop to just to talk to him this way. Was he really that cruel?. He started to stand up "That's more like it, stand on your own feet boy" Once up he looked at the man "You want to learn how to fight boy? You want to never be afraid again? I can teach you. But first you must prove that you are worth teaching" he told him. He wanted nothing more then that, so he asked what he had to do. It was simple really, find the people that did this to him, and kill them.
The boy agreed. But he couldn't just out right attack them, they were older, bigger, stronger, but they weren't smarter. So he came up with a plan. He knew how the operation ran, who did what and when they were vulnerable. He was quickly forgotten and used that to his advantage as well. Intercepting messages, placing false drops he was able to lure them out and ambush them. He picked them off one by one, killing all three of them. Once he was finished the man approached him again. He told him that he would train with him, and that the boy he was died the night on the street. Only Telth remained.
Everyday after that was spent training. Fighting, Poisons, stealth, spying, observation, Noble families, crest, orginizations. Every day from wake to sleep these things were beat into him, both literally and metaphorically. Though oddly enough though this man was the closest thing he ever had to a father.
After years of training and travailing with his mentor he woke up one day, what was odd was this was the first time he woke up with out there being some trap trying to kill him, some late night ambush. After a few hours he realized that his mentor was gone. As fast as that man came into his life, he was gone. Telth carried on though, he had connections, ways to get work. It wasn't like he was left with nothing. On a mission though he took a mission, to kill a noble men. On planing out his attack he learned that this target was planing the assassination of another, a young noble named Joakim. The noble was taking precautions, having gone to ground. Telth instead planned to assassinate Joakim himself, not to actually do it, but to catch the man hired by the noble to lead him to him. The plan worked, he intercepted the would be assassin before the attempt was made. What he didn't know was that he wasn't as stealthy as he thought. After he had dispatched the noble and accepted his payment. After that he was approached by a man, offered a more permanent line of work. Thus Gavin Simon was born.
Skills: Master swordsman, Poisoner, Stealth, Very agile, very skilled with daggers and throwing knives, also has training with most weapons. He is also very Observant, very little gets past him.
Dreams and fears: As of this day he has very little dreams or fears. He has nothing that he truly holds of any value.
Favored equipment: Telth's favored weapon is a curved single sided blade, throwing daggers and two daggers he keeps concealed. Also while on mission he sometimes uses a bow if need be.
Gavin, keeps very little weapons on him. Though he ussually has two throwing daggers concealed in his sleaves as well as two daggers he keeps hidden on him.
Extra: |
55,904 | 1,531 | 29 | 220 | 2,530 | Ash stood still for a long pause, his eyes directly staring at Gregar. Somehow, his mind was not really believing what the Duke said. If it was becoming of him, he'd have hung his mouth agape. WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU SAYING OAKHEART? He screamed in his mind. Becoming a knight just like that, a knight of the very man who had crossed blades not long before, of the same man whose bannermen reviled him as Knightslayer. He briefly pondered if he was setting trap in the deal. But he had the feeling he wasn't. The Oakheart truly believed in honor, at least for what he had seen in the battlefield. And yet here he was, offering to raise Ash status beyond the common folk. For just defending a homeland that he had said he would defend anyway. Are you a genius, or a fool, Gregar? Perhaps a bit of both. He thought again, thinking on all the strings he would be attached to. And to think he had given up on becoming a knight and leading a simple life...
Fortunately, the strange newcomer, with his posture and his venomous stare and regalia, made Gregar momentarily distract himself from Ash. He thanked the timely intervention, although not to what seemed a tribal warleader. He was clearly stating the intention to stir trouble, and unlike Ash posturing from before, this went beyond a mere show of strength. It was a hidden servile insult.
What the hell, It'll make a good story, anyway. Ash finally conceded, and waited for an opportunity to give his answer to Gregar. He knew the virtue of patience and didn't press the situation much, content with standing idle for the time being. Patience was a virtue after all.
"Mother" Brier advanced slowly but surely, fighting an epic struggle to maintain her sense of self and integrity."Kevin is with the child now. Unfortunately, wounds he sustained in the war prevent him from coming here. Both are well." Brier let out a half-truth, omitting important facts like their deaths. Or at least I hope so, they deserve a good afterlife. Both of them. If she had outright lied, her mother could've tried guessing the truth out of her. Mothers always did, in the end. "Don't mind my looks. I just fell."In disgrace. She mentally added to her other half truth. Her arms reached for her mother's body, embracing her in a tight hug. "I'm sorry to have heard about father." She said back, not hesitating. Her sorrow for her father, was drowned aswell. She'd felt sad otherwise, but the death of her little child had made her numb to the death of Rikard.
Letting her go after a while, she gently rubbed her shoulder. "It must've been hell to you, mother. You look...haggard. You mustn't have eaten nor slept in days." Brier didn't even need to ask to know. Her mother's mind had been rattled so much she was almost dead in life, her mind shut in from most worldly matters, but still not allowing her body to rest. Definitely not good.
"I'll give you a tonic." Brier smiled faintly. "So you can rest for now." She noticed her left hand shaking. She was also at her wits' end. She decided that for the sanity of both, it was best she ended the encounter, so she leaned forward and kissed her mother in the cheek. "i have to get a bath. I still stink." She added, excusing herself out and closing the door intently or slowly.
Biting her lip and clenching her fists, he saw Lidia prancing around with a bucket. "Sorry, m'lady, everyone's else is busy, so the bath might take a while.". If Brier's gaze could turn people to stone, she'd done with the servant now. She eyed her up and down. "Forget that."
"m'lady?" The servant asked, obviously intimidating by Brier's stare.
Brier grinded her teeth. How she wished to have poppy sap now, to make her own mother rest without pain. "You will tell the handmaidens of lady Catryn to prepare a tonic. Said tonic will include the most powerful brandy you have in the cellars, and three spoonfuls of honey per cup. Make lady Catryn take two cups. No more, nor less. If she protests, tell them I, lady Brier, sent them with the tonic." Brier then took her skirt in her hands once again, and began in a hurried pace, to search for Joakim. There were things to be done. Many things. | Ash of the Whitelands
"No gloriae suae in bello"
Full name: Ash, or Ash of the Whitelands, denoting his humble origin.
Titles: The Sellsword Scholar, and the less flattering titles of Ser Whoreson and Knightslayer
Social rank: Whoreson peasant.
Job or societal position: Black Knight Sellsword. Part time teacher and folk entertainer.
Gender: Male
Appearance: He's an average sized, well built man, with dark scruffy hair and a clean-shaved face. He has gray eyes that give him a piercing, vivid stare. Cuts and chinks can be seen throughout his body, a couple of them on his face. He usually wears worn out and simple but serviceable clothes, and a black, equally worn but still useable armor (it's painted black to prevent rust) when in combat. He walks with carefully measured steps and he has a deep voice.
Personality: Despite his ignoble origin, Ash is a polite and well mannered man. He always answers a greeting, and answers with the utmost respect to whomever talks to him, be it noble or gentile. He's also rather patient and slow to anger, with an almost nigh unflappable stoicism. Yet at the same time, one could feel that sometimes he's not here, and just stares at the horizon rather than at people, reliving who knows what demons of the past. Lowborn, whores and orphans do manage to bring some more reaction in the man, and he's known to have a chipper, quick-wit and enthusiastic easygoing attitude with them. He is also more than willing to share his knowledge and experience to whomever lends him an ear, and he's partial to honest plights. Meeting him on the battlefield or as enemy is another matter. Bereft of any kind of remorse or honor, Ash strives to survive and win to see another morning, and he has very few qualms on using underhanded methods.
History: Ash was simply a byproduct of a camp follower and an unnamed man-at-arms in the Whitelands. He could have ended like many street rats and pickpockets, if it had not been for the hardest and most clever decision his mother had: To give him to a wandering troupe of entertainers after some convincing. Even from his early age, Ash revealed himself as a bright lad and a fast learner, and some of the troupe felt that they had to polish the formidable intellect the boy had, out of goodwill. They taught him manners, literature and writing, in the hopes he could become one of the narrators of the troupe. They weren't so successful at teaching him to sing and dance, as the poor lad was unfortunately tonedeaf, but he managed to pick other skills to compensate, like knowledge of healing and poisons from the troupe's wise woman, and some minor sleight-of-hand tricks to draw and interest peasants.
By the time he was a young man, he had already made a name for himself among the troupe, becoming one of the storytellers while others did the dancing and singing, as well as one of the faces for negotiation, given his politeness and wit. Unfortunately, he had also hit the foolish age where everyone wanted to be a knight and save and kingdom, and in a regrettable hotheaded decision, parted with the troupe to become a sellsword. Of course, his actual fighting ability was made much fun of by the time he tried to join, but the wizened leader of the sellsword group decided to keep him around, if only because he had prized skills like healing, poisons and writing. Knowing fully well his status as ''favored kid'' of the leader, he trained diligently and tried his best to not make mistakes. He also swallowed his qualms about doing less than regrettable brigand jobs, in an effort to become more like the mercenaries that he had surrounded himself with. However, it was all for naught, because even as he managed to garner himself a name among the mercenaries and become one of the de-facto liutenants of the band, he kept meeting scorn and cold shoulders. When a quarrel about payment shares broke between him and other lieutenants, Ash realized that no matter what he did, he would always be treated as an outsider by everyone. Skilled enough to beat knights in single combat, yet lowborn. Capable of philosophical debates yet as base as the son of a prostitute.
Heartbroken and bitter by the many horrors he chose to endure pursuing an empty ideal, he returned to his homeland, only to find the shadow of the war haunting the lands, and a rather cold and crude gravestone where his mother once stood. Still, he decided to stay, and perhaps make himself a place little by little, starting by subverting the suspiciousness of people around him by entertaining folks and doing odd errands.
Skills: Ash is an incredibly mentally gifted individual. He has a good grasp of a variety of subjects like tactics, economics, literature, manners and even odd things like castle building and sieges. He is also a good sellsword, able to use competently swords, shields, daggers, and bows, and skilled on horseback and with lances. He can also do some minor prestidigitation tricks like vanishing coins and minor escapism. He is a decent storyteller. He is rather skilled in the arts of healing as well as poisons, though people only know him for the poison part and his skill at arms.
Dreams and fears:He dreams of finding a good place to settle in, without even having to resort to the sword again. Sadly, in these times, his sword is all what he has to earn himself a living, as he's considered a foul person even by fellow peasants. He fears dying alone and forgotten, and losing himself to the madness of war and forgetting how to be kind.
Favored equipment: He's usually seen in comfortable, humble clothes with a dagger by his hip and a money purse when he's not in combat. When he's fully suited, he dons a black-painted armor, with a black shield and a longsword. Or alternatively a bow. He keeps the armor, arrows and weapons on his horse's saddlebags when he's not fighting. He also owns three books. One about healing and poisons, the other about war tactics, and the third one is his personal diary. He also keeps some oil and a whetstone to polish and keep his gear, as well as a flint.
Extra: He owns a warhorse named Spot he won in a bet. It's quite a temperamental stallion and has a rather worrying fondess for wine. All his worldly possessions can fit on his horse's saddlebags.
Brier Weade
"We can only move forward"
Full name: Brier Catryn Weade / Brier Catryn Morrigh
Titles: Countess of Blackwood (Formerly), Kitty for her friends, and Witch of Blackwood to her detractors.
Social rank: Noblewoman
Job or societal position: Former Royal Court Musician, Countess, Healer and Alchemist.
Age: 20
Gender: Female
Personality: Brier was once a high spirited merry girl who always questioned everyone and everything. Sociable and curious to the extreme, she wasn't put off by appearances or standing whatshoever. She also shared the generous good nature of her elder brother Gregar Weade, as well as the lack of malice. Like her sibling, this bit her in the back quite a few times at first, but as she grew older, more focused and wiser, she learned how to read the intentions of people and developed a friendly, polite, but very defensive demeanor. Brier is a woman of intellect and culture and she enjoys learning new knowledge or discussing with akin minds. Bitterly accepting that not everyone is nice, and that there are wicked people out of there, she can be quite vindictive, throughout and manipulative if any member of her family is at stake.
History: Brier was born between the twins Janus and Gregar, and the thirdborn Joakim. Little Brier was a chatterbox and a relentless chaser of odd things, when she wasn't too busy sticking to Gregar like glue. She however, didn't neglect her education, and she followed her mother diligently just as Gregar did with their father. Education that was soon put to test, as she tended to her younger brother Joakim whenever others were not available. When Gregar's bethrodal was announced, Brier was for the first time, wary of an stranger coming to the house, but soon took a liking to Lady Elisandre as the elder sister she never had. By Elisandre's suggestion, Brier managed to convince his father the Duke to go to the King's court to receive more education.
Although initially reluctant, her family conceded to Brier's petition, as becoming part of the court and with Brier's easygoing nature, she would probably find a good groom later on. With her skill with the harp and sociable nature, Brier found herself befriended several people of all sorts. While comfortable with the people of her age and social status like princes, princesses, and sons and daughters of other nobles, Brier's sharp mind also sought out three people that usually were beneath notice: the King's spymaster, an old alchemist who had somehow gained prestige as royal advisor, and a portly and coarse yet skilled woman who was the Royal Physician.
Brier would seek their presence whenever she felt the whole court scenery and upbringing was too repetitive and dull, and she ended up learning several skills that a noblewoman was not suppossed to have in the first place. The ability to read people's lies in their faces, alchemy and healing arts. Brier didn't know how dangerous this combination was until much later, a year after Elisandre's death. While playing matchmaking to find her a suitable husband, Brier unadvertedly drove all of them off with her skill to read people. Only one succeeded to not be cowed, earl Kevin Morrigh of Blackwood.
Earl Kevin was perhaps thirty years her elder and he was looking for a second wife after the first one had died without giving him any descendants. He was a stout man of rotund features, a bristly beard, a large booming voice, and the most important feature of them all. He didn't even bother to hide his true intentions in the slightlest. He had heard rumours of Brier being a healer and an alchemist, and precisely for that he was proposing her. He also acknowledged he didn't have a big status as nobleman, but he had a rather important mining and timber site in the Ironhills. He did not want a wife who only stood idlely to be coddled. Brier was taken aback by the man's honesty and accepted to become his wife.
Life at the Ironhills was just as Kevin described. There wasn't a single idle moment. If it wasn't helping blacksmiths identify and refine ores, it was helping injured lumberjacks and workers. She often delighted the earl's men with her harp at the end of the day. Never she had felt so drained and yet at the same time she was happy. She even had her first son by him, which both named Brian. And then the war struck out, and everything went down in a quick succession. Earl Kevin, thinking more with the heart than with the head, defied his lord, the duke of Harrighfield, and tossed his support in favor of the King and his father-in-law, duke Weade of Whitelands, only to be cut down in the same battle as Rikard. While brave and commending, this did not bode well for Brier, who soon was in the wrong of a lynching mob who took her castle, spurred by the less than honorable family members of the Morrigh. Being accused as a witch who had twisted earl Kevin's mind, she was all but helpless when the mob killed her infant two-year-old son in a fit of rage and bloodlust, and threatened to burn her at the stake.
She was saved by the timely intervention of Ser Wilhem, a recently ordered knight who had been left behind to ensure the safety of the countess. The lad, although brave, did not survive the wounds sustained, no matter what Brier died, and in the end, she reluctantly buried the young, brave and unfortunate knight beneath a large oaktree, while she took his horse for herself, and headed north to seek refuge in the Forklands and Whitelands.
Skills: Brier has an active mind, and she can engage in social conversation with practically anyone. She also knows how to cook decently, and she's greatly skilled at sewing and playing the harp. She can also sing quite well. More importantly, Brier can detect who lies to her by merely looking at the body language of the person before her. She is also a master healer, able to perform advanced bonesetting and even surgeries (where her sewing skills once again help), with the associated knowledge of herbalism. Last but not least important, Brier is an alchemist, and as such she can easily identify ores and create black powder and alchemic fire should she need to. Brier can also ride a horse quite decently.
Dreams and fears: Brier dreams of getting back at the insult suffered in the Blackwood, and avenge her dead son by the mob, and then maybe start over a new life. She obviously fears losing more family members.
Favored equipment: Brier usually is seen with her harp, although that one was lost when she was nearly killed. She always carries a hidden dagger in her thigh. Whenever she has to hit the road, it is not uncommon for her to carry a large knapsack with her healing materials as well as a staff for support. She also carries the Weade family ring and the Morrigh family ring.
Extra:Brier is thought to have perished in the riot, if news of such reached the north. |
55,905 | 1,531 | 30 | 1,601 | 88 | Sitting at the gates quietly deep in thought because of Harrighfield situation before the open gates. A greedy man trying to size the lands of the Weades for his own. With no shred of honor or loyalty, how could this man fall so low and forgot honor. As deep in thought as Rolland had been though he wasn't immune to what was coming. Feeling the gap in the winds long before the guards hollered as they spotted figures on the approach. The cold northern winds never lied, warriors the smell alone told him who they were. His whale hunting days still left his senses keen.
"Captain a group appro...." Rolland held his hand up to the guard. Staring at the men, his slightly spooked at the sight of them but with a quick jolt of the reigns he regained firm control of his mount. Studying men, sizing them up as a precaution. Forgetting that Gidja had come along, lost in his focus until the woman had sounded out an alarm more or less without an approval. But before he could react it sounded out and would reach the lord regent shortly. He'd make sure to reprimand the woman later for sounding out an order even if it had been inadvertently sounded.
He didn't make a sound to Joakim sounded out, as the young lord was approaching quick enough to find out for himself. Gripping Ice Fang with his right hand poised to strike if needed as he rode out with Joakim to meet the company of men. Even with the nodded he remained on ends about letting this group of brigands in. If it was Joakim's will though he'd have no choice in obeying, no matter how much it would tax him.
Riding back threw the gates, standing his mount to the left watching the foreigners go threw and later the caravan. Exhaling a sigh he had hopped for little excitement but with strange men and the caravan. Dismounting from his horse,ignoring the man that she had just spoken with for the moment. "Gidja a moment." Standing with the woman at her watch. Staying quiet to show he had been miffed about the incident earlier.
"Don't sound of an alarm or voice out your thoughts so loudly next time." Taking a breath as the winds whipped, standing without so much as a shiver or sign of being cold. "To do so could cause panic and chaos, we have enough on our plates right now. And with more coming it would do best to keep quiet. It is what the command chain is for." Starring off into the distance as he spoke but his words came out like the crack of a whip. "Tomorrow you'll have guard at the Northern gate." Knowing full well it was the most lonely and boring of places, one he reserved for punishment.
"Don't disappoint me again or I'll have to reconsider another for my right hand." He had considered the woman for the position of his lieutenant and second in command for a good while since his last had been killed in a bear hunt not two months prior. Tapping her shoulder in reassurance before taking his leave to check on the caravan.
Looking over the people he could do nothing but sigh at the people. Most if not all of them weren't used to the cold, exhaling a sigh as he looked at all of them. His eye was taken by a young woman and what seemed to be her child. And from the looks of it that had nothing besides the clothes on their back. Taken back from the woman's green eyes he couldn't help to interject.
"Here." Offering his thick white bearskin cloak to keep them a little warmer. "What are you and your son doing so far from your homes in the south?"
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Jovan stayed up all night yet again, perhaps it was the fact he couldn't close his eyes anymore but he didn't waste the time by any means. Spending the night hours by candle light writing his latest book. A new book on tactics and warfare, it probably wouldn't get far though with most lords and vassals keeping to the old traditional ways of fighting relying in brute strength. Oh how he yearned to make a mockery of these current fools but the fighting was done so he'd have to wait for yet another opportunity to show them how war was truly waged. Plus to whip up a few inventions he'd put to paper but like his book, the old and bloody way of war would prevail.
Looking over he noticed Ayca stirring in the bed, he got up gripping his cane tightly to pull himself up. Walking to the door, looking out as the morning hours approached waving to an attendant to come. "Please make ready our horses." Nodding the lady had left to prepare for their departure but before he closed the door. Firstly was the his cousin Amber had been de-throned in the midst of the night and the second was the Harrighfields were preparing for war against the Weades. First the wolf, then the bear. The news was grim enough for him to wake his paramour early. Tapping at her thigh with his cane, "Ayca wake up. We have to go and quick."
Ayca rubbing her eyes as she woke up. "Wha...." Knowing Jovan better than most she could tell in his eyes it was an urgent matter, one that he would press himself more than he should. Nodding as she got up quickly to dress and pack their things and depart. Within the hour they'd been ready, handing the madam another small sack of coin for her troubles before they had departed. The rumors flying about his cousin had fled were already the talk of the town, the other half was about the forces marching on the north. Despite the pain circulating threw his being he knew that time was of the essence.
With their journey further north it had grown increasingly colder to the points where the winds were nipping at them, Jovan however with his illness didn't mind it as much as Ayca had every strap of winter clothing on they'd brought with them. From the winds were lashing out a blizzard was coming and it wasn't close behind them, but as fortune would behold they were getting closer to their destination. The last sign indicating as much. With the approach over the last hill they could see Wintershouse on the horizon. "Finally some heat. Lets go." Ayca sounded out, Jovan couldn't help himself to let a slight laugh as the duo press their horses on.
Coming up to the southern gates. Presenting his ring to the guard, which was his official seal. "Jovan Athos, coming to pay my respects to my secondary father." From rumor and hear say the guard posted knew who he was, plus with the ring it was undoubtedly sure. "Go ahead Sir, they've gathered in the hall for a feast." With a courtesy nod Jovan and Ayca pressed threw onto the main keep.
After Ayca had helped Jovan down, the two walked threw the halls closer to the feasting hall. "Remember northern folk are much different than us. So please be careful in your wording." Nodding after he had spoke and since she was a child of south she'd heed his words since she never officially meet a person from the northern part of the kingdom.
Jovan made his way slowly into hall where everyone was being feasted. He had to wonder why they were feasting, war was coming and Joakim was in charge still but when he turned to corner he seen Gregar. Indeed it was news for a feast. Also he caught sight of Amber, Tomas and Joakim too. Strange the gods would have them all here but it was welcomed.
Jovan in his approach didn't say a word as he came up to Gregar with Ayca. Instead letting his silence speak for him until he had come close enough. "My lord, my lady." Bowing first to Gregar, then to Amber. "Do you have room for one more at your table. Your old friend is tired would like a seat."
Ayca bowed before them, Jovan didn't though. Knowing well enough he command enough respect here and apart from his illness that it wasn't required. Looking to his cousin Amber, he wanted to know what had happened at her keep. But he knew better than to ask such a question in front of the nobility of the north around him. | Amber Rossric
In Verba Virtus, In Terra Pietas, In Anima Dignitas, In Gladio Gravitas
Full name: Lady Amber Rossric
Titles: Lady
Social rank: noblewoman
Job or societal position: Lady Amber Rossric is a member of the Rossric family and looks after the Forklands. She also is head of the army as Lady Commander.
Age: 22
Gender: Female
Appearance: See above. Most people describe her as beautiful.
Personality: Strong-willed, fiesty. She has a relatively short fuse, and usually gets angered quite easily. She tries to keep zen but often the bottled up anger comes out, sometimes on innocent people. She genuinely cares for the well-being of her people, and helps them almost too much, destroying the economy little by little by giving them too much luxury, through too much confidence in their wealth. She doesn't have many friends, outside a few men in her guard, her brother, mother and a few female cousins who don't mind her being a warrior.
History: Amber was born the the Lord of the Forklands and his wife, a daughter of the Lord of Athos. When her father died of an unknown illness, she became the ruler, her father having left no legitimate sons. She does however have a half-brother, a bastard son of the late Lord Rossric.
In her youth she trained with a sword and bow unlike the other girls, and showed a talent for it. She often would go near the Forks with her brother and spar. They were evenly matched, but she seemd to have the upper edge, much to his annoyance. Towards the end of his life, her father realised he was no longer going to bear any more children and taught her about how she should rule. She listened closely, but still trained more than learned. She read some of the books her father gave her, mainly military ones, about the tactics and conquests of past leaders of the kingdoms. This knowledge and strength made her Lady Commander of the army, on top of being the Lady Regent. She does not bother to surround herself with any guards in her modest palace, but relies heavily on her advisors in matters of economy or general ruling. Perhaps too much.
Her brother often visits, but many people mistreat him for being a bastard, despite him fitting in, being loved by his father and sister. He is looking for his true mother's identity, which only the Regent Mother knows. Though she's not willing to tell him, as she has harboured a hate of him for being her husband's bastard. Amber does not care about these distinctions, and relies on her brother's help to account for her inexperiences. She knows she can trust him above any advisors. Her father's most impacftul words in his teachings to her were: "Trust no one in your court, and be on your guard."
Skills: Impressive use of a sword. General mastery of most weapons, though her bowmanship is just above sub-par. Above average Leadership and Command (Tactics, Military). She uses her shield and horse clumsily, despite her father's chief of army trying to teach her, so she prefers to use just a sword or wield a weapon in each hand.
Dreams and fears: She dreams of being the strongest kingdom, and though she's satisfied with what she has, she dreams of more. She fears her advisors, some of them could only be seeking monetary gain in her ruling, and even try to overthrow her. There have been two attacks on her person since she became regent two months ago. Her brother has started accompanying her to most places, despite her wishes, to provide backup.
Favored equipment: She generally wears a leather tabard with her house's sigil as her everyday clothes. In battle, she opts for heavier plate, covering her whole body, topped off with a armet. In the Forkish fashion, she wears a small cape under her right shoulderguard, and a small sigil pin on her left breast. She wields a longsword called "Honour", and an axe she calls "Valour".
Extra: N/A
Tomas Rossric
In Verba Virtus, In Terra Pietas, In Anima Dignitas, In Gladio Gravitas
Full name: Ser Tomas Rossric
Titles: Knight/Ser
Social rank: Nobleman/Bastard
Job or societal position: He's been granted a few honours by his sister, even though people look down on him. Officially he's a knight, and must protect the kingdom.
Age: 20
Gender: Male
Appearance: See above.
Personality: Witty. He often gets out of situations with his tongue and not his sword. He's not very good at fighting. He likes to have a lot of fun, drinking, gambling. He's very different from his sister, but still loves her.
History: Tomas was born a bastard to the late Lord Rossric. He does not know who his mother is, but based on his looks she was probably a northerner unlike Amber's mother, an Athosi. She does not like him, unlike his sister, for she always thought her husband was faithful. She looks down on him and rarely speaks to him.
Many of the other inhabitants of the Forklands also look down on him, though some don't care of his bastardice and some even hold him in higher regard for not being a "typical nobleman". After discovering he wasn't very good at fighting, his father decided to get him more interested in books and literature. Tomas often reads, writes and this has developed him into a smart man. He constantly uses his wit and charm to get what he wants, or get out of certain situations.
Skills: Use of wit and intellect, knowledge. Can only use a sword and shield, badly. Moderately good at riding.
Dreams and fears: He dreams of knowing who his mother is, and also being accepted by society despite his bastardice to be less lonely.
Favored equipment: He usually wears a loose tunic. In battle he covers it with chainmail and a tabard with his sigil, but with a white stripe across it showing his illegitimacy. He carries a wooden shield with a similar slashed crest, and a standard-issue hand-and-a-half (or aptly named Bastard) sword.
Extra: N/A |
55,906 | 1,531 | 31 | 333 | 325 | Alethea took the cloak that the guard - a woman, the North was very different and surprising indeed - had offered her and proceeded to wrap it around Baego's thin, shivering shoulders. The young lad seemed to have momentarily forgotten his discomfort at the biting cold, his eyes wide in awe and fascination as he watched the lady guard move away from their caravan. Alethea's lips quirked into a slight smile at the boy's reactions. She ruffled his hair to divert his attention back to her. Baego grinned up at her and then instead of wrapping himself up warmer in the stranger's cloak, Baego started to examine it. Alethea doubted that the young Southern-born lad had ever seen a wolf in real life so understood his excitement over the cloak. Being a boy he was probably hoping to actually find bloodstains on it.
Athelea's eye followed the guards' movements outside the caravan as the group of travelers slowly made their way to the Wintershouse. She hadn't wanted to attract any attention - though she knew that her aesthetic beauty would do enough of that anyway, even if she did cover up as best she could. The fact that she had, although inadvertently, gained the attention of one of the guards much irked the skilled thief. Her plan had been to lie low in the northern capital, stash young Baego away and keep him safe - the lad's curiosity often led him to wander about - and wait until her employer contacted her with further information about her next heist.
Alethea was fussing around Baego - she had survived many cold days and nights but the lad was from the south and had likely never experienced weather as extreme as this - when a man's voice addressed her. Turning to face the stranger, Alethea was surprised to find she was being offered a white bearskin. Whereas the cloak now wrapped around Baego would indeed fetch a few golden coins, the one currently being presented to the thief could have fetched a fortune. Two expensive cloaks offered to Baego and herself? Clearly the stereotypes of stiff and morose northerners was wrong. Alethea felt the familiar tingle in her fingers when confronted with something exciting to steal, but she dismissed the thought as soon as it had passed. The handsome man before her looked important - maybe the commander of the other guards? Stealing from him would be an incredibly foolish thing indeed.
The decision whether or not to accept the offered source of warmth was taken from Alethea by Baego standing up and accepting the cloak. He smiled at the stranger in thanks before turning to the young woman and wrapping it around her person, just as she had earlier done for him. Alethea's lips curled slightly, the lad really was a sweet one. Then Baego proceeded to save her from answering the stranger as well - for which Alethea was greatly relieved. She hadn't made a plan for being questioned as she hadn't expected the blizzard to lead them right into the path of the castle's guards. Her usual behaviour concerning guards were to avoid them at all costs, blending into the shadows and never been seen.
"Ma and I thought we good get work up here, sir. There's none to be had down south right now."
Alethea was impressed with Baego's quick response, but then again she had always known the lad was very clever. He was a great lover of words and one day hope to be a great wordsmith and playwright. No doubt the boy's mind was already forming a backstory for the two of them - now apparently mother and son. Alethea just hoped Baego's imagination kept their the lies they would be telling believable. | ALETHEA
I once asked the gods for a lace ribbon, but I quickly found out they didn’t work like that. So I stole the ribbon and instead asked them for forgiveness.
Full name: Alethea
Titles: She has no titles or names beyond that of ‘Alethea’. It was the name given to her as a child, that and no other. Though she does take a certain degree of mirth in telling people she is Alethea of No Name and Nowhere. Her chosen profession as earned her several names, some of great admiration and others of scorn depending on who you ask. Her favourite so far has been Poison Ivy.
Social rank: Alethea has no memories before the orphanage and workhouse her and her identical twin sister grew up in. Born the poorest of the poor, the girls guessed they were either orphaned or given up because they were the result of less than pure activities.
Job or societal position: Alethea takes great pride in her work for, though she would not want to tempt fate by being hubris, she is very good at it. Very good at it indeed. Alethea is a thief. Not the petty thief she was in her childhood who would steal from market stalls and people’s pockets. No, such trivial things are long behind her. Alethea’s speciality lies in entering otherwise untouchable places and taking the treasures they house. As much as Alethea loves the thrill of stealing for herself, if one can find a way to her (and there are very few as over the years her chosen profession as earned her a few enemies as apparently people don’t like having their possessions taken from them from right under their noses - who knew?), then she may be willing to steal what you desire - providing the theft is enticing enough to tempt her.
Age: Alethea suspects she has passed her twentieth year, but by how many seasons is unknown to her. Hazarding a guess, she would put her age in the early twenties, but she wouldn’t swear by it.
Gender: Female
Alethea has never been bothered with her appearance. She has been told many times that she is beautiful, but instead of feeling flattered she views her beauty as a nuisance. She would rather be unremarkable and go about unnoticed. Alethea has deep brown hair that doesn’t quite reach her shoulders and lovely, sea-green eyes. She stands at 5’5, a little taller than the average woman and she has slightly darker skin than most of the residents of Borhilon. Having been malnourished as a child, she is rather lanky and lacks feminine curves that are so desired by most. However, her muscles are strong. Alethea has a branding on her left hand, her dominant hand, of the sign of a thief from where she was caught stealing as a child. The skin around the branding is slightly pinker than the rest of her, but the branding itself has turned white where the skin is raised from it. Not wanting to draw attention to herself, Alethea never takes her fingerless gloves off.
Personality: Alethea gives off a very calm demeanour to the outside world and is rarely moved to doing something out of anger. Her temper is kept in check, as is her tongue. In years gone by her tongue would have earned her lashings, but since those childhood days she has learned to keep what she thinks to herself. These days, not much riles her and if it does, she would not show it. Why let people know what she is thinking?
Alethea has no great love of the expensive things she steals. Her love and pride that she takes in her profession come from the thrill of a successful theft - the more difficult and dangerous, the more satisfying. However, Alethea is no idiot. She would not rush in blindly to a heist or simply take a job because the payment is large and appealing. Meticulous research is done behind the scenes on both the location she will have to breach unseen and the person’s motives behind hiring her.
She cares little for petty feuds between people and has no time for those wanting to hire her services as a means for seeking revenge. Then again, the intricacies of human nature and its relationships have always been a mystery to Alethea. She has yet to find a lock she cannot eventually pick and only wished people were so uncomplicated. Jealously, guilt, love, hate, grief, loyalty - the whole range and spectrum of human emotions are something that make her uncomfortable.
Alethea thinks that people might think of her as uncaring - if she allowed people to know her, that is - but there are things she cares about. She despises when people overwork their animals and then beat them for their tiredness. Those people always find themselves missing their coin purses not soon afterwards. Another thing to affect her is children. Perhaps because no one gave her a helping hand growing up, she keeps an eye of the children who live in the alleyways and are seen as a pest by most people. Coins are dropped in the laps regularly for them to buy food and medicine by her as she passes by.
History: Alethea and her twin sister do not know where they came from, but they were raised in a rundown orphanage in a neighbouring kingdom. As soon as they were old enough, both girls were put to work in the town’s workhouse to earn their keep. The work was hard for such young children, but it was their lot in life and neither girl complained. It was several years later, when they were to be separated due to the growing number of children the workhouse had, that the girls dared to brave the outside world they had been warned against. “Thieves, cutthroats and bandits - not an honest man amongst them out there” was the warning they had headed for so long.
The girls stayed together throughout the years that followed. They would pick pocket and barely survived the winter’s cold each year. The days of unending hunger are burned in Alethea’s mind to this day. As are the cold winter nights. Stealing food and coin became easier as their skill set grew. Marga, her twin, would in time, become a seasoned grifter. She could manipulate people into revealing their darkest desires without them even realising. Alethea grew into her role as a thief too. The shadows became her home and she could pass unseen by all and locked doors were no longer an issue or obstacle.
What ultimately separated the girls was a man. Alethea fell in love and entertained the foolish notion of being able to marry and raise a family with him - to finally have everything she had never had before. She gave the man her heart and virtue. However it was Marga that won the man’s affections. Alethea knew no man could resist her sister. Though they were identical in looks, Alethea did not have the way with people as she did. She would often joke that Marga could charm the birds from the trees with just her sweet words. Thus, the man she loved fell in love with her sister and they married. Alethea knew her sister married the man for his good fortune and standing in society, but a small part of her wondered if Marga had actually done it out of jealousy. Jealousy that Alethea had almost achieved something on her own. Though Alethea would never admit to the deep hurt their marriage had caused her, she has not visited her sister since the news that Marga was expecting her first child. That was five years ago now.
Alethea left the kingdom they had grown up in, claiming their were richer pickings in Borhilon and not once has she looked back. Though her heart aches for her sister, she doesn’t see a future where she could come to terms with what has passed between them and thus, she stays away, only sending money to Marga once a month. Since her first, and really only, experience of love, Alethea has closed herself off to such things, deeming them unnecessary.
Without Marga by her side, Alethea had to learn how to thieve again. She no longer had a partner to steal the secrets of the location hidden treasure boxes or weaknesses in a home’s defence. Given that she had no other skill set, she hurriedly evolved into a solo artist, lest she become destitute and have to turn to other, less scrupulous means in order to feed herself. Alethea thus learned to pick out faults and possible entrances into places by herself on sight alone, or closer inspection once night had fallen. She learned how to read guard routines, knowing she could no longer rely on Marga for distractions. Most importantly, she learned how to pick locks. Her first night in a jail cell was a harrowing experience and one she did not care to repeat if it could be avoided.
Alethea has only gained a reputation in recent months. A year ago she was relatively unknown, but after a series rather risky endeavours in the rich region of the Great City, that is no longer the case. This new turn of events brings with it benefits and cons to Alethea. She is now sought out and payed handsomely to steal for others, but it means that if caught, the punishment would be certain death, not a mere branding as was the case when she was caught once as a child.
The other new addition to Alethea’s life is a child of about ten years who had tried to pickpocket her one day several moons back. Alethea had been highly amused by his cheek and had spent the next few days watching him before she stepped forward to offer in a few tips to avoid him being caught and punished. Since that, he’s followed her from region to region, almost like her second shadow.
Skills: Hand Alethea a sword and she will be able to tell you the region it was made in, the extent of its quality, what its true value is and then what she could sell it for and to whom. However, ask her to wield it and she wouldn’t have a clue. Alethea's survival skills in a situation involving conflict are to run - run hard and run fast. Being a thief, combat is not something she factors into the equation during a heist. Passing unseen and undetected however are. Alethea is proud of her skills in lock picking. To date, she is unrivalled in her expertise. She is also very adapt at climbing as scaling walls of great height is just part of her profession. Thankfully she has the necessary grace and balance to allow running along an embarkment or a rooftop without the fear of falling. Passing unnoticed and being light of foot are good attributes of hers too. Her only skill with weapons of any description would be a crossbow as sometimes a line is needed as part of her escape or entry into a domicile. Her daggers are more for show than anything - an insurance policy almost.
Dreams and fears: Alethea once dreamed of raising a family and no longer having to steal and though she would never admit it a part of her still hopes for just that. However, she does not linger on such notions. Nowadays she just prays she is not caught. Having no combat skills, she does fear that one day her luck will run out and she will not be able to escape a heist if her presence in undetected.
Favored equipment: Two daggers are hidden underneath her clothes for protection - one strapped to her thigh and the other hidden inside her boot. Otherwise her only constants are her lock picking kit, her dark-coloured cloak and a green bandana to cover the lower half of her face. All other things she can steal.
Extra: Just an FYI, I'm open to romance with this character if anyone is interested.
BAEGO
It is not necessary to be educated to be intelligent.
Full name: Baego Thatchrite
Social rank: Commoner
Job or societal position: Pick-pocket, street rat
Age: 10
Gender: Male
Baego is tall for his age, already being just shy of 5 feet tall. His straw-coloured hair is naturally curly and he has green eyes.
Personality: Baego is a highly intelligent young lad, despite never having received any proper education. He prides himself on being smarter than others his age. He has a great love of the theatre as he and the other street children used to go and watch the plays from their precarious positions in the rafters. He admires the artistry of the playwrights and fancies himself quite the wordsmith. Baego is not a timid lad, but neither is he reckless. He has a kind soul and makes friends easily due to his easy manner, cheeky demeanour and ability to charm most.
History: Though there is great wealth and prosperity in the southern Great City, there is also poverty - it just goes unseen. Baego knows little of his parents other than his mother died in childbirth and his father was a thatcher who took a fatal fall off a roof he was working on when Baego was very young. Having no other family, he grew up as one of many children who had no homes and were forced to live on the streets. Being too scrawny to do any manual labour, Baego could get little work to earn coin to buy himself food and therefore resorted to pick-pocketing people. Which is incidentally how he met Alethea.
Alethea is the first adult to take a genuine interest in him and since the day she approached him to offer him advise on how not to get caught, he has clung to her. When she told him she would be leaving the south, he was distraught as apart from his father, who he only has a few hazy memories of, no one had ever cared about his well being. Not wanting to loose Alethea, he joined her on her journey north.
Dreams and fears: Baego dreams of one day writing great plays that will out-live him for many generations. However, first he needs to master how to read and write. He is making progress, but each mistake he makes frustrates him greatly. Additionally, he fears the day when Alethea will leave him. |
55,907 | 1,531 | 32 | 1,787 | 2,152 | Gregar looked around with a bored look on his face, after the black knight and then the warlord things got rather quiet for him. He merely sat and watched, drinking wine in the meantime. That is, until Jovan entered the hall. He went unnoticed at first, but as Gregar looked over to the right he noticed him approaching, slowly due to illnes, but steadily. Slowly Gregar rose, not willing to believe it, but it was him. Jovan Athos, son of the duke of the Falkhalls. Not only was it good to see a friend, Jovan also held an esteemed position. While he wasn't exactly the heir, he had close ties with one of the few remaining houses they could form an alliance with. Gregar slowly walked down the steps that led to the throne, and walked closer to Jovan before embracing him.
“Ofcourse I've room for an old friend, nay, brother of mine.” Gregar smiled with a genuine smile before helping Jovan towards the table where Amber and the other higher up nobles were seated. Ayca would be granted a seat there as well, much to the annoyance of other nobles who felt that a woman such as.. her.. should not be granted that honour. Never the less Gregar took a seat with them, glad that he could finally get off that throne. “How is your life, Jovan? It's been long since I had heard from you, you'll have to excuse me for that. I was away for battle in name of king Etwine, as is my duty. I haven't had a chance to read any letters sent by you or your friend.” He looked over at Ayca, a typical Southerner in appearance, but then again so was Jovan. Never the less, she appealled to Gregar as most Southern women did. Gregar had an eye for beauty, but made no distinctions. He could see something attractive in every single woman in the world as far as he was concerned. For her, it was her hair. Curls like hers were rare in the north. “Tell me of your father and brothers. Have they all found suitable wives yet?” He grinned as he said that. Ofcourse they had. The Athosi were very.. specific in who married who, to preserve the bloodline. Their marriages had been set in stone when they were born. Jovan only managed to get free from it when he stepped down from his position, losing the title of heir. Lucky bastard.
Gidja was relatively annoyed by Rolland. If she hadn't raised her voice, then Joakim wouldn't have known of these men approaching. Such matters were important to Joakim, she knew. Why was Rolland made captain again? Surely it was because his blood was blue, and not because he was a terrific captain of the guard. She grumbled.. nobody wanted to be on North gate watch, and now she had to do it. She collected herself again and watched over the horizon, spotting moving figures.. again? It seemed like a larger band than before, with banners flying too. They came from the south but at a slow pace. Looking closer, she noticed the banners weren't from any Forkish or Ironhill lords. She'd have recognised those. Rather, they were with 3 banners. The Rotten Crows, the Black Hands and the Hillmen of Morrin. All three were mercenary companies, however they were also part of the larger companies around. No doubt they had heard of the war, now that rumours were spreading far and wide. Perhaps they came to seek employment by Gregar, in exchange for gold or plundering rights in certain cities.
Deciding against shouting, for fear of Rolland taking a whip to her back, she ran back to the keep into the grand hall, where she'd alert Gregar. However it seemed God willed it that she ran into Joakim first. And Joakim was as good as Gregar for dealing with these men. “Lord Joakim, three mercenary companies approach the castle, no doubt here to offer allegiance in exchange for plunder or gold, milord. Shall I let them in?” Joakim was on his way from his chambers to find Brier, as they had to catch up sometimes and he'd rather do it sooner than later. However this matter seemed more urgent, so he nodded at Gidja and followed her outside.
As he walked, he called out to several guards in the hall. “With me, please.” he'd say, while gesturing with his hands for them to follow him. One of these men would be Rolland, a man that Joakim liked ever since he had arrived in the castle. Joakim knew some other of Rollands' family, all good men and women, simple but tough. No doubt some people inside the grand hall would have noticed Joakim leaving together with a set of six guards, as well as the captain of the guard and Gidja, a woman who bore arms like a man. Whether this would cause any distractions remained to be seen.
Joakim approached the palisade gates, a large wooden gate that was opened pretty much all through day, and only closed at night to keep out unwanted people. By now the companies had all arrived at the gates, banners flying and men grumbling about the cold. As Joakim approached three men on horseback broke free from the masses, the masses easily numbering 200 men if not more. The first of three was a rough looking man, clad in leather and mail, wearing no helmet at all. His blonde hair was slicked back and he had a thin beard, and he wore a longsword on his left side.
The second man was a man that looked.. old. He had grey hair that hung in strings in front of his eyes, weary but attentative. He wore a plate cuirass but little else, and had a large two handed sword on his back, that he could no doubt handle very well. He was muscled and looked strong, though he lacked any muscled definition, most likely due to age.
The last man was dressed in furs, and had a small handaxe on his side and a fur covered shield on his back. The man was no doubt leader of the Hillmen, a savage tribe turned mercenary after they realised they could not fight the expanding Borhilonians, and rather chose to work for them, plunder and kill in their name. As such they were unaccountable by law, and could do what they did best. Although Joakim doubted these men were true hillmen, as they were formed a hundred years ago. Remnants of these people were what stood in front of him - would be traditionalists, who in reality were little more than murderers and thieves.. they did what they were good at, though.
“Welcome to the Wintershouse. I assume you've heard of the war that is coming to our lands?” Joakim tried to be nice and friendly, as best as he could. The man looked at him, unamused, and simply looked to Rolland, Gidja and then the guardsmen that were with him. “Aye. We're here to offer our swords and axes.” the old man said, dismounting his horse and walking to the keep, past Joakim and the rest. “Where's the Oakheart?” the blonde man said as he followed the old man. Joakim looked at Rolland and beckoned him to stay. “Make sure their men stay in line.” He, Gidja and the other guardsmen that they had taken would have to see to the men. In case anything happened, there were soldiers nearby keeping an eye as well, although they were too far away to immediatly be able to help.
The three men slowly walked up the hill that led to the keeps' walls, and the keep itself. One of them turned around and beckoned for some to follow him, a personal guard of sorts. From the mercenary ranks some men broke free, making their way to join their leaders with steady pace. About twenty guards came, in total. Joakim couldn't object - he'd ask for a guard of his own if he were visiting foreign lords too. Except he might ask permission to bring them. Never the less he didn't say much, simply following them and overtaking them, after which he'd lead them to the grand hall. Opening the doors, he'd announce himself and the people behind him. “Lord Oakheart, mercenary commanders who have come to offer blades and axes.” he'd say loudly, so that Gregar would pay mind to these men.
Gregar heard the call and rose to his feet, excusing himself in the meantime to Amber, Jovan and Ayca, as well as Arryn who was at the table still. He returned to his throne and sat down while the guards of these men marched in and stood in two lines clearing the way for the company leaders. The musicians continued playing their song, quietly but audible. Hushed voices spoke of mercenaries, of Hillmen, Rotten Crows and Black Hands, who had painted Black Hands on their armor, 'touched by disease'. Slowly the three leaders approached, not bowing or anything of the like, simply standing there. A strange thing to do, but understandable for men like these, battle hardened and with a lack of respect for anything remotely resembling a hierarchy outside of their own companies. “Aye, we have blades, we have axes,” the old man said, seemingly the pack leader. The blonde one continued, however, with a smug smile on his face. “.. have you need of them, Oakheart?” The Hillman leader was particularily quiet, looking around the room and taking in all the people that were there, almost as if he was looking for something. His gaze landed on Amber Rossric and held still for a moment, then continued until he noticed a black knight. He paid no mind to the 10 or so guardsmen inside, and neither the fully armored knights and nobles that had come to attend the feast.
“That depends on your offer,” Gregar spoke to the man in a loud and clear voice, a voice that demanded respect but at the same time was respectful towards these men. “you can say what you wish here, I hold no secrets for my court.” The old man grinned and moved the helmet under his arm a bit, to make himself comfortable. “In exchange for 250 blades, axes and bows, we demand plundering rights in the grand cities of Redfield and Osshearth. Along with our share of the spoils, ofcourse.. we can have another 1000 men here before the next week.” 1250 men was a sizeable mercenary party to hire, and could significantly boost their numbers unexpectedly, forcing Harrighfield to perhaps rethink his strategies.
“Aye, that's a fair offer indeed. But while I am lord here, I do not hold this court on my own.” With this he indicated that those who wished to speak on the matter were free to speak about the mercenaries, including Jovan, Amber and some others. Those of lower stature, such as Arryn or Gavin would be forced to keep their mouths shut, at least for now until the matter had been decided. Anyone with important information, or perhaps a person with big enough influence, would be able to speak on the matter and convince Gregar of one or the other. Something about these men seemed off, however.. | Joakim, the Young Lord, Weade
'Sine labore nihil'
Full name: Joakim Mirke Weade
Titles: Young Lord Regent of the Whitelands, 'Mir'
Social rank: Nobleman
Job or societal position: Regent over the lands of the Northern Demesne
Age: 16
Gender: Male.
Appearance: Reference picture above.
Personality: Joakim is a young man who has been trained in the northern version of etiquette. As such he can be seen as rude, straightforward and unsubtle by those in the more southern regions. However this bring up has given him a thorough understanding of hierarchy, and more respectably a large dose of respect for hierarchy. As such he can be considered one of the most loyal people in the realm of Borhilon. Along with this respect also came a natural affinity for all aspects of combat -- archery, swordsmanship, architectural designs and logistics are things that he has learnt to become skilled enough in. Being the third son, he was never meant to be a leader, nor was his older brother. That as it may be, this means that he might fall back on his military knowledge rather than diplomatical skills or economical know how to solve the incoming conflict. Besides that he is caring, generous and infinitely prepared for self sacrifice for the good of his people.
History: Joakim was born as the third son to his father, Rikard Weade. This means he has barely any right to the throne of the Whitelands. His older brothers, who were twins, Janus and Gregar, were both destined for greater things according to his father. Janus died early in his infancy as he was born sickly, and the healmaster could not do anything for him but pray to the Old Trees. Gregar however was born healthy and sound, and grew into a strong boy. It helped him that he was pretty in his face, as many noble girls swooned over him as soon as they heard his name. Being the first in line, he was not destined for war as much as Joakim. Instead he learned to govern from an early age. Economics, governship and reading and writing were things that Gregar learned, and in his spare time he learned how to properly use shield, sword and armor, as well as the horse and lance. When Gregard was 8, young lord Joakim was born, just as healthy as his older brother was born.
This is not the sobstory that other noble third-born sons would tell, but rather, the story of a young man who had a strong role model in the form of his older brother. Gregar was not the stern, strict older brother that other families had, but rather was kind and caring as much as his father and mother were. Joakim fit right into the family with ease. From the age of 8, he started learning how to wield a sword, shield, and all other assortments of weaponry. Being the third born, second-in-line heir, he was meant to be a commander of forces for his brother, and whenever possible a personal bodyguard, too. Enjoying the company of his brother, he had no remorse about this fate, and embraced it with open arms. This resulted in Joakim becoming quickly familiarized with large amounts of weapons, strategies, tactics and personal combat skills. This is not saying he is a master of the blade, but pit any common soldier of the duke against him and he will emerge victorious -- with remarkable grace, too.
As of the death of his father, lord Rikard, he has been forced to take over day to day command of the estate, waiting for his brother Gregar to return to the Whitelands to assume his rightful position on the throne.
Skills: Proficient in swordsmanship, personal combat, maces and hammers, horseriding. Above average tactician and strategist.
Dreams and fears: Joakim lacks any higher aspirations, other than to serve in a prestigious knighthood. His fear is however to lose the families lands, his family members, close friends and subjects.
Favored equipment: A bastardsword, wooden shield, chainmail leggings and hauberk, with a surcoat over the hauberk. His right arm (sword arm) has a metal plate shoulderpiece and a metal plate elbow piece. His shieldarm has only a hardened leather shoulder piece and no elbowpiece. On both his hands he wears metal gauntlets. His leggings have metal kneepieces. His footwear is rather simple compared to the metal armor, as he wears rather simple leather boots which are tightly strapped.
Extra: His insignia is the Weade's insignia, the Old Tree. The family dog is 'technically his' he claims, as he was the one that paid the smith for the dog. The dog does not confirm this.. but he sleeps in Joakims' room an awful lot.
Gregar Weade
'To God and his Sons, the world'
Full name: Gregar Weade.
Titles: Duke of the Whitelands, Master of the Hunt of Borhilon, 'The Oakheart'.
Social rank: Nobleman.
Job or societal position: Captain under the banner of king Etwine the Stout, commander of the 3th regiment of heavy infantry, duke over the Whitelands and rightful heir to Rikard Weade.
Age: 24.
Gender: Male.
Appearance: Reference above picture.
Personality: Gregar is a kind man that can be described as harsh but fair. Being trained as a lord he has learnt that this position is not one of fun and pleasure at all times, but rather a position of making hard decisions time and time again. Over the years the smile has faded from his face because of this. However he is utmost prepared to make these decisions for the greater good of his people. Truly, he is the pinnacle of God's virtues, being temperate, chaste, and content with what he has. He is also very trusting, which can be seen as a good thing. It is, however, not a good thing for a lord. Numerous times he has unknowingly invited people into his halls, who seemed to be down on their luck, only to find items missing. His father's scoldings were often not enough to stop this happening again.
History: Gregar lost his twin brother Janus early on, but didn't realize this until much later as his brother died in infancy. It was said that his brothers will lives on through Gregar, something that's always pushed him harder to do well for some reason. From an early age the notion that he would be the image of the Weade family was instilled into him, forcing him to abide etiquette at all times, even when nobody was present. The youth of a first son is relatively harsh, but once they get older, they can slow down and take it a bit more easy. As it did for Gregar.
When he was 16, and came of age, his mother and father had to find a suitable bride for him. Being the famed 'Gregar Oakheart' did him much good in this regard and he was married to the daughter of king Etwine in order to form an alliance between the two families. The lady he was married to, lady Elisandre, was a lady fair and beautiful. She took up residence in the Wintershouse and lived there for two years, until she became ill and died of the cold weather and other nasty effects the illness had upon her. No child was birthed from this marriage however, as Gregar mostly found himself away from the Wintershouse to fulfill his duties to his liegelord king Etwine which caused him to be unable to consume this marriage. Luckily king Etwine wished the alliance between the families remained intact and issued a decree that stated that the two families were still bound, although the families would never be as close as during the marriage. As of yet, Gregar is still unmarried and his time spent in the army of king Etwine has not done this fact any favors.
Skills: Gregar has become skilled in the art of managing his estate, although the economics often go unnoticed by him and the slack would be picked up by the local scribe and his ward. He is inspiring for his troops and can hold his own in combat, however he is not a skilled fighter in the sense of being a legendary warrior. He is about as good as is expected of a nobleman. He is quite charismatic and a sort of symbol for the Whitelands, however how much of this he can make true is another question.
Dreams and fears: His dreams are to explore the regions East of the mountains when the time comes. His fears are the fall of his estate, family, or the death of the King due to intrigue or political struggles.
Favored equipment: For the armor, reference the picture. As for weapons, he prefers to wield an arming sword and a wooden shield, painted with the sigil of the Weade family. On horseback, he would wield a lance where possible.
Extra: Logically, his sigil is the Old Tree of the Weade family.
Gidja Jorvsdottir
For the White!
Full name: Gidja Jorvsdottir
Titles: 'Giddi'
Social rank: Lowborn courtier.
Job or societal position: Castle guard.
Age: 21
Gender: Female.
Personality: Gidja is a typical Northern woman. Cold and warm at the same time, she seems to omit an aura of tranquility, order and peace. Outside of battle she smiles often, atleast when she is not on duty. When on duty or in the heat of combat, her face grows stern, authoritarian and holds a respectful gaze on those above her. She is one of the few women in the entirety of Borhilon, save the few such as the duchess of the Forklands, who is in a combat role and is accepted as such in more or lesser degree. As such she has grown to become slightly more than a castle guard, and holds an esteemed position within the dukes militia even.
History: Gidja was born on September 18th, which was coincidentally the name of one of Gods' children, the lady Gidja, fierce housemaiden. As such it seemed appropiate to name her after the child of God. Her father was Jorv, a strong man who served in the dukes army, and her mother was Herietta, a scrawny woman who served in the dukes castle-keep. She was supposed to become like her mother, a servant in service to the duke, but her strong believe that her name was given to her for a reason led to her requesting audience with the duke at the mere age of 14, when she was appointed to become a servants' assistant to learn the trade.
What followed was a shock, namely the duke accepting her request of audience. She got called in by her father, who told her to watch her tongue as she spoke to the duke, more so for her own safety than theirs. Her mother teared up, thinking that she would run her mouth and face punishment. But duke Rikard wouldn't be called the Just if it weren't for his friendly demeanor. Gidja approached the duke slowly, bowing slightly before standing straight again. What followed was a barrage of pleas, reasons and promises about her becoming a warrior, just like Gidja, the daughter of God, the Father of Earth.
Many objected but the Duke raised his arm, the hall deafening with silence. Then he granted her permission to become part of the castle guard, as she wasn't the first female to join a military group, and she certainly wouldn't be the last. Besides that, she had the spirit of Gidja in her, and he deeply believed that she was right when she said Gidja lives in her.
After that she spent most of her years until now guarding the castle from thieves, bandits, and guarding the halls during festivities.
Skills: She is capable at fighting with a spear, this being her preferable weapon. As a backup weapon she uses a sword that's sheathed on her left side. Her skills with a shield are also quite good, to the point where she knows how to actively use it to force an enemy into certain positions, guarding her sides and is also able to use it offensively to good effect.
Dreams and fears: One day she hopes to be lifted into a noblemans status, which would allow her to become knighted, or at the very least become part of a more prestigious order than being a castle guard. She fears death deeply, as any sane man does.
Favored equipment: For her armor, see her appearance. For weapons she has a medium sized spear, and a sheathed sword on her left. Her shield is also on her left arm. It's a round wooden shield, with the castle guards insignia on it.
Extra: She owns a cat, but he mainly roams the courtyards and her quarters. |
55,908 | 1,531 | 33 | 220 | 2,530 | Ash tapped his foot somewhat. He was still there, standing tall, waiting for his cue to answer to Gregar. And then, the doors opened to receive three people of mercenary companies. Ash knew those three well- they were not the sort of people you usually trusted to do something, for very specific reasons. While their names sounded eerie and impressive, truth to be told those companies usually had to fight for the scraps of bigger ones, just like the former company of the whoreson, The Black Company. Ladykiller, the blonde commander; Hamstring, the old geezer and Weasel, the crude-looking leader of the Hillmen. They all liked to try and be shrewd and cunning, but truth to be told, they were usually outsmarted by bigger thinkers. The three of them surely had heard of the war... but they were smart enough to not try and fight for the Whitelands. They were up to something.
Ash could feel the stares of some. Some were condemning gazes, some rivalry ones, and some were plainly stares in awe, from the most impresionable of the file and rank that had accompanied those three. So he had been recognized. He had to be deceptive if he were to pass a message about their true nature. Truth to be told, Gregar's offer for knighthood was well worth telling the true rotten nature of them.
But how? Gregar asked people to speak up. But obviously he couldn't say they all were liars and cheaters from the get go. So he tried something... different. He raised his voice.
"Pardon me, m'lord, but I, Ash the Knightslayer, of the Black Company, can attest the truthfulness of these men. I swear upon my mother's life that these men are to be trusted."
Of course, for all people who had been and listened to Ash tale, they'd have realized what this meant... for Ash was visiting his mother's gravestone earlier. He did a final small nod to the duke, and waited for the resolution. Perhaps his blade would be needed. | Ash of the Whitelands
"No gloriae suae in bello"
Full name: Ash, or Ash of the Whitelands, denoting his humble origin.
Titles: The Sellsword Scholar, and the less flattering titles of Ser Whoreson and Knightslayer
Social rank: Whoreson peasant.
Job or societal position: Black Knight Sellsword. Part time teacher and folk entertainer.
Gender: Male
Appearance: He's an average sized, well built man, with dark scruffy hair and a clean-shaved face. He has gray eyes that give him a piercing, vivid stare. Cuts and chinks can be seen throughout his body, a couple of them on his face. He usually wears worn out and simple but serviceable clothes, and a black, equally worn but still useable armor (it's painted black to prevent rust) when in combat. He walks with carefully measured steps and he has a deep voice.
Personality: Despite his ignoble origin, Ash is a polite and well mannered man. He always answers a greeting, and answers with the utmost respect to whomever talks to him, be it noble or gentile. He's also rather patient and slow to anger, with an almost nigh unflappable stoicism. Yet at the same time, one could feel that sometimes he's not here, and just stares at the horizon rather than at people, reliving who knows what demons of the past. Lowborn, whores and orphans do manage to bring some more reaction in the man, and he's known to have a chipper, quick-wit and enthusiastic easygoing attitude with them. He is also more than willing to share his knowledge and experience to whomever lends him an ear, and he's partial to honest plights. Meeting him on the battlefield or as enemy is another matter. Bereft of any kind of remorse or honor, Ash strives to survive and win to see another morning, and he has very few qualms on using underhanded methods.
History: Ash was simply a byproduct of a camp follower and an unnamed man-at-arms in the Whitelands. He could have ended like many street rats and pickpockets, if it had not been for the hardest and most clever decision his mother had: To give him to a wandering troupe of entertainers after some convincing. Even from his early age, Ash revealed himself as a bright lad and a fast learner, and some of the troupe felt that they had to polish the formidable intellect the boy had, out of goodwill. They taught him manners, literature and writing, in the hopes he could become one of the narrators of the troupe. They weren't so successful at teaching him to sing and dance, as the poor lad was unfortunately tonedeaf, but he managed to pick other skills to compensate, like knowledge of healing and poisons from the troupe's wise woman, and some minor sleight-of-hand tricks to draw and interest peasants.
By the time he was a young man, he had already made a name for himself among the troupe, becoming one of the storytellers while others did the dancing and singing, as well as one of the faces for negotiation, given his politeness and wit. Unfortunately, he had also hit the foolish age where everyone wanted to be a knight and save and kingdom, and in a regrettable hotheaded decision, parted with the troupe to become a sellsword. Of course, his actual fighting ability was made much fun of by the time he tried to join, but the wizened leader of the sellsword group decided to keep him around, if only because he had prized skills like healing, poisons and writing. Knowing fully well his status as ''favored kid'' of the leader, he trained diligently and tried his best to not make mistakes. He also swallowed his qualms about doing less than regrettable brigand jobs, in an effort to become more like the mercenaries that he had surrounded himself with. However, it was all for naught, because even as he managed to garner himself a name among the mercenaries and become one of the de-facto liutenants of the band, he kept meeting scorn and cold shoulders. When a quarrel about payment shares broke between him and other lieutenants, Ash realized that no matter what he did, he would always be treated as an outsider by everyone. Skilled enough to beat knights in single combat, yet lowborn. Capable of philosophical debates yet as base as the son of a prostitute.
Heartbroken and bitter by the many horrors he chose to endure pursuing an empty ideal, he returned to his homeland, only to find the shadow of the war haunting the lands, and a rather cold and crude gravestone where his mother once stood. Still, he decided to stay, and perhaps make himself a place little by little, starting by subverting the suspiciousness of people around him by entertaining folks and doing odd errands.
Skills: Ash is an incredibly mentally gifted individual. He has a good grasp of a variety of subjects like tactics, economics, literature, manners and even odd things like castle building and sieges. He is also a good sellsword, able to use competently swords, shields, daggers, and bows, and skilled on horseback and with lances. He can also do some minor prestidigitation tricks like vanishing coins and minor escapism. He is a decent storyteller. He is rather skilled in the arts of healing as well as poisons, though people only know him for the poison part and his skill at arms.
Dreams and fears:He dreams of finding a good place to settle in, without even having to resort to the sword again. Sadly, in these times, his sword is all what he has to earn himself a living, as he's considered a foul person even by fellow peasants. He fears dying alone and forgotten, and losing himself to the madness of war and forgetting how to be kind.
Favored equipment: He's usually seen in comfortable, humble clothes with a dagger by his hip and a money purse when he's not in combat. When he's fully suited, he dons a black-painted armor, with a black shield and a longsword. Or alternatively a bow. He keeps the armor, arrows and weapons on his horse's saddlebags when he's not fighting. He also owns three books. One about healing and poisons, the other about war tactics, and the third one is his personal diary. He also keeps some oil and a whetstone to polish and keep his gear, as well as a flint.
Extra: He owns a warhorse named Spot he won in a bet. It's quite a temperamental stallion and has a rather worrying fondess for wine. All his worldly possessions can fit on his horse's saddlebags.
Brier Weade
"We can only move forward"
Full name: Brier Catryn Weade / Brier Catryn Morrigh
Titles: Countess of Blackwood (Formerly), Kitty for her friends, and Witch of Blackwood to her detractors.
Social rank: Noblewoman
Job or societal position: Former Royal Court Musician, Countess, Healer and Alchemist.
Age: 20
Gender: Female
Personality: Brier was once a high spirited merry girl who always questioned everyone and everything. Sociable and curious to the extreme, she wasn't put off by appearances or standing whatshoever. She also shared the generous good nature of her elder brother Gregar Weade, as well as the lack of malice. Like her sibling, this bit her in the back quite a few times at first, but as she grew older, more focused and wiser, she learned how to read the intentions of people and developed a friendly, polite, but very defensive demeanor. Brier is a woman of intellect and culture and she enjoys learning new knowledge or discussing with akin minds. Bitterly accepting that not everyone is nice, and that there are wicked people out of there, she can be quite vindictive, throughout and manipulative if any member of her family is at stake.
History: Brier was born between the twins Janus and Gregar, and the thirdborn Joakim. Little Brier was a chatterbox and a relentless chaser of odd things, when she wasn't too busy sticking to Gregar like glue. She however, didn't neglect her education, and she followed her mother diligently just as Gregar did with their father. Education that was soon put to test, as she tended to her younger brother Joakim whenever others were not available. When Gregar's bethrodal was announced, Brier was for the first time, wary of an stranger coming to the house, but soon took a liking to Lady Elisandre as the elder sister she never had. By Elisandre's suggestion, Brier managed to convince his father the Duke to go to the King's court to receive more education.
Although initially reluctant, her family conceded to Brier's petition, as becoming part of the court and with Brier's easygoing nature, she would probably find a good groom later on. With her skill with the harp and sociable nature, Brier found herself befriended several people of all sorts. While comfortable with the people of her age and social status like princes, princesses, and sons and daughters of other nobles, Brier's sharp mind also sought out three people that usually were beneath notice: the King's spymaster, an old alchemist who had somehow gained prestige as royal advisor, and a portly and coarse yet skilled woman who was the Royal Physician.
Brier would seek their presence whenever she felt the whole court scenery and upbringing was too repetitive and dull, and she ended up learning several skills that a noblewoman was not suppossed to have in the first place. The ability to read people's lies in their faces, alchemy and healing arts. Brier didn't know how dangerous this combination was until much later, a year after Elisandre's death. While playing matchmaking to find her a suitable husband, Brier unadvertedly drove all of them off with her skill to read people. Only one succeeded to not be cowed, earl Kevin Morrigh of Blackwood.
Earl Kevin was perhaps thirty years her elder and he was looking for a second wife after the first one had died without giving him any descendants. He was a stout man of rotund features, a bristly beard, a large booming voice, and the most important feature of them all. He didn't even bother to hide his true intentions in the slightlest. He had heard rumours of Brier being a healer and an alchemist, and precisely for that he was proposing her. He also acknowledged he didn't have a big status as nobleman, but he had a rather important mining and timber site in the Ironhills. He did not want a wife who only stood idlely to be coddled. Brier was taken aback by the man's honesty and accepted to become his wife.
Life at the Ironhills was just as Kevin described. There wasn't a single idle moment. If it wasn't helping blacksmiths identify and refine ores, it was helping injured lumberjacks and workers. She often delighted the earl's men with her harp at the end of the day. Never she had felt so drained and yet at the same time she was happy. She even had her first son by him, which both named Brian. And then the war struck out, and everything went down in a quick succession. Earl Kevin, thinking more with the heart than with the head, defied his lord, the duke of Harrighfield, and tossed his support in favor of the King and his father-in-law, duke Weade of Whitelands, only to be cut down in the same battle as Rikard. While brave and commending, this did not bode well for Brier, who soon was in the wrong of a lynching mob who took her castle, spurred by the less than honorable family members of the Morrigh. Being accused as a witch who had twisted earl Kevin's mind, she was all but helpless when the mob killed her infant two-year-old son in a fit of rage and bloodlust, and threatened to burn her at the stake.
She was saved by the timely intervention of Ser Wilhem, a recently ordered knight who had been left behind to ensure the safety of the countess. The lad, although brave, did not survive the wounds sustained, no matter what Brier died, and in the end, she reluctantly buried the young, brave and unfortunate knight beneath a large oaktree, while she took his horse for herself, and headed north to seek refuge in the Forklands and Whitelands.
Skills: Brier has an active mind, and she can engage in social conversation with practically anyone. She also knows how to cook decently, and she's greatly skilled at sewing and playing the harp. She can also sing quite well. More importantly, Brier can detect who lies to her by merely looking at the body language of the person before her. She is also a master healer, able to perform advanced bonesetting and even surgeries (where her sewing skills once again help), with the associated knowledge of herbalism. Last but not least important, Brier is an alchemist, and as such she can easily identify ores and create black powder and alchemic fire should she need to. Brier can also ride a horse quite decently.
Dreams and fears: Brier dreams of getting back at the insult suffered in the Blackwood, and avenge her dead son by the mob, and then maybe start over a new life. She obviously fears losing more family members.
Favored equipment: Brier usually is seen with her harp, although that one was lost when she was nearly killed. She always carries a hidden dagger in her thigh. Whenever she has to hit the road, it is not uncommon for her to carry a large knapsack with her healing materials as well as a staff for support. She also carries the Weade family ring and the Morrigh family ring.
Extra:Brier is thought to have perished in the riot, if news of such reached the north. |
55,909 | 1,531 | 34 | 1,601 | 88 | Amber eyed the mercenaries. They were rugged, scruffy looking men. It was curious they should offer themselves for the coming war... And at a good price. She'd see what happened if they were lulled into a sense of false security. Who had sent them, and what were they doing here? Their true motivation couldn't be just coin. She placed a hand on her new sword's hilt.
"And for my father's good health, I would see them recruited," added Amber, following Ash's remark. Doubtless they'd not even heard of his name, let alone his passing. | Amber Rossric
In Verba Virtus, In Terra Pietas, In Anima Dignitas, In Gladio Gravitas
Full name: Lady Amber Rossric
Titles: Lady
Social rank: noblewoman
Job or societal position: Lady Amber Rossric is a member of the Rossric family and looks after the Forklands. She also is head of the army as Lady Commander.
Age: 22
Gender: Female
Appearance: See above. Most people describe her as beautiful.
Personality: Strong-willed, fiesty. She has a relatively short fuse, and usually gets angered quite easily. She tries to keep zen but often the bottled up anger comes out, sometimes on innocent people. She genuinely cares for the well-being of her people, and helps them almost too much, destroying the economy little by little by giving them too much luxury, through too much confidence in their wealth. She doesn't have many friends, outside a few men in her guard, her brother, mother and a few female cousins who don't mind her being a warrior.
History: Amber was born the the Lord of the Forklands and his wife, a daughter of the Lord of Athos. When her father died of an unknown illness, she became the ruler, her father having left no legitimate sons. She does however have a half-brother, a bastard son of the late Lord Rossric.
In her youth she trained with a sword and bow unlike the other girls, and showed a talent for it. She often would go near the Forks with her brother and spar. They were evenly matched, but she seemd to have the upper edge, much to his annoyance. Towards the end of his life, her father realised he was no longer going to bear any more children and taught her about how she should rule. She listened closely, but still trained more than learned. She read some of the books her father gave her, mainly military ones, about the tactics and conquests of past leaders of the kingdoms. This knowledge and strength made her Lady Commander of the army, on top of being the Lady Regent. She does not bother to surround herself with any guards in her modest palace, but relies heavily on her advisors in matters of economy or general ruling. Perhaps too much.
Her brother often visits, but many people mistreat him for being a bastard, despite him fitting in, being loved by his father and sister. He is looking for his true mother's identity, which only the Regent Mother knows. Though she's not willing to tell him, as she has harboured a hate of him for being her husband's bastard. Amber does not care about these distinctions, and relies on her brother's help to account for her inexperiences. She knows she can trust him above any advisors. Her father's most impacftul words in his teachings to her were: "Trust no one in your court, and be on your guard."
Skills: Impressive use of a sword. General mastery of most weapons, though her bowmanship is just above sub-par. Above average Leadership and Command (Tactics, Military). She uses her shield and horse clumsily, despite her father's chief of army trying to teach her, so she prefers to use just a sword or wield a weapon in each hand.
Dreams and fears: She dreams of being the strongest kingdom, and though she's satisfied with what she has, she dreams of more. She fears her advisors, some of them could only be seeking monetary gain in her ruling, and even try to overthrow her. There have been two attacks on her person since she became regent two months ago. Her brother has started accompanying her to most places, despite her wishes, to provide backup.
Favored equipment: She generally wears a leather tabard with her house's sigil as her everyday clothes. In battle, she opts for heavier plate, covering her whole body, topped off with a armet. In the Forkish fashion, she wears a small cape under her right shoulderguard, and a small sigil pin on her left breast. She wields a longsword called "Honour", and an axe she calls "Valour".
Extra: N/A
Tomas Rossric
In Verba Virtus, In Terra Pietas, In Anima Dignitas, In Gladio Gravitas
Full name: Ser Tomas Rossric
Titles: Knight/Ser
Social rank: Nobleman/Bastard
Job or societal position: He's been granted a few honours by his sister, even though people look down on him. Officially he's a knight, and must protect the kingdom.
Age: 20
Gender: Male
Appearance: See above.
Personality: Witty. He often gets out of situations with his tongue and not his sword. He's not very good at fighting. He likes to have a lot of fun, drinking, gambling. He's very different from his sister, but still loves her.
History: Tomas was born a bastard to the late Lord Rossric. He does not know who his mother is, but based on his looks she was probably a northerner unlike Amber's mother, an Athosi. She does not like him, unlike his sister, for she always thought her husband was faithful. She looks down on him and rarely speaks to him.
Many of the other inhabitants of the Forklands also look down on him, though some don't care of his bastardice and some even hold him in higher regard for not being a "typical nobleman". After discovering he wasn't very good at fighting, his father decided to get him more interested in books and literature. Tomas often reads, writes and this has developed him into a smart man. He constantly uses his wit and charm to get what he wants, or get out of certain situations.
Skills: Use of wit and intellect, knowledge. Can only use a sword and shield, badly. Moderately good at riding.
Dreams and fears: He dreams of knowing who his mother is, and also being accepted by society despite his bastardice to be less lonely.
Favored equipment: He usually wears a loose tunic. In battle he covers it with chainmail and a tabard with his sigil, but with a white stripe across it showing his illegitimacy. He carries a wooden shield with a similar slashed crest, and a standard-issue hand-and-a-half (or aptly named Bastard) sword.
Extra: N/A |
55,910 | 1,531 | 35 | 1,787 | 2,152 | The Battle of Wintershouse Keep
- 9th of December, 1204, Etwine's rule, Year of Massacres.
Gregar smiled at the mercenaries in front of them, slowly sitting up before leaning forward and leaning his arms on his knees. The old man had started grinning, showing ugly black teeth. “I think I can't hire you.” Gregar spoke calmly, looking the man in his eyes, whose grin dissapeared and whose stare turned into a deadly shower of daggers. “We know, Oakheart.” The message was cryptic and unclear, almost as if it was meant for Gregar only. Gregar understood, though, and lost his smile quickly. Time seemed to stop for a moment.
Gregar quickly raced to get up when the old man stepped forward and reached for the sword on his back. Gregars sword came out of the sheath and so did the old mans. Screams were heard as ladies and servants yelled and headed for the giant doors while guardsmen and knights, noblemen and their sons unsheathed their blades. “FOR THE OAKHEART!” one knight yelled as a sword cleaved through the air and hit his throat. All that remained after his battlecry were gurgling sounds and a mercenary, kicking the mans body over to die in his own blood. Never the less all the other knights repeated his warcry, strengthened by the fury their comrades' death had no doubt caused. A fury matched only by the mercenaries bloodlust as they saw coin and riches in their future.
The Hillman Weasel was rushing for Amber, someone he'd deem a valuable price, although it would be unsure if she was the target of an aimed attack or he simply liked to take her concubine. He swung his axe wildly in the direction of those near her, including Jovan who had insulted the mercenaries with no end and touched their honour - or whatever remnant of honour they had. Jovan, being the cripple he was, would be forced to decide.. take an axe to the side of his body, to offer someone the chance to kill the man, or jump out of harms way and take a chance that Amber could deal with this savage marauder. Ladykiller, the blonde mercenary, had instead opted to run down a hallway while drawing his longsword, no doubt going off to look for a suitable high value lady to kill or kidnap, no doubt to ask for a ransom. Joakim, an able fighter who was standing near the hallway had noticed him escaping the fights, and chose to chase after him to stop him. Without realizing it, Ladykiller was headed for mothers' room and last Joakim had heard Brier was there too. He couldn't afford to lose the both of them, not so soon after their arrival.
Gregar watched as the mercenaries started putting men and women to the blade, his own knights stopping them in the act and engaging in combat to afford those civilians who couldn't fight, ladies and young boys and girls the time to escape, though many did meet the blade. As he refocused on the old man, he was barely in time to parry the mans blade with his own, crashing into him with his hip to offset him and push him off the steps that lead to the throne. Giving the old man no time to recollect himself he'd immediatly swing his sword up and down again, stepping towards the old man to cleave his head in two - an attack the man skillfully dodged and at the same time, he launched an upwards aimed slash with his sword aimed to take out Gregar with one strike and cleaving him open from bottom to top. And with Gregars sword still on the ground from his last step, he could barely twist his body outside of the old mans range, forcing him to miss.
Outside, Gidja had lined up some archers on the walls, a mere 50 of them. Meanwhile, other soldiers had started standing with Rolland, asking him who these men were and what they wanted. No doubt Kaz's men were wondering what was going on as they were stuck between the mercenaries and Gregars' men. But as a man ran outside from the keep, waving a red rag of cloth, the mercenaries all got up and headed for the gate. Not realizing what was happening, Gidja would grab a bow from a nearby weapon stand and look to Rolland, waiting for commands. As soon as she'd see him drawing his blade and marching to meet the mercenaries with his force of barely fourty men, she'd order the fifty archers to start firing - they'd need to draw the battle out so the soldiers that were in the inn, in their tents or in the barracks could get to them and support them. If they managed that, they'd outnumber them... for the comming ten minutes, though, it would be a battle in which Rolland would begin with a losing side.
The first mercenaries that would come through the gate were a set of approximately 20 medium armored knights, couching their lances in their sides and aiming for the heads of the soldiers in front of them. If Rolland didn't act fast, he could be dealt a blow that would not be recoverable.
Inside the keep Joakim was chasing after the blonde mercenary, following him swiftly and with agile steps, though he remained a knight in manners and didn't hesitate to throw over a table if it made him faster - everything was allowed to stop this man from reaching the rooms he was headed for. As he got closer and closer to the blonde man, it seemed he got noticed and the man actually threw over a table in Joakim's way, who couldn't dodge it and it sent him tumbling. Although the man continued on his way and Joakim wasn't in danger, Brier was. As he stumbled to get back on his feet he yelled down the corridor. “BRIER! Get in a room and lock the door! We're under attack!” He barely got up again as he continued the chase down the corridor to stop this man.
Gregar, in the main hall, was still busy fighting the old man while combat around him ensued, leading to many innocents dying as well. A quick glance was all Gregar could afford, as he looked over at Brier, Jovan and Arryn to see how they were holding up. He had no doubts that Ash would do alright, though he'd question the ways in which Ash was fighting.. if he was fighting to begin with. Nothing stopped the black knight from seeing this as a bad omen and leaving the castle. Kaz.. was a wildcard. Gregar just hoped he'd kill the mercenaries and die in the process, just in case Kaz would see this as if it were a trap by Gregar. He dove left as the old man struck out again, and the old mans blade struck against a stone pillar. Now was the chance. Gregar grabbed the mans' blade lightly, to not cut himself, and swung his sword at the mans' hand. He'd either have to let go to avoid losing his hand, or risk pulling the sword back just in time.
Why was it that time always seemed to slow down when you were in combat.. it always made it seem as if combat, war.. death, were all beautiful and heroic things. Just as he would swing his sword at the old mans hand, to the right of him a man he knew, Theryn of Burghouse, got cut down. He shared many summers with this man at the beaches of the Falkhalls' duke, sent there by his father to squire for the Athosi together with Theryn, who squired for a famous son of the Athosi duke. It seemed all that training with him hadn't paid off after all, his throat cut by a simple savage hillman who moved on to the next target. He wondered if they'd done this if they had known every man in this hall. Would they still cut down Theryn if they'd known that his wife was with child? Would they still have cut him down if they had known his child wasn't truly his, but he accepted it anyway, keeping the boy as one of his own?
The answer was no, likely not. But Gregar would cut them down all the same, even if he had known them for years, centuries, eons. Justice had to be swift and merciless, because if it wasn't then it was unnessecary and late - two traits justice could not have. These men would die for their attack on men who had let them in in good faith. Blood to be answered with blood. “NO MERCY!” he'd yell right before his sword would hit. It seemed the old man had tried to pull back his sword, but his old age had disallowed him to do so. He'd pay the price of betrayal later, as Gregar kicked him in the chest after he fell to his knees grasping the stump he had left with his last hand. If the man hadn't bled to death, Gregar would execute him himself for treason. Swiftly moving Gregar moved to the next target, aiding a fellow knight who seemed to be in trouble. Amber and the rest would have to fend for themselves. | Joakim, the Young Lord, Weade
'Sine labore nihil'
Full name: Joakim Mirke Weade
Titles: Young Lord Regent of the Whitelands, 'Mir'
Social rank: Nobleman
Job or societal position: Regent over the lands of the Northern Demesne
Age: 16
Gender: Male.
Appearance: Reference picture above.
Personality: Joakim is a young man who has been trained in the northern version of etiquette. As such he can be seen as rude, straightforward and unsubtle by those in the more southern regions. However this bring up has given him a thorough understanding of hierarchy, and more respectably a large dose of respect for hierarchy. As such he can be considered one of the most loyal people in the realm of Borhilon. Along with this respect also came a natural affinity for all aspects of combat -- archery, swordsmanship, architectural designs and logistics are things that he has learnt to become skilled enough in. Being the third son, he was never meant to be a leader, nor was his older brother. That as it may be, this means that he might fall back on his military knowledge rather than diplomatical skills or economical know how to solve the incoming conflict. Besides that he is caring, generous and infinitely prepared for self sacrifice for the good of his people.
History: Joakim was born as the third son to his father, Rikard Weade. This means he has barely any right to the throne of the Whitelands. His older brothers, who were twins, Janus and Gregar, were both destined for greater things according to his father. Janus died early in his infancy as he was born sickly, and the healmaster could not do anything for him but pray to the Old Trees. Gregar however was born healthy and sound, and grew into a strong boy. It helped him that he was pretty in his face, as many noble girls swooned over him as soon as they heard his name. Being the first in line, he was not destined for war as much as Joakim. Instead he learned to govern from an early age. Economics, governship and reading and writing were things that Gregar learned, and in his spare time he learned how to properly use shield, sword and armor, as well as the horse and lance. When Gregard was 8, young lord Joakim was born, just as healthy as his older brother was born.
This is not the sobstory that other noble third-born sons would tell, but rather, the story of a young man who had a strong role model in the form of his older brother. Gregar was not the stern, strict older brother that other families had, but rather was kind and caring as much as his father and mother were. Joakim fit right into the family with ease. From the age of 8, he started learning how to wield a sword, shield, and all other assortments of weaponry. Being the third born, second-in-line heir, he was meant to be a commander of forces for his brother, and whenever possible a personal bodyguard, too. Enjoying the company of his brother, he had no remorse about this fate, and embraced it with open arms. This resulted in Joakim becoming quickly familiarized with large amounts of weapons, strategies, tactics and personal combat skills. This is not saying he is a master of the blade, but pit any common soldier of the duke against him and he will emerge victorious -- with remarkable grace, too.
As of the death of his father, lord Rikard, he has been forced to take over day to day command of the estate, waiting for his brother Gregar to return to the Whitelands to assume his rightful position on the throne.
Skills: Proficient in swordsmanship, personal combat, maces and hammers, horseriding. Above average tactician and strategist.
Dreams and fears: Joakim lacks any higher aspirations, other than to serve in a prestigious knighthood. His fear is however to lose the families lands, his family members, close friends and subjects.
Favored equipment: A bastardsword, wooden shield, chainmail leggings and hauberk, with a surcoat over the hauberk. His right arm (sword arm) has a metal plate shoulderpiece and a metal plate elbow piece. His shieldarm has only a hardened leather shoulder piece and no elbowpiece. On both his hands he wears metal gauntlets. His leggings have metal kneepieces. His footwear is rather simple compared to the metal armor, as he wears rather simple leather boots which are tightly strapped.
Extra: His insignia is the Weade's insignia, the Old Tree. The family dog is 'technically his' he claims, as he was the one that paid the smith for the dog. The dog does not confirm this.. but he sleeps in Joakims' room an awful lot.
Gregar Weade
'To God and his Sons, the world'
Full name: Gregar Weade.
Titles: Duke of the Whitelands, Master of the Hunt of Borhilon, 'The Oakheart'.
Social rank: Nobleman.
Job or societal position: Captain under the banner of king Etwine the Stout, commander of the 3th regiment of heavy infantry, duke over the Whitelands and rightful heir to Rikard Weade.
Age: 24.
Gender: Male.
Appearance: Reference above picture.
Personality: Gregar is a kind man that can be described as harsh but fair. Being trained as a lord he has learnt that this position is not one of fun and pleasure at all times, but rather a position of making hard decisions time and time again. Over the years the smile has faded from his face because of this. However he is utmost prepared to make these decisions for the greater good of his people. Truly, he is the pinnacle of God's virtues, being temperate, chaste, and content with what he has. He is also very trusting, which can be seen as a good thing. It is, however, not a good thing for a lord. Numerous times he has unknowingly invited people into his halls, who seemed to be down on their luck, only to find items missing. His father's scoldings were often not enough to stop this happening again.
History: Gregar lost his twin brother Janus early on, but didn't realize this until much later as his brother died in infancy. It was said that his brothers will lives on through Gregar, something that's always pushed him harder to do well for some reason. From an early age the notion that he would be the image of the Weade family was instilled into him, forcing him to abide etiquette at all times, even when nobody was present. The youth of a first son is relatively harsh, but once they get older, they can slow down and take it a bit more easy. As it did for Gregar.
When he was 16, and came of age, his mother and father had to find a suitable bride for him. Being the famed 'Gregar Oakheart' did him much good in this regard and he was married to the daughter of king Etwine in order to form an alliance between the two families. The lady he was married to, lady Elisandre, was a lady fair and beautiful. She took up residence in the Wintershouse and lived there for two years, until she became ill and died of the cold weather and other nasty effects the illness had upon her. No child was birthed from this marriage however, as Gregar mostly found himself away from the Wintershouse to fulfill his duties to his liegelord king Etwine which caused him to be unable to consume this marriage. Luckily king Etwine wished the alliance between the families remained intact and issued a decree that stated that the two families were still bound, although the families would never be as close as during the marriage. As of yet, Gregar is still unmarried and his time spent in the army of king Etwine has not done this fact any favors.
Skills: Gregar has become skilled in the art of managing his estate, although the economics often go unnoticed by him and the slack would be picked up by the local scribe and his ward. He is inspiring for his troops and can hold his own in combat, however he is not a skilled fighter in the sense of being a legendary warrior. He is about as good as is expected of a nobleman. He is quite charismatic and a sort of symbol for the Whitelands, however how much of this he can make true is another question.
Dreams and fears: His dreams are to explore the regions East of the mountains when the time comes. His fears are the fall of his estate, family, or the death of the King due to intrigue or political struggles.
Favored equipment: For the armor, reference the picture. As for weapons, he prefers to wield an arming sword and a wooden shield, painted with the sigil of the Weade family. On horseback, he would wield a lance where possible.
Extra: Logically, his sigil is the Old Tree of the Weade family.
Gidja Jorvsdottir
For the White!
Full name: Gidja Jorvsdottir
Titles: 'Giddi'
Social rank: Lowborn courtier.
Job or societal position: Castle guard.
Age: 21
Gender: Female.
Personality: Gidja is a typical Northern woman. Cold and warm at the same time, she seems to omit an aura of tranquility, order and peace. Outside of battle she smiles often, atleast when she is not on duty. When on duty or in the heat of combat, her face grows stern, authoritarian and holds a respectful gaze on those above her. She is one of the few women in the entirety of Borhilon, save the few such as the duchess of the Forklands, who is in a combat role and is accepted as such in more or lesser degree. As such she has grown to become slightly more than a castle guard, and holds an esteemed position within the dukes militia even.
History: Gidja was born on September 18th, which was coincidentally the name of one of Gods' children, the lady Gidja, fierce housemaiden. As such it seemed appropiate to name her after the child of God. Her father was Jorv, a strong man who served in the dukes army, and her mother was Herietta, a scrawny woman who served in the dukes castle-keep. She was supposed to become like her mother, a servant in service to the duke, but her strong believe that her name was given to her for a reason led to her requesting audience with the duke at the mere age of 14, when she was appointed to become a servants' assistant to learn the trade.
What followed was a shock, namely the duke accepting her request of audience. She got called in by her father, who told her to watch her tongue as she spoke to the duke, more so for her own safety than theirs. Her mother teared up, thinking that she would run her mouth and face punishment. But duke Rikard wouldn't be called the Just if it weren't for his friendly demeanor. Gidja approached the duke slowly, bowing slightly before standing straight again. What followed was a barrage of pleas, reasons and promises about her becoming a warrior, just like Gidja, the daughter of God, the Father of Earth.
Many objected but the Duke raised his arm, the hall deafening with silence. Then he granted her permission to become part of the castle guard, as she wasn't the first female to join a military group, and she certainly wouldn't be the last. Besides that, she had the spirit of Gidja in her, and he deeply believed that she was right when she said Gidja lives in her.
After that she spent most of her years until now guarding the castle from thieves, bandits, and guarding the halls during festivities.
Skills: She is capable at fighting with a spear, this being her preferable weapon. As a backup weapon she uses a sword that's sheathed on her left side. Her skills with a shield are also quite good, to the point where she knows how to actively use it to force an enemy into certain positions, guarding her sides and is also able to use it offensively to good effect.
Dreams and fears: One day she hopes to be lifted into a noblemans status, which would allow her to become knighted, or at the very least become part of a more prestigious order than being a castle guard. She fears death deeply, as any sane man does.
Favored equipment: For her armor, see her appearance. For weapons she has a medium sized spear, and a sheathed sword on her left. Her shield is also on her left arm. It's a round wooden shield, with the castle guards insignia on it.
Extra: She owns a cat, but he mainly roams the courtyards and her quarters. |
55,911 | 1,531 | 36 | 899 | 318 | Jessica looked at Amber tilting her head some as she heard her to look watch Gavin. She couldn't help but laugh a bit "M'lady? Gavin is Joakim's personal steward, and acting head steward" she added looking at her as she smiled "He is pleasant, cheerful, and very dedicated to his work. Personally I'm somewhat up set tonight is his last night as acting head, he as been good to us, able to balance personal and professional. Evan the cooks like him, and that is saying something." She smiled bowing her head "He is thoughtful about his actions, Take me for example. I was assigned to you because I'm more observant then most and since some people may be targeting you he wanted some one who notices subtle things to better keep you safe." Jessica wasn't lying in the least seeing as this is what she was told and had no real reason to question it. "So anything else you need M'lady"
Walking through the halls it was time for Gavin to return to the main hall and resume his duties of directing his busy little bees as swarmed around the Castle. Before he had even reached it though a man walked up to him, leaning in he whispered to him as Gavin nodded and kept walking. More guest it seems he thought making his way to the main hall. He knew of these mercenary companies, and he loathed them. They were not to be trusted, they didn't care what the job was, they would do it. Even Telth had some ethics, as many as a paid killer can have, but still he had a code to live by. These men didn't care as long as they got paid. Returning to the hall Gavin saw some new arrivals. He didn't know the man as he asked a servant who had been there longer, Jovan apparently. He had never met the man but knew of him as he smiled and nodded. It seemed he was already being taken care of, and since Gavin had no need to watch the man he left it be.
His young lord Joakim came into the hall with the mercenary leader. Watching he moved back and out of site. The ladykiller, was a man he personally didn't like and there was history between them as he would prefer not to be made by a man such as that. Staying out of site from all eyes he closed his own. He didn't trust them, and at this time Gavin would not be needed. Opening his eyes he had returned to Telth, He looked over as Jessica walked up "Scary..." she said pausing as she looked at Telth. She was a chilled a bit as she had never seen that look "Run and hide little girl" he said to her as she nodded moving into the kitchens freaked out a bit. Though It seemed that Telth was right, things started to get heated up as he walked out of the shadows once he saw metal clinking together as sword met sword.
Coming out he saw Joakim chasing after Ladykiller, but something more pressing took his attention. The hillsman was charging at Amber, soon a throwing dagger was flying the air heading for the man. Telth didn't even think, it was simple reaction. Years of training making such actions second nature to him. That dagger was of course on the money, and would plunge into his neck, if he noticed it however he would have to back of and since he was charging the way he was it would make him stumble some. Though Telth didn't have time to see the outcome, that was all the help he could provide with out blowing his cover as he took off running after his young lord.
Telth ran through the halls as he saw the over turned tables, easily moving past such he was faster then most and was soon he saw Joakim who had been stumbled by one of the falling tables. "Excuse me young lord" he said as he quickly flew past him. Despite his speed he often moved silently and he was soon approaching the blonde man, some one that he couldn't exactly let live. Telth threw out the second throwing knife of his at the back of that man. Telth wasn't one to announce him self as he attacked, quickly drawing those twin daggers he flipped the one in his left hand to hold it backwards lashing out. The knife wouldn't kill him, he had to aim between any armor he might of had on so it would stagger him though. Using that he slid down using his left blade to slice the back of his knee. | Telth
"Always appear less then you are"
Full name: Telth
Titles: Gavin Simon
Social rank: none. Peasant
Job or societal position: Assassin, spy, Personal Servant for Joakim
Age: 28
Gender:Male
Appearance: He stands at 5'10 and dresses smartly. Being the personal servant to Joakim he is required to keep a certain level of presentation. Also he appears rather skiny, but his body is very well toned from years of training.
Personality: Gavin is a very happy fun loving person. When alone with other servants he is often found making jokes with them and is a happy person. When working as the personal servant to Joakim he often has a smile on his face as the age of his lord maters little to him. Though he knows when to put his carefree little smile away when important matters are being talked about. He is also very serious about his job, doing everything in his power to help his lord.
Telth is very different. Telth is quite and reserved, speaking only when spoken too and choosing his words very carefully, often taking a few moments before answering. He is ever observant, watching everything around him, assessing everything and everyone, from threat level to the quickest way to strike a killing blow if need be.
History: Telth in truth doesn't remember his true name. He has been an orphan as long as he could remember. Living in an orphanage in the Falklands children were often used for the criminal element. Delivering packages or messages, spying on people as the orphans were fore the most part ignored by people. The "Ring" was organized by one of the older children ,Rickard, who worked with the adults taking jobs and passing them down to the younger children. The boy was of course roped into this, and it wouldn't of been to much a problem, If you did well you were rewarded with food. However if you failed you were beaten by the older kids. Rickard was a cruel and sadistic person. He would beat the younger kids for no reason other then to prove that he was the biggest and the strongest of them all. The boy kept to himself, though did his job and tried to ignore what was going on.
When The boy was eight though things changed. One of his friends was beat to near death. She couldn't move for days, and Rickard ordered that no one was to feed her or help her. The boy ignored this and would sneak her food and bandage her up as best he could. He was discovered however and ended up having running, but he couldn't get away as they caught up to him and beat him. He was left to die in the streets. He laid there awaiting death when some one walked up to him "You just going to lay there and die" the man said as he looked up "no one is going to help you, you have to help your self". The boy didn't know what was going on, why would some one stop to just to talk to him this way. Was he really that cruel?. He started to stand up "That's more like it, stand on your own feet boy" Once up he looked at the man "You want to learn how to fight boy? You want to never be afraid again? I can teach you. But first you must prove that you are worth teaching" he told him. He wanted nothing more then that, so he asked what he had to do. It was simple really, find the people that did this to him, and kill them.
The boy agreed. But he couldn't just out right attack them, they were older, bigger, stronger, but they weren't smarter. So he came up with a plan. He knew how the operation ran, who did what and when they were vulnerable. He was quickly forgotten and used that to his advantage as well. Intercepting messages, placing false drops he was able to lure them out and ambush them. He picked them off one by one, killing all three of them. Once he was finished the man approached him again. He told him that he would train with him, and that the boy he was died the night on the street. Only Telth remained.
Everyday after that was spent training. Fighting, Poisons, stealth, spying, observation, Noble families, crest, orginizations. Every day from wake to sleep these things were beat into him, both literally and metaphorically. Though oddly enough though this man was the closest thing he ever had to a father.
After years of training and travailing with his mentor he woke up one day, what was odd was this was the first time he woke up with out there being some trap trying to kill him, some late night ambush. After a few hours he realized that his mentor was gone. As fast as that man came into his life, he was gone. Telth carried on though, he had connections, ways to get work. It wasn't like he was left with nothing. On a mission though he took a mission, to kill a noble men. On planing out his attack he learned that this target was planing the assassination of another, a young noble named Joakim. The noble was taking precautions, having gone to ground. Telth instead planned to assassinate Joakim himself, not to actually do it, but to catch the man hired by the noble to lead him to him. The plan worked, he intercepted the would be assassin before the attempt was made. What he didn't know was that he wasn't as stealthy as he thought. After he had dispatched the noble and accepted his payment. After that he was approached by a man, offered a more permanent line of work. Thus Gavin Simon was born.
Skills: Master swordsman, Poisoner, Stealth, Very agile, very skilled with daggers and throwing knives, also has training with most weapons. He is also very Observant, very little gets past him.
Dreams and fears: As of this day he has very little dreams or fears. He has nothing that he truly holds of any value.
Favored equipment: Telth's favored weapon is a curved single sided blade, throwing daggers and two daggers he keeps concealed. Also while on mission he sometimes uses a bow if need be.
Gavin, keeps very little weapons on him. Though he ussually has two throwing daggers concealed in his sleaves as well as two daggers he keeps hidden on him.
Extra: |
55,912 | 1,531 | 37 | 220 | 2,530 | Ash barely had time to react when all subtlety was thrown out because some comment out of Gregar's "brother". Ash didn't know who he was, but he probably was high ranked, had a frail health, and above all, he didn't read the situation at all. Yet Ash knew well, the situation was beyond mere words. People were already drawing blades and killing eachother, and the Oakheart was rallying the troops against the ambush. There was no turning back, and he had to pick a side.
I hate fighting for free. He scoffed as he quickly drew his sword and scanned the surroundings. Hamstring had attacked Gregar, no doubt wanting to sever his tendons of arms and legs, Ladykiller was already running upstairs, impeded somewhat by Gregar's brother. And the Hillman Weasel had the sights on the ill man and the other woman whom he guessed was a noblewoman of sorts.
My, Weasel, aiming for women and cripples? You never change. Ash muttered to himself as he reached after the man. You're distracted, with your back at me. You're also important. You're mine. The Knightslayer launched himself, but not with the sword. He used his leg to deliver a hard blow to the back of the knee of the Hillman.
No matter the armor, joints are always weak points. Bend thy knee! Ash thought to himself as he used all his sword arm might in a decapitating stroke aimed at Weasel's head from behind. Swift, brutal, and dreadful. Just like during the war.
Brier looked twice at the upcoming man. And Joakim. Who yelled her to get in a room. Ruckus from downstairs confirmed that indeed, this place was under attack. Looking at Mir, she quickly proceed to shut herself in a room. Normally, she would be scared. But after the Blackwood incident, she hadn't caught a break exactly.
I must move on Brier shook her head. Times for lamentations were over. She drew her dagger and awaited for the ruckus to subside to open the door. She could help Mir and Greg. But first, she needed to talk to them to get a few ingredients. | Ash of the Whitelands
"No gloriae suae in bello"
Full name: Ash, or Ash of the Whitelands, denoting his humble origin.
Titles: The Sellsword Scholar, and the less flattering titles of Ser Whoreson and Knightslayer
Social rank: Whoreson peasant.
Job or societal position: Black Knight Sellsword. Part time teacher and folk entertainer.
Gender: Male
Appearance: He's an average sized, well built man, with dark scruffy hair and a clean-shaved face. He has gray eyes that give him a piercing, vivid stare. Cuts and chinks can be seen throughout his body, a couple of them on his face. He usually wears worn out and simple but serviceable clothes, and a black, equally worn but still useable armor (it's painted black to prevent rust) when in combat. He walks with carefully measured steps and he has a deep voice.
Personality: Despite his ignoble origin, Ash is a polite and well mannered man. He always answers a greeting, and answers with the utmost respect to whomever talks to him, be it noble or gentile. He's also rather patient and slow to anger, with an almost nigh unflappable stoicism. Yet at the same time, one could feel that sometimes he's not here, and just stares at the horizon rather than at people, reliving who knows what demons of the past. Lowborn, whores and orphans do manage to bring some more reaction in the man, and he's known to have a chipper, quick-wit and enthusiastic easygoing attitude with them. He is also more than willing to share his knowledge and experience to whomever lends him an ear, and he's partial to honest plights. Meeting him on the battlefield or as enemy is another matter. Bereft of any kind of remorse or honor, Ash strives to survive and win to see another morning, and he has very few qualms on using underhanded methods.
History: Ash was simply a byproduct of a camp follower and an unnamed man-at-arms in the Whitelands. He could have ended like many street rats and pickpockets, if it had not been for the hardest and most clever decision his mother had: To give him to a wandering troupe of entertainers after some convincing. Even from his early age, Ash revealed himself as a bright lad and a fast learner, and some of the troupe felt that they had to polish the formidable intellect the boy had, out of goodwill. They taught him manners, literature and writing, in the hopes he could become one of the narrators of the troupe. They weren't so successful at teaching him to sing and dance, as the poor lad was unfortunately tonedeaf, but he managed to pick other skills to compensate, like knowledge of healing and poisons from the troupe's wise woman, and some minor sleight-of-hand tricks to draw and interest peasants.
By the time he was a young man, he had already made a name for himself among the troupe, becoming one of the storytellers while others did the dancing and singing, as well as one of the faces for negotiation, given his politeness and wit. Unfortunately, he had also hit the foolish age where everyone wanted to be a knight and save and kingdom, and in a regrettable hotheaded decision, parted with the troupe to become a sellsword. Of course, his actual fighting ability was made much fun of by the time he tried to join, but the wizened leader of the sellsword group decided to keep him around, if only because he had prized skills like healing, poisons and writing. Knowing fully well his status as ''favored kid'' of the leader, he trained diligently and tried his best to not make mistakes. He also swallowed his qualms about doing less than regrettable brigand jobs, in an effort to become more like the mercenaries that he had surrounded himself with. However, it was all for naught, because even as he managed to garner himself a name among the mercenaries and become one of the de-facto liutenants of the band, he kept meeting scorn and cold shoulders. When a quarrel about payment shares broke between him and other lieutenants, Ash realized that no matter what he did, he would always be treated as an outsider by everyone. Skilled enough to beat knights in single combat, yet lowborn. Capable of philosophical debates yet as base as the son of a prostitute.
Heartbroken and bitter by the many horrors he chose to endure pursuing an empty ideal, he returned to his homeland, only to find the shadow of the war haunting the lands, and a rather cold and crude gravestone where his mother once stood. Still, he decided to stay, and perhaps make himself a place little by little, starting by subverting the suspiciousness of people around him by entertaining folks and doing odd errands.
Skills: Ash is an incredibly mentally gifted individual. He has a good grasp of a variety of subjects like tactics, economics, literature, manners and even odd things like castle building and sieges. He is also a good sellsword, able to use competently swords, shields, daggers, and bows, and skilled on horseback and with lances. He can also do some minor prestidigitation tricks like vanishing coins and minor escapism. He is a decent storyteller. He is rather skilled in the arts of healing as well as poisons, though people only know him for the poison part and his skill at arms.
Dreams and fears:He dreams of finding a good place to settle in, without even having to resort to the sword again. Sadly, in these times, his sword is all what he has to earn himself a living, as he's considered a foul person even by fellow peasants. He fears dying alone and forgotten, and losing himself to the madness of war and forgetting how to be kind.
Favored equipment: He's usually seen in comfortable, humble clothes with a dagger by his hip and a money purse when he's not in combat. When he's fully suited, he dons a black-painted armor, with a black shield and a longsword. Or alternatively a bow. He keeps the armor, arrows and weapons on his horse's saddlebags when he's not fighting. He also owns three books. One about healing and poisons, the other about war tactics, and the third one is his personal diary. He also keeps some oil and a whetstone to polish and keep his gear, as well as a flint.
Extra: He owns a warhorse named Spot he won in a bet. It's quite a temperamental stallion and has a rather worrying fondess for wine. All his worldly possessions can fit on his horse's saddlebags.
Brier Weade
"We can only move forward"
Full name: Brier Catryn Weade / Brier Catryn Morrigh
Titles: Countess of Blackwood (Formerly), Kitty for her friends, and Witch of Blackwood to her detractors.
Social rank: Noblewoman
Job or societal position: Former Royal Court Musician, Countess, Healer and Alchemist.
Age: 20
Gender: Female
Personality: Brier was once a high spirited merry girl who always questioned everyone and everything. Sociable and curious to the extreme, she wasn't put off by appearances or standing whatshoever. She also shared the generous good nature of her elder brother Gregar Weade, as well as the lack of malice. Like her sibling, this bit her in the back quite a few times at first, but as she grew older, more focused and wiser, she learned how to read the intentions of people and developed a friendly, polite, but very defensive demeanor. Brier is a woman of intellect and culture and she enjoys learning new knowledge or discussing with akin minds. Bitterly accepting that not everyone is nice, and that there are wicked people out of there, she can be quite vindictive, throughout and manipulative if any member of her family is at stake.
History: Brier was born between the twins Janus and Gregar, and the thirdborn Joakim. Little Brier was a chatterbox and a relentless chaser of odd things, when she wasn't too busy sticking to Gregar like glue. She however, didn't neglect her education, and she followed her mother diligently just as Gregar did with their father. Education that was soon put to test, as she tended to her younger brother Joakim whenever others were not available. When Gregar's bethrodal was announced, Brier was for the first time, wary of an stranger coming to the house, but soon took a liking to Lady Elisandre as the elder sister she never had. By Elisandre's suggestion, Brier managed to convince his father the Duke to go to the King's court to receive more education.
Although initially reluctant, her family conceded to Brier's petition, as becoming part of the court and with Brier's easygoing nature, she would probably find a good groom later on. With her skill with the harp and sociable nature, Brier found herself befriended several people of all sorts. While comfortable with the people of her age and social status like princes, princesses, and sons and daughters of other nobles, Brier's sharp mind also sought out three people that usually were beneath notice: the King's spymaster, an old alchemist who had somehow gained prestige as royal advisor, and a portly and coarse yet skilled woman who was the Royal Physician.
Brier would seek their presence whenever she felt the whole court scenery and upbringing was too repetitive and dull, and she ended up learning several skills that a noblewoman was not suppossed to have in the first place. The ability to read people's lies in their faces, alchemy and healing arts. Brier didn't know how dangerous this combination was until much later, a year after Elisandre's death. While playing matchmaking to find her a suitable husband, Brier unadvertedly drove all of them off with her skill to read people. Only one succeeded to not be cowed, earl Kevin Morrigh of Blackwood.
Earl Kevin was perhaps thirty years her elder and he was looking for a second wife after the first one had died without giving him any descendants. He was a stout man of rotund features, a bristly beard, a large booming voice, and the most important feature of them all. He didn't even bother to hide his true intentions in the slightlest. He had heard rumours of Brier being a healer and an alchemist, and precisely for that he was proposing her. He also acknowledged he didn't have a big status as nobleman, but he had a rather important mining and timber site in the Ironhills. He did not want a wife who only stood idlely to be coddled. Brier was taken aback by the man's honesty and accepted to become his wife.
Life at the Ironhills was just as Kevin described. There wasn't a single idle moment. If it wasn't helping blacksmiths identify and refine ores, it was helping injured lumberjacks and workers. She often delighted the earl's men with her harp at the end of the day. Never she had felt so drained and yet at the same time she was happy. She even had her first son by him, which both named Brian. And then the war struck out, and everything went down in a quick succession. Earl Kevin, thinking more with the heart than with the head, defied his lord, the duke of Harrighfield, and tossed his support in favor of the King and his father-in-law, duke Weade of Whitelands, only to be cut down in the same battle as Rikard. While brave and commending, this did not bode well for Brier, who soon was in the wrong of a lynching mob who took her castle, spurred by the less than honorable family members of the Morrigh. Being accused as a witch who had twisted earl Kevin's mind, she was all but helpless when the mob killed her infant two-year-old son in a fit of rage and bloodlust, and threatened to burn her at the stake.
She was saved by the timely intervention of Ser Wilhem, a recently ordered knight who had been left behind to ensure the safety of the countess. The lad, although brave, did not survive the wounds sustained, no matter what Brier died, and in the end, she reluctantly buried the young, brave and unfortunate knight beneath a large oaktree, while she took his horse for herself, and headed north to seek refuge in the Forklands and Whitelands.
Skills: Brier has an active mind, and she can engage in social conversation with practically anyone. She also knows how to cook decently, and she's greatly skilled at sewing and playing the harp. She can also sing quite well. More importantly, Brier can detect who lies to her by merely looking at the body language of the person before her. She is also a master healer, able to perform advanced bonesetting and even surgeries (where her sewing skills once again help), with the associated knowledge of herbalism. Last but not least important, Brier is an alchemist, and as such she can easily identify ores and create black powder and alchemic fire should she need to. Brier can also ride a horse quite decently.
Dreams and fears: Brier dreams of getting back at the insult suffered in the Blackwood, and avenge her dead son by the mob, and then maybe start over a new life. She obviously fears losing more family members.
Favored equipment: Brier usually is seen with her harp, although that one was lost when she was nearly killed. She always carries a hidden dagger in her thigh. Whenever she has to hit the road, it is not uncommon for her to carry a large knapsack with her healing materials as well as a staff for support. She also carries the Weade family ring and the Morrigh family ring.
Extra:Brier is thought to have perished in the riot, if news of such reached the north. |
55,913 | 1,532 | 0 | 465 | 6,811 | THIS BEAUTIFUL WORLDBeyond the Endless Horizon
Cpt. Saiyako
The ground shook as fireballs streaked across the starry night, high caliber artillery shells returning the favor only to be met buy a hail of frozen shivs that pounded the defenses of the Grand Human Union like heavy weather machine guns. Officers shouted orders as soldier rushed into the trenches and bunkers, hot bullet casings falling rhythmically on to the moist ground as machine guns and rifles began to open up. As the hill began to light up from bullets and rockets and shells, flares where shot up, bringing faux sunlight into the sky that shone brighter than the stars or the moon.
Across the plains, laid with a crop of land mines planted just a few hours earlier and already for harvest and guarded by a wall of sharp razor wire, the armies of the Empire where startled by such brightness in what they thought would have been pitch black darkness. They had carefully spent hours planning and carefully walking to try and ambush the strange invaders who wielded exotic magic they have never seen before, magic that could bring more death in an instant than the God of Death himself it seemed. But their resolve was unwavering and their lines would not break to the invaders. Yet. Although no one said anything about it, it would seem that the victor had already been decided and the Gods did not side with the Empire this time.
"Alright everybody up!" Captain Saiyako yelled into the oversized shipping container which was acting as the barracks, the beds on one side pressed against the wall with their ruffled blankets testament to the speed which their occupants got out, all of which stood at attention drawing a bit of welcomed surprised from the Fusan captain; these guys seemed to be doing a better job than he did at their rank.
"First Recon Unit ready, sir!" one of the soldiers at the front yelled in their loudest voice, arguably competing with the outside fighting to see who could blow out everyone's eardrums first as it rung through the metal box.
"Good, everybody on me." Saiyako ordered in his calm, stern voice, much more professional than it normally was. Watching as everyone put on their respective helmets and pick up their guns, he walked to face the battle unfolding in front of them. With his unit behind him, Saiyako cut a path through the rest of people running around base; people carrying the wounded, hauling ammunition or trying to make their way to the front littered the grounds like a moving forest. Drawing out his warblade and using the hue it gave off against the night sky as a rally point for his men, Saiyako directed them to the defenses, "Everyone move! Into the trenches!"
Looking down at his wrist-mounted datapad, he got a rough idea of all the people under his command. Saiyako had actually failed to not only remember their names, but hadn't even given them a proper greeting prior to this point with the First Recon taking orders from various sergeants and lieutenants on how to get set up at base rather than him. Hopefully they'll all live for the proper welcome here. Saiyako thought to himself as he wondered what the men and women under him had first thought about their commanding officer, not ever having seen him.
Snapping out of his thoughts as he raised his armor to block another incoming hail of frozen ice, Saiyako began shouting orders as loud as he could, casually moving through the trenches as soldiers from across the Union fired off into the distance.
"Sokoloff, and you two. Get into this bunker and get that MG back up!" Saiyako pointed to the bunker they were passing that harbored a room full of wounded who appeared to have gotten some for of electrical weaponry shot at them, "Tauret! Check on the wounded in that bunker and then go the the second line medical station unless you feel like doing surgery while getting shot at."
"Farraday and Valentine, grab a handful of people and get up to the left flank; I'm getting reports that a group of giant-orge-troll looking creatures are breaking through! Iostan, go with them as well! The rest of you follow me!" The captain felt chills repelling down his spine as he said those words, this was truly a fantasy world now.
Saiyako hoped that he hadn't forgotten anyone, but given it was him, he probably did. Although he did rectify it a little after realizing that the unit's sniper wasn't in a good spot, "Oberherr, get to one of the towers and start picking targets."
Watching the girl go, Saiyako looked back down at his datapad, calmly tapping buttons on the screen, "Requesting activation of ARMA Unit 0-N1, arrival to be at my position."
"Copy that captain, ARMA Unit 0-N1 on its way, ETA less than a minute" the radio operator back at base replied.
Pushing other soldiers out of his way, Captain Saiyako watched a giant EVA unit was currently engaged in a fierce punching contest with a larger species of troll monsters; every hit the metal man landed sending blood and teeth flying until the EVA picked up the troll and threw it into the ground, sending it off with a mighty stomp that cause blood to adorn the unit's legs as the captain hear an audible crunch.
"Captain Hwangi Saiyako," a robotic voice spoke from behind him, "ARMA Unit designation 0-N1 "Oni" reporting as combat ready. I would recommend someone of your rank and reported incompetence to retreat back to safety."
Saiyako would be lying if he said he didn't want to punch this robot, he already got enough snark about his work ethic from humans. An AI giving him sass was about one of the least helpful things it could do. "Fuck you too." Saiyako snapped back and ordered, "Get you metallic ass onto the front and hold down the ground." It wasn't his style to hide behind some stone wall in the backlines even if it was basically an unofficial protocol; he had soldiers to look after. After all, one of the things they made very clear in officer training school was that the officer in charge of a unit was responsible for the well being of the soldiers. At least that's what he got out of it.
Rushing up front lines, he could feel just how different this world was compared to Fuso, no, the galaxy he came from. The ground shook once again as gunpowder began to fill the air. Whatever emotion he had going on right now, fear was not one of them. Instead, he felt excited; here he was in a brand new land full of new things and even if he was in the middle of a war, he couldn't help but feel that there was something so mystical and so fantastic of this world. In the strangest way, he felt blessed to be on this beautiful world. | HWANGI SAIYAKO
If you look like you know what you're doing, then people will believe you do know what you're doing.
-Saiyako
Name
Hwangi Mukuri Saiyako
Nicknames
Saiya (Nickname)
Age
30
Gender
Male
Homeworld
Fuso
Rank
Captain
Role
Unit Commander
Appearance
Judging solely from appearances, Saiyako looks nothing like what one would expect from an officer, even by Fusan standards. His brownish-redish hair is always in varying amounts of ruffled or crumpled, dark lines hung under his dark golden eyes from his many all nighters no doubt, whatever happens during these long moons is known only by Saiyako himself. With a body type between his natural skinny frame and the body mass built up by military training, the man doesn't look like one you'd immediately expect to be a soldier but more of a bookworm who spent too much time at the gym. His resting, apathetic bitch face is only broken by the occasional cocky smile that arises when he feels the rare need to outdo someone.
In terms of outfits, Saiyako generally finds himself in any number and amount of clothing; like many Fusans he has no qualms about walking around in his underwear or nightwear and has been spot on more than one occasional strolling between the showers and his quarters nude. He also has a bad habit of tramping around in his sleeping clothes until noon when he knows he has no planned assignments or tasking for that day. Surprisingly enough however, his actual officer's dress uniform is perfectly kept in pristine condition, not a speck of dust on it, not a hole anywhere, not a button loose.
Equipment
Fusan Type 108 Automatic Carbine
Fusan Type 0 Warblade
ARMA Unit "Oni"
M3P-4 10mm Pistol
RO-3 Omni Grenade
Officer's Regimental Guide Manual
Personality
Laid back almost to the point of apathy, Saiyako is more extreme case of the famous Fusan calmness and indifference. With and almost superhuman ability of procrastinating and extending deadlines, Saiyako rarely feels urgency with things like paper work of which he sees as his greatest foe. One could say he's a fatalist, believing that his life is already set out by some greater power who isn't the Primarch or the pantheons of Terranism causing friction between him and the Inquisition who keeps tabs on all commissioned officers, his apparent lack of zeal doesn't help.
Of course, now with the arrival of the Gate, that personal philosophy has more or less gone out the window. In its place there's a new sense of excitement which Saiyako hasn't felt in a long time as before him is a beautiful world straight from a fantasy game. He works with greater speed and efficiency now although relative to others he still works dreadfully slow. Any official papers like reports while likely be handed in a week late with crumpled corners, an improvement from when papers would go missing for months in Saiyako's hands and come out like they were in their own war in the bowls of his desk. The only type of papers which he hasn't failed to submit on time are papers relating to the well being of his unit; things such as payrolls and requisition forms have rarely failed to be handed on time and are the only things which he will rarely submit early. Perhaps this is rooted from an amicable nature that's hidden under layers of apparent boredom and snark.
In battle, his apathetic nature is incredibly apparent, Saiyako appearing to give absolutely zero shits about being shot at or yells about him getting down. Of course this doesn't mean he's slow or combat stupid, his indifference to danger and gore is one of the primary reason behind his promotions. The battlefield is also the only place where his normal expression breaks and is replaced by a slightly cocky grin and an air of confidence. Its not uncommon for him to challenge someone to see how fast they can dash into cover while under fire as although he doesn't care much for the insults people call him, he does enjoy showing people up sometimes even if he doesn't always win them.
Traits
Seemingly apathetic to danger, blood, and insults
Wonderful chief
Deadlines are relative
Something of best friends with his ARMA unit
Fusan army training which comes with better melee skills
Master of procrastinating
Reliable regarding matters of his unit's well being
Fan animated shows and has a small collection of figurines and collectables in his quarters
Atheistic
History
Saiyako was born to a medical researcher space elevator operator on a space station in orbit around the Fuso. His life was normal for the most part, no sudden parental deaths or secret family wealth to be inherited; Saiyako was just a normal boy who lived life between the station and planet side. While definitely not the upper crust of society, his family was more than able to pay for their lifestyle and some of the gifts the child would want; perhaps one reason why Saiyako was even more laid back than most Fusans. The biggest change in his life up to that point would be the birth of his little sister when he was six. Things changed for Saiyako when Hwangi Tantan Mutoi came into his life but not too dramatically. Like his parents, Saiyako did his best to shower Mutoi with love and affection.
Maintain respectable grades throughout his teenaged years, the turning point of his life hit both him and his family hard, quite literally. During a family trip which Saiyako had offered to drive, his father next to him and his mother in the back with his sister, a mechanical failure cause the car to veer into oncoming traffic where a cargo transport plow right into them. Despite Saiyako, his mother and his sister all recovering, his father never did for some reason. Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months but his father wasn't recovering for some reason, doctors attributed it to some genetic issue that was preventing his body from healing as it should and instead was actually decaying.
Life suddenly went downhill as Saiyako started failing his classes and locked himself in his room for hours at a time, feeling as if he was the one who cause his father's pain, eventually refusing to go visit him out of shame and guilt. The last time Saiyako would see his father would be on his father's death bed who told him:
"Son, there is no hidden treasure of our family for which I can pass on to you. There is no secret wealth which I can let you inherit. No portal to a magical world that I have been hiding. No secret society that I've been a part of. You are completely normal, you are no fairy tale hero like the one in the shows you once watched and the books me and your mother once read you; there is nothing special about you. You are just you.
But you are unbound, free of any strings of destiny. Your fate is no one but your own. There is nothing to hold you back from your greatness..."
Of course, Saiyako didn't understand what his father meant at that point, but it broke something inside of him and turned him apathetic, not even flinching as he watched his father's coffin be lowered into the earth and buried. It was as if he stopped caring about everything and it showed; he later failed out of school before he could even get into a college and barricaded himself in his room, nothing his sister or his mother did could get him out.
Faced with a dead husband and a depressed, apathetic son, Saiyako's mother died of a heart attack little over a year later and Saiyako was again silent as his mother was buried next to her lover. Realizing that there was no way that both he and his little sister could survive on government subsidies, Saiyako got a job in the only place that would accept him: the army.
After months of training, he was deployed to various rebel stations and worlds as part of the 6th Fusan Regiment, 21st Assault Division nicknamed the "Golden Foxes". Through many a battles and a fair bit of luck, Saiyako had been promoted to the rank of 2nd LT after the previous one had died in battle, his apathetic nature leading him the ability to remain remarkable nonchalant even by Fusan standards. After doing his 3rd tour, he heard wind of a portal that had opened up on the backwater desert planet of Ennedi to what the first scouts said was a "fantasy" world. Upon hearing that, something made him smile and started up his excitement, an emotion he hadn't felt in a long time. Signing up without haste, Saiyako felt like he finally understood what his father's words from all those years ago meant; he had the chance not to fulfill his destiny, but a chance to make his own.
EKO DONPARE
Female Ver.
I've seen you somewhere, I've heard your name from someone, I've remembered your appearance from something.
-Eko
Male Ver.
Change isn't good or bad by nature; it just happens.
-Eko
Name
Eko Donpare, Incarnate of Tenzayn
Nicknames
Ekochi (female only)
Ekal (male only)
Age
807 (Actual age appearance varies)
Gender
Gender fluid, literally
Race
Human Incarnate
Kingdom
Crown of Sarleon, Vassal of the Empire
Appearance
While minor details may change, Eko's appearance can be divided between her male appearance and his male appearance. In his male form, Eko is a tall if not slightly lanky individual with sharp features with red hair and a nobly ruffled white hair. In her female form, Eko keeps the white hair (although it now reaches somewhere near her lower back). Notably shorter, female Eko stands about a foot shorter than his male version with amethyst eyes; her features however are still graceful and wispy in a way.
In terms of clothing, again Eko can change at will but for the most part he's found in some getup that looks quite a lot like something you'd see from the 1700s or the 1800s on High Terra. A tattered, fancy navy blue military's officer overcoat with golden lining and tassels with some red details and golden buttons. A powder white scarf is attached to his neck and held in place with a delicate golden jewel; a large hat with a flume of white feathers and a rose stuck in its side can also sometimes be seen, more often on her female version.
Equipment
Coat of Donpare - The famous coat of the Incarnate of Tenzayn, it looks like something Napoleon would wear. Despite its appearance, its actually Eko's armor, each thread turned from silk and fabric into thread with the strength of steel by Tenzayn themselves. It also has the effect of making the wearer consistently clear of mind and fearless, changing said fear into euphoria strangely enough although this barely effects Eko when she puts it on.
Regalis Concerto - Eko's primary weapon, it is a very fancy and royal looking glaive. Besides being able to cut through armor and flesh with ease, it also acts as a sort of condute for Eko's magic, basically a giant magic wand that Eko can actually use in one hand in a similar fashion to that of a conductor's baton. The weapon itself was created for Eko by Tenzayn after his asscention into Incarnatehood.
Magic
Eko uses Book of Evolution at a master-level due to his Incarnate status
Personality
Like most things about him, Eko's personally can quickly change. While not as fast or extreme as someone tainted by the Book of Circus, there are definitely warning signs that need to can be seen as a sign of warning and caution. Her two most common moods is a cocky, headstrong personality and a rather sentimental personality. His first one can usually be defined as "somewhere between 'fuck you' in a mocking manner and 'I'd fuck you" while with the second he acts as if she was drunk and has deep thoughts (or tries to be with varying levels of success).
An interesting point of note is that Eko is far less surprised by the Union's technology than other people and takes quite a bit of interest in them.
Traits
Master of Book of Evolution, granting him a limited number of spells from other Lores
Immortality and invulnerability due to Incarnate status as well as super human abilities
Fearless, most of his fear has been removed due to his natural hubris and the Coat of Donpare.
Has a direct line to Tenzayn, God of Change; Tenzayn doesn't always pick up or answer correctly, occasionally forcing his Incarnate to answer to a squirrel or something.
History
Despite living for many hundreds of years, Eko talks remarkably little about his past, especially the time before he became an Incarnate. While this is common amongst many Incarnates (as many Gods will wipe the memories of their chosen), Eko admits that Tenzayn has never tampered with her memory. And even though there might be some who claim to know Eko's history, all of them are completely different stories.
The only history Eko will ever say is that his ancestor once lived on an island far, far away and that since he became an Incarnate he's split his time between wandering the land and attending to the Great Shrine of Tenzayn. |
55,914 | 1,532 | 1 | 554 | 1,580 | Corporal "Soko" Sokoloff, Combat Engineer on the Front Lines.
"Yes, Captain!" Soko attempted to shout over the sound of gunfire and explosions. Without wanting to waste time the PRN soldier imminently started sprinting towards the bunker while being sure to keep his head down, after all it would be a shame to be killed just by exposing himself from the relative safety of the trench. Soko knew little about the three others with him, although out of everyone he probably was most familiar with the woman. He picked out she was from Fuso, and was a medic, well potentially since both of these "facts" were assumptions based purely off her armor alone.
Once inside the bunker Soko had to tiptoe over the various wounded housed within, many which were writhing in pain and the noise was the worse of it all, he never really like the sounds of suffering, but who did? At the far end of the bunker was the machine gun, its former operator no where to be seen, maybe he was pulled to do something else or it could be the guy was wounded, still Soko supposed the reason didn't quite matter anymore. When at the weapon the first thing he did was check the ammunition, fortunately for him it seemed almost all of the belt was still unused, now if he were to be firing for any extended amount of time he will need to be resupplied, but for the moment this should do.
Soko placed his own assault rifle on the ground beside him, and took his place behind the machine gun to grasp with both hands. Even through the darkness of night he was able to make out the silhouettes of the enemy, this was on no small thanks due to the flares that illuminated the sky of course. The solider took a deep breath then pulled the trigger to start sending barrages of .50 caliber rounds into the fantasy troops out in the field below. His first experiences into this world really weren't what he expected honestly, although to be fair maybe it was foolish to expect the native people who called this land home to do nothing, he certainly can understand the sentiment. Even then he had to wonder why these men were throwing themselves at an enemy who were far more powerful, they had to know it was suicide, right? | Pavel "Soko" Sokoloff
"Anyone can be family, blood doesn't mean everything if you ask me."
-Pavel Sokoloff
Name
Pavel Sokoloff
Nicknames
Soko
Age
28
Gender
Male
Homeworld
Novogorod
Rank
Corporal
Role
Field Engineer
Appearance
Soko is of perfectly normal size being neither large, nor small. If given the chance he would prefer to walk about in a tank top and cargo pants, short of that a jumpsuit would do just fine. Outside of work he isn't too picky about what he wears as fashion is about the last thing he thinks of, what does matter is practicality; boots over sandals, jeans over shorts.
Soko's combat uniform has seen some very minor modifications. Mostly he carries additional pouches and an extra bandolier for more ammunition storage. Soko never wears the standard hat as he thinks its just stupid, after a while even his superiors had given up reprimanding him.
Equipment
AKN-74z Assault Rifle
M3P-4 10mm Pistol
1x Standard Engineer's Kit
2x "Splinter" Grenade
1x ROC-1A "Fisto"
Personality
Soko is about welcoming as they come, and has no problems with making friends out of complete strangers, although because of his natural openness he is simply terrible at lying. To expand on this Soko is perfectly willing to tell just about anyone about himself, however after much life experience he has somewhat learned to keep quiet, especially when it comes to his own problems. That said Soko still hates the very idea of secrets and would rather throw everything into the open if given the opportunity. When in a combat situation Soko can definitely remain cool under fire, and will fight with every bit of ferocity befitting of his people. He does have his limits however, in extreme cases of pressure it is quite possible he'll crack under it because after all he is only human.
It should be obvious that Soko is a very social person and will attempt to start a conversation with just about anyone in earshot. While it may seem like he considers everyone to be a friend, he does take friendship seriously and actually if anything he is strangely particular about who he would call a friend. When it comes to his discipline and professionalism as a soldier Soko is around average by GHU standards. Not nearly on the same level as a Khorenheim, but he is typically more hard working than many of his brethren.
Soko cares deeply about his role as an engineer and vastly enjoys the work. Sometimes while on a job Soko becomes uncharacteristically quiet, in fact he may even snap at anyone who dares to interrupt him, it is this reason its important for one to learn this fact about him.
Traits
Has a fondness for old classical music.
Doesn't share the typical prejudice against Khorenheimers.
Instead rather doesn't like those from Ennedi as much, their zealousness can be off putting.
Worst liar ever.
Very trusting in others.
Skilled engineer and tinker even by Novogorodian standards.
Likes woodcarving in his spare time.
Makes for a pretty average soldier.
History
Soko was born to a lower working class family, his father being the main breadwinner through his job as a laborer. Even from an early age it was clear what kind of person Soko would grow into, with his constant questions and overall friendly disposition he was always posed to talk about absolutely everything. For the most part his family humored the young Soko, although eventually even they tired of his constant blabbering and were not afraid to say as much. All the same his home life was quite pleasant while still given their socioeconomic status.
Soko was fascinated with machines and purposely sought whatever he could learn about them, he even came to bug local technicians. Of course no one was in the least bit interested in enabling the frankly annoying boy, however overtime a few actually taken a liking to Soko, maybe due to his perseverance or maybe he really did have the social skills. From this unofficial tutelage Soko gleamed much about the maintenance of various machines such as massive heaters, or sometimes much more complex communications systems.
During his teenage years while in school Soko opted to take whatever engineering courses were available, if it weren't for required credits in other subjects he may have very well packed his schedule with nothing but technical classes. His parents, primarily his father, were vocal about their approval, even to the point of bragging about their son's incredible intellect to other couples. Soko didn't think much about it, as an only child it made sense they would be proud of his accomplishments like so, he at least understood that. Soko while never was an excellent student, graduated with recognitions for his achievements in engineering.
It was at this point Soko made his critical life decision to join the military, one reason being the paycheck, but also he felt that by serving he could continue to improve himself as a person. His family of course were against the idea, saying that they would worry about his safety, and even tried to recommend other career choices, in the end they couldn't change his mind. Soko enlisted into the Novogorodian Engineering Corps using his already impressive background in the field as a resume. After passing a initial exam he was then entered into the program. At first the material was extremely different from what he was used to, military technology was a whole another beast from the civilian machines he once worked with.
Months later Soko came out in the top-middle percentile of his class having been scored at least satisfactory in all competency areas, although at the same time he just barely passed basic training, but that didn't quite matter in the moment. Soko's first assignment was to a military base as a member of the support staff, his job to help keep the facility running smoothly, and so this was his life for the next few years. At the age of twenty five Soko received a promotion to corporal for his years of service, and favorable work assessment, he was also reassigned to the PRN's 13th Garrison where he remained until the creation of the 23rd Expeditionary Regiment. It something else that should be noted is that even to this day Soko still sends a hefty portion of his pay back home even after being told multiple times that the money was not necessary.
Also sometime between his assignment to the 13th Garrison and to the 23rd Expeditionary Regiment, Soko's unit had been attached to an anti-rebel Khorenheim task group to assist in their operations. It was during this time that Soko got to know a Khorenheimer engineer and even became fast friends as he found the engineer's insight into their work to be something else. It was also during these same missions Soko had to work alongside a particularly zealous Ennedi infantryman, the experience was quite frankly wasn't pleasant and had unfortunately painted the people as a whole in a negative light to Soko. |
55,915 | 1,532 | 2 | 2,224 | 2,424 | Cpl. Donovan “The Friendly” Valentine
Just a few days before these events...
Donovan had been waiting for his supervisor to say something. Believing he was about to be promoted even further. Donovan had been doing so well, and he hadn't heard from his parents in a little while maybe this was a surprise for him. His ego was reaching the clouds at that moment. The smile on his face, couldn't be contained. But he immediately felt it crashed down, as he observed his supervisor's blank expression turned into his 'I have bad news' face. When he finally spoke up to explain why he had been sent here. Donovan got up off his chair and slammed his fists down violently against the desk he was sitting in front of causing the stack of papers on his leading supervisor's desk to scatter all around. “Demoted!? What gives you the right to put me back to corporal status?” Donovan snapped in a raised and enraged tone of voice. The supervisor remained calm and just looked at him with a serious stare.
“We were sent an anonymous message from one of our soldiers that you slept with another solider last night and it's our law that even if the report is unfounded. We must demote both accused of anything higher than corporal status, until further evaluation. We can't have anyone leading a large group who can't be trusted to follow our code. I'm sorry Donovan, it isn't permanent but you will have to accept the higher ups decision. Do I make myself clear?” The supervisor stated bluntly. Donovan just listened covering his facial reaction that would have been a scowl across his face as he calmed himself down quickly. Donovan just nodded his head at him in the eyes. “Crystal clear, sir...” Donovan stated nearly spitting in disgust. Donovan left in a hurry, as soon as he was dismissed as he knew exactly who he had to punish for this. As his supervisor let out a huge relieved sigh as if he was wary of anyone that wasn't above him it would have been Valentine, but the supervisor told himself, that he would get over it fast.
Donovan did not get over it, he was still furious. After a long telephone conversation with his parents on his private line. He immediately walked toward another soldier’s bunker around all of their lunch breaks, knowing she'd be there and be alone. He burst through the door seeing a girl wearing her solider gear, just without her helmet on. With short black hair, her back was to him as he quickly approached her. She turned hearing someone behind her, believing it was simply one of her bunkmates as he reached at her and grabbed her neck. Donovan pushed her to the edge of her bunker, gripping her throat tightly. As she started to act startled as she was struggling to get him to stop. Donovan didn't let her have enough air to scream out. “You got me demoted with your fat mouth...but don't think that you have gotten the better of me. I already called me parents. You'll be out of the military before the night. No one pisses me off.” Donovan stated to her in a cold tone ignoring what she was gasping out and he was finished with her and lets go of her throat she starts to cough out to catch her breath, Donovan left her bunker, before she even had time to protest that it wasn't her that said a word. The rest of day went peacefully, he spent it sipping a glass of wine sitting and reading an old history book eating his lunch just waiting for the inevitable. Sure enough, he awoke to learn the next day, that female solider was no longer in their group.
Back to the present...
Donovan was looking up at the night sky seeing literal fire shoot across it. As the sounds of explosion and blasting of gunfire was getting all to familiar to him that he was able to drown it out. He was remaining quite calm and could notice that some of the others were a little on edge. Focusing on looking around at all his fellow soldiers. “Copy that, Captain!” Donovan replied loud and clearly. He instantly turned to several others nearby him and did a hand motion expressing to move out. As Donovan headed to the left flank with the other soldiers he ordered following closely behind him. Donovan quickly arrived at his destination with the other soldiers. He could tell by the very word of a 'giant orge' made others fearful of what would happen.
But behind his helmet was covering a excited grin, he couldn't wait to shoot and kill it. This new world they had entered, he didn't know what was there. But he didn't want to rest until it all surrendered or was no longer moving. Making sure he and everyone else he ordered arrived on location first. As he pulled out his M-54A1 Battle Rifle, fully prepared. He looked at Farraday who was ordered to also come to the left flank with him and the troops he brought along. “Have we confirmed sighting yet?” Donovan called out as he had yet to see what was reported. | Donovan “The Friendly” Valentine
"The good of the few, are in fact still good to the many. Whether they see it yet or not."
-Himself
Name
Donovan Valentine
Nicknames
”The Friendly” a sarcastic nickname if there ever was one.
Age
25 years old
Gender
Male
Homeworld
High Terra
Rank
Corporal
Role
He is considered an elite combat solider, being exceptional in what most soliders should be.
Appearance
He is 6'0 in length, with a surprisingly muscular body that you wouldn't guess by looking at him. Sometimes wearing glasses, other times not. He wears his mother's clothing line, finding anything else unacceptable. He is a noble of a rather rich family, so his armored suit is literally painted in real gold for nothing more to show off.
Equipment
M-54A1 Battle Rifle (a highly advanced prototype version, modified to be even more effective weapon as the battery drains much slower, giving it an extended usefulness. It costs far more than most soldiers could afford.)
M3P-4 10mm Pistol (as a side arm. With several addition clips of ammunition)
A standard black combat knife.
RO-3 Omni Grenade (prototype versions of these grenades, that also happen to carry a deadly toxin, if the blast doesn't kill them, the poison gas will.)
Standard Gas Mask
Pain pills in a pez-like dispenser (strong medication, that make him feel nothing, and numbs pain almost instantly.)
Personality
Donovan certainly would be what you'd think of when you think of your typical, raised in incredible wealth and got almost everything he could ask for. He was spoiled rotten as a child. He lived a rather perfect life. He's only thing he suffered from is how much he wanted another sibling so he could have a friend as when he was young most people tend to avoid him, scared of his status. Often alone, learning he was his only friend.
He grew up quite bitter of most people and is incredibly arrogant and self centered or at least only cares about his own and his family's pride. He will do anything, to make a difference he feels will change his world for the better. He will defy orders, betray others. He'd kill a child if he or his family benefitted from it. Morality means next to nothing to him, he does not feel sympathy for those he is ordered to kill. But to the average stranger who somehow doesn't know who he is. He is an incredibly good solider, and a surprisingly an effective leader and support. He is very charming, and is quite a gentleman to women. His laugh is almost contagious. Being quite social. Most of it being an act, being smart enough to know you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.
Finding this fantasy world as literal gold mine, full of resources his parents could use to highly improve their companies. He doesn't see any of them as people, he sees them all as nuisances that he would be more than happy to rid their world of. Not that he'll behave that way in front of them.
Traits
Loves to drink his fancy wine, you could consider him a borderline alcoholic.
Incredibly rich (if there's a new weapon or piece of technology, he will use it. His family won't let him have anything but the best.)
A scary good solider, very quick, strong and sharp. Very good with most weapons and using combat vehicles. His abilities are superior to an average soldier.
He detests the cold weather. He gets bad headaches in the cold weather.
Often humming to himself.
Is incredible at lying and manipulation. (which is why he loves doing it so much.)
Carries glasses with him, that he doesn't need solely because some women say he looks good in them.
History
His parents lived in the lap of luxury, one being a wealthy business owner, of multiple major construction, oil and diamond mining companies, while his mother had her own very popular and very expensive 'Valentine's' for men and women's clothing line. So ever since he was born, he was never told no. As he got the best food, from a professional chef, and was taught by a private tutor. He also had a professional maid to clean his room, but he often cleaned it himself. But that didn't mean he didn't spend time with his family, as his mother would often test clothing on him and often had him watch her create clothes, while the father often took him fishing every other weekend on their motorboat. The only thing he didn't have was a younger sibling, which he wanted a little brother. Mainly because he felt very alone. As his father kept him away from the poor folk and even some of the richer folk because they we're far too snobbish in his mother's words. So he didn't have many friends, and he very quickly over the year got used to being alone, with the occasional hired company. He enjoyed spending time with his parents more than anyone else. Loving and respecting them a lot, finding his mother to making the most beautiful clothes in the world and his father the most brilliant, got his desire for wine as his father would often let him have a sip every time he asked for one.
When he became old enough to be legally allowed to drive, thought that didn't stop him from doing it multiple times before then. He would often drive out and spoil women on dates. Going on a date with a new women every week at least. He made his own friends, throwing his charm and money around without hesitation. Though he never really made any real personal connections and it only made him dislike people in general. He would often have sex, even a few times of the same sex just because he could. Because it provided him with some company, and some shallow pleasure. But nothing he did really made him happy, he felt as if he had no true calling in life.
Until that day, When he learned of the GATE incident, he was instantly drawn to the news, being quite curious. As was both of his parents as they wondered. What kind of materials, and what kind of resources do they have in another world? Just imagine what we could do with them! They asked their son, to become a solider and to go to the new world and make them proud. They had connections with someone in the military that could make him shoot up in ranks quite easily and they'd make sure he had the best equipment. With that offer in his head, at a chance to do something unique and something to make his parents proud of him. He immediately agreed and became a solider. Which after a few tests they learned he was already great at it, excelling at basic and more advanced training. Completing it in half the time most did.
It didn't take him long to raise in the ranks. Becoming known for his skill and also more infamous for his personality. As they called him, Donovan "The Friendly" for his very false happy social personality. As it didn't take long for him to make enemies, but they weren't stupid enough to outright suggest anything of the sort. His superior's in the army were highly considering a leader position for him only holding back due to their uncertainly of how loyal he actually is... |
55,916 | 1,532 | 3 | 2,447 | 478 | Corporal Aziz 'Azi' Iostan
The young flame trooper jammed his helmet on his head, the red lenses covering his eyes. The mask hung from the side of the helmet, waiting to be returned to combat position. Aziz grabbed his flamethrower and hooked it on his back as he marched out, keeping a hand on his sidearm. He squinted as the night sky was illuminated with flares. In the distance, he saw darkened hulking figures battling with mechs, gunfire into the distance. It was loud, it was bright, it was dangerous. The captain barked at Aziz to join the soldiers taking on an ogre. He grimaced as he remembered those monstrosities charging through the gate, smashing four soldiers into the concrete in one blow. He gave a crisp "Yes, sir!" and ran to join the others. Aziz pulled his flamethrower off his back and started jogging with the other men. One of them, the one called Valentine, seemed to be taking charge. The young Ennedian jogged up next to him as he asked if they've confirmed sighting.
"Valentine, right? Corporal Iostan. Listen, I faced these abominations in Praeterii. They're big, bad, and ugly. Their skin can take a hell of a beating before it's pierced and they're as strong as a bulldozer. Luckily, they don't like fire. At all. If I can get in close and torch the bastard, you boys can light him up without his tough skin being an issue."
Aziz looked up as he heard the roar of the ogre and the sound of gunfire got closer. A flash of light from an artillery gun revealed a massive creature, purple in hue, with a pig/wolf combination of a face and red eyes. Aziz grimaced again as he pulled on his mask, it clicking into place. It was about to get hairy.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Private First Class Zelda Oberherr
Zelda stood at attention as the Captain walked in, her sniper rifle on it's butt at her side. The captain ordered them to move and she did, popping the rifle up into her hands and marching out with the rest of the soldiers. She stepped outside and heard the sounds of war. The captain started barking orders. Zelda glimpsed hulking figures out in the field, trying to fight their way through the fence. This armor was supposedly technologically inferior, but it seemed 1st Recon had it's hands full right now. "Oberherr, get to one of the towers and start picking targets."
Zelda gave a brisk salute and raced to one of the towers along the fringes of the fence. She shouldered her rifle and quickly scaled the ladder. The tower was much like a hunting stand, except taller and tougher. She reached the top and quickly propped her rifle up, peering through the scope. Zelda quickly surveyed the scene. It was an uphill fight for the enemy, literally. The hill itself wasn't incredibly steep, but the combination of razor wire and landmines made it all the more dangerous. Nevertheless, they'd been hammering away at the unit's defenses. Some of the big creatures had been able to break through and were fighting their way through the remainder of the fence. Zelda spotted one such vagabond, a tall creature, had to be at least 7 feet. Ugly, but was wearing sturdy looking armor. But what Zelda had read about medieval squad tactics, this wasn't a leader. She sighted in on the creature and noticed about a dozen foot soldiers following behind him. They were using the big bastard as cover. Zelda aimed at the troll, directly where his heart would be, and fired. The rifle recoiled as the bullet zoomed through the air and hit it's mark. Zelda saw the troll stumble and go down, crashing in a cloud of dust.
She smiled as she saw the men scramble for cover. She quickly aimed and pulled the trigger again. Another one down. The men started to back up now. Zelda noticed more big creatures fighting their way through the fences and decided these guys weren't worth it. She turned to her left and saw a mounted MG with a soldier on it. "Hey, Northeast, we got a group of hostiles trying to make their way through!" The soldier searched for a moment and shouted "Yeah, I got 'em." His face lit up with the muzzle flash of his machine gun as he rained fire on the foot soldiers. Zelda peered back through her scope and saw as the enemy was ripped apart. She moved her attention to a trio of trolls who were getting closer. She steadied her breathing as she lined up a shot on one of their heads. She squeezed the trigger.
Bull's Eye. | Aziz Iostan
“Climb High, Climb Far, Your Goal the Sky, Your Aim the Star.”
-Ancient High Terra University Inscription
Name
Aziz Mano Iostan
Nicknames
Azi
Age
22
Gender
Male
Race
Human, ancestry from the Arabic/Middle Eastern provinces of High Terra.
Homeworld
Ennedi
Rank
Corporal
Role
Ennedi Specialized "Flame Trooper" or more commonly known as a Pyro, Aziz carries a flamethrower designed on Ennedi along with a side arm and melee weapon.
Appearance
Aziz stands at 5 foot 10 with a slim, but muscular physique. His armor is largely unchanged, save for the gas mask/helmet combination that is issued to Flame Troopers on Ennedi, replacing the Ennedi Infantry Cover that most soldiers wear. (Like this but more desert and green camo, and only the gas mask and helmet, not the rest of the outfit.
Equipment
Standard Ennedi Soldier Armor
Ennedi Flame Trooper Helmet and Gas Mask
Ennedi Flame Trooper M9 Flamethrower (Note: The mask hooks up to an oxygen tank on his back, though smaller than what is used in the present, just as effective.)
M3P-4 10mm Pistol
Ennedi Combat Knife (Slightly curved than the standard military combat knife, more effective for slicing.)
Personality
Aziz is a modest, respectful, pious soldier. Raised in a house who both believed in faith and science, he is very open to any point of view, religious or otherwise. That being said, he is a devout follower of Terranism and is not likely to change anytime soon. Ever since he was a boy, Aziz wanted to be a defender of Grand Human Union. Learning due to his father's connections, he could be a soldier in the GHU on Ennedi that guards labs and actively participates in research, Aziz didn't hesitate to sign up. He has a fascination with weapon design, from simple melee weapons to the advanced solar weaponry that Ennedi science produces. He guards Ennedi design with a passion, including his own flamethrower, referring to the Flammenwerfer as a "Clunky hunk of metal that just happens to spit out fire."
Aziz is compassionate to soldiers of all planets and often treats visitors with hospitality, soldier or no. But he is wary of the "Other World". Being deployed as one of the first lines of defense when the gate opened, he saw many of his childhood friends die at the hands of the invaders. It sparked hatred in him that he had never known as he set the enemy ablaze without remorse. He sees the gate as a test of faith, a test to all humanity. And what humanity does about this test will reflect it's true nature in the eyes of the Primarch.
Traits
Basic Ennedi Combat Training
Loyal Ally- Aziz is loyal to his allies in the end, no matter the cost.
Improving Weapons Designer- Aziz's interest in weapons is more of a hobby at this point, but he is getting more and more skilled at it.
Flame Trooper Training- An intense course to test soldier's knowledge of solar and flame technology and strategy, test their physical endurance and resistance to smoke and flame as well as other specialized tests for the role.
Increasingly Active Smoker- After the multiple battles of the gate, Aziz has began to smoke a pack a week.
History
Aziz was born to a scientist couple in the capital city of Ennedi. He was raised in an environment that encouraged free-thought, but also faith. He grew up hearing stories from his father of the glory of the GHU and its soldiers. His father, a former soldier himself, filled Aziz's imagination with stories of glory and honor, fighting to defend his home. Aziz did fairly well in grade school, excelling in science.And while his parent's relationship was rocky at times, he had a mostly happy childhood. As said before, ever since he was a boy, Aziz wanted to be a defender of Grand Human Union. Learning due to his father's connections, he could be a soldier in the GHU on Ennedi that guards labs and actively participates in research, Aziz didn't hesitate to sign up.
Basic training was a blast for Aziz. He served for 5 months before enrolling in the flame trooper training course. He passed with flying colors. And while there were skirmishes with desert bandits and the occasional dangerous for civilians wildlife, Aziz never really saw true action. Action that would give him a challenge. Until the gate opened up. Aziz was deployed to the front lines immediately, awaiting whatever was coming through that gate. And what did, he had never seen before. It was chaos, and no one was prepared. They had ungodly beasts and ancient weaponry, they came in droves and sliced down one soldier only to be ripped apart by machine gun fire. They were outmatched. But what they lacked in technology, they made up in numbers. They kept coming until they eventually killed someone. Riding in on strange beasts, trampling soldiers to death. All Aziz could do was let his fire rage. After 6 hours of fighting, they finally retreated back into the gate. But not before there were over 200 GHU casualties, some of which were Aziz's close friends. Aziz returned to base with a heavy heart and not soon after learned of the formation of a new unit who was going into the strange land. And Aziz wanted payback.
Zelda Oberherr
Don't try to run. You'll only die tired.
-Motto of the Khorenheim Reich Sniper Academy
Name
Zelda Schukon Oberherr
Nicknames
Ice Queen
Age
19
Gender
Female
Race
Of Middle European Descent, from one of the many forests of High Terra
Homeworld
Khorenheim
Rank
Private First Class
Role
Scout Sniper (Extremely similar to that of the U.S. Marine Scout Sniper)
Appearance
Zelda stands at 5'5. She has a curvy form and athletic physique. Her hair is blonde and she has bright blue eyes. Her uniform is consistent with the Khorenheim standard gray and red markings. Her top is adorned with extra pouches on the sleeves and a harness designed for sniper ammo and accessories. Her pants are a gray camo pattern, tucked into shined black boots. She wears a gray boonie hat, which is different from the standard infantry helmet. In the middle front is the Khorenheim Sniper Symbol. Her hair is to the extent allowed, just above her shoulders. She has light freckles across her nose.
Equipment
Standard Khorenheim Reich Army Sniper Uniform
M3P-4 10mm Pistol
RO-3 Omni Grenade
Scharfschütze Mk 12 - In tradition with the Reich's brilliant weapon design, the Mk 12 is one of the most effective Sniper Rifles in the Union. Used exclusively by Reich Snipers and occasionally lent to the Primarch's personal guard.
Standard Khorenheim Combat Knife
Personality
Zelda is loyal, efficient, and apathetic. She gets the job done and that's all that matters. She's awkward at best in social situations. She's also irritable, bossy, demanding. She expects every soldier to do their job and do it perfectly. She's also arrogant, thinking that she could lead soldiers better than most officers in most armies. Whether that arrogance is misplaced or not, remains to be seen. She isn't interested in relationships, boys, girls, dogs, cats, she doesn't care at all. The only situation where she isn't emotionless is in battle, whether sniping from a far or in the heat of it, her eyes light up with joy. Much of her personality can be attributed to the traumas she suffered when she was younger and her strict and militaristic upbringing. She resents her father for many things, including pulling strings to get her placed in the 1st Recon. She despises being treated like a helpless girl.
Traits
Excellent Sniper- Due to her top-notch training and natural talent, Zelda is a skilled and deadly sniper.
Talented Musician- Zelda is surprisingly good at playing the piano and when she does play, she prefers to play in the ancient style of 'Rock and Roll'.
Skilled Martial Artist- Her past and military training have inspired Zelda to train in multiple styles of hand to hand combat to defend herself.
History
Zelda was born to a Khorenheim Army Officer and an enemy spy. Shortly after Zelda's birth, her mother, the spy, was executed. Zelda's father raised her by himself the only way he knew how, with strict military protocol. She attended state academies from a young age, grooming her for military service. Despite all this, Zelda was a happy, patriotic, and outgoing girl with plenty of friends. She was smart, resourceful, and observant. But her whole world was turned upside down when she was taken advantage of and raped by one of her instructors. The experience shattered her. Her father, going into a rage when he found out, hunted down the man and gunned him down in his home in front of his wife and child. Zelda was in recovery for months, becoming quiet and withdrawn. She went to a new academy a different girl than the on that arrived at her previous one. She still excelled in everything she did. But she was known as cold to other students and had very few friends.
When she was at the age to be ready for military service, she enlisted instead of going to an officer academy, much to the dismay of her father. Shortly after, she enrolled in the Khorenheim Sniper Academy. She was promoted to Pfc after graduating from the academy. After serving at some quiet assignments for nothing more than recon, she heard about the gate on Ennedi. What she never would expected though, is that her father would pull some strings to get her assigned to the Spec Ops Unit that would enter the gate. It angered her beyond belief. She didn't need her father to take care of her. But orders were orders and she was soon heading for Ennedi to join the 1st Recon. |
55,917 | 1,532 | 4 | 777 | 1,174 | Sergent Tauret
This night has turned into a shit storm. Where the thought of tired Sergent Tauret as she scrambled out of her bunk. Hearing the very clear sounds of battle raging on outside.
"Great... just the wake up call I wanted."" the Sergent thought as she quickly geared up and activated her drone which she made sure was kept in the barracks with her at night so no one would try steal it. Following the Captain out of the make shift barracks she stuck close to him best she could. Climbing into the trenches at his order making sure to keep her head down and drone close so she wouldn't get hit. The last thing she wanted was get killed here in the first battle as the would just be embarrassing. Looking at the captain armor she could tell the captain was a fellow Fusan. Which instantly eared him several dozen points in her book, the last thing she wanted was to ordered around by some snobby little puffed up Terran who barely knew his ass from his elbow.
As the captain began giving out orders Anat paid close attention to his words having to just to make out what the man was saying. The woman nodding when the captain gave her orders.
"YES SIR!" She shouted in response instinctively a small grin plastered on her face at the idea of doing field surgery in a combat heavy zone. Moving towards the bunker quickly as she could while minimizing how much of herself she exposed herself to potential fire. Not knowing what enemy had the gall to attack the unions camp.
Once inside the bunker Anat did a quick scan of the soldiers inside and if she had not been in a battle situation she could have shown a very worried look. A lot of these solider looked like they had high level burns and smelt like burnt meat. But a basic look over wasn't enough she'd need to give each one a examination and give them something for the pain they surly had to be feeling. Not wasting anytime Anat set her rifle down by one of the wounded and took off her Medical pack and began to examine the soldiers who look the most wounded so mostly like needed her attention more. Her first step was to inject the solider with a small dose of strong painkillers before quickly setting her drone built in light on and shinned it on the soldier she started to examine. Even with outside sky lit up like a Christmas tree the light in bunker was still poor so she needed extra light to see what she was doing properly. Trust the union not to put a headlamp in a medical kit.
It didn't take long for Anat to find the level of the burns of the worst of soldiers where beyond the level of care she could provide. Needing almost her entire stock of burn-gel just to treat of one of them. Their burns going so deep some of them where lucky to still be alive. All she could do for them was give them a dose of painkillers and radio a medical station to collect them. But she could see some off them wouldn't last long without treatment. Anat all to aware of how fragile the human body could be. Those that got luckily and where not so badly injured left and did what she could for the most injured even if she couldn't get them treat them full she could at the very least try to stabilize them.
Her first step to this was to begin by applying a burn gel the worst of the burns. The gel sealing the burns form the outside world and drawing whatever heat was still lingering out of the wound. Then moved on to the old traditional gauze and bandages for the more minor burns and any other injuries that needed covering. Small cuts got examined and then ignored if they looked free of debris and somewhat clean. Anat not having no time for such minor things she had to treat more sever injures to ensure the soldiers lived then move on. In this situation where she had more then one person she couldn't justify surgery on any of them she had to try keep as many as she could alive then move on.
As the sound of fighting still waged on outside the bunker all Anat could hear was the pained groans of those she hadn't gotten to yet. Which started to bother her it acting as a reminder no matter how quickly she worked people where still suffering. When the other soldier started opening up with the MG, Anat was very grateful as noise it made drowned out a good chunk of the pained groans and allowed Anat better focus. She hated the sound of suffering more them most it being one of the few things that ate at her calm battlefield persona. | ANAT
My Hippocratic oath? To keep my a comrades alive. Be it healing them or killing you.
-Anat.
Name
Anat Tauret
Nicknames
Ant (your all welcome to come up with your own ones for her if you like.)
Age
30
Gender
Female
Homeworld
Fuso
Rank
Sergeant
Role
Field Medic
Appearance
Anat stands around 6'1ft (185.9 cm).
Anat has painted a big red crude + on the back of her armor and a smaller red + the front of her armor on the the left side of the chest plate. She as a tattoo on her upper left arm with 2 crossed swords under a helmet with word 96th KNIGHT under it.
Equipment
1x Type 108 Automatic Carbine
1x M3P-4 10mm Pistol
1x Type-0 Warblade (the word knight is engraved into the handle)
1x MXR Drone (the word Sparks is painted on it along with small red plus)
1x Field Hospital Medical Kit
Personality
Once a nice friendly girl hardened by nearly a decade of military service. Anat tends to keep her true emotions and thoughts to herself unless she dealing with someone she trusts. Never really getting close, saying a lot without saying whats really on her mind. This is simply down to the fact as someone who has fought in battle she has seen people she calls friends die. Something in the past has really bothered her, so tends to keep people emotionally distant. Being someones friend without being a friend. Until someone proves they know how not to die at least for a fight or two. Is when she really starts thinking about trusting someone beyond being a fellow solider.
Once Anat calls someone a friends she calls them that for life and will share her feelings and thoughts openly if asked or if she thinks it needed. Once a friend the only what to make Anat hate you is to break her trust something not easily done once gained. She is not a person who likes taking charge that often although she is skilled enough of a solider and fought enough battles she could lead a squad if she wanted to. But she as no interest in doing so she is left with no other choice. She prefers taking orders rather then giving them.
Although carefree and cheery like many Fusans Anat as quite a nasty temper on her. While not overly short she as habit of snapping at people that do something to her she doesn't like. When Anat gets pissed off at something her first reaction is the urge to punch what ever as pissed her off. If she can't do that she'll abuse it verbally if that's not possible she'll starts muttering away to herself for a little bit before claiming down.
On the battle field Anat like many Fusans level headed and clam, even in the most dire of situations. The only time things start to bother her is if she someone she was trying to treat dies on her. It is the once thing she can't stand and bothers her deeply even if logically she can't save everyone she treats. When it comes to treating people Anat as always been told she as little in a beside manner and has threatened to kill her charges more then once if they complain about pain. Not that she would this is merely an empty threat to make them shut up and only dose it if simply telling them to shut it doesn't work.
When treating someone a more gentle side of Anat comes out as she will her best not to hurt her charges.
Outside of medical use that gentle side is kept buried for all but inmate moments, when she is by her lonesome or a really close friend.
Anat is fairly social but likes to have her alone time. Where she can partake in one of her hobbies or lose herself in some novel. She is analytical thinker and loves to play devils advocate. At times a more promiscuous side of her shows itself. She also as a strong scenes of pride when it comes to her medical skills and knowledge.
Traits
Detailed Medical Knowledge
Hates 95% of Terran's (She'd shoot them if they where not bothers and sister in arms.)
Great at sewing and drawing. ( her down time hobbies)
Left Handed
Highly skilled at melee combat and loves it. (If she wasn't a field medic she would specialize in it.)
Over prospective of her Drone. (Don't touch it. No really don't touch her drone.)
HATES colour purple.
Afraid of the dark.
Talks to herself, often on what she is currently thing about. Sometimes argues with herself when trying to deiced on something.
Is not a fan of those form Khorenheim. (The sticks up those guys butts have sticks up there butts.)
Loves reading.
Starts getting bored when she stuck doing the same thing day in day out.
History
Born on the world Fuso in the heart of its capital city Anat lead a good childhood and rarely wanted for anything her parents easily provided for her. Born to a pair of doctors Anat spent a lot of her young childhood in the hospital where her parents worked. Watching them work as much as she was allowed finding what they did most interesting. Unaware that this interest would grow in to passion and later a her going off to get her qualification as a doctor.
Beside that Anat had a fairly normal childhood her only complaint she spent to much time in hospitals which as a kid she found rather dull but as she grew older and started to love medicine learned to appreciate it. Getting to learn form the doctors when it didn't interfere with their duties. By the time she was old enough to be left on her own Anat kept coming of her own free will. Having begun the basics of medicine in her free time under the hospitals doctors. Reading medical texts simply because she found it fun.
By the time she had finished her schooling and was ready for higher education Anat already knew what she wanted to do and made sure to do everything to get in to medicine. Her hard work paying off end completing her education in the field of medicine. She then found herself working in a small medical clinic which at first was fun. But after a year she grew weary of treating people with basic illnesses and or minor injures finding the life to static too repetitive. Still wanting to practices medicine while making life a little more interesting she ended up joining the military. How she came to joining the military she can't recall but she dose know started as a night on the town and ended in drunken brawl with a military officer that she apparently held her own in. The night ended up her apparently signing up but Anat doesn't remember.
Given she couldn't quit once signed up Anat decided to see where Military life would take her, know they always needed a doctors and field medics.
After several months of basic training Anat grew to enjoy the idea of fighting while trying to patching someone up, knowing these people would actually appreciate her work. So the moment she completed basic training and was allowed to apply for extra training specializing as field medic she jumped at the chance. After a little more training she was recognized as a field medic and assigned to a 8th Fusan Regiment and placed in the 96th division called the Fusan Knights for their skill in melee combat. (I'm not good with how military units are broken down so correct me if I'm wrong.)
The first week in her new unit was difficult with other solider picking on the new member in a playful teasing way. But after several week and a set of training drills interplanetary training drills High Terran unit they grew to like Anat and she earned the nick name Ant for reasons she can not fathom. Not long the drills her unit was deploy to world near Fuso that it got into a small war with. The war was mostly skirmish's, over couple of months several larger battles did break out and Anat's unit was right in the middle of it. Her first major battle Anat as forgotten but she recalls the fear and adrenaline everything happening so fast she had just followed orders and somehow pulled though.
It was the third larger battle did Anat save the life of her commanding officer who had gotten himself badly injured. How exactly she doesn't recall but she apparently she made an impression as she was given a drone. After year the Union decided to step in end the conflict it ending peacefully for the most part. For a time Anat was sent home for some R and R. During that time she heard of what happened Ennedi and soon after the call for volunteer for a new unit being formed to go though the gate. Finding the idea bizarre and she wanted to see for herself so volunteered.
Nikolas Maxwell
Never upset a god, you may end paying for it for a long time. If not you but someone you love.
-Nikolas
Name
Nikolas Maxwell
Nicknames
Maxwell (open to suggestions)
Age
Exact age Unknown but over 350
Gender
Male
Race
Formally Human
Kingdom
Unknown
Appearance Nikolas tends to keep himself covered at all times. Wearing his armour as much a possible when around others. If he has to take it off he will wear whatever will cover his flesh and eyes. In the terms of headgear he wears hoods and anything that covers his face with whatever he can get his hands on. When he is around those who don't know what he is. When his around people who know what he is and don't mind. Nikolas doesn't cover up so much and at time can be seen shirtless.
Equipment
An ancient blade that Nikolas as carried with him for so long he wouldn't know what to do if he lost it. A blade forged with long for gotten methods and enchanted with magic allowing it to remain as strong and sharp as the day it was made. While no sharper then a normal sword this blade doesn't lose it edge as it is used and is more effect against the undead.
If unsheathed in a dark area the blade glows a sickly green colour when in Nikolas's hands. When in the hands of the living the sword glows bright white.
The item the houses Nikolas soul. Unlike a normal phylactery this one can only be destroyed with high level magic form the book of blessing. It can be broken which for a time will render Nikolas decayed body mindless for a time. But unless destroyed by high level magic form the book of blessing it will reform after an hour or two.
Like this but glows a light blue.
Your basic run of the mill steel armour with no form of magic. Crafted for Nikolas by a master blacksmith at great cost who is aware of his condition. The armour is very well made and fairly durable. The armour is quite heavy and slows Nikolas's movements a little but provides good protection against blades and arrows. The armour was custom made for Nikolas so is fitted for him and made in the style of his armour while he was alive making it unique.
Magic
None
Personality
Nikolas is an understanding individual and tries not to judge people by there looks and hates when people they do. Being undead he is a little wary of the living and tries to stay out of the middle of large crowds unless necessary. Also because of his undead nature he dislikes talking about himself and when he dose tend to outright lie or tell tails back form when he was alive. Although he lies about himself Nikolas is not a very good liar, but it never stops him form trying as it better then telling someone the truth.
For those who become aware of his true nature and don't try to destroy him Nikolas often make the effort to become friends with. If he manages that he become very open about some of his life and will help out those he calls friend. He is also willing to give advice to those he calls a friends, although it may not always be the best advice.
Over all Nikolas is a very clam person rarely letting his emotions get the better of him, well aware what might happen if he dose. He is the type who doesn't back down form a challenge when one is presented to him normally trying the direct approach when trying solve a problem. If that fails Nikolas will simply keep trying until he come up with another solution or until it direct approach works.
At time Nikolas feels the urge to consume the flesh of the living, although he is unsure why this urge is very powerful and difficult to control. When dealing with this he drives everyone around him away and tries to be alone or spend time with his own kind. On rare occasions he can become a mindless almost like his soul is trying to leave the realm of the living but can't. During these times Nikolas's body can and often dose become aggressive attacking any living thing near him. Turning on friend and foe alike. While aware of the issue Nikolas can't do anything to stop it, but is aware when the everything starts to fell distance he need to get away form everyone and lock himself away.
Traits
Being undead is vulnerable to the book of blessing.
Doesn't need to eat, sleep, drink or breath. (benefits of being dead)
Doesn't get tired.
As no sense of touch or taste. (This took a while to get used to)
Can talk to other undead.
Likes being in crypts and graveyards. (his home away form home)
Immune to poison.
his right knee tends to crick when he walks and its cold. (old bones don't like walking in the cold)
Loves drinking as oddly enough he can get drunk for some reason. (Magic is a funny thing no)
Master Swordsman (you live for over 100 years and try not master at least one weapon)
A great hero in life Nikolas was once a soldier for hire famed for being one of the best able to best any beast in the land. This however is in an Era all but forgotten Nikolas exploits no longer remembered by the living.
But in life he was a man to behold and man who was willing to fight for anyone who could afford his price. Gold and glory where what this man lived for and both he had. It wasn't until he was sent to kill a necromancer that had taken up residence near a small village and the locals where scared of what the magic user might do to them.
The villagers some how managed to pay his price. So Nikolas set of on a hunt to slay the necromancer. What little did he know, the job would be one he would never complete until much later. Over the course of many months on his hunt of this necromancer and several encounters with his pray he eventually fell for for his target. Over another several months the two somehow got close and fell in love. Nikolas kept "hunting" the Necromancer only to keep spending time with her. But despite there feelings they still fought trying to kill each other. Nikolas cutting down many of her undead to reach her only to...*cough*
This lasted for several years until Nikolas fell extremely ill and died before anything could be done to help him. But despite that he died a happy man. Leaving everything to his love.
Upset over the lose of her lover and refusing to let him go. The necromancer who Nikolas had called Nena out of affection stole his body form his family crypt and burnt it to the ground roughly a month his death.
Form there Nena used her magic to preserve his body as she began to work on ways to bring her lover back. Knowing she could easily bring him back as a mindless zombie under her control. But that wasn't what she wanted. Nena wanted to bring Nikolas back with his mind intact with a physical body completely free form control. But such power was beyond her and so she began to research and experiment taking many lives and souls caring little for who they belonged to.
Sadly for Nena not matter how hard she tried she could never develop a spell to bring her lover back, each failure pushing Nena into madness and after several months Nena had all but lost her mind. Driven solely by her original goal
Her actions though didn't go unnoticed and the god of death began to grow annoyed with the necromancer who constantly was perverting the rules of life and death. For a time the god had let her actions slide knowing one day she would die, but her research and experimentation bore some fruit as she made herself a lich and in unlife continued her never ending research. Having become madly obsessed with her goal.
Now furious with the necromancer and wanting to stop Nena the god of death sent their incarnate to deal with situation. The incarnate deciding to bring Nena long dead love back to life this his mind completely intact hoping that would quell the necromancer. However what happened next the incarnate never could have predicted. Not long after being brought back Nikolas had saw what Nena become. Sad to see his love fall so low he stuck her down by smashing her phylactery. An act the ended his loves unlife. But as her soul started to slip into the after life. The god of deaths incarnate appeared, quite surprised by the situation.
The god of death wanted Nena soul to punish her for perverting the rules of life and death. Not wanting his love to punished Nikolas begged the god of death to let Nena pass into the after life. In exchange he would walk the in the world of the living helping those in need it until he had paided the price for the lives and souls Nena had taken and whatever else the god thought was necessary.
For whatever reason the god of death accepted the deal and to insure Nikolas would fulfil his end of the deal the gods incarnate preserve his body with powerful magic so it would not further decay but could not be reintegrated. The incarnate placed then Nioklas's soul inside a phylactery. A phylactery that was nearly indestructible, so only those gifted in the book of blessing stood a chance at destroying it.
So Nikolas began his quest to help living, but trying to help the living is hard when your a corpse. Despite Nikolas best efforts anyone alive that meet him and became aware of his nature became afraid of him. Although Nikolas dose his best to be understanding about it. At times he finds at time all he wants to do is consume their tasty flesh. But even so he will not rest until he has paid of he loves debt and is allowed to join her in the afterlife. So in unlife he works as a soldier for hire once again using the money he makes to maintain a carefully crafted persona and help those in need. Hoping that one day the god of death will allow him to die and rejoin his love in the afterlife.
NOTE: Nena is somehow the god of death. DO NOT FORGET THIS.
NPC
Name
Elizabeth Laryn
Nicknames
Liz, Specter
Age
29
Gender
Female
Role
Scout
Personality
Driven by her duty to serve the Union. Liz dose whatever she is ordered to the best of her abilities. She is completely loyal to the union and a devout to the church of Terra. Liz is not afraid to sacrifice herself in to fulfill her duty. In personal situation Liz is a loner sticking to herself and contently minding her own business. When she dose interacting with someone she come of as warm and friendly but very awkward almost like she as not interacted with people before. Around her superiors she is very serious.
NPC
Name
Natasha Korshunov
Nicknames
Dozer
Age
39
Gender
Female
Role
Ambassadorial Bodyguard
Personality
A woman who knows what she wants and is not afraid to take it. Natasha is a loud mouth the simply ooze's confidence and rightly so. This woman as fought more battles in internal union wars then some would in there life time. She is loyal to the union and ambassador Muhfeld and in a rough way caring of others she respects. Just don't piss her off, Natasha is lethal with her fist's and even more so with her twin custom made fisto's and she not afraid to use them. Also Nastasha is the type just doesn't know when to give up and would rather take a roll of the dice then play it safe. Although she may not look or act it she has a genius level intellect.
NPC
Name
Moskvin Korshunov
Nicknames
Daka, Mos
Age
26
Gender
Male
Role
Heavy weapon/ Demo specialist Ambassadorial Bodyguard
Personality
At first glance he's dumber then a box of hammers. Due to his simple way of speaking an understanding. But what Moskvin lacks in books smarts he makes up for it in his sheer stubbornness and knowledge of things that go Kaboom and heavy weapons. He is the right hand of a Ambassador Muhlfeld when he wants someone day completely and utterly fucked. He is completely loyal to Ambassador Muhfeld and would die to protect him. Anyone else can get fucked in fact he'd climb over the bodies of fall comrades or simple shove them out of the way at chance to fill enemies with enough lead to call someone a pencil. Moskvin as a very short temper and tends to hit things that upset him. He tends to get into a lot of fight with his sister but deep down he loves her to bits. Although he may not look it Moskvin is talented painter and loves animals. For some reason he never shows his face around others.
NPC
Name
Jurgen Muhfeld
Nicknames
None
Age
65
Gender
Male
Role
Ambassador
Personality
Claim and always well spoken. Jurgen at first glance is the very embodiment of the best refinement the Union has to offer. Truth be told he is man that always tries to get his way and is used to it. He is a man of a short temper along with some childish tendency's.
He is a man of great influence in parts of union and he's not afraid to throw the weight of his influence around to get his own way. He's not a fan of violence and prefers it not be used around him. Truth be told he just worried he'd have to get his hands dirty instead of someone else. Deep down though he truly thinks peace if the way forward.
He as a liking for the Korshunov siblings and used his leverage to get them assigned to him as bodyguards and the two have been working with him proudly for some time. He has used every favor he was owed to get him assigned to the 1st recon as an attachment wanting to one of the first to try negotiate with who ever dwell on the other side of the portal.
NPC
Name
Brain Corvus
Nicknames
Crow
Age
39
Gender
Male
Role
Quartermaster
Personality
A sly and cunning man who seems to appear in odd places. He is the type who always seem to acquire things and has no issue with selling said things for a "fair" price. Brain is very charismatic and is very good at prying information out of people with only a few words. People also seem to just naturally trust Brain and tell him things they might not others. He's a very skilled lie and often makes up stores that out of his month sound truthful. Brian is a yellow bellied coward and will always try to run form a fight, he is how ever not easily intimidated. |
55,918 | 1,532 | 5 | 465 | 6,811 | Eko DonpareEarlier that day
Bells welcomed the sun to its mid-morning position, a gentle breeze carried the song of birds who called out to the wind. However, not all was right, an air of despair had hung around the clouds today it seemed, tainted by the recent news no doubt, Eko Donpare, the Incarnate of Tenzayn the God of Change, could feel it as he marveled at the overall beauty of the weather and the city.
From his position atop the grand belfry of the Imperial temple, Eko looked down into the city of Imperia, heart land of the Empire. How much it had changed in the past 800 years, Eko could still recall a time when the roads where roughly pounded dirt and houses were no more than single story huts. Now the roads where made of identical cobble stone squares and some buildings had already gone beyond their fourth floor with the help of magic. How mortals progressed was quite amazing and very encouraged by him, Tenzayn relied on such change increase his own power, compensating for a lack of dedicated worshippers, and in turn would grant some outstanding individuals with moments of genius to induce more change.
Of course, today was a day of perhaps the greatest change up in Eko's life time, maybe even beyond that. Word had spread quickly that a portal had opened some great distance away and now the people were a panicking. Thus the Emperor had to get off his wrinkly old ass and give a speech to make people calm down. To say it garnered a small crowd was a vast understatement; even from his position Eko could tell that people from every edge of the empire and possibly beyond it had gathered into one giant mass of flesh. Their voices laced with worry and fear, some of the braver or fool heartier ones had a most boastful ring to them as they proclaimed how they would be a great warrior who'd drive the invaders back from which they came.
Eko just laughed; he wasn't sure if even Incarnates would be able to take them on, the Gods had been watching them since they set foot on Deaus. Mere mortal armies would undoubtedly be slaughtered by the hundreds. At least the God of War and Death would have a field day, Eko almost felt bad for that Incarnate. Almost.
"Citizens of the Empire." a voice boomed past the crowds making Eko turn his head, assisted by magic to carry it beyond the grand plaza, the Emperor had finally made his arrival, "As many of you know, strange men from somewhere far beyond have made an arrival on to our lands. This is unquestionably perhaps not just the greatest challenge of a generation, but perhaps that of all the Empire's history. We know little of them but that they bring strange creations and constructs beyond the understanding of even our greatest minds fail to comprehend. But fear not, I have the utmost confidence that we will prevail and stay strong; potentially prospering from these new people who have come from a world away."
The crowd had mix reactions, some felt reassured that it seemed the Emperor had a plan and everything under control, others demanded bloodshed against these invaders who dared march on their home lands. Petty squabbles, small melees and aggressive debates broke out between people of all age and ranking, thankfully there had been enough guards and leveled headed individuals who ensure that there was no full on riot.
As for Eko, Eko just smiled as a flip of his coat he changed his appearance to that of his female form. These foreigners had brought great change to this world, something which both Eko and Tenzayn would approve of. Jumping off the ledge of the building, Eko wondered what she would be doing next, perhaps go and bother some of the legendary leaders who would no doubt be somewhere near the front or mess around in the streets of Imperia with some of the kids. Then again, she had heard that something intersting was going on in Maverin. Ahh... decisions, decisions. | HWANGI SAIYAKO
If you look like you know what you're doing, then people will believe you do know what you're doing.
-Saiyako
Name
Hwangi Mukuri Saiyako
Nicknames
Saiya (Nickname)
Age
30
Gender
Male
Homeworld
Fuso
Rank
Captain
Role
Unit Commander
Appearance
Judging solely from appearances, Saiyako looks nothing like what one would expect from an officer, even by Fusan standards. His brownish-redish hair is always in varying amounts of ruffled or crumpled, dark lines hung under his dark golden eyes from his many all nighters no doubt, whatever happens during these long moons is known only by Saiyako himself. With a body type between his natural skinny frame and the body mass built up by military training, the man doesn't look like one you'd immediately expect to be a soldier but more of a bookworm who spent too much time at the gym. His resting, apathetic bitch face is only broken by the occasional cocky smile that arises when he feels the rare need to outdo someone.
In terms of outfits, Saiyako generally finds himself in any number and amount of clothing; like many Fusans he has no qualms about walking around in his underwear or nightwear and has been spot on more than one occasional strolling between the showers and his quarters nude. He also has a bad habit of tramping around in his sleeping clothes until noon when he knows he has no planned assignments or tasking for that day. Surprisingly enough however, his actual officer's dress uniform is perfectly kept in pristine condition, not a speck of dust on it, not a hole anywhere, not a button loose.
Equipment
Fusan Type 108 Automatic Carbine
Fusan Type 0 Warblade
ARMA Unit "Oni"
M3P-4 10mm Pistol
RO-3 Omni Grenade
Officer's Regimental Guide Manual
Personality
Laid back almost to the point of apathy, Saiyako is more extreme case of the famous Fusan calmness and indifference. With and almost superhuman ability of procrastinating and extending deadlines, Saiyako rarely feels urgency with things like paper work of which he sees as his greatest foe. One could say he's a fatalist, believing that his life is already set out by some greater power who isn't the Primarch or the pantheons of Terranism causing friction between him and the Inquisition who keeps tabs on all commissioned officers, his apparent lack of zeal doesn't help.
Of course, now with the arrival of the Gate, that personal philosophy has more or less gone out the window. In its place there's a new sense of excitement which Saiyako hasn't felt in a long time as before him is a beautiful world straight from a fantasy game. He works with greater speed and efficiency now although relative to others he still works dreadfully slow. Any official papers like reports while likely be handed in a week late with crumpled corners, an improvement from when papers would go missing for months in Saiyako's hands and come out like they were in their own war in the bowls of his desk. The only type of papers which he hasn't failed to submit on time are papers relating to the well being of his unit; things such as payrolls and requisition forms have rarely failed to be handed on time and are the only things which he will rarely submit early. Perhaps this is rooted from an amicable nature that's hidden under layers of apparent boredom and snark.
In battle, his apathetic nature is incredibly apparent, Saiyako appearing to give absolutely zero shits about being shot at or yells about him getting down. Of course this doesn't mean he's slow or combat stupid, his indifference to danger and gore is one of the primary reason behind his promotions. The battlefield is also the only place where his normal expression breaks and is replaced by a slightly cocky grin and an air of confidence. Its not uncommon for him to challenge someone to see how fast they can dash into cover while under fire as although he doesn't care much for the insults people call him, he does enjoy showing people up sometimes even if he doesn't always win them.
Traits
Seemingly apathetic to danger, blood, and insults
Wonderful chief
Deadlines are relative
Something of best friends with his ARMA unit
Fusan army training which comes with better melee skills
Master of procrastinating
Reliable regarding matters of his unit's well being
Fan animated shows and has a small collection of figurines and collectables in his quarters
Atheistic
History
Saiyako was born to a medical researcher space elevator operator on a space station in orbit around the Fuso. His life was normal for the most part, no sudden parental deaths or secret family wealth to be inherited; Saiyako was just a normal boy who lived life between the station and planet side. While definitely not the upper crust of society, his family was more than able to pay for their lifestyle and some of the gifts the child would want; perhaps one reason why Saiyako was even more laid back than most Fusans. The biggest change in his life up to that point would be the birth of his little sister when he was six. Things changed for Saiyako when Hwangi Tantan Mutoi came into his life but not too dramatically. Like his parents, Saiyako did his best to shower Mutoi with love and affection.
Maintain respectable grades throughout his teenaged years, the turning point of his life hit both him and his family hard, quite literally. During a family trip which Saiyako had offered to drive, his father next to him and his mother in the back with his sister, a mechanical failure cause the car to veer into oncoming traffic where a cargo transport plow right into them. Despite Saiyako, his mother and his sister all recovering, his father never did for some reason. Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months but his father wasn't recovering for some reason, doctors attributed it to some genetic issue that was preventing his body from healing as it should and instead was actually decaying.
Life suddenly went downhill as Saiyako started failing his classes and locked himself in his room for hours at a time, feeling as if he was the one who cause his father's pain, eventually refusing to go visit him out of shame and guilt. The last time Saiyako would see his father would be on his father's death bed who told him:
"Son, there is no hidden treasure of our family for which I can pass on to you. There is no secret wealth which I can let you inherit. No portal to a magical world that I have been hiding. No secret society that I've been a part of. You are completely normal, you are no fairy tale hero like the one in the shows you once watched and the books me and your mother once read you; there is nothing special about you. You are just you.
But you are unbound, free of any strings of destiny. Your fate is no one but your own. There is nothing to hold you back from your greatness..."
Of course, Saiyako didn't understand what his father meant at that point, but it broke something inside of him and turned him apathetic, not even flinching as he watched his father's coffin be lowered into the earth and buried. It was as if he stopped caring about everything and it showed; he later failed out of school before he could even get into a college and barricaded himself in his room, nothing his sister or his mother did could get him out.
Faced with a dead husband and a depressed, apathetic son, Saiyako's mother died of a heart attack little over a year later and Saiyako was again silent as his mother was buried next to her lover. Realizing that there was no way that both he and his little sister could survive on government subsidies, Saiyako got a job in the only place that would accept him: the army.
After months of training, he was deployed to various rebel stations and worlds as part of the 6th Fusan Regiment, 21st Assault Division nicknamed the "Golden Foxes". Through many a battles and a fair bit of luck, Saiyako had been promoted to the rank of 2nd LT after the previous one had died in battle, his apathetic nature leading him the ability to remain remarkable nonchalant even by Fusan standards. After doing his 3rd tour, he heard wind of a portal that had opened up on the backwater desert planet of Ennedi to what the first scouts said was a "fantasy" world. Upon hearing that, something made him smile and started up his excitement, an emotion he hadn't felt in a long time. Signing up without haste, Saiyako felt like he finally understood what his father's words from all those years ago meant; he had the chance not to fulfill his destiny, but a chance to make his own.
EKO DONPARE
Female Ver.
I've seen you somewhere, I've heard your name from someone, I've remembered your appearance from something.
-Eko
Male Ver.
Change isn't good or bad by nature; it just happens.
-Eko
Name
Eko Donpare, Incarnate of Tenzayn
Nicknames
Ekochi (female only)
Ekal (male only)
Age
807 (Actual age appearance varies)
Gender
Gender fluid, literally
Race
Human Incarnate
Kingdom
Crown of Sarleon, Vassal of the Empire
Appearance
While minor details may change, Eko's appearance can be divided between her male appearance and his male appearance. In his male form, Eko is a tall if not slightly lanky individual with sharp features with red hair and a nobly ruffled white hair. In her female form, Eko keeps the white hair (although it now reaches somewhere near her lower back). Notably shorter, female Eko stands about a foot shorter than his male version with amethyst eyes; her features however are still graceful and wispy in a way.
In terms of clothing, again Eko can change at will but for the most part he's found in some getup that looks quite a lot like something you'd see from the 1700s or the 1800s on High Terra. A tattered, fancy navy blue military's officer overcoat with golden lining and tassels with some red details and golden buttons. A powder white scarf is attached to his neck and held in place with a delicate golden jewel; a large hat with a flume of white feathers and a rose stuck in its side can also sometimes be seen, more often on her female version.
Equipment
Coat of Donpare - The famous coat of the Incarnate of Tenzayn, it looks like something Napoleon would wear. Despite its appearance, its actually Eko's armor, each thread turned from silk and fabric into thread with the strength of steel by Tenzayn themselves. It also has the effect of making the wearer consistently clear of mind and fearless, changing said fear into euphoria strangely enough although this barely effects Eko when she puts it on.
Regalis Concerto - Eko's primary weapon, it is a very fancy and royal looking glaive. Besides being able to cut through armor and flesh with ease, it also acts as a sort of condute for Eko's magic, basically a giant magic wand that Eko can actually use in one hand in a similar fashion to that of a conductor's baton. The weapon itself was created for Eko by Tenzayn after his asscention into Incarnatehood.
Magic
Eko uses Book of Evolution at a master-level due to his Incarnate status
Personality
Like most things about him, Eko's personally can quickly change. While not as fast or extreme as someone tainted by the Book of Circus, there are definitely warning signs that need to can be seen as a sign of warning and caution. Her two most common moods is a cocky, headstrong personality and a rather sentimental personality. His first one can usually be defined as "somewhere between 'fuck you' in a mocking manner and 'I'd fuck you" while with the second he acts as if she was drunk and has deep thoughts (or tries to be with varying levels of success).
An interesting point of note is that Eko is far less surprised by the Union's technology than other people and takes quite a bit of interest in them.
Traits
Master of Book of Evolution, granting him a limited number of spells from other Lores
Immortality and invulnerability due to Incarnate status as well as super human abilities
Fearless, most of his fear has been removed due to his natural hubris and the Coat of Donpare.
Has a direct line to Tenzayn, God of Change; Tenzayn doesn't always pick up or answer correctly, occasionally forcing his Incarnate to answer to a squirrel or something.
History
Despite living for many hundreds of years, Eko talks remarkably little about his past, especially the time before he became an Incarnate. While this is common amongst many Incarnates (as many Gods will wipe the memories of their chosen), Eko admits that Tenzayn has never tampered with her memory. And even though there might be some who claim to know Eko's history, all of them are completely different stories.
The only history Eko will ever say is that his ancestor once lived on an island far, far away and that since he became an Incarnate he's split his time between wandering the land and attending to the Great Shrine of Tenzayn. |
55,919 | 1,532 | 6 | 554 | 1,580 | Corporal "Soko" Sokoloff, Combat Engineer.
Soko continued spraying bullets into the ranks of enemy soldiers, not letting up the trigger for even a second since with such a target rich environment accuracy wasn't exactly needed. Behind him he could hear the medic tending to the wounded, while he knew absolutely nothing about the human body and how to fix up wounds, he assumed she was probably taking care of those horrible burns. Eventually however the ammo belt ran dry, Soko wasn't a least bit surprised at this as he was seriously burning through rounds. The engineer was about to pull up his radio and perhaps request for a resupply when he noticed a few boxes on the other side of the bunker. He must've missed them when he came in, maybe due to the poor lighting, or could be he was simply too occupied.
The Corporal patted one of the random soldier's back before making his way to those boxes, if they contained more rounds then he would be saved from the effort of radioing in. As Soko passed by the medic he was admittedly impressed with how quickly she worked, especially considering they were still in a live battle. Perhaps she wouldn't notice when he nodded and smiled in her direction, mostly happy to know they had a competent medic.
Now at the boxes Soko picked one up only to frown at it, looked like the case was locked, and without light he couldn't exactly see anything. He placed the box down then reached for his engineering kit to find a headlamp. Once with some sort of light source Soko finally knew what he was dealing with, mainly that the case was secured with a simple electronic lock. He of course didn't have the code, so his only other option was to force it open... well he still could radio those supplies in, but that would take time. He examined the lock a little more closely to decide on what tools he'll need. He pulled out an old fashioned screwdriver, a sensor tool used to find live wires, and a small pair of cutters.
First he unscrewed the protective case on the lock to expose the wiring within, what he saw was encouraging as the circuitry was very familiar to him. Next he started poking a few wires with the senor, he was looking for a certain response the determine which wires were active, then from there he could figure out what order to cut them. A minute later Soko was confident he found the right sequence and got right to cutting them. After he severed the last connection, the case popped open with a audible click. "Ah, finally got you!" A happy Soko exclaimed. Unfortunately the contents weren't what he was hoping for, instead he found various medical supplies, he reasoned it was left here for the wounded. That said his efforts weren't for nothing, these were useful anyway.
"Hey!" Soko started. "Do you think you can use these?" He closed the box and brought it right over to the medic, then smiled. "I got no idea why this was left behind for, but I think we can probably get away with it given how we're in still combat, and there's wounded, right?" He didn't give her much time to respond, as much he really wouldn't mind a conversation right about now, it also wasn't the time for idle chatter, plus he still had to work on the other boxes to see if they had ammunition. With that Soko quickly got to work on the next lock, maybe this will be the one. | Pavel "Soko" Sokoloff
"Anyone can be family, blood doesn't mean everything if you ask me."
-Pavel Sokoloff
Name
Pavel Sokoloff
Nicknames
Soko
Age
28
Gender
Male
Homeworld
Novogorod
Rank
Corporal
Role
Field Engineer
Appearance
Soko is of perfectly normal size being neither large, nor small. If given the chance he would prefer to walk about in a tank top and cargo pants, short of that a jumpsuit would do just fine. Outside of work he isn't too picky about what he wears as fashion is about the last thing he thinks of, what does matter is practicality; boots over sandals, jeans over shorts.
Soko's combat uniform has seen some very minor modifications. Mostly he carries additional pouches and an extra bandolier for more ammunition storage. Soko never wears the standard hat as he thinks its just stupid, after a while even his superiors had given up reprimanding him.
Equipment
AKN-74z Assault Rifle
M3P-4 10mm Pistol
1x Standard Engineer's Kit
2x "Splinter" Grenade
1x ROC-1A "Fisto"
Personality
Soko is about welcoming as they come, and has no problems with making friends out of complete strangers, although because of his natural openness he is simply terrible at lying. To expand on this Soko is perfectly willing to tell just about anyone about himself, however after much life experience he has somewhat learned to keep quiet, especially when it comes to his own problems. That said Soko still hates the very idea of secrets and would rather throw everything into the open if given the opportunity. When in a combat situation Soko can definitely remain cool under fire, and will fight with every bit of ferocity befitting of his people. He does have his limits however, in extreme cases of pressure it is quite possible he'll crack under it because after all he is only human.
It should be obvious that Soko is a very social person and will attempt to start a conversation with just about anyone in earshot. While it may seem like he considers everyone to be a friend, he does take friendship seriously and actually if anything he is strangely particular about who he would call a friend. When it comes to his discipline and professionalism as a soldier Soko is around average by GHU standards. Not nearly on the same level as a Khorenheim, but he is typically more hard working than many of his brethren.
Soko cares deeply about his role as an engineer and vastly enjoys the work. Sometimes while on a job Soko becomes uncharacteristically quiet, in fact he may even snap at anyone who dares to interrupt him, it is this reason its important for one to learn this fact about him.
Traits
Has a fondness for old classical music.
Doesn't share the typical prejudice against Khorenheimers.
Instead rather doesn't like those from Ennedi as much, their zealousness can be off putting.
Worst liar ever.
Very trusting in others.
Skilled engineer and tinker even by Novogorodian standards.
Likes woodcarving in his spare time.
Makes for a pretty average soldier.
History
Soko was born to a lower working class family, his father being the main breadwinner through his job as a laborer. Even from an early age it was clear what kind of person Soko would grow into, with his constant questions and overall friendly disposition he was always posed to talk about absolutely everything. For the most part his family humored the young Soko, although eventually even they tired of his constant blabbering and were not afraid to say as much. All the same his home life was quite pleasant while still given their socioeconomic status.
Soko was fascinated with machines and purposely sought whatever he could learn about them, he even came to bug local technicians. Of course no one was in the least bit interested in enabling the frankly annoying boy, however overtime a few actually taken a liking to Soko, maybe due to his perseverance or maybe he really did have the social skills. From this unofficial tutelage Soko gleamed much about the maintenance of various machines such as massive heaters, or sometimes much more complex communications systems.
During his teenage years while in school Soko opted to take whatever engineering courses were available, if it weren't for required credits in other subjects he may have very well packed his schedule with nothing but technical classes. His parents, primarily his father, were vocal about their approval, even to the point of bragging about their son's incredible intellect to other couples. Soko didn't think much about it, as an only child it made sense they would be proud of his accomplishments like so, he at least understood that. Soko while never was an excellent student, graduated with recognitions for his achievements in engineering.
It was at this point Soko made his critical life decision to join the military, one reason being the paycheck, but also he felt that by serving he could continue to improve himself as a person. His family of course were against the idea, saying that they would worry about his safety, and even tried to recommend other career choices, in the end they couldn't change his mind. Soko enlisted into the Novogorodian Engineering Corps using his already impressive background in the field as a resume. After passing a initial exam he was then entered into the program. At first the material was extremely different from what he was used to, military technology was a whole another beast from the civilian machines he once worked with.
Months later Soko came out in the top-middle percentile of his class having been scored at least satisfactory in all competency areas, although at the same time he just barely passed basic training, but that didn't quite matter in the moment. Soko's first assignment was to a military base as a member of the support staff, his job to help keep the facility running smoothly, and so this was his life for the next few years. At the age of twenty five Soko received a promotion to corporal for his years of service, and favorable work assessment, he was also reassigned to the PRN's 13th Garrison where he remained until the creation of the 23rd Expeditionary Regiment. It something else that should be noted is that even to this day Soko still sends a hefty portion of his pay back home even after being told multiple times that the money was not necessary.
Also sometime between his assignment to the 13th Garrison and to the 23rd Expeditionary Regiment, Soko's unit had been attached to an anti-rebel Khorenheim task group to assist in their operations. It was during this time that Soko got to know a Khorenheimer engineer and even became fast friends as he found the engineer's insight into their work to be something else. It was also during these same missions Soko had to work alongside a particularly zealous Ennedi infantryman, the experience was quite frankly wasn't pleasant and had unfortunately painted the people as a whole in a negative light to Soko. |
55,920 | 1,532 | 7 | 777 | 1,174 | Sergent Tauret
Her head was swimming in thoughts too many thoughts for her as she worked. So much so Anat have started muttering to herself in order to keep her thoughts in order and to focus on treatment not the reason or how as to how they got hurt. That wasn't her concern she was merely dealing with the end result. That's all that mattered, a proper doctor with his proper equipment would found out how they got hurt in detail.
One by one Anat did all she could to help the wounded most of which while unable to keep fighting, would level to see the next day in the land beyond the portal. Several she had bought them time until a medical team came... hopefully in time. So far all of them had been treatable on some level but she using up her supplies quickly.
"Why are there so many solider in here? Where that having some sort of meeting?" she muttered to herself as she bandaged one wound with the speed only years of practice and a high level of confidence could manage.
It was then the other soldier stop firing the MG Anat paused for a second, looking over at him before frowning annoyed that the sounds of suffering where once more easier to hear. Although now thanks to Anats work a it wasn't so bad as portion of the soldiers had the worst of their wounds treated and doses up with pain killers. It was long after that other solider stopped firing came over to her with box of medical supplies. Anat looking at him as he spoke then though the box quickly. It containing a lot of high grade supplies stuff that should still locked up in the supply area, given it was in a locked container.
Yes I can. Thank you. If there any issue with me using this I'll handle it. But I doubt there will be." she stated plainly and went back to work and muttering to herself although this time she would glance over at the other soldier with her to make sure he was still alive and not injured.
Anat was in the middle of administrating extra treatment one of the badly injured soldiers since she now had some more supplies. When she realized thanks to a stray thought she hadn't even told the other soldier her name. Something that normally was considered rude. But given the current situation no one could blame her. Moving on to another badly injured soldier Anat was surprised to find him dead. The medic merely looking at the man for a moment. She took his dog tag and closed the man empty open eyes.
"Find peace in the arms of the primarch. May you always be remembered." she said sounding almost sad for moment. If the other solder looked and had decent eyesight he might of notice that Anat blinked back a couple of tear. Saddened by loss of one her patients. This little display was short lived however as she looked at the other soldier.
"You tell anyone about this and I won't be happy. | ANAT
My Hippocratic oath? To keep my a comrades alive. Be it healing them or killing you.
-Anat.
Name
Anat Tauret
Nicknames
Ant (your all welcome to come up with your own ones for her if you like.)
Age
30
Gender
Female
Homeworld
Fuso
Rank
Sergeant
Role
Field Medic
Appearance
Anat stands around 6'1ft (185.9 cm).
Anat has painted a big red crude + on the back of her armor and a smaller red + the front of her armor on the the left side of the chest plate. She as a tattoo on her upper left arm with 2 crossed swords under a helmet with word 96th KNIGHT under it.
Equipment
1x Type 108 Automatic Carbine
1x M3P-4 10mm Pistol
1x Type-0 Warblade (the word knight is engraved into the handle)
1x MXR Drone (the word Sparks is painted on it along with small red plus)
1x Field Hospital Medical Kit
Personality
Once a nice friendly girl hardened by nearly a decade of military service. Anat tends to keep her true emotions and thoughts to herself unless she dealing with someone she trusts. Never really getting close, saying a lot without saying whats really on her mind. This is simply down to the fact as someone who has fought in battle she has seen people she calls friends die. Something in the past has really bothered her, so tends to keep people emotionally distant. Being someones friend without being a friend. Until someone proves they know how not to die at least for a fight or two. Is when she really starts thinking about trusting someone beyond being a fellow solider.
Once Anat calls someone a friends she calls them that for life and will share her feelings and thoughts openly if asked or if she thinks it needed. Once a friend the only what to make Anat hate you is to break her trust something not easily done once gained. She is not a person who likes taking charge that often although she is skilled enough of a solider and fought enough battles she could lead a squad if she wanted to. But she as no interest in doing so she is left with no other choice. She prefers taking orders rather then giving them.
Although carefree and cheery like many Fusans Anat as quite a nasty temper on her. While not overly short she as habit of snapping at people that do something to her she doesn't like. When Anat gets pissed off at something her first reaction is the urge to punch what ever as pissed her off. If she can't do that she'll abuse it verbally if that's not possible she'll starts muttering away to herself for a little bit before claiming down.
On the battle field Anat like many Fusans level headed and clam, even in the most dire of situations. The only time things start to bother her is if she someone she was trying to treat dies on her. It is the once thing she can't stand and bothers her deeply even if logically she can't save everyone she treats. When it comes to treating people Anat as always been told she as little in a beside manner and has threatened to kill her charges more then once if they complain about pain. Not that she would this is merely an empty threat to make them shut up and only dose it if simply telling them to shut it doesn't work.
When treating someone a more gentle side of Anat comes out as she will her best not to hurt her charges.
Outside of medical use that gentle side is kept buried for all but inmate moments, when she is by her lonesome or a really close friend.
Anat is fairly social but likes to have her alone time. Where she can partake in one of her hobbies or lose herself in some novel. She is analytical thinker and loves to play devils advocate. At times a more promiscuous side of her shows itself. She also as a strong scenes of pride when it comes to her medical skills and knowledge.
Traits
Detailed Medical Knowledge
Hates 95% of Terran's (She'd shoot them if they where not bothers and sister in arms.)
Great at sewing and drawing. ( her down time hobbies)
Left Handed
Highly skilled at melee combat and loves it. (If she wasn't a field medic she would specialize in it.)
Over prospective of her Drone. (Don't touch it. No really don't touch her drone.)
HATES colour purple.
Afraid of the dark.
Talks to herself, often on what she is currently thing about. Sometimes argues with herself when trying to deiced on something.
Is not a fan of those form Khorenheim. (The sticks up those guys butts have sticks up there butts.)
Loves reading.
Starts getting bored when she stuck doing the same thing day in day out.
History
Born on the world Fuso in the heart of its capital city Anat lead a good childhood and rarely wanted for anything her parents easily provided for her. Born to a pair of doctors Anat spent a lot of her young childhood in the hospital where her parents worked. Watching them work as much as she was allowed finding what they did most interesting. Unaware that this interest would grow in to passion and later a her going off to get her qualification as a doctor.
Beside that Anat had a fairly normal childhood her only complaint she spent to much time in hospitals which as a kid she found rather dull but as she grew older and started to love medicine learned to appreciate it. Getting to learn form the doctors when it didn't interfere with their duties. By the time she was old enough to be left on her own Anat kept coming of her own free will. Having begun the basics of medicine in her free time under the hospitals doctors. Reading medical texts simply because she found it fun.
By the time she had finished her schooling and was ready for higher education Anat already knew what she wanted to do and made sure to do everything to get in to medicine. Her hard work paying off end completing her education in the field of medicine. She then found herself working in a small medical clinic which at first was fun. But after a year she grew weary of treating people with basic illnesses and or minor injures finding the life to static too repetitive. Still wanting to practices medicine while making life a little more interesting she ended up joining the military. How she came to joining the military she can't recall but she dose know started as a night on the town and ended in drunken brawl with a military officer that she apparently held her own in. The night ended up her apparently signing up but Anat doesn't remember.
Given she couldn't quit once signed up Anat decided to see where Military life would take her, know they always needed a doctors and field medics.
After several months of basic training Anat grew to enjoy the idea of fighting while trying to patching someone up, knowing these people would actually appreciate her work. So the moment she completed basic training and was allowed to apply for extra training specializing as field medic she jumped at the chance. After a little more training she was recognized as a field medic and assigned to a 8th Fusan Regiment and placed in the 96th division called the Fusan Knights for their skill in melee combat. (I'm not good with how military units are broken down so correct me if I'm wrong.)
The first week in her new unit was difficult with other solider picking on the new member in a playful teasing way. But after several week and a set of training drills interplanetary training drills High Terran unit they grew to like Anat and she earned the nick name Ant for reasons she can not fathom. Not long the drills her unit was deploy to world near Fuso that it got into a small war with. The war was mostly skirmish's, over couple of months several larger battles did break out and Anat's unit was right in the middle of it. Her first major battle Anat as forgotten but she recalls the fear and adrenaline everything happening so fast she had just followed orders and somehow pulled though.
It was the third larger battle did Anat save the life of her commanding officer who had gotten himself badly injured. How exactly she doesn't recall but she apparently she made an impression as she was given a drone. After year the Union decided to step in end the conflict it ending peacefully for the most part. For a time Anat was sent home for some R and R. During that time she heard of what happened Ennedi and soon after the call for volunteer for a new unit being formed to go though the gate. Finding the idea bizarre and she wanted to see for herself so volunteered.
Nikolas Maxwell
Never upset a god, you may end paying for it for a long time. If not you but someone you love.
-Nikolas
Name
Nikolas Maxwell
Nicknames
Maxwell (open to suggestions)
Age
Exact age Unknown but over 350
Gender
Male
Race
Formally Human
Kingdom
Unknown
Appearance Nikolas tends to keep himself covered at all times. Wearing his armour as much a possible when around others. If he has to take it off he will wear whatever will cover his flesh and eyes. In the terms of headgear he wears hoods and anything that covers his face with whatever he can get his hands on. When he is around those who don't know what he is. When his around people who know what he is and don't mind. Nikolas doesn't cover up so much and at time can be seen shirtless.
Equipment
An ancient blade that Nikolas as carried with him for so long he wouldn't know what to do if he lost it. A blade forged with long for gotten methods and enchanted with magic allowing it to remain as strong and sharp as the day it was made. While no sharper then a normal sword this blade doesn't lose it edge as it is used and is more effect against the undead.
If unsheathed in a dark area the blade glows a sickly green colour when in Nikolas's hands. When in the hands of the living the sword glows bright white.
The item the houses Nikolas soul. Unlike a normal phylactery this one can only be destroyed with high level magic form the book of blessing. It can be broken which for a time will render Nikolas decayed body mindless for a time. But unless destroyed by high level magic form the book of blessing it will reform after an hour or two.
Like this but glows a light blue.
Your basic run of the mill steel armour with no form of magic. Crafted for Nikolas by a master blacksmith at great cost who is aware of his condition. The armour is very well made and fairly durable. The armour is quite heavy and slows Nikolas's movements a little but provides good protection against blades and arrows. The armour was custom made for Nikolas so is fitted for him and made in the style of his armour while he was alive making it unique.
Magic
None
Personality
Nikolas is an understanding individual and tries not to judge people by there looks and hates when people they do. Being undead he is a little wary of the living and tries to stay out of the middle of large crowds unless necessary. Also because of his undead nature he dislikes talking about himself and when he dose tend to outright lie or tell tails back form when he was alive. Although he lies about himself Nikolas is not a very good liar, but it never stops him form trying as it better then telling someone the truth.
For those who become aware of his true nature and don't try to destroy him Nikolas often make the effort to become friends with. If he manages that he become very open about some of his life and will help out those he calls friend. He is also willing to give advice to those he calls a friends, although it may not always be the best advice.
Over all Nikolas is a very clam person rarely letting his emotions get the better of him, well aware what might happen if he dose. He is the type who doesn't back down form a challenge when one is presented to him normally trying the direct approach when trying solve a problem. If that fails Nikolas will simply keep trying until he come up with another solution or until it direct approach works.
At time Nikolas feels the urge to consume the flesh of the living, although he is unsure why this urge is very powerful and difficult to control. When dealing with this he drives everyone around him away and tries to be alone or spend time with his own kind. On rare occasions he can become a mindless almost like his soul is trying to leave the realm of the living but can't. During these times Nikolas's body can and often dose become aggressive attacking any living thing near him. Turning on friend and foe alike. While aware of the issue Nikolas can't do anything to stop it, but is aware when the everything starts to fell distance he need to get away form everyone and lock himself away.
Traits
Being undead is vulnerable to the book of blessing.
Doesn't need to eat, sleep, drink or breath. (benefits of being dead)
Doesn't get tired.
As no sense of touch or taste. (This took a while to get used to)
Can talk to other undead.
Likes being in crypts and graveyards. (his home away form home)
Immune to poison.
his right knee tends to crick when he walks and its cold. (old bones don't like walking in the cold)
Loves drinking as oddly enough he can get drunk for some reason. (Magic is a funny thing no)
Master Swordsman (you live for over 100 years and try not master at least one weapon)
A great hero in life Nikolas was once a soldier for hire famed for being one of the best able to best any beast in the land. This however is in an Era all but forgotten Nikolas exploits no longer remembered by the living.
But in life he was a man to behold and man who was willing to fight for anyone who could afford his price. Gold and glory where what this man lived for and both he had. It wasn't until he was sent to kill a necromancer that had taken up residence near a small village and the locals where scared of what the magic user might do to them.
The villagers some how managed to pay his price. So Nikolas set of on a hunt to slay the necromancer. What little did he know, the job would be one he would never complete until much later. Over the course of many months on his hunt of this necromancer and several encounters with his pray he eventually fell for for his target. Over another several months the two somehow got close and fell in love. Nikolas kept "hunting" the Necromancer only to keep spending time with her. But despite there feelings they still fought trying to kill each other. Nikolas cutting down many of her undead to reach her only to...*cough*
This lasted for several years until Nikolas fell extremely ill and died before anything could be done to help him. But despite that he died a happy man. Leaving everything to his love.
Upset over the lose of her lover and refusing to let him go. The necromancer who Nikolas had called Nena out of affection stole his body form his family crypt and burnt it to the ground roughly a month his death.
Form there Nena used her magic to preserve his body as she began to work on ways to bring her lover back. Knowing she could easily bring him back as a mindless zombie under her control. But that wasn't what she wanted. Nena wanted to bring Nikolas back with his mind intact with a physical body completely free form control. But such power was beyond her and so she began to research and experiment taking many lives and souls caring little for who they belonged to.
Sadly for Nena not matter how hard she tried she could never develop a spell to bring her lover back, each failure pushing Nena into madness and after several months Nena had all but lost her mind. Driven solely by her original goal
Her actions though didn't go unnoticed and the god of death began to grow annoyed with the necromancer who constantly was perverting the rules of life and death. For a time the god had let her actions slide knowing one day she would die, but her research and experimentation bore some fruit as she made herself a lich and in unlife continued her never ending research. Having become madly obsessed with her goal.
Now furious with the necromancer and wanting to stop Nena the god of death sent their incarnate to deal with situation. The incarnate deciding to bring Nena long dead love back to life this his mind completely intact hoping that would quell the necromancer. However what happened next the incarnate never could have predicted. Not long after being brought back Nikolas had saw what Nena become. Sad to see his love fall so low he stuck her down by smashing her phylactery. An act the ended his loves unlife. But as her soul started to slip into the after life. The god of deaths incarnate appeared, quite surprised by the situation.
The god of death wanted Nena soul to punish her for perverting the rules of life and death. Not wanting his love to punished Nikolas begged the god of death to let Nena pass into the after life. In exchange he would walk the in the world of the living helping those in need it until he had paided the price for the lives and souls Nena had taken and whatever else the god thought was necessary.
For whatever reason the god of death accepted the deal and to insure Nikolas would fulfil his end of the deal the gods incarnate preserve his body with powerful magic so it would not further decay but could not be reintegrated. The incarnate placed then Nioklas's soul inside a phylactery. A phylactery that was nearly indestructible, so only those gifted in the book of blessing stood a chance at destroying it.
So Nikolas began his quest to help living, but trying to help the living is hard when your a corpse. Despite Nikolas best efforts anyone alive that meet him and became aware of his nature became afraid of him. Although Nikolas dose his best to be understanding about it. At times he finds at time all he wants to do is consume their tasty flesh. But even so he will not rest until he has paid of he loves debt and is allowed to join her in the afterlife. So in unlife he works as a soldier for hire once again using the money he makes to maintain a carefully crafted persona and help those in need. Hoping that one day the god of death will allow him to die and rejoin his love in the afterlife.
NOTE: Nena is somehow the god of death. DO NOT FORGET THIS.
NPC
Name
Elizabeth Laryn
Nicknames
Liz, Specter
Age
29
Gender
Female
Role
Scout
Personality
Driven by her duty to serve the Union. Liz dose whatever she is ordered to the best of her abilities. She is completely loyal to the union and a devout to the church of Terra. Liz is not afraid to sacrifice herself in to fulfill her duty. In personal situation Liz is a loner sticking to herself and contently minding her own business. When she dose interacting with someone she come of as warm and friendly but very awkward almost like she as not interacted with people before. Around her superiors she is very serious.
NPC
Name
Natasha Korshunov
Nicknames
Dozer
Age
39
Gender
Female
Role
Ambassadorial Bodyguard
Personality
A woman who knows what she wants and is not afraid to take it. Natasha is a loud mouth the simply ooze's confidence and rightly so. This woman as fought more battles in internal union wars then some would in there life time. She is loyal to the union and ambassador Muhfeld and in a rough way caring of others she respects. Just don't piss her off, Natasha is lethal with her fist's and even more so with her twin custom made fisto's and she not afraid to use them. Also Nastasha is the type just doesn't know when to give up and would rather take a roll of the dice then play it safe. Although she may not look or act it she has a genius level intellect.
NPC
Name
Moskvin Korshunov
Nicknames
Daka, Mos
Age
26
Gender
Male
Role
Heavy weapon/ Demo specialist Ambassadorial Bodyguard
Personality
At first glance he's dumber then a box of hammers. Due to his simple way of speaking an understanding. But what Moskvin lacks in books smarts he makes up for it in his sheer stubbornness and knowledge of things that go Kaboom and heavy weapons. He is the right hand of a Ambassador Muhlfeld when he wants someone day completely and utterly fucked. He is completely loyal to Ambassador Muhfeld and would die to protect him. Anyone else can get fucked in fact he'd climb over the bodies of fall comrades or simple shove them out of the way at chance to fill enemies with enough lead to call someone a pencil. Moskvin as a very short temper and tends to hit things that upset him. He tends to get into a lot of fight with his sister but deep down he loves her to bits. Although he may not look it Moskvin is talented painter and loves animals. For some reason he never shows his face around others.
NPC
Name
Jurgen Muhfeld
Nicknames
None
Age
65
Gender
Male
Role
Ambassador
Personality
Claim and always well spoken. Jurgen at first glance is the very embodiment of the best refinement the Union has to offer. Truth be told he is man that always tries to get his way and is used to it. He is a man of a short temper along with some childish tendency's.
He is a man of great influence in parts of union and he's not afraid to throw the weight of his influence around to get his own way. He's not a fan of violence and prefers it not be used around him. Truth be told he just worried he'd have to get his hands dirty instead of someone else. Deep down though he truly thinks peace if the way forward.
He as a liking for the Korshunov siblings and used his leverage to get them assigned to him as bodyguards and the two have been working with him proudly for some time. He has used every favor he was owed to get him assigned to the 1st recon as an attachment wanting to one of the first to try negotiate with who ever dwell on the other side of the portal.
NPC
Name
Brain Corvus
Nicknames
Crow
Age
39
Gender
Male
Role
Quartermaster
Personality
A sly and cunning man who seems to appear in odd places. He is the type who always seem to acquire things and has no issue with selling said things for a "fair" price. Brain is very charismatic and is very good at prying information out of people with only a few words. People also seem to just naturally trust Brain and tell him things they might not others. He's a very skilled lie and often makes up stores that out of his month sound truthful. Brian is a yellow bellied coward and will always try to run form a fight, he is how ever not easily intimidated. |
55,921 | 1,532 | 8 | 554 | 1,580 | Corporal "Soko" Sokoloff, Combat Engineer.
Soko had just forced the next crate's lock open when he noticed the medic muttering something to herself, without so much as a thought he swung his head and light over to see what the commotion was about. It didn't take much in the way of context clues to piece together what just happened, and his suppressions were confirmed by her small threat as well. The engineer simply nodded respectfully while being mindful not to say anything as it seemed like a tender moment for her. With that taken care of Soko returned his attention back to the box, and behold, ammo. He then flicked his light off, and stored it away along with his other tools as he didn't need them anymore, even more so since he didn't plan of breaking into any more boxes, hell if anyone knew he decided to force open a few supply crates he probably wouldn't hear the end of it for a long time so best not to push his luck.
The PRN soldier lugged the ammunition crate back over to the machine gun, and got right to reloading. "So." Soko ventured carefully. "Since we're in the same unit and all, maybe some introductions are order, don't you think?" He looked back to offer a small smile, although maybe she couldn't make it out given how dark it was still. "I'll start... Pavel Sokoloff, the engineer, but usually people just go with "Soko" which I don't mind, its less of a mouthful." He said with a chuckle. He had then just attached the fresh ammo belt with a fairly loud grunt. "So, uh... what about you? Wouldn't mind getting a name of course." Again he asked his question with yet another smile plastered on his face. | Pavel "Soko" Sokoloff
"Anyone can be family, blood doesn't mean everything if you ask me."
-Pavel Sokoloff
Name
Pavel Sokoloff
Nicknames
Soko
Age
28
Gender
Male
Homeworld
Novogorod
Rank
Corporal
Role
Field Engineer
Appearance
Soko is of perfectly normal size being neither large, nor small. If given the chance he would prefer to walk about in a tank top and cargo pants, short of that a jumpsuit would do just fine. Outside of work he isn't too picky about what he wears as fashion is about the last thing he thinks of, what does matter is practicality; boots over sandals, jeans over shorts.
Soko's combat uniform has seen some very minor modifications. Mostly he carries additional pouches and an extra bandolier for more ammunition storage. Soko never wears the standard hat as he thinks its just stupid, after a while even his superiors had given up reprimanding him.
Equipment
AKN-74z Assault Rifle
M3P-4 10mm Pistol
1x Standard Engineer's Kit
2x "Splinter" Grenade
1x ROC-1A "Fisto"
Personality
Soko is about welcoming as they come, and has no problems with making friends out of complete strangers, although because of his natural openness he is simply terrible at lying. To expand on this Soko is perfectly willing to tell just about anyone about himself, however after much life experience he has somewhat learned to keep quiet, especially when it comes to his own problems. That said Soko still hates the very idea of secrets and would rather throw everything into the open if given the opportunity. When in a combat situation Soko can definitely remain cool under fire, and will fight with every bit of ferocity befitting of his people. He does have his limits however, in extreme cases of pressure it is quite possible he'll crack under it because after all he is only human.
It should be obvious that Soko is a very social person and will attempt to start a conversation with just about anyone in earshot. While it may seem like he considers everyone to be a friend, he does take friendship seriously and actually if anything he is strangely particular about who he would call a friend. When it comes to his discipline and professionalism as a soldier Soko is around average by GHU standards. Not nearly on the same level as a Khorenheim, but he is typically more hard working than many of his brethren.
Soko cares deeply about his role as an engineer and vastly enjoys the work. Sometimes while on a job Soko becomes uncharacteristically quiet, in fact he may even snap at anyone who dares to interrupt him, it is this reason its important for one to learn this fact about him.
Traits
Has a fondness for old classical music.
Doesn't share the typical prejudice against Khorenheimers.
Instead rather doesn't like those from Ennedi as much, their zealousness can be off putting.
Worst liar ever.
Very trusting in others.
Skilled engineer and tinker even by Novogorodian standards.
Likes woodcarving in his spare time.
Makes for a pretty average soldier.
History
Soko was born to a lower working class family, his father being the main breadwinner through his job as a laborer. Even from an early age it was clear what kind of person Soko would grow into, with his constant questions and overall friendly disposition he was always posed to talk about absolutely everything. For the most part his family humored the young Soko, although eventually even they tired of his constant blabbering and were not afraid to say as much. All the same his home life was quite pleasant while still given their socioeconomic status.
Soko was fascinated with machines and purposely sought whatever he could learn about them, he even came to bug local technicians. Of course no one was in the least bit interested in enabling the frankly annoying boy, however overtime a few actually taken a liking to Soko, maybe due to his perseverance or maybe he really did have the social skills. From this unofficial tutelage Soko gleamed much about the maintenance of various machines such as massive heaters, or sometimes much more complex communications systems.
During his teenage years while in school Soko opted to take whatever engineering courses were available, if it weren't for required credits in other subjects he may have very well packed his schedule with nothing but technical classes. His parents, primarily his father, were vocal about their approval, even to the point of bragging about their son's incredible intellect to other couples. Soko didn't think much about it, as an only child it made sense they would be proud of his accomplishments like so, he at least understood that. Soko while never was an excellent student, graduated with recognitions for his achievements in engineering.
It was at this point Soko made his critical life decision to join the military, one reason being the paycheck, but also he felt that by serving he could continue to improve himself as a person. His family of course were against the idea, saying that they would worry about his safety, and even tried to recommend other career choices, in the end they couldn't change his mind. Soko enlisted into the Novogorodian Engineering Corps using his already impressive background in the field as a resume. After passing a initial exam he was then entered into the program. At first the material was extremely different from what he was used to, military technology was a whole another beast from the civilian machines he once worked with.
Months later Soko came out in the top-middle percentile of his class having been scored at least satisfactory in all competency areas, although at the same time he just barely passed basic training, but that didn't quite matter in the moment. Soko's first assignment was to a military base as a member of the support staff, his job to help keep the facility running smoothly, and so this was his life for the next few years. At the age of twenty five Soko received a promotion to corporal for his years of service, and favorable work assessment, he was also reassigned to the PRN's 13th Garrison where he remained until the creation of the 23rd Expeditionary Regiment. It something else that should be noted is that even to this day Soko still sends a hefty portion of his pay back home even after being told multiple times that the money was not necessary.
Also sometime between his assignment to the 13th Garrison and to the 23rd Expeditionary Regiment, Soko's unit had been attached to an anti-rebel Khorenheim task group to assist in their operations. It was during this time that Soko got to know a Khorenheimer engineer and even became fast friends as he found the engineer's insight into their work to be something else. It was also during these same missions Soko had to work alongside a particularly zealous Ennedi infantryman, the experience was quite frankly wasn't pleasant and had unfortunately painted the people as a whole in a negative light to Soko. |
55,922 | 1,532 | 9 | 2,224 | 2,424 | Cpl. Donovan “The Friendly” Valentine
Donovan watched as everyone around him prepared for combat. He wasn't seeing the other corporal acting in any way, deciding to be proactive and take action himself. He asked for another soldiers' binoculars seeing as he didn't have any on him. He began to peer out into the distance, however not spotting anything. He knew they could be covered by the trees, almost completely surrounded in rather dense wooden areas. He scanned thoroughly to even see if there was movements between the trees. It was possible that they could come out at any minute, which was causing the others to grow concerned the longer it took. But for Donovan, waiting for signs of the ogre, troll, whatever it was called was growing very old, very quickly.
He perhaps woke up on the wrong side of the bed, as he could be a little irritable when he didn't get enough sleep. Having nothing occur, gave him some unwanted time to have thoughts start lingering his mind. Like how ludicrous it was that he was demoted on such flimsy evidence, but with further examination of the facts and also talking to his parents about it. It was likely a contrivance, a mere cover up for the real reason. It was likely someone in the higher ups' had a personal issue with Donovan. He had to figure out who that individual was, so he could have a little discussion. Not knowing was eating at him and distracting him from the chatter among the rest of the soldiers on his team. He currently felt a rather aggressive lust for blood which hadn't been quenched in a while. He hadn't even shot at anyone yet and they've been on the battlefield for a while now. His determination to kill something was unwavering, he would shoot anything to relief to how pissed off he was at the moment.
Suddenly, his wishes for blood might have finally come true, as he saw several towering figures running up quickly through the trees. It was indeed the trolls they had been ordered to defend their army from. They looked hideous in appearance, so grotesque he didn't even want to look at them long enough to describe their details and they probably smelled like a sewer from how dirty they looked. Both were carrying large weapons made out of wood. With weapons raised high in the air, their red eyes glaring they began letting out bellowing calls, making thunderous footsteps running up to them all quickly. It certainly would of been a frightening thing, if Donovan felt fear. "Nick, Oswald, Fire the RPG's. Straight ahead." Donovan ordered in such a way that he was certain the order would get followed. As he watched them aim their RPG's and fired them both simultaneously at the large trolls, causing a large fiery explosion. With a loud boom as their guts and blood raining downward, which was the only thing that remained of the two. Making relatively quick work of their threat, they both cheered happily, to have swiftly defeated the trolls as it seemed that they no longer had to worry. Donovan however was still very upset, only because he still hadn't gotten to kill anything yet. Wondering if the should report back since they're didn't seem to have much else going on. He tried to go over and ask 'Digit' for a second opinion, mostly to pretend that he cared. "Should we return to base now?" He questioned. | Donovan “The Friendly” Valentine
"The good of the few, are in fact still good to the many. Whether they see it yet or not."
-Himself
Name
Donovan Valentine
Nicknames
”The Friendly” a sarcastic nickname if there ever was one.
Age
25 years old
Gender
Male
Homeworld
High Terra
Rank
Corporal
Role
He is considered an elite combat solider, being exceptional in what most soliders should be.
Appearance
He is 6'0 in length, with a surprisingly muscular body that you wouldn't guess by looking at him. Sometimes wearing glasses, other times not. He wears his mother's clothing line, finding anything else unacceptable. He is a noble of a rather rich family, so his armored suit is literally painted in real gold for nothing more to show off.
Equipment
M-54A1 Battle Rifle (a highly advanced prototype version, modified to be even more effective weapon as the battery drains much slower, giving it an extended usefulness. It costs far more than most soldiers could afford.)
M3P-4 10mm Pistol (as a side arm. With several addition clips of ammunition)
A standard black combat knife.
RO-3 Omni Grenade (prototype versions of these grenades, that also happen to carry a deadly toxin, if the blast doesn't kill them, the poison gas will.)
Standard Gas Mask
Pain pills in a pez-like dispenser (strong medication, that make him feel nothing, and numbs pain almost instantly.)
Personality
Donovan certainly would be what you'd think of when you think of your typical, raised in incredible wealth and got almost everything he could ask for. He was spoiled rotten as a child. He lived a rather perfect life. He's only thing he suffered from is how much he wanted another sibling so he could have a friend as when he was young most people tend to avoid him, scared of his status. Often alone, learning he was his only friend.
He grew up quite bitter of most people and is incredibly arrogant and self centered or at least only cares about his own and his family's pride. He will do anything, to make a difference he feels will change his world for the better. He will defy orders, betray others. He'd kill a child if he or his family benefitted from it. Morality means next to nothing to him, he does not feel sympathy for those he is ordered to kill. But to the average stranger who somehow doesn't know who he is. He is an incredibly good solider, and a surprisingly an effective leader and support. He is very charming, and is quite a gentleman to women. His laugh is almost contagious. Being quite social. Most of it being an act, being smart enough to know you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.
Finding this fantasy world as literal gold mine, full of resources his parents could use to highly improve their companies. He doesn't see any of them as people, he sees them all as nuisances that he would be more than happy to rid their world of. Not that he'll behave that way in front of them.
Traits
Loves to drink his fancy wine, you could consider him a borderline alcoholic.
Incredibly rich (if there's a new weapon or piece of technology, he will use it. His family won't let him have anything but the best.)
A scary good solider, very quick, strong and sharp. Very good with most weapons and using combat vehicles. His abilities are superior to an average soldier.
He detests the cold weather. He gets bad headaches in the cold weather.
Often humming to himself.
Is incredible at lying and manipulation. (which is why he loves doing it so much.)
Carries glasses with him, that he doesn't need solely because some women say he looks good in them.
History
His parents lived in the lap of luxury, one being a wealthy business owner, of multiple major construction, oil and diamond mining companies, while his mother had her own very popular and very expensive 'Valentine's' for men and women's clothing line. So ever since he was born, he was never told no. As he got the best food, from a professional chef, and was taught by a private tutor. He also had a professional maid to clean his room, but he often cleaned it himself. But that didn't mean he didn't spend time with his family, as his mother would often test clothing on him and often had him watch her create clothes, while the father often took him fishing every other weekend on their motorboat. The only thing he didn't have was a younger sibling, which he wanted a little brother. Mainly because he felt very alone. As his father kept him away from the poor folk and even some of the richer folk because they we're far too snobbish in his mother's words. So he didn't have many friends, and he very quickly over the year got used to being alone, with the occasional hired company. He enjoyed spending time with his parents more than anyone else. Loving and respecting them a lot, finding his mother to making the most beautiful clothes in the world and his father the most brilliant, got his desire for wine as his father would often let him have a sip every time he asked for one.
When he became old enough to be legally allowed to drive, thought that didn't stop him from doing it multiple times before then. He would often drive out and spoil women on dates. Going on a date with a new women every week at least. He made his own friends, throwing his charm and money around without hesitation. Though he never really made any real personal connections and it only made him dislike people in general. He would often have sex, even a few times of the same sex just because he could. Because it provided him with some company, and some shallow pleasure. But nothing he did really made him happy, he felt as if he had no true calling in life.
Until that day, When he learned of the GATE incident, he was instantly drawn to the news, being quite curious. As was both of his parents as they wondered. What kind of materials, and what kind of resources do they have in another world? Just imagine what we could do with them! They asked their son, to become a solider and to go to the new world and make them proud. They had connections with someone in the military that could make him shoot up in ranks quite easily and they'd make sure he had the best equipment. With that offer in his head, at a chance to do something unique and something to make his parents proud of him. He immediately agreed and became a solider. Which after a few tests they learned he was already great at it, excelling at basic and more advanced training. Completing it in half the time most did.
It didn't take him long to raise in the ranks. Becoming known for his skill and also more infamous for his personality. As they called him, Donovan "The Friendly" for his very false happy social personality. As it didn't take long for him to make enemies, but they weren't stupid enough to outright suggest anything of the sort. His superior's in the army were highly considering a leader position for him only holding back due to their uncertainly of how loyal he actually is... |
55,923 | 1,532 | 10 | 902 | 430 | Maion Isensjäl
It had taken about a week of travel to finally get to the Empires great capital where Maion was going to apply for asylum, it was slowly getting dark and the felt air tense upon her arrival. Maion and her sixteen guards on horses slowed down and waited at their gates and in their mercy. As much as she wished to look her best it was a sad truth that she was mustering her remaining strenght to atleast sit up correct, clad in armor both Maion and her guards was, despite their best efforts, a poor sight to behold and it was soon the time to explain why this was.
A strong horn rang out from their walls, pulsing through Maion and her guards bodies, strongly so that it made her men slightly nervous and concerned. It struck her a few seconds after that it was odd for the capital gates to be closed at the time, but then again it was getting dark.
With her noble household banner in hand and her weary guards gazing unavoidably in awe as anyone would be before this great sight of towers, strong walls and the rest of all the magnificent citadels glory. Yet to follow was the words from above and knowing that her company was looking suspicious Maion gathered her courage to speak what must be spoken.
"My name is Maion Isensjäl, the head of the Wayfinder Household from Gallogoth Commonwealth!" Maion stated, strong and loudly for the capital guard to hear, "I am here seeking protection and asylum by this great Empire!" Maion continued taking a deep breath to follow through, "Is there anyone available to whom I could speak!?" Her eyes determined as she steadied her horse, listening closely for a reply, though it would take a while before anyone up there replied.
Trying to remain strong Maion clenched her fist tightly around her banner, calmly got off her proud steed, fell to her knees with her head low followed by her guards taking after her example and awaited whatever outcome that awaited them.
May fortune favor our humble appearance and my men be safe... She thought closing her eyes. | Maion Isensjäl
"Evil be your foe, thus I am evil!"
~Mik-hain Vilidanh upon the final battle of Endry's frozen plains against his former ally and friend, during a civil war in Gallogoth Commonwealth.
Name
Maion Isensjäl the First. ~Wayfinder Household
Nicknames
Maion by friends. "Wayfinder Dirt" or "Maion the Dishonored" by most.
Age
34.
Gender
Female.
Race
Human.
Kingdom
Gallogoth Commonwealth.
Appearance
Shoulder lenght red hair, green eyes, light and freckled skin, fare and regal by all standards.
Maion is fit and has a warriors aura in her noble appearance. Her stance, tall nature and feminine nature could attract many whom is unaware of whom she is. Maion is incredibly well composed and radiates a self centered passion.
Equipment
A full set of leather armor with a matching mask which is all partially plated and is well decorated with the Wayfinder's crest and ancestory symbols.
The Wayfinder Rapier. A rapier made out of the finest quality and most efficient pieces of materials. The rapier has a clear and spring green metal look to it made out of something called earth essence and metal making it light and incredibly durable. It has a hilt made out of a red type of wood and a guard decored with red gold.
A regal and highly trained brown horse.
Magic
Quite adept with the Book of Frost and though it is not her forte it can be fatal to let your guard down due to her more warrior like looks.
Personality
Self centered with a good heart behind a prison of swords. Likes to have a good time and dueling. Maion is strict, stubborn and has a passive-aggressive nature.
She prefers to use sarcasm in harsh condescending ways towards anyone whom questions her or is unable to respect her standing in society.
Maion has an provokative attitude and likes to be acknowledged as dominant.
Traits
Great with horses and alternative mounts.
Is known to fancy duels and for having a odd style of fencing technique in battles.
Has been known to inspire commoners and has acted a little bit as diplomatic voice for commoners.
An adept tactician with all the basics thought into her spine.
Has tendencies to try and find your weakness, expose or use it against you or her foes.
Maion is currently infamously known for betraying the people of her lands and Gallogoth Commonwealth, wether it is true or not only the few and brave dares question it out loud.
Likes her meed and wine more than most people, shortly she knowns how to drink.
History
In order to understand we shall start with the history of the Wayfinder Household.
The Wayfinder Household was made and dubbed thus for about 500 years ago by the current regent monarch of Gallogoth Commonwealth. This household was praised for their hard work with the commoners and to rise from a commoner to a noble the Wayfinders had a long reign locally as the peoples diplomat. Now jumping forward to todays regent, Maion Isensjäl.
The Wayfinder is a small household formerly well respected and gowned with both medals and a history of opposing other households and monarchs to the extent possible without raising unnecessary war. Thus while The Wayfinders is a small and solid household it would be a lie to claim that they are without enemies. So, Maion has been a name of controversity, other households has recently taken advantage of her status and held her responsible for a number of uprisings in areas around the Wayfinder's governed land. This is purely a war of economics and under complicated and rather mysterious circumstances has succeeded. Now being wanted by the Gallogoth Commonwealth Maion Isensjäl has run away seeking asylum with'in the Grand Empire of Imperia, offering herself and her small troop of guards for service. With her Noble and knightly qualities she hopes to be accepted by their will... Maion was raised by both her parents being thought both the family style sword play (rapier specifically) and by an tutor in the arts of magic she would come to make an semi adept with the Book of Frost. Up till she was nineteen and her mother was put out of her miserable insanity sickness. Just two years later her father died of natural age leaving Maion in charge of the Wayfinder Household at the young age of twentyone. The rest inbetween the past and present has all been game for what has now happened.
Guards of Wayfinder:
Traits: The Wayfinder Guard is known to have knightly qualities though their skill varies inbetween a gesel squire to a respectable knight. The lowest ranks fight with an axe and buckler and are just called vanguard, they are easy to underestimate but unless you plan to keep your distance they will give you a fight for the money. The second rank carries shield and spear, they are trusted guards that are trusted with maintaining a strong line of defense when necessary. These are simply called the Main Guard.
Third rank carries a little more armor and bastard swords (One and a half handers, used either way), these are men or women that Maion know, talks to privately and has her full respect. They are called Wayfinder Knights and has gone through the earlier ranks making a name for themselves and done something to catch Maions eye of respect. These are men and women that will crush anyone whom threatens Maions safety directly and if they don't kill their target they will die trying to take you to hell with them. It is likely that they have learned a Book as well as encouraged by Maion, however it is hard to tell their level of skill in these.
Ps, you suck bro... K? Luv ya. |
55,924 | 1,532 | 11 | 465 | 6,811 | Cpt. Saiyako
Dirt rained down as the most recent magical bolt streaked into the ground, the earth quaking on impact as it sent vibration up the soldier's spine. Calmly whistling as he brushed off his helmet and clicked in a new magazine, the captain peered over the edge of the trench. The air was hazy with smoke and dust, the calm night broken by continued gun fire and cries of the wounded. Behind him Saiyako could hear the radioman of some other company jabbering away like someone gave him a healthy dose of panic-meds. Fucking idiots. It wasn't like panicking was going to let them live longer.
"Sir," Oni dropped down from somewhere next to his new controller, "I have a situation report from centeral."
"Alrighty then, gimme the sitrep then." Saiyako fired semi-blindly into the haze once more before lowing his head back into the extended hole inthe ground.
"They say that your paperwork is another 2 weeks late." Oni said in the closest thing to snark a programmed robotic voice could manage.
"Well fuck you too Oni" Saiyako's face was absolutely deadpan as he faced the robot. Seriously, did this model do nothing but snark? "Just give me the actual sitrep you glorified Wall-E."
"Wilco. Centeral says that the most recent scan shows that hostiles are being rapidly reduced in numbers. We seem to be pushing them back."
"That's good, hopefully we'll be don-"
The wind rushed alive as the sky lit up with more fireballs but not just any, they appeared to be following their targets, seeking them out like hungry wolves before the rabbit. Crackling like small suns, Saiyako watched as they zoomed around and haunted poor souls who tried to dodge them to varying degrees of effectiveness. The Fusan wondered if this was their limit breaker move or something of that nature.
Opening up unit coms again, Saiyako's voice rode the wavelengths to the headsets of all members of his unit, "Attention, this is the captain speaking. Prepare to--"
The captain suddenly found himself flying through the air, a searing heat burning into his uniform as the ground fell under him; he was flying. Launched into the air, he wondered to himself, Is this how I die? Game over before level one is over? Time slowed as he made his way back down to the ground. As he could feel his body landing on his neck in the most fatal way, his life flashed before his eyes. The times in school. The crash. The last moments of his father. The lowering of his mother's coffin. The struggle of moving from one job to the next to feed him and his sister. The promise he made to her when he left for the military that he'd come back alive. Sorry... Saiyako thought, Big brother isn't coming home after all.
Then, a shift, a moment of change, one could even call it a twist of fate. The captain could feel his head move so that he wouldn't land in a way that'd turn him into a corpse and instead made contact with the ground with a hard, dull thud. Gasping in the musky air for his breath, Saiyako patted himself down. He wasn't dead, but he felt he was supposed to be.
"Sir, are you okay?" Oni inquisitively asked as the soldier got himself off the ground.
"Y-yeah... I-I think... Just a bi-it... shaken-n." Saiyako thrusted his helmet onto his head once more and got up only to see another following fireball. Only this time, it wasn't heading for him. it was aimed at a bunker. The bunker where he knew Anat and Soko where.
Once again time slowed as he tried getting up and dashing to the bunker, his breath a long drawn out curse that witnessed the fire enter through the slit and blow up inside of the fortification, collapsing part of the roof. His stomach dropped, Saiyako just witnessed the first of his unit to be killed in front of him. No. They weren't dead. They could still be alive under the rubble.
"Anat! Soko! Lionel! Anyone in there?!" Saiyako yelled as he grappled smaller bits of stone metal out of the way, "Oi! Someone get over here and help me! I've got men trapped in here dammit!" | HWANGI SAIYAKO
If you look like you know what you're doing, then people will believe you do know what you're doing.
-Saiyako
Name
Hwangi Mukuri Saiyako
Nicknames
Saiya (Nickname)
Age
30
Gender
Male
Homeworld
Fuso
Rank
Captain
Role
Unit Commander
Appearance
Judging solely from appearances, Saiyako looks nothing like what one would expect from an officer, even by Fusan standards. His brownish-redish hair is always in varying amounts of ruffled or crumpled, dark lines hung under his dark golden eyes from his many all nighters no doubt, whatever happens during these long moons is known only by Saiyako himself. With a body type between his natural skinny frame and the body mass built up by military training, the man doesn't look like one you'd immediately expect to be a soldier but more of a bookworm who spent too much time at the gym. His resting, apathetic bitch face is only broken by the occasional cocky smile that arises when he feels the rare need to outdo someone.
In terms of outfits, Saiyako generally finds himself in any number and amount of clothing; like many Fusans he has no qualms about walking around in his underwear or nightwear and has been spot on more than one occasional strolling between the showers and his quarters nude. He also has a bad habit of tramping around in his sleeping clothes until noon when he knows he has no planned assignments or tasking for that day. Surprisingly enough however, his actual officer's dress uniform is perfectly kept in pristine condition, not a speck of dust on it, not a hole anywhere, not a button loose.
Equipment
Fusan Type 108 Automatic Carbine
Fusan Type 0 Warblade
ARMA Unit "Oni"
M3P-4 10mm Pistol
RO-3 Omni Grenade
Officer's Regimental Guide Manual
Personality
Laid back almost to the point of apathy, Saiyako is more extreme case of the famous Fusan calmness and indifference. With and almost superhuman ability of procrastinating and extending deadlines, Saiyako rarely feels urgency with things like paper work of which he sees as his greatest foe. One could say he's a fatalist, believing that his life is already set out by some greater power who isn't the Primarch or the pantheons of Terranism causing friction between him and the Inquisition who keeps tabs on all commissioned officers, his apparent lack of zeal doesn't help.
Of course, now with the arrival of the Gate, that personal philosophy has more or less gone out the window. In its place there's a new sense of excitement which Saiyako hasn't felt in a long time as before him is a beautiful world straight from a fantasy game. He works with greater speed and efficiency now although relative to others he still works dreadfully slow. Any official papers like reports while likely be handed in a week late with crumpled corners, an improvement from when papers would go missing for months in Saiyako's hands and come out like they were in their own war in the bowls of his desk. The only type of papers which he hasn't failed to submit on time are papers relating to the well being of his unit; things such as payrolls and requisition forms have rarely failed to be handed on time and are the only things which he will rarely submit early. Perhaps this is rooted from an amicable nature that's hidden under layers of apparent boredom and snark.
In battle, his apathetic nature is incredibly apparent, Saiyako appearing to give absolutely zero shits about being shot at or yells about him getting down. Of course this doesn't mean he's slow or combat stupid, his indifference to danger and gore is one of the primary reason behind his promotions. The battlefield is also the only place where his normal expression breaks and is replaced by a slightly cocky grin and an air of confidence. Its not uncommon for him to challenge someone to see how fast they can dash into cover while under fire as although he doesn't care much for the insults people call him, he does enjoy showing people up sometimes even if he doesn't always win them.
Traits
Seemingly apathetic to danger, blood, and insults
Wonderful chief
Deadlines are relative
Something of best friends with his ARMA unit
Fusan army training which comes with better melee skills
Master of procrastinating
Reliable regarding matters of his unit's well being
Fan animated shows and has a small collection of figurines and collectables in his quarters
Atheistic
History
Saiyako was born to a medical researcher space elevator operator on a space station in orbit around the Fuso. His life was normal for the most part, no sudden parental deaths or secret family wealth to be inherited; Saiyako was just a normal boy who lived life between the station and planet side. While definitely not the upper crust of society, his family was more than able to pay for their lifestyle and some of the gifts the child would want; perhaps one reason why Saiyako was even more laid back than most Fusans. The biggest change in his life up to that point would be the birth of his little sister when he was six. Things changed for Saiyako when Hwangi Tantan Mutoi came into his life but not too dramatically. Like his parents, Saiyako did his best to shower Mutoi with love and affection.
Maintain respectable grades throughout his teenaged years, the turning point of his life hit both him and his family hard, quite literally. During a family trip which Saiyako had offered to drive, his father next to him and his mother in the back with his sister, a mechanical failure cause the car to veer into oncoming traffic where a cargo transport plow right into them. Despite Saiyako, his mother and his sister all recovering, his father never did for some reason. Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months but his father wasn't recovering for some reason, doctors attributed it to some genetic issue that was preventing his body from healing as it should and instead was actually decaying.
Life suddenly went downhill as Saiyako started failing his classes and locked himself in his room for hours at a time, feeling as if he was the one who cause his father's pain, eventually refusing to go visit him out of shame and guilt. The last time Saiyako would see his father would be on his father's death bed who told him:
"Son, there is no hidden treasure of our family for which I can pass on to you. There is no secret wealth which I can let you inherit. No portal to a magical world that I have been hiding. No secret society that I've been a part of. You are completely normal, you are no fairy tale hero like the one in the shows you once watched and the books me and your mother once read you; there is nothing special about you. You are just you.
But you are unbound, free of any strings of destiny. Your fate is no one but your own. There is nothing to hold you back from your greatness..."
Of course, Saiyako didn't understand what his father meant at that point, but it broke something inside of him and turned him apathetic, not even flinching as he watched his father's coffin be lowered into the earth and buried. It was as if he stopped caring about everything and it showed; he later failed out of school before he could even get into a college and barricaded himself in his room, nothing his sister or his mother did could get him out.
Faced with a dead husband and a depressed, apathetic son, Saiyako's mother died of a heart attack little over a year later and Saiyako was again silent as his mother was buried next to her lover. Realizing that there was no way that both he and his little sister could survive on government subsidies, Saiyako got a job in the only place that would accept him: the army.
After months of training, he was deployed to various rebel stations and worlds as part of the 6th Fusan Regiment, 21st Assault Division nicknamed the "Golden Foxes". Through many a battles and a fair bit of luck, Saiyako had been promoted to the rank of 2nd LT after the previous one had died in battle, his apathetic nature leading him the ability to remain remarkable nonchalant even by Fusan standards. After doing his 3rd tour, he heard wind of a portal that had opened up on the backwater desert planet of Ennedi to what the first scouts said was a "fantasy" world. Upon hearing that, something made him smile and started up his excitement, an emotion he hadn't felt in a long time. Signing up without haste, Saiyako felt like he finally understood what his father's words from all those years ago meant; he had the chance not to fulfill his destiny, but a chance to make his own.
EKO DONPARE
Female Ver.
I've seen you somewhere, I've heard your name from someone, I've remembered your appearance from something.
-Eko
Male Ver.
Change isn't good or bad by nature; it just happens.
-Eko
Name
Eko Donpare, Incarnate of Tenzayn
Nicknames
Ekochi (female only)
Ekal (male only)
Age
807 (Actual age appearance varies)
Gender
Gender fluid, literally
Race
Human Incarnate
Kingdom
Crown of Sarleon, Vassal of the Empire
Appearance
While minor details may change, Eko's appearance can be divided between her male appearance and his male appearance. In his male form, Eko is a tall if not slightly lanky individual with sharp features with red hair and a nobly ruffled white hair. In her female form, Eko keeps the white hair (although it now reaches somewhere near her lower back). Notably shorter, female Eko stands about a foot shorter than his male version with amethyst eyes; her features however are still graceful and wispy in a way.
In terms of clothing, again Eko can change at will but for the most part he's found in some getup that looks quite a lot like something you'd see from the 1700s or the 1800s on High Terra. A tattered, fancy navy blue military's officer overcoat with golden lining and tassels with some red details and golden buttons. A powder white scarf is attached to his neck and held in place with a delicate golden jewel; a large hat with a flume of white feathers and a rose stuck in its side can also sometimes be seen, more often on her female version.
Equipment
Coat of Donpare - The famous coat of the Incarnate of Tenzayn, it looks like something Napoleon would wear. Despite its appearance, its actually Eko's armor, each thread turned from silk and fabric into thread with the strength of steel by Tenzayn themselves. It also has the effect of making the wearer consistently clear of mind and fearless, changing said fear into euphoria strangely enough although this barely effects Eko when she puts it on.
Regalis Concerto - Eko's primary weapon, it is a very fancy and royal looking glaive. Besides being able to cut through armor and flesh with ease, it also acts as a sort of condute for Eko's magic, basically a giant magic wand that Eko can actually use in one hand in a similar fashion to that of a conductor's baton. The weapon itself was created for Eko by Tenzayn after his asscention into Incarnatehood.
Magic
Eko uses Book of Evolution at a master-level due to his Incarnate status
Personality
Like most things about him, Eko's personally can quickly change. While not as fast or extreme as someone tainted by the Book of Circus, there are definitely warning signs that need to can be seen as a sign of warning and caution. Her two most common moods is a cocky, headstrong personality and a rather sentimental personality. His first one can usually be defined as "somewhere between 'fuck you' in a mocking manner and 'I'd fuck you" while with the second he acts as if she was drunk and has deep thoughts (or tries to be with varying levels of success).
An interesting point of note is that Eko is far less surprised by the Union's technology than other people and takes quite a bit of interest in them.
Traits
Master of Book of Evolution, granting him a limited number of spells from other Lores
Immortality and invulnerability due to Incarnate status as well as super human abilities
Fearless, most of his fear has been removed due to his natural hubris and the Coat of Donpare.
Has a direct line to Tenzayn, God of Change; Tenzayn doesn't always pick up or answer correctly, occasionally forcing his Incarnate to answer to a squirrel or something.
History
Despite living for many hundreds of years, Eko talks remarkably little about his past, especially the time before he became an Incarnate. While this is common amongst many Incarnates (as many Gods will wipe the memories of their chosen), Eko admits that Tenzayn has never tampered with her memory. And even though there might be some who claim to know Eko's history, all of them are completely different stories.
The only history Eko will ever say is that his ancestor once lived on an island far, far away and that since he became an Incarnate he's split his time between wandering the land and attending to the Great Shrine of Tenzayn. |
55,925 | 1,532 | 12 | 1,919 | 471 | Private Vitaly "Gramps" Denski
”Everybody up!” Rang the voice of his new commander, to which Vitaly only grumbled in reply. Turning over to look at the Fuson Captain standing in the entranceway, the Engineer finally tuned into the familiar sounds of Chaos outside. Apparently, they were under attack. Stepping outside in his boxers, the older man simply chuckled at the sight before him. “Attack” didn't seem like the right word at first glance. It looked more like the Union was dishing out one hell of an ass whooping while the enemy ocassionally lobbed a semi-successful ranged attack against them, only to get a hailstorm of high explosive counter-battery.
Rubbing his temples, the Novogorodian shuffled back into the storage container to retrieve his boots and coveralls. Not bothering with his tank top, Vitaly ties the top of his green coveralls at his waist and scoops up the remaining rifle on the way out. “What a Beautiful World this is…” mumbles the man while fishing in his pockets for a pack of cigarettes. What was supposed to be a peaceful nights sleep after making sure all of their PK3s and Thorgrims were operational had turned into an absolute shitstorm. Finally getting his cigarettes out from the oil and hydrolic fluid stained depths of his coveralls, Vitaly took a long blissful drag before coming to a realization that was followed closely by a torrent of profanity. He has left his sidearm in the Can.
Sidestepping arching balls of fire and long lances of ice, the Private verbally expressed his continued annoyance with the whole situation in the form of mumbled curses. “If some dumb ass kid swipped my piece there's going to be hell to pay.” Now at the “expeditionary litrines”, which weren’t anything more than glorified plastic outhouses, he began his search. One by one the angry Engineer went from outhouse to outhouse until finally he had come upon his prize. Sitting there on the floor in a shoulder holster was his prized possession, the high caliber pistol given to him by his Engineering mentor.
Even as the man slipped the holster on, fate had decided his victory had to come to an end. Just as he lit up his last cigarette, a stray fireball streaked over the defences only to hit and explode after making contact with the outhouse three down the row from his. A glorious shower of blue liquid rained upon the unfortunate Vitaly, drenching him in the messy concoction. His night just kept getting better and better….
Still largely unconcerned with the fighting, Vitaly now made his way towards the outdoor showers with the hopes of removing the funk that had come to rest upon his person. Smiling at his turn of luck, the Novogorodian began a preemptive stripping of his gear and coveralls. It was time to clean himself up. Gear hung on the privacy divider, Vitaly quickly scrubbed himself clean of the blue menace that plagued him before soaking his coveralls for good measure. Satisfied with his cleanliness, the PRN Engineer donned his now sopping we coveralls and gear. Now tuning back into the battle, hr couldn't help but feel there was a slight shift in the flow. Something wasn't right at the defences.
Now jogging, Vitaly quickly caught sight oh his commander who quickly became airborne as yet another fireball sailed into the Unions defensive line. “God Damn… It…” He trailed off, feeling his stomach sink to his knees while watching a second fireball curve into the bunker ahead ahead of the Captain. Shortly after the inevitable explosion, Vitaly could clearly make out the names his Commander was calling out. His squad mates were in there and the old veteran wasn't about to lose his comrades without fighting for them first.
Turning right around, Vitaly broke out into a full on sprint back to the Engineering bay. He had a solution. Slamming through the door of the bay, Vitaly grabbed the high frequency charge hammer. With its ability to send a focused high intensity shock wave through the spike protruding from hits heavy tungsten head, it would make short work of the rubble with minimal risk of hurting those trapped inside if used correctly. Once again moving at full tilt, the large soldier all but body checked anyone in his way back to the collapsed bunker. Raising the hammer for a mighty opening swing, the Engineer roared.
MOVE!!
Using his running start, Vitaly swung the hammer toward the nearest uncollapes corner of the bunker with all the strength he could muster, which was no small amount of force. The instant spike met fortification there was a loud crack followed but a boom that resulted on the absolute annialation. Shards of stone metal flew away in large chunks which allowed the Engineer to make another swing higher up, effectively clearing a hole to start reaching the wounded inside. Once again though, fate wanted to be a bitch, and a bitch she was. Just as the bear of a man rose the hammer for another swing, an arrow zipped out of the darkness to bury itself into Vitaly’s abdomen.
With a grunt of surprise being his only response to the wound, he ignored the pain and continued his work. Comrades came first. Besides, that cute little Fuso sergeant coild just fix him up when He’s done. Giving the hammer one last upward swing, he managed to blow the largest piece of rubble trapping his comrades up and away from their position on the floor. Tossing the tool aside, Vitaly sank himself into a low squat and grasped the last large section before thrusting up with his legs to heave the thing away. Spotting the surviving soldiers, the burly Novogorodian reached down to help the nearest one, their medic, with a smile.
“It seems you could use some fresh air.” | Private Denski
”Team Leader, was the charge set to three minutes or… Oh.”
Private Vitaly Denski, Frontier Outpost, during demolition of an insurgent ammo cache.
Name
Vitaly Demski
Nicknames
Gramps
Age
42
Gender
male
Race
Hooman
Homeworld
Novogorod
Rank
Private
Role
Field Engineer/Vehicle Repair Specialist.
Appearance
Vitaly, for being a man of his age, was in what anyone would consider to be incredibly good shape. Military life had shaped him and he continued to maintain that transformation. With his longer than usual greying hair and beard, Vitaly stands out when mingling with his fellow soldiers. Given the fact that he stands at nearly six and a half feet tall, the grizzled vet tends to attract yet more attention when in the field and he had scars to prove it. When not in his combat armor, Vitaly is often seen more often than not with his jumpsuit on, top half tied off at his waist. Vitaly’s uniform and armor is almost unrecognizable with how many patch jobs and modifications have been applied to them over the years. The most striking features are those that he began to adopt from other worlds, namely, his rifle.
Equipment
STGm-71 “Acquired” during his times attached to a Khorenheimer strike team.
Hammer II .50 Compact Pistol
1x Standard Engineer's Kit
2x Non-Explosive Magnetically Charged “Fragmentation” Grenades
1x Vehicular Repair Kit
Personality
Vitaly is as rough around the edges as a man can get. He’s loud, rough, and honest to a fault and argumentative would be a kind way of putting the man’s behavior when he hits one of his rebellious streaks. The largest contributing factor to this behavior is his heavy drinking habit which tends to bleed over and spread amongst his comrades. Although disruptive in nature, his drinking often brings him and those who join him closer. A good example of this dynamic was Vitaly’s time with the Khorenheimer which transformed animosity into camaraderie, much to the commander’s surprise at the time.
In the grand Novogorodian tradition of interpreting all orders given, Vitaly like many of his kin enjoys putting a personal spin on the instructions given to him. After losing more than his fair share of comrades due to poor leadership, the Engineer’s disobedience transformed from simple bullheadedness into an active questioning of anyone he felt to be an unfit commander. This abrasive behavior earned him much reprimand which as the years went on he began to welcome with a smile. Time and experience eventually solved most of the disciplinary issues that administrative action could not, even if the latter set him back nearly his entire career.
Traits
Drunk, but functional.
Chain Smoker.
Veteran, the death and chaos of war are familiar friends for this old soldier.
Terminal Private, due to past behavioral issues, Vitaly doesn't expect to make rank again before he's forced to retire.
Vehicular and Propulsion/engine expert.
Snores
Old Man Strength. Either you got it or you don't.
Scavenger, war trophy collecting is his favorite hobby.
History
Vitaly Demski’s life began much like the many Novogorodian boys that came before him. He, however, make the wrong choices at the right times along the way. Growing up in an impoverished family on icy Novogorod didn't leave a chap with many options when it came to the survival of himself and his family, so Vitaly took the most logical course of action. Crime. The logic however, to his surprise, turned out to be flawed. Without further any further pleasantries, the young man found himself on the business end of one very angry mechanic's .50 pistol. Luckily for Vitaly, the mechanic in question happened to be a retired chief engineer of the Novogord Corps of Engineers. In lieu of reducing the misguided young man’s head into a chunky paste, the former Chief taught him honest work instead.
As the years went by, Vitaly finally reached the enlisting age and as directed by his teacher, the would be thief enlisted into the Novogorod Corps of Engineers with a recommendation of assignment to the 10th Fleet. He had learned the skills of an engineer well during his time with the mechanic but to the misfortune and dismay of many to come, the young Vitaly had not learned any respect for authority. Early on in his military “career” it became readily obvious that the young engineer could fix up anything that flew, drove, hovered, or had an engine of some kind. The problem early on was getting him to actually behave in a soldierly fashion enough to do it. After much reprimand for his behavior, his commanders resorted to administrative action in an attempt at corrective measures. In short, reduction of rank and loss of pay. When this did not have the desired effect, thoughts of removing him from service were seriously considered until an unorthodox alternative was proposed. Attach him to a Mechanized Khorenheim Assault Regiment.
So began Vitaly’s tour with the 42nd Khorenheim Drop Ship Regiment, Echo Company, Third Platoon. The attempt at teaching the Novogorodian Engineer dicipline and obedience nearly backfired his first week in garrison after he got half his platoon drunk and shortly after started a brawl. Three stab wounds, a 10mm round to the chest, and some bio-foam later, Vitaly found himself among begrudgingly loyal comrades. With the whole incident being swept under the rug, Vitaly and the platoon were soon deployed to a jungle planet along the rim. Shortly after entering orbit, their drop ship was unfortunate enough to take a hit from a shoulder fired rocket, effectively separating his squad from the rest of the platoon. It was in this moment that Vitaly knew that some poor bastard insurrectionist on the ground had fucked up. Retribution came swift and without mercy as the stranded squad made a counter offensive against their would-be attackers, giving the Engineer enough time and space to repurpouse their good turbine rigging the damaged one with enough power to get them off the ground.
Even after his for the most part successful tour with the Khorenheimer Regiment, Vitaly still struggled with obedience. Up for review once again, the soldier found himself reduced to private once again and nearly forced out of Union service. The only factors that stayed the reviewing board's hand had been the unlikely support of the Regiment and the undeniable fact that he was a damn good vehicle maintainer. After much deliberation, it was agreed that if he could maintain at least the minimum standard of dicipline he would be allowed to serve into retirement at the rank of private until further review and deliberation. Vitaly took the opportunity and didn't look back. Countless combat tours later, the once rebellious and unmanageable Engineer’s temperament calmed into something more approaching acceptable by union standards. To accompany his maturing of character, the man became familiar with most if not all of his Union brothers-in-arms, having combat deployments with each. Eventually, the Engineer caught wind of a some strange portal or gate that had opened on one of the Unions worlds and the slaughter of Union citizens that followed. Patriotic anger the likes of which the Novogorodian didn't know he was capable of flared up in his soul at the news and once he leaned of the reconnaissance force already on the other side, the old veteran knew he had to answer the call. |
55,926 | 1,532 | 13 | 777 | 1,174 | Sergent Tauret
Hearing the PWN solider say introductions where in order Anat frowned for a microsecond only half listening to him her mind focusing more so on what she was doing. Still trying to provide the best she could. She wasn't being rude well at least not in her mind she was just focused and it was that focus some of the injured where depending on to survive. Still when he said his name Pavel Sokoloff and he was engineer and that people tend to call him Soko. Anat made a mental note of it. Although she at this point didn't really care what his name was chances where at least 50% he'd die in the fight or the next as far as she was concerned.
"Anat Tuaret, combat medic. You may call me Ant, if you wish or whatever I don't really care so long as I don't find it offensive." she said looking at Soko for a moment before going to her charge. truth be told Anat wasn't interested in getting friendly mainly because they where in the middle of a battle situation and she was treating people.
"Now if you don't mind. Chatting is not really a good idea.'she said hoping that kill any lingering want to talk in this Soko person.
What came next Anat was not so sure, all she could remember was feeling an unnatural heat and a bright light. Her instincts telling her that she was in danger. Her body moving on it own moving quickly as her she could grabbing her drone to shield it form the danger. Shutting her eyes all she felt was heat and pain that was past her limits as make her cry out in pain. Something hitting her in the back of her helmet hard enough to knock her out for several minutes. Anat awaking on her side trapped under some rubble. While not directly buried she was stuck in a very confined space, so confined she had little room to move given her drone took more then half the free space her prison offered. Her drone having already wiggled free for her grip it light still shining bright in the now confined dusty space. The drone focusing on its operator it limited program unable comprehend what had happened. All it knew it master was injured and so it program demanded it would protect Anat. The drone arming it weapon as it began to emit a distress call. The drone starting to observe the small space around it watching for an threats to it operator.
"Well crap this is just what I needed." she thought looking around though the blackened visor of her helmet. Ripping it off with her right hand finding that when she went to move her left arm it hurt. Anat suspecting the drone might have unknowingly broke it to escape her grip, failing that a lucky bit of rubble hit her arm hard enough.
Letting out a shallow sigh all Anat could feel was pain and heat but she was doing her best to not show it. She was after all still on a battlefield and she had her pride. She bit her lip to keep herself focused and started thinking about the human body on very in-depth level. While using the drones light she began to check what she could and use what ever she had on her to treat herself. Sadly this wasn't much all Anat had on her was her sword and pistol. Her medical pack crushed under the rubble along with the person she was treating and the other potentially all the injured. The mere idea of that thought alone made Anat feel a hint of sadness although she drowned out the feeling with more knowledge of the human body. At the moment she was recalling the human heart going over every little bit was and recalling what each part did.
How long she was trapped she didn't know but when the rubble that formed her prison started to move. Anat felt relief it seemed she held enough value to be worth a rescue either that or the new captain cared enough to try and help the soldiers under him. Looking at the moving rubble Anat was surprised to see an older looking soldier. A soldier that just so happened to have an arrow jutting out of him, taking the offered hand. Leaning on her rescuer as she found her legs didn't want to talk her full weight. As she did so her drone chimed recognizing the soldier as a union and it program decided not to try and fill him with lead.
"Thank you, if you get me a medical kit I can remove you the souvenir you seem to have acquired. Although it cost you a high dose of pain killers" she said in a half joking tone. Finding trying slightly amusing kept her mind off the fact her body was still hurting in places she didn't think could hurt. If Anat could see herself she be most concerned for her well being as she was covered in cuts of varying depth as well of burns of varying depth mostly along her lower back where her armour didn't cover and her uniform had burnt away. Not to mention she had blood coming out the back of her head, the fact she wasn't laying passed out showed how tough the medic was. Although she was no long fit to fight, she'd need treat first not to mention a new rifle.
Looking over at the captain Anat gave a nod finding her free arm really hurt to move and the other was clinging on to her rescuer so she'd remain up right.
"Sorry sir. But may I be escorted to a medical area. I'll need patching up before being thrown back out on the field. I've already requested a medical team to come here, before the bunker got hit by... whatever that was. She said coughing finding that talking was really uncomfortable. | ANAT
My Hippocratic oath? To keep my a comrades alive. Be it healing them or killing you.
-Anat.
Name
Anat Tauret
Nicknames
Ant (your all welcome to come up with your own ones for her if you like.)
Age
30
Gender
Female
Homeworld
Fuso
Rank
Sergeant
Role
Field Medic
Appearance
Anat stands around 6'1ft (185.9 cm).
Anat has painted a big red crude + on the back of her armor and a smaller red + the front of her armor on the the left side of the chest plate. She as a tattoo on her upper left arm with 2 crossed swords under a helmet with word 96th KNIGHT under it.
Equipment
1x Type 108 Automatic Carbine
1x M3P-4 10mm Pistol
1x Type-0 Warblade (the word knight is engraved into the handle)
1x MXR Drone (the word Sparks is painted on it along with small red plus)
1x Field Hospital Medical Kit
Personality
Once a nice friendly girl hardened by nearly a decade of military service. Anat tends to keep her true emotions and thoughts to herself unless she dealing with someone she trusts. Never really getting close, saying a lot without saying whats really on her mind. This is simply down to the fact as someone who has fought in battle she has seen people she calls friends die. Something in the past has really bothered her, so tends to keep people emotionally distant. Being someones friend without being a friend. Until someone proves they know how not to die at least for a fight or two. Is when she really starts thinking about trusting someone beyond being a fellow solider.
Once Anat calls someone a friends she calls them that for life and will share her feelings and thoughts openly if asked or if she thinks it needed. Once a friend the only what to make Anat hate you is to break her trust something not easily done once gained. She is not a person who likes taking charge that often although she is skilled enough of a solider and fought enough battles she could lead a squad if she wanted to. But she as no interest in doing so she is left with no other choice. She prefers taking orders rather then giving them.
Although carefree and cheery like many Fusans Anat as quite a nasty temper on her. While not overly short she as habit of snapping at people that do something to her she doesn't like. When Anat gets pissed off at something her first reaction is the urge to punch what ever as pissed her off. If she can't do that she'll abuse it verbally if that's not possible she'll starts muttering away to herself for a little bit before claiming down.
On the battle field Anat like many Fusans level headed and clam, even in the most dire of situations. The only time things start to bother her is if she someone she was trying to treat dies on her. It is the once thing she can't stand and bothers her deeply even if logically she can't save everyone she treats. When it comes to treating people Anat as always been told she as little in a beside manner and has threatened to kill her charges more then once if they complain about pain. Not that she would this is merely an empty threat to make them shut up and only dose it if simply telling them to shut it doesn't work.
When treating someone a more gentle side of Anat comes out as she will her best not to hurt her charges.
Outside of medical use that gentle side is kept buried for all but inmate moments, when she is by her lonesome or a really close friend.
Anat is fairly social but likes to have her alone time. Where she can partake in one of her hobbies or lose herself in some novel. She is analytical thinker and loves to play devils advocate. At times a more promiscuous side of her shows itself. She also as a strong scenes of pride when it comes to her medical skills and knowledge.
Traits
Detailed Medical Knowledge
Hates 95% of Terran's (She'd shoot them if they where not bothers and sister in arms.)
Great at sewing and drawing. ( her down time hobbies)
Left Handed
Highly skilled at melee combat and loves it. (If she wasn't a field medic she would specialize in it.)
Over prospective of her Drone. (Don't touch it. No really don't touch her drone.)
HATES colour purple.
Afraid of the dark.
Talks to herself, often on what she is currently thing about. Sometimes argues with herself when trying to deiced on something.
Is not a fan of those form Khorenheim. (The sticks up those guys butts have sticks up there butts.)
Loves reading.
Starts getting bored when she stuck doing the same thing day in day out.
History
Born on the world Fuso in the heart of its capital city Anat lead a good childhood and rarely wanted for anything her parents easily provided for her. Born to a pair of doctors Anat spent a lot of her young childhood in the hospital where her parents worked. Watching them work as much as she was allowed finding what they did most interesting. Unaware that this interest would grow in to passion and later a her going off to get her qualification as a doctor.
Beside that Anat had a fairly normal childhood her only complaint she spent to much time in hospitals which as a kid she found rather dull but as she grew older and started to love medicine learned to appreciate it. Getting to learn form the doctors when it didn't interfere with their duties. By the time she was old enough to be left on her own Anat kept coming of her own free will. Having begun the basics of medicine in her free time under the hospitals doctors. Reading medical texts simply because she found it fun.
By the time she had finished her schooling and was ready for higher education Anat already knew what she wanted to do and made sure to do everything to get in to medicine. Her hard work paying off end completing her education in the field of medicine. She then found herself working in a small medical clinic which at first was fun. But after a year she grew weary of treating people with basic illnesses and or minor injures finding the life to static too repetitive. Still wanting to practices medicine while making life a little more interesting she ended up joining the military. How she came to joining the military she can't recall but she dose know started as a night on the town and ended in drunken brawl with a military officer that she apparently held her own in. The night ended up her apparently signing up but Anat doesn't remember.
Given she couldn't quit once signed up Anat decided to see where Military life would take her, know they always needed a doctors and field medics.
After several months of basic training Anat grew to enjoy the idea of fighting while trying to patching someone up, knowing these people would actually appreciate her work. So the moment she completed basic training and was allowed to apply for extra training specializing as field medic she jumped at the chance. After a little more training she was recognized as a field medic and assigned to a 8th Fusan Regiment and placed in the 96th division called the Fusan Knights for their skill in melee combat. (I'm not good with how military units are broken down so correct me if I'm wrong.)
The first week in her new unit was difficult with other solider picking on the new member in a playful teasing way. But after several week and a set of training drills interplanetary training drills High Terran unit they grew to like Anat and she earned the nick name Ant for reasons she can not fathom. Not long the drills her unit was deploy to world near Fuso that it got into a small war with. The war was mostly skirmish's, over couple of months several larger battles did break out and Anat's unit was right in the middle of it. Her first major battle Anat as forgotten but she recalls the fear and adrenaline everything happening so fast she had just followed orders and somehow pulled though.
It was the third larger battle did Anat save the life of her commanding officer who had gotten himself badly injured. How exactly she doesn't recall but she apparently she made an impression as she was given a drone. After year the Union decided to step in end the conflict it ending peacefully for the most part. For a time Anat was sent home for some R and R. During that time she heard of what happened Ennedi and soon after the call for volunteer for a new unit being formed to go though the gate. Finding the idea bizarre and she wanted to see for herself so volunteered.
Nikolas Maxwell
Never upset a god, you may end paying for it for a long time. If not you but someone you love.
-Nikolas
Name
Nikolas Maxwell
Nicknames
Maxwell (open to suggestions)
Age
Exact age Unknown but over 350
Gender
Male
Race
Formally Human
Kingdom
Unknown
Appearance Nikolas tends to keep himself covered at all times. Wearing his armour as much a possible when around others. If he has to take it off he will wear whatever will cover his flesh and eyes. In the terms of headgear he wears hoods and anything that covers his face with whatever he can get his hands on. When he is around those who don't know what he is. When his around people who know what he is and don't mind. Nikolas doesn't cover up so much and at time can be seen shirtless.
Equipment
An ancient blade that Nikolas as carried with him for so long he wouldn't know what to do if he lost it. A blade forged with long for gotten methods and enchanted with magic allowing it to remain as strong and sharp as the day it was made. While no sharper then a normal sword this blade doesn't lose it edge as it is used and is more effect against the undead.
If unsheathed in a dark area the blade glows a sickly green colour when in Nikolas's hands. When in the hands of the living the sword glows bright white.
The item the houses Nikolas soul. Unlike a normal phylactery this one can only be destroyed with high level magic form the book of blessing. It can be broken which for a time will render Nikolas decayed body mindless for a time. But unless destroyed by high level magic form the book of blessing it will reform after an hour or two.
Like this but glows a light blue.
Your basic run of the mill steel armour with no form of magic. Crafted for Nikolas by a master blacksmith at great cost who is aware of his condition. The armour is very well made and fairly durable. The armour is quite heavy and slows Nikolas's movements a little but provides good protection against blades and arrows. The armour was custom made for Nikolas so is fitted for him and made in the style of his armour while he was alive making it unique.
Magic
None
Personality
Nikolas is an understanding individual and tries not to judge people by there looks and hates when people they do. Being undead he is a little wary of the living and tries to stay out of the middle of large crowds unless necessary. Also because of his undead nature he dislikes talking about himself and when he dose tend to outright lie or tell tails back form when he was alive. Although he lies about himself Nikolas is not a very good liar, but it never stops him form trying as it better then telling someone the truth.
For those who become aware of his true nature and don't try to destroy him Nikolas often make the effort to become friends with. If he manages that he become very open about some of his life and will help out those he calls friend. He is also willing to give advice to those he calls a friends, although it may not always be the best advice.
Over all Nikolas is a very clam person rarely letting his emotions get the better of him, well aware what might happen if he dose. He is the type who doesn't back down form a challenge when one is presented to him normally trying the direct approach when trying solve a problem. If that fails Nikolas will simply keep trying until he come up with another solution or until it direct approach works.
At time Nikolas feels the urge to consume the flesh of the living, although he is unsure why this urge is very powerful and difficult to control. When dealing with this he drives everyone around him away and tries to be alone or spend time with his own kind. On rare occasions he can become a mindless almost like his soul is trying to leave the realm of the living but can't. During these times Nikolas's body can and often dose become aggressive attacking any living thing near him. Turning on friend and foe alike. While aware of the issue Nikolas can't do anything to stop it, but is aware when the everything starts to fell distance he need to get away form everyone and lock himself away.
Traits
Being undead is vulnerable to the book of blessing.
Doesn't need to eat, sleep, drink or breath. (benefits of being dead)
Doesn't get tired.
As no sense of touch or taste. (This took a while to get used to)
Can talk to other undead.
Likes being in crypts and graveyards. (his home away form home)
Immune to poison.
his right knee tends to crick when he walks and its cold. (old bones don't like walking in the cold)
Loves drinking as oddly enough he can get drunk for some reason. (Magic is a funny thing no)
Master Swordsman (you live for over 100 years and try not master at least one weapon)
A great hero in life Nikolas was once a soldier for hire famed for being one of the best able to best any beast in the land. This however is in an Era all but forgotten Nikolas exploits no longer remembered by the living.
But in life he was a man to behold and man who was willing to fight for anyone who could afford his price. Gold and glory where what this man lived for and both he had. It wasn't until he was sent to kill a necromancer that had taken up residence near a small village and the locals where scared of what the magic user might do to them.
The villagers some how managed to pay his price. So Nikolas set of on a hunt to slay the necromancer. What little did he know, the job would be one he would never complete until much later. Over the course of many months on his hunt of this necromancer and several encounters with his pray he eventually fell for for his target. Over another several months the two somehow got close and fell in love. Nikolas kept "hunting" the Necromancer only to keep spending time with her. But despite there feelings they still fought trying to kill each other. Nikolas cutting down many of her undead to reach her only to...*cough*
This lasted for several years until Nikolas fell extremely ill and died before anything could be done to help him. But despite that he died a happy man. Leaving everything to his love.
Upset over the lose of her lover and refusing to let him go. The necromancer who Nikolas had called Nena out of affection stole his body form his family crypt and burnt it to the ground roughly a month his death.
Form there Nena used her magic to preserve his body as she began to work on ways to bring her lover back. Knowing she could easily bring him back as a mindless zombie under her control. But that wasn't what she wanted. Nena wanted to bring Nikolas back with his mind intact with a physical body completely free form control. But such power was beyond her and so she began to research and experiment taking many lives and souls caring little for who they belonged to.
Sadly for Nena not matter how hard she tried she could never develop a spell to bring her lover back, each failure pushing Nena into madness and after several months Nena had all but lost her mind. Driven solely by her original goal
Her actions though didn't go unnoticed and the god of death began to grow annoyed with the necromancer who constantly was perverting the rules of life and death. For a time the god had let her actions slide knowing one day she would die, but her research and experimentation bore some fruit as she made herself a lich and in unlife continued her never ending research. Having become madly obsessed with her goal.
Now furious with the necromancer and wanting to stop Nena the god of death sent their incarnate to deal with situation. The incarnate deciding to bring Nena long dead love back to life this his mind completely intact hoping that would quell the necromancer. However what happened next the incarnate never could have predicted. Not long after being brought back Nikolas had saw what Nena become. Sad to see his love fall so low he stuck her down by smashing her phylactery. An act the ended his loves unlife. But as her soul started to slip into the after life. The god of deaths incarnate appeared, quite surprised by the situation.
The god of death wanted Nena soul to punish her for perverting the rules of life and death. Not wanting his love to punished Nikolas begged the god of death to let Nena pass into the after life. In exchange he would walk the in the world of the living helping those in need it until he had paided the price for the lives and souls Nena had taken and whatever else the god thought was necessary.
For whatever reason the god of death accepted the deal and to insure Nikolas would fulfil his end of the deal the gods incarnate preserve his body with powerful magic so it would not further decay but could not be reintegrated. The incarnate placed then Nioklas's soul inside a phylactery. A phylactery that was nearly indestructible, so only those gifted in the book of blessing stood a chance at destroying it.
So Nikolas began his quest to help living, but trying to help the living is hard when your a corpse. Despite Nikolas best efforts anyone alive that meet him and became aware of his nature became afraid of him. Although Nikolas dose his best to be understanding about it. At times he finds at time all he wants to do is consume their tasty flesh. But even so he will not rest until he has paid of he loves debt and is allowed to join her in the afterlife. So in unlife he works as a soldier for hire once again using the money he makes to maintain a carefully crafted persona and help those in need. Hoping that one day the god of death will allow him to die and rejoin his love in the afterlife.
NOTE: Nena is somehow the god of death. DO NOT FORGET THIS.
NPC
Name
Elizabeth Laryn
Nicknames
Liz, Specter
Age
29
Gender
Female
Role
Scout
Personality
Driven by her duty to serve the Union. Liz dose whatever she is ordered to the best of her abilities. She is completely loyal to the union and a devout to the church of Terra. Liz is not afraid to sacrifice herself in to fulfill her duty. In personal situation Liz is a loner sticking to herself and contently minding her own business. When she dose interacting with someone she come of as warm and friendly but very awkward almost like she as not interacted with people before. Around her superiors she is very serious.
NPC
Name
Natasha Korshunov
Nicknames
Dozer
Age
39
Gender
Female
Role
Ambassadorial Bodyguard
Personality
A woman who knows what she wants and is not afraid to take it. Natasha is a loud mouth the simply ooze's confidence and rightly so. This woman as fought more battles in internal union wars then some would in there life time. She is loyal to the union and ambassador Muhfeld and in a rough way caring of others she respects. Just don't piss her off, Natasha is lethal with her fist's and even more so with her twin custom made fisto's and she not afraid to use them. Also Nastasha is the type just doesn't know when to give up and would rather take a roll of the dice then play it safe. Although she may not look or act it she has a genius level intellect.
NPC
Name
Moskvin Korshunov
Nicknames
Daka, Mos
Age
26
Gender
Male
Role
Heavy weapon/ Demo specialist Ambassadorial Bodyguard
Personality
At first glance he's dumber then a box of hammers. Due to his simple way of speaking an understanding. But what Moskvin lacks in books smarts he makes up for it in his sheer stubbornness and knowledge of things that go Kaboom and heavy weapons. He is the right hand of a Ambassador Muhlfeld when he wants someone day completely and utterly fucked. He is completely loyal to Ambassador Muhfeld and would die to protect him. Anyone else can get fucked in fact he'd climb over the bodies of fall comrades or simple shove them out of the way at chance to fill enemies with enough lead to call someone a pencil. Moskvin as a very short temper and tends to hit things that upset him. He tends to get into a lot of fight with his sister but deep down he loves her to bits. Although he may not look it Moskvin is talented painter and loves animals. For some reason he never shows his face around others.
NPC
Name
Jurgen Muhfeld
Nicknames
None
Age
65
Gender
Male
Role
Ambassador
Personality
Claim and always well spoken. Jurgen at first glance is the very embodiment of the best refinement the Union has to offer. Truth be told he is man that always tries to get his way and is used to it. He is a man of a short temper along with some childish tendency's.
He is a man of great influence in parts of union and he's not afraid to throw the weight of his influence around to get his own way. He's not a fan of violence and prefers it not be used around him. Truth be told he just worried he'd have to get his hands dirty instead of someone else. Deep down though he truly thinks peace if the way forward.
He as a liking for the Korshunov siblings and used his leverage to get them assigned to him as bodyguards and the two have been working with him proudly for some time. He has used every favor he was owed to get him assigned to the 1st recon as an attachment wanting to one of the first to try negotiate with who ever dwell on the other side of the portal.
NPC
Name
Brain Corvus
Nicknames
Crow
Age
39
Gender
Male
Role
Quartermaster
Personality
A sly and cunning man who seems to appear in odd places. He is the type who always seem to acquire things and has no issue with selling said things for a "fair" price. Brain is very charismatic and is very good at prying information out of people with only a few words. People also seem to just naturally trust Brain and tell him things they might not others. He's a very skilled lie and often makes up stores that out of his month sound truthful. Brian is a yellow bellied coward and will always try to run form a fight, he is how ever not easily intimidated. |
55,927 | 1,532 | 14 | 2,224 | 2,424 | Cpl. Donovan “The Friendly” Valentine
Before his questions could be answered, he could hear footsteps coming closer behind them upon his quick reflects turning around even before someone tapped on his shoulder. Taking back his head like Donovan would of bite it off. Donovan certainly didn't mind if others utterly feared greatly respected him. “Uh, are we returning back to Cpt. Saiyako or are we awaiting specific orders?” The solider asked him. He already knew even if anyone was still in a battle the captain was capable enough to take care of themselves, but even for ones he had less confidence in, he found the enemy force rather pathetic and primitive. But on the other hand maybe he'd be able to do a little exploration on his own something he'd been meaning to do for a while now. “Just gather everyone you can to return back, I'll scout up ahead for reconnaissance, Digit can come with me if he's so inclined. The rest of you go, no need to tell the captain about it. Got it?” Donovan explained and even though through a mask the solider couldn't see his exact face, he fully understood the tone of how serious the part about refraining from speaking about it was, nodding his head.
As he carefully observed everyone leaving as quickly run into the forest where the monsters came from, making sure no one else saw him going there. Perhaps overconfident but he was hundred percent sure no one was scrupulous as he was. As he looked around through the forest smelling unfamiliar scents and looking at different foliage, not touching anything as he didn't know if anything was poisonous but all of was a beautiful sight, letting out a yawn as it couldn't be any more uninteresting. He turned his head hearing a twig snapping wondering if one of his soldiers decided to follow him but he saw something pass by differently not a solider, but a regular looking man wearing some medieval like clothing. Running away from him, immediately Donovan pursued him, keeping track of him easily even with his unfamiliarity of the woods he was in, almost tripping over on some thick vines in his path but keeping steady and reaching out and grabbing his wrist tightly.
“H-h-hey le-let m-me go!” The man stuttered clearly scared as he not so gently pinned him up against one of the trees. The man's speech was slightly off as he couldn't quite tell what the man was saying. “Were you spying on my men? Where do you live?” He stated coldly as he started to pat him down for possible weapons as the man shook some fearfully. The man who also couldn't understand and would be too afraid to talk even if he could just tried to squirm out of his grasp failing to budge as he pulled out his M3P-4 and pointed it to the man's forehead. His silence was making him grow impatient as he immediately figured the man was useless and it was better not taking any chances and executing him right here.
Suddenly another younger man, came out from behind several bushes with a hunting knife in his hand shouting some words. Donovan didn't even hesitate for a second, aiming his gun that the younger man and shooting him into his calf muscle. Making him scream and fall down into the ground. As the man looked crying out tears in his eyes. “S-son! Are you-” before he smacked him hard in the back of the head with his end of his handgun, knocking him on the ground, slumping against the tree. The son clutched his leg as it was bleeding, starting to yell angrily at him. He stood looking at them both.
He was pondering for a moment whether to just leave them both as is and return to the others. It's clear they didn't speak English and he couldn't take them both as prisoners, he probably would get chewed out doing this in the first place. But if they were spies, did he really want them both to get away relatively unscathed. He walked up to the son struggling to get up to his father, pulling himself with his hands crawling on the dirt floor stepping on his back and holding him down. Pointing the gun at his head, pulling the trigger letting out a bang as the son stopped moving, blood pooling from under his head. Quickly proceeding to walk up to the unconscious man. “Don't take in personally, it's just my duty to protect my team, hope you can understand.” He says in a mocking tone, pressing it up right to the back of his head, pulling the trigger again.
Breathing in and breathing out for a moment to relax himself. With that task handled, he knew it would be best to hide both the bodies. As he took the son and the father over both of his shoulders being careful not to get blood on his combat suit his parents gave him, not wanting to disrespect them by getting it dirty already. Throwing them in the thick bushes, seeing a nearby dead dear with its neck cut open, as he was relieved that it appeared as though they were merely hunting for food and not soldiers in an army or spies of some kind. He was alleviated of some concern, because if they were important individuals they'd be more likely to be searched for, but mere peasants or common folk figuring by how they were dressed. He assumed they would more likely and hopefully be forgotten. Deciding it would be best to head back before anyone start asking questions. Despising people asking questions, he also didn't want any more marks on his record. He left the bodies behind, and swiftly exited the forest. "Eh, not worth mentioning this to anyone. I may have to account for the missing bullets...but I can come up with something reasonable I'm sure, besides what the captain doesn't know won't kill him..." | Donovan “The Friendly” Valentine
"The good of the few, are in fact still good to the many. Whether they see it yet or not."
-Himself
Name
Donovan Valentine
Nicknames
”The Friendly” a sarcastic nickname if there ever was one.
Age
25 years old
Gender
Male
Homeworld
High Terra
Rank
Corporal
Role
He is considered an elite combat solider, being exceptional in what most soliders should be.
Appearance
He is 6'0 in length, with a surprisingly muscular body that you wouldn't guess by looking at him. Sometimes wearing glasses, other times not. He wears his mother's clothing line, finding anything else unacceptable. He is a noble of a rather rich family, so his armored suit is literally painted in real gold for nothing more to show off.
Equipment
M-54A1 Battle Rifle (a highly advanced prototype version, modified to be even more effective weapon as the battery drains much slower, giving it an extended usefulness. It costs far more than most soldiers could afford.)
M3P-4 10mm Pistol (as a side arm. With several addition clips of ammunition)
A standard black combat knife.
RO-3 Omni Grenade (prototype versions of these grenades, that also happen to carry a deadly toxin, if the blast doesn't kill them, the poison gas will.)
Standard Gas Mask
Pain pills in a pez-like dispenser (strong medication, that make him feel nothing, and numbs pain almost instantly.)
Personality
Donovan certainly would be what you'd think of when you think of your typical, raised in incredible wealth and got almost everything he could ask for. He was spoiled rotten as a child. He lived a rather perfect life. He's only thing he suffered from is how much he wanted another sibling so he could have a friend as when he was young most people tend to avoid him, scared of his status. Often alone, learning he was his only friend.
He grew up quite bitter of most people and is incredibly arrogant and self centered or at least only cares about his own and his family's pride. He will do anything, to make a difference he feels will change his world for the better. He will defy orders, betray others. He'd kill a child if he or his family benefitted from it. Morality means next to nothing to him, he does not feel sympathy for those he is ordered to kill. But to the average stranger who somehow doesn't know who he is. He is an incredibly good solider, and a surprisingly an effective leader and support. He is very charming, and is quite a gentleman to women. His laugh is almost contagious. Being quite social. Most of it being an act, being smart enough to know you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.
Finding this fantasy world as literal gold mine, full of resources his parents could use to highly improve their companies. He doesn't see any of them as people, he sees them all as nuisances that he would be more than happy to rid their world of. Not that he'll behave that way in front of them.
Traits
Loves to drink his fancy wine, you could consider him a borderline alcoholic.
Incredibly rich (if there's a new weapon or piece of technology, he will use it. His family won't let him have anything but the best.)
A scary good solider, very quick, strong and sharp. Very good with most weapons and using combat vehicles. His abilities are superior to an average soldier.
He detests the cold weather. He gets bad headaches in the cold weather.
Often humming to himself.
Is incredible at lying and manipulation. (which is why he loves doing it so much.)
Carries glasses with him, that he doesn't need solely because some women say he looks good in them.
History
His parents lived in the lap of luxury, one being a wealthy business owner, of multiple major construction, oil and diamond mining companies, while his mother had her own very popular and very expensive 'Valentine's' for men and women's clothing line. So ever since he was born, he was never told no. As he got the best food, from a professional chef, and was taught by a private tutor. He also had a professional maid to clean his room, but he often cleaned it himself. But that didn't mean he didn't spend time with his family, as his mother would often test clothing on him and often had him watch her create clothes, while the father often took him fishing every other weekend on their motorboat. The only thing he didn't have was a younger sibling, which he wanted a little brother. Mainly because he felt very alone. As his father kept him away from the poor folk and even some of the richer folk because they we're far too snobbish in his mother's words. So he didn't have many friends, and he very quickly over the year got used to being alone, with the occasional hired company. He enjoyed spending time with his parents more than anyone else. Loving and respecting them a lot, finding his mother to making the most beautiful clothes in the world and his father the most brilliant, got his desire for wine as his father would often let him have a sip every time he asked for one.
When he became old enough to be legally allowed to drive, thought that didn't stop him from doing it multiple times before then. He would often drive out and spoil women on dates. Going on a date with a new women every week at least. He made his own friends, throwing his charm and money around without hesitation. Though he never really made any real personal connections and it only made him dislike people in general. He would often have sex, even a few times of the same sex just because he could. Because it provided him with some company, and some shallow pleasure. But nothing he did really made him happy, he felt as if he had no true calling in life.
Until that day, When he learned of the GATE incident, he was instantly drawn to the news, being quite curious. As was both of his parents as they wondered. What kind of materials, and what kind of resources do they have in another world? Just imagine what we could do with them! They asked their son, to become a solider and to go to the new world and make them proud. They had connections with someone in the military that could make him shoot up in ranks quite easily and they'd make sure he had the best equipment. With that offer in his head, at a chance to do something unique and something to make his parents proud of him. He immediately agreed and became a solider. Which after a few tests they learned he was already great at it, excelling at basic and more advanced training. Completing it in half the time most did.
It didn't take him long to raise in the ranks. Becoming known for his skill and also more infamous for his personality. As they called him, Donovan "The Friendly" for his very false happy social personality. As it didn't take long for him to make enemies, but they weren't stupid enough to outright suggest anything of the sort. His superior's in the army were highly considering a leader position for him only holding back due to their uncertainly of how loyal he actually is... |
55,928 | 1,532 | 15 | 554 | 1,580 | Corporal "Soko" Sokoloff, Combat Engineer.
Soko suddenly gasped for breath as consciousness quite abruptly returned to him. At first the engineer couldn't see a thing as he laid there on his back, of course the thought imminently crossed his mind Did... did I die? It didn't feel like he was dead, but he sure felt like hell, mainly he couldn't feel much. Slowly, however, the rest of his senses came back online so to speak, and when they did he could hear the sounds of gunfire and explosions once again. Good news, he wasn't dead after all it seemed, bad news he was still on that very same battlefield. Soko then finally pushed himself from the rubble ridden ground, as he did so pieces of rebar and other such bits that used to make up a bunker slid right off him.
He looked down to see that his armor was beat up something fierce, obviously this is what saved his life, and maybe also explained why of all things he was knocked out... although that stupid hat probably wouldn't have done a thing anyway. Soko glanced behind him only to see that the entire back section of the structure had completely collapsed, meaning he was lucky to have been at the front where some of it still managed to stand. It was then Soko started to feel something wet run down his leg, and perhaps as if on cue a sharp pain rang out from the approximate place of said wet spot. He grunted with clear discomfort when he tried repositioning to figure out what was happening, although clearly he already had a perfect idea what happened, he just wanted to see it for himself. Yeah, that was it, sticking of out of his leg was a piece of metal, of course it was very bloody plus was also fairly long but fortunately not too thick. The first problem was he couldn't exactly move with this thing sticking out of him, he'll probably smack into something and hurt himself.
Soko reached towards his kit, and it seemed luck favored him at least a little, he found his kit in perfect condition although he supposed the case was made to be seriously durable. He placed it front of him and started fishing for a very specific tool he needed, eventually he came out with a miniature electric saw in hand. Soko took a deep breath, then without wanting to be out there any longer then necessary he got right to cutting. The engineer had to fight through the pain, the vibrations caused by the saw weren't all that ignorable when the metal in question was deeply imbedded into his leg after all. Mercifully the first side was chopped off, but he still had the back to do, not to mention this would require him to twist his wounded leg as well. After what seemed like forever he finally got the second side done, although at this point the pain had gotten quite severe, still he wasn't as weak willed to let himself pass out again. Soko returned the saw back to its proper storage place, and the engineer's kit too.
Already knowing he couldn't stand on his own, Soko first found a large rod of metal to use as a sort of walking stick, after testing its strength he was convinced it was strong enough to hold him. He took what seemed like the hundredth deep breath of the day, he didn't want to draw this out, he had to do this quickly or else he'll just make this harder on himself. He used the little bit of remaining wall behind him as some support to help him along, and after about a minute of struggling he got himself back on his feet.
Soko started limp his way around the large pile of rubble, he wasn't sure if anyone else has survived, he didn't see any bodies where he awoke, although he was sure many of the wounded that were housed in the used-to-be-bunker had to be undoubtedly dead, if not all of them. He wasn't even sure about that medic he barely met, well... war was never kind to anyone. Yet, when he came around the corner there she was, looked like she was just pulled out, lucky her. Soko of course also saw the captain, and someone else he hadn't met met. That man in question was a PRN soldier just like him, although he was clearly a old dog from how patchwork his armor was, not to mention the soldier was clearly on the older side. All the same it was actually kind of nice to see someone else from his home world, someone else who shared the same memories of home. As Soko slowly passed by the old man and medic he gave a friendly wave with his free hand, but his focus was on the captain.
"Hello sir, somehow I managed to not die in that... just not sure about many of the wounded. Still I suppose luck won out for me back there, just happy not to be dead." Soko tried smiling through the moderate pain he was still experiencing. "Although I'm not in any condition to keep fighting, my leg isn't doing all that great as you can see." | Pavel "Soko" Sokoloff
"Anyone can be family, blood doesn't mean everything if you ask me."
-Pavel Sokoloff
Name
Pavel Sokoloff
Nicknames
Soko
Age
28
Gender
Male
Homeworld
Novogorod
Rank
Corporal
Role
Field Engineer
Appearance
Soko is of perfectly normal size being neither large, nor small. If given the chance he would prefer to walk about in a tank top and cargo pants, short of that a jumpsuit would do just fine. Outside of work he isn't too picky about what he wears as fashion is about the last thing he thinks of, what does matter is practicality; boots over sandals, jeans over shorts.
Soko's combat uniform has seen some very minor modifications. Mostly he carries additional pouches and an extra bandolier for more ammunition storage. Soko never wears the standard hat as he thinks its just stupid, after a while even his superiors had given up reprimanding him.
Equipment
AKN-74z Assault Rifle
M3P-4 10mm Pistol
1x Standard Engineer's Kit
2x "Splinter" Grenade
1x ROC-1A "Fisto"
Personality
Soko is about welcoming as they come, and has no problems with making friends out of complete strangers, although because of his natural openness he is simply terrible at lying. To expand on this Soko is perfectly willing to tell just about anyone about himself, however after much life experience he has somewhat learned to keep quiet, especially when it comes to his own problems. That said Soko still hates the very idea of secrets and would rather throw everything into the open if given the opportunity. When in a combat situation Soko can definitely remain cool under fire, and will fight with every bit of ferocity befitting of his people. He does have his limits however, in extreme cases of pressure it is quite possible he'll crack under it because after all he is only human.
It should be obvious that Soko is a very social person and will attempt to start a conversation with just about anyone in earshot. While it may seem like he considers everyone to be a friend, he does take friendship seriously and actually if anything he is strangely particular about who he would call a friend. When it comes to his discipline and professionalism as a soldier Soko is around average by GHU standards. Not nearly on the same level as a Khorenheim, but he is typically more hard working than many of his brethren.
Soko cares deeply about his role as an engineer and vastly enjoys the work. Sometimes while on a job Soko becomes uncharacteristically quiet, in fact he may even snap at anyone who dares to interrupt him, it is this reason its important for one to learn this fact about him.
Traits
Has a fondness for old classical music.
Doesn't share the typical prejudice against Khorenheimers.
Instead rather doesn't like those from Ennedi as much, their zealousness can be off putting.
Worst liar ever.
Very trusting in others.
Skilled engineer and tinker even by Novogorodian standards.
Likes woodcarving in his spare time.
Makes for a pretty average soldier.
History
Soko was born to a lower working class family, his father being the main breadwinner through his job as a laborer. Even from an early age it was clear what kind of person Soko would grow into, with his constant questions and overall friendly disposition he was always posed to talk about absolutely everything. For the most part his family humored the young Soko, although eventually even they tired of his constant blabbering and were not afraid to say as much. All the same his home life was quite pleasant while still given their socioeconomic status.
Soko was fascinated with machines and purposely sought whatever he could learn about them, he even came to bug local technicians. Of course no one was in the least bit interested in enabling the frankly annoying boy, however overtime a few actually taken a liking to Soko, maybe due to his perseverance or maybe he really did have the social skills. From this unofficial tutelage Soko gleamed much about the maintenance of various machines such as massive heaters, or sometimes much more complex communications systems.
During his teenage years while in school Soko opted to take whatever engineering courses were available, if it weren't for required credits in other subjects he may have very well packed his schedule with nothing but technical classes. His parents, primarily his father, were vocal about their approval, even to the point of bragging about their son's incredible intellect to other couples. Soko didn't think much about it, as an only child it made sense they would be proud of his accomplishments like so, he at least understood that. Soko while never was an excellent student, graduated with recognitions for his achievements in engineering.
It was at this point Soko made his critical life decision to join the military, one reason being the paycheck, but also he felt that by serving he could continue to improve himself as a person. His family of course were against the idea, saying that they would worry about his safety, and even tried to recommend other career choices, in the end they couldn't change his mind. Soko enlisted into the Novogorodian Engineering Corps using his already impressive background in the field as a resume. After passing a initial exam he was then entered into the program. At first the material was extremely different from what he was used to, military technology was a whole another beast from the civilian machines he once worked with.
Months later Soko came out in the top-middle percentile of his class having been scored at least satisfactory in all competency areas, although at the same time he just barely passed basic training, but that didn't quite matter in the moment. Soko's first assignment was to a military base as a member of the support staff, his job to help keep the facility running smoothly, and so this was his life for the next few years. At the age of twenty five Soko received a promotion to corporal for his years of service, and favorable work assessment, he was also reassigned to the PRN's 13th Garrison where he remained until the creation of the 23rd Expeditionary Regiment. It something else that should be noted is that even to this day Soko still sends a hefty portion of his pay back home even after being told multiple times that the money was not necessary.
Also sometime between his assignment to the 13th Garrison and to the 23rd Expeditionary Regiment, Soko's unit had been attached to an anti-rebel Khorenheim task group to assist in their operations. It was during this time that Soko got to know a Khorenheimer engineer and even became fast friends as he found the engineer's insight into their work to be something else. It was also during these same missions Soko had to work alongside a particularly zealous Ennedi infantryman, the experience was quite frankly wasn't pleasant and had unfortunately painted the people as a whole in a negative light to Soko. |
55,929 | 1,532 | 16 | 465 | 6,811 | Cpt. Saiyako
"Both of you get to the medical area," Saiyako smiled and chuckled as he saw his two soldiers walk out alive, injured of course, but alive, more than the poor sods in that bunker who were with them were, "Hope you two like medals!"
Turning back around to the rest of the First Recon who had managed to scrap up together in a rough mob-like unit. Saiyako could easily spot holes and missing persons but he had assumed the lot of them where else where and didn't hear him, battles where rough business after all. He would know the actual numbers in the morning after every more or less shuffled into their bunks for some sleep before being woken up at the ass crack of dawn. Hopefully the General would let them sleep in and not be a hardass.
Looking over the defense network and trenches, the captain peered off into the routing units of the enemy army, or what tattered remains there were of them. The field had been covered in blood, bodies and shell holes, the occasional carcass of a giant or some other creature's strangely colored hide broke the sea of dead. Panning around, it was clear that the Union forces had also taken some beating. Several vehicles were smoking or visable damaged, one had managed to invert and twist itself in ways which Saiyako thought the laws of physic would otherwise prohibit. Looks like you learn something new every day. He thought to himself before clearing his throat to address everyone.
"Good work tonight people, as far as I'm aware all objectives are complete; we have defended the base. All of you, go to the medical station to incase you got some wound that your adrenaline is killing the pain of. After that... go get some rest or something... I dunno..." Saiyako's voice began to taper off to a mumble as he headed back towards the barracks, "I need my fucking beauty rest... Oni, guard my door and kick whoever tries to get in without politely asking first."
With an almost sarcastic recognition and approval, the ARMA unit followed Saiyako on his trip up the path and around the corner. "Also , I better not get any reports of you guys pulling some stupid shit either!" his voice rang out from behind the metal boxes all of a sudden, now clearly cranky as his own adrenaline faded.
Truth be told, Saiyako didn't even get to his personal quarters and instead opted to pass out on some sacks of presumably grain of some sort. It didn't matter, it was soft enough and pillow-ish enough for the man, he even found a comfortable pose to drift off to sleep, unaware that his guardian robot had left him and stood ever vigilant at the door to his quarters. | HWANGI SAIYAKO
If you look like you know what you're doing, then people will believe you do know what you're doing.
-Saiyako
Name
Hwangi Mukuri Saiyako
Nicknames
Saiya (Nickname)
Age
30
Gender
Male
Homeworld
Fuso
Rank
Captain
Role
Unit Commander
Appearance
Judging solely from appearances, Saiyako looks nothing like what one would expect from an officer, even by Fusan standards. His brownish-redish hair is always in varying amounts of ruffled or crumpled, dark lines hung under his dark golden eyes from his many all nighters no doubt, whatever happens during these long moons is known only by Saiyako himself. With a body type between his natural skinny frame and the body mass built up by military training, the man doesn't look like one you'd immediately expect to be a soldier but more of a bookworm who spent too much time at the gym. His resting, apathetic bitch face is only broken by the occasional cocky smile that arises when he feels the rare need to outdo someone.
In terms of outfits, Saiyako generally finds himself in any number and amount of clothing; like many Fusans he has no qualms about walking around in his underwear or nightwear and has been spot on more than one occasional strolling between the showers and his quarters nude. He also has a bad habit of tramping around in his sleeping clothes until noon when he knows he has no planned assignments or tasking for that day. Surprisingly enough however, his actual officer's dress uniform is perfectly kept in pristine condition, not a speck of dust on it, not a hole anywhere, not a button loose.
Equipment
Fusan Type 108 Automatic Carbine
Fusan Type 0 Warblade
ARMA Unit "Oni"
M3P-4 10mm Pistol
RO-3 Omni Grenade
Officer's Regimental Guide Manual
Personality
Laid back almost to the point of apathy, Saiyako is more extreme case of the famous Fusan calmness and indifference. With and almost superhuman ability of procrastinating and extending deadlines, Saiyako rarely feels urgency with things like paper work of which he sees as his greatest foe. One could say he's a fatalist, believing that his life is already set out by some greater power who isn't the Primarch or the pantheons of Terranism causing friction between him and the Inquisition who keeps tabs on all commissioned officers, his apparent lack of zeal doesn't help.
Of course, now with the arrival of the Gate, that personal philosophy has more or less gone out the window. In its place there's a new sense of excitement which Saiyako hasn't felt in a long time as before him is a beautiful world straight from a fantasy game. He works with greater speed and efficiency now although relative to others he still works dreadfully slow. Any official papers like reports while likely be handed in a week late with crumpled corners, an improvement from when papers would go missing for months in Saiyako's hands and come out like they were in their own war in the bowls of his desk. The only type of papers which he hasn't failed to submit on time are papers relating to the well being of his unit; things such as payrolls and requisition forms have rarely failed to be handed on time and are the only things which he will rarely submit early. Perhaps this is rooted from an amicable nature that's hidden under layers of apparent boredom and snark.
In battle, his apathetic nature is incredibly apparent, Saiyako appearing to give absolutely zero shits about being shot at or yells about him getting down. Of course this doesn't mean he's slow or combat stupid, his indifference to danger and gore is one of the primary reason behind his promotions. The battlefield is also the only place where his normal expression breaks and is replaced by a slightly cocky grin and an air of confidence. Its not uncommon for him to challenge someone to see how fast they can dash into cover while under fire as although he doesn't care much for the insults people call him, he does enjoy showing people up sometimes even if he doesn't always win them.
Traits
Seemingly apathetic to danger, blood, and insults
Wonderful chief
Deadlines are relative
Something of best friends with his ARMA unit
Fusan army training which comes with better melee skills
Master of procrastinating
Reliable regarding matters of his unit's well being
Fan animated shows and has a small collection of figurines and collectables in his quarters
Atheistic
History
Saiyako was born to a medical researcher space elevator operator on a space station in orbit around the Fuso. His life was normal for the most part, no sudden parental deaths or secret family wealth to be inherited; Saiyako was just a normal boy who lived life between the station and planet side. While definitely not the upper crust of society, his family was more than able to pay for their lifestyle and some of the gifts the child would want; perhaps one reason why Saiyako was even more laid back than most Fusans. The biggest change in his life up to that point would be the birth of his little sister when he was six. Things changed for Saiyako when Hwangi Tantan Mutoi came into his life but not too dramatically. Like his parents, Saiyako did his best to shower Mutoi with love and affection.
Maintain respectable grades throughout his teenaged years, the turning point of his life hit both him and his family hard, quite literally. During a family trip which Saiyako had offered to drive, his father next to him and his mother in the back with his sister, a mechanical failure cause the car to veer into oncoming traffic where a cargo transport plow right into them. Despite Saiyako, his mother and his sister all recovering, his father never did for some reason. Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months but his father wasn't recovering for some reason, doctors attributed it to some genetic issue that was preventing his body from healing as it should and instead was actually decaying.
Life suddenly went downhill as Saiyako started failing his classes and locked himself in his room for hours at a time, feeling as if he was the one who cause his father's pain, eventually refusing to go visit him out of shame and guilt. The last time Saiyako would see his father would be on his father's death bed who told him:
"Son, there is no hidden treasure of our family for which I can pass on to you. There is no secret wealth which I can let you inherit. No portal to a magical world that I have been hiding. No secret society that I've been a part of. You are completely normal, you are no fairy tale hero like the one in the shows you once watched and the books me and your mother once read you; there is nothing special about you. You are just you.
But you are unbound, free of any strings of destiny. Your fate is no one but your own. There is nothing to hold you back from your greatness..."
Of course, Saiyako didn't understand what his father meant at that point, but it broke something inside of him and turned him apathetic, not even flinching as he watched his father's coffin be lowered into the earth and buried. It was as if he stopped caring about everything and it showed; he later failed out of school before he could even get into a college and barricaded himself in his room, nothing his sister or his mother did could get him out.
Faced with a dead husband and a depressed, apathetic son, Saiyako's mother died of a heart attack little over a year later and Saiyako was again silent as his mother was buried next to her lover. Realizing that there was no way that both he and his little sister could survive on government subsidies, Saiyako got a job in the only place that would accept him: the army.
After months of training, he was deployed to various rebel stations and worlds as part of the 6th Fusan Regiment, 21st Assault Division nicknamed the "Golden Foxes". Through many a battles and a fair bit of luck, Saiyako had been promoted to the rank of 2nd LT after the previous one had died in battle, his apathetic nature leading him the ability to remain remarkable nonchalant even by Fusan standards. After doing his 3rd tour, he heard wind of a portal that had opened up on the backwater desert planet of Ennedi to what the first scouts said was a "fantasy" world. Upon hearing that, something made him smile and started up his excitement, an emotion he hadn't felt in a long time. Signing up without haste, Saiyako felt like he finally understood what his father's words from all those years ago meant; he had the chance not to fulfill his destiny, but a chance to make his own.
EKO DONPARE
Female Ver.
I've seen you somewhere, I've heard your name from someone, I've remembered your appearance from something.
-Eko
Male Ver.
Change isn't good or bad by nature; it just happens.
-Eko
Name
Eko Donpare, Incarnate of Tenzayn
Nicknames
Ekochi (female only)
Ekal (male only)
Age
807 (Actual age appearance varies)
Gender
Gender fluid, literally
Race
Human Incarnate
Kingdom
Crown of Sarleon, Vassal of the Empire
Appearance
While minor details may change, Eko's appearance can be divided between her male appearance and his male appearance. In his male form, Eko is a tall if not slightly lanky individual with sharp features with red hair and a nobly ruffled white hair. In her female form, Eko keeps the white hair (although it now reaches somewhere near her lower back). Notably shorter, female Eko stands about a foot shorter than his male version with amethyst eyes; her features however are still graceful and wispy in a way.
In terms of clothing, again Eko can change at will but for the most part he's found in some getup that looks quite a lot like something you'd see from the 1700s or the 1800s on High Terra. A tattered, fancy navy blue military's officer overcoat with golden lining and tassels with some red details and golden buttons. A powder white scarf is attached to his neck and held in place with a delicate golden jewel; a large hat with a flume of white feathers and a rose stuck in its side can also sometimes be seen, more often on her female version.
Equipment
Coat of Donpare - The famous coat of the Incarnate of Tenzayn, it looks like something Napoleon would wear. Despite its appearance, its actually Eko's armor, each thread turned from silk and fabric into thread with the strength of steel by Tenzayn themselves. It also has the effect of making the wearer consistently clear of mind and fearless, changing said fear into euphoria strangely enough although this barely effects Eko when she puts it on.
Regalis Concerto - Eko's primary weapon, it is a very fancy and royal looking glaive. Besides being able to cut through armor and flesh with ease, it also acts as a sort of condute for Eko's magic, basically a giant magic wand that Eko can actually use in one hand in a similar fashion to that of a conductor's baton. The weapon itself was created for Eko by Tenzayn after his asscention into Incarnatehood.
Magic
Eko uses Book of Evolution at a master-level due to his Incarnate status
Personality
Like most things about him, Eko's personally can quickly change. While not as fast or extreme as someone tainted by the Book of Circus, there are definitely warning signs that need to can be seen as a sign of warning and caution. Her two most common moods is a cocky, headstrong personality and a rather sentimental personality. His first one can usually be defined as "somewhere between 'fuck you' in a mocking manner and 'I'd fuck you" while with the second he acts as if she was drunk and has deep thoughts (or tries to be with varying levels of success).
An interesting point of note is that Eko is far less surprised by the Union's technology than other people and takes quite a bit of interest in them.
Traits
Master of Book of Evolution, granting him a limited number of spells from other Lores
Immortality and invulnerability due to Incarnate status as well as super human abilities
Fearless, most of his fear has been removed due to his natural hubris and the Coat of Donpare.
Has a direct line to Tenzayn, God of Change; Tenzayn doesn't always pick up or answer correctly, occasionally forcing his Incarnate to answer to a squirrel or something.
History
Despite living for many hundreds of years, Eko talks remarkably little about his past, especially the time before he became an Incarnate. While this is common amongst many Incarnates (as many Gods will wipe the memories of their chosen), Eko admits that Tenzayn has never tampered with her memory. And even though there might be some who claim to know Eko's history, all of them are completely different stories.
The only history Eko will ever say is that his ancestor once lived on an island far, far away and that since he became an Incarnate he's split his time between wandering the land and attending to the Great Shrine of Tenzayn. |
55,930 | 1,532 | 17 | 2,224 | 2,424 | Cpl. Donovan “The Friendly” Valentine
Donovan had quickly returned back, running as fast as his legs could carry him, taking nearly half the time that it took for their team to arrive at their previous destination. He arrived back at their base going through the medical area shelter's entrance where most of his team was their helping the other injured soldiers. Which was fantastic, because it just meant he didn't have to deal with people. He immediately felt only two feelings, the curiosity of what these soldiers fought and a feeling of contempt, he saw all of them as failures.
Upon being a commander, His record was spotless, having no causalities or injuries, he was clearly far more efficient as a leader. Every single time his performance was superior, but that wasn't enough to prove himself. That's all that he had on his mind and his thoughts were inescapable. Tuning out the moaning and pained sounds coming from the injured, only sounded like whining to him. All of these inadequate people that he'd been surrounded by only made him miss his parents. Donovan looked around for any sight of their Captain, leaving before anyone could ask for his assistance. Walking outside in their base seeing another corporal limping up toward the base.
Donovan took a moment to try to remember his name, meticulously studying a lot of his fellow soldiers name solely to appear more socially involved. As a light bulb went off in his head. As he saw 'Soko' and the Captain as he took off his helmet and put on a charming smile approaching them both. But he noticed the Captain quickly leave and walking away, much to his disappointment, as he ended up starting to speak to everyone as a collective group.
He just looked at the other corporal with a concerned look. “What happened out there? Looks like you got out by the skin of your teeth.” He questioned sounding perfectly sincere. Knowing he hadn't been around this individual before that he could recall, awaiting his reaction or response almost having perverse fascination with how others talked to him, given his reputation. His eyes probably looked like his was staring into his very soul.
Unenthusiastically listening to his Captain's speech, because he could frankly care less about the praise since it wasn't solely his to bask in. His head turned towards the Captain as she started to head to the barracks. “Great, probably not a good idea to bother him while he is tired. Dammit, I suppose I will call it a night and get ready for bed, best to get as much sleep as one can. Maybe have a glass of wine? Been craving a little of that since this morning.” Donovan ponders to himself, making himself thirsty. Also overhearing the warning about not finding out about anybody pulling something stupid. He couldn't resist letting out a small chuckle to those cautionary words. His eyes shifting back at his fellow corporal, covering his mouth letting out a small yawn wanting to leave, but figuring he'd appear unmannerly just walking away before even letting him respond. | Donovan “The Friendly” Valentine
"The good of the few, are in fact still good to the many. Whether they see it yet or not."
-Himself
Name
Donovan Valentine
Nicknames
”The Friendly” a sarcastic nickname if there ever was one.
Age
25 years old
Gender
Male
Homeworld
High Terra
Rank
Corporal
Role
He is considered an elite combat solider, being exceptional in what most soliders should be.
Appearance
He is 6'0 in length, with a surprisingly muscular body that you wouldn't guess by looking at him. Sometimes wearing glasses, other times not. He wears his mother's clothing line, finding anything else unacceptable. He is a noble of a rather rich family, so his armored suit is literally painted in real gold for nothing more to show off.
Equipment
M-54A1 Battle Rifle (a highly advanced prototype version, modified to be even more effective weapon as the battery drains much slower, giving it an extended usefulness. It costs far more than most soldiers could afford.)
M3P-4 10mm Pistol (as a side arm. With several addition clips of ammunition)
A standard black combat knife.
RO-3 Omni Grenade (prototype versions of these grenades, that also happen to carry a deadly toxin, if the blast doesn't kill them, the poison gas will.)
Standard Gas Mask
Pain pills in a pez-like dispenser (strong medication, that make him feel nothing, and numbs pain almost instantly.)
Personality
Donovan certainly would be what you'd think of when you think of your typical, raised in incredible wealth and got almost everything he could ask for. He was spoiled rotten as a child. He lived a rather perfect life. He's only thing he suffered from is how much he wanted another sibling so he could have a friend as when he was young most people tend to avoid him, scared of his status. Often alone, learning he was his only friend.
He grew up quite bitter of most people and is incredibly arrogant and self centered or at least only cares about his own and his family's pride. He will do anything, to make a difference he feels will change his world for the better. He will defy orders, betray others. He'd kill a child if he or his family benefitted from it. Morality means next to nothing to him, he does not feel sympathy for those he is ordered to kill. But to the average stranger who somehow doesn't know who he is. He is an incredibly good solider, and a surprisingly an effective leader and support. He is very charming, and is quite a gentleman to women. His laugh is almost contagious. Being quite social. Most of it being an act, being smart enough to know you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.
Finding this fantasy world as literal gold mine, full of resources his parents could use to highly improve their companies. He doesn't see any of them as people, he sees them all as nuisances that he would be more than happy to rid their world of. Not that he'll behave that way in front of them.
Traits
Loves to drink his fancy wine, you could consider him a borderline alcoholic.
Incredibly rich (if there's a new weapon or piece of technology, he will use it. His family won't let him have anything but the best.)
A scary good solider, very quick, strong and sharp. Very good with most weapons and using combat vehicles. His abilities are superior to an average soldier.
He detests the cold weather. He gets bad headaches in the cold weather.
Often humming to himself.
Is incredible at lying and manipulation. (which is why he loves doing it so much.)
Carries glasses with him, that he doesn't need solely because some women say he looks good in them.
History
His parents lived in the lap of luxury, one being a wealthy business owner, of multiple major construction, oil and diamond mining companies, while his mother had her own very popular and very expensive 'Valentine's' for men and women's clothing line. So ever since he was born, he was never told no. As he got the best food, from a professional chef, and was taught by a private tutor. He also had a professional maid to clean his room, but he often cleaned it himself. But that didn't mean he didn't spend time with his family, as his mother would often test clothing on him and often had him watch her create clothes, while the father often took him fishing every other weekend on their motorboat. The only thing he didn't have was a younger sibling, which he wanted a little brother. Mainly because he felt very alone. As his father kept him away from the poor folk and even some of the richer folk because they we're far too snobbish in his mother's words. So he didn't have many friends, and he very quickly over the year got used to being alone, with the occasional hired company. He enjoyed spending time with his parents more than anyone else. Loving and respecting them a lot, finding his mother to making the most beautiful clothes in the world and his father the most brilliant, got his desire for wine as his father would often let him have a sip every time he asked for one.
When he became old enough to be legally allowed to drive, thought that didn't stop him from doing it multiple times before then. He would often drive out and spoil women on dates. Going on a date with a new women every week at least. He made his own friends, throwing his charm and money around without hesitation. Though he never really made any real personal connections and it only made him dislike people in general. He would often have sex, even a few times of the same sex just because he could. Because it provided him with some company, and some shallow pleasure. But nothing he did really made him happy, he felt as if he had no true calling in life.
Until that day, When he learned of the GATE incident, he was instantly drawn to the news, being quite curious. As was both of his parents as they wondered. What kind of materials, and what kind of resources do they have in another world? Just imagine what we could do with them! They asked their son, to become a solider and to go to the new world and make them proud. They had connections with someone in the military that could make him shoot up in ranks quite easily and they'd make sure he had the best equipment. With that offer in his head, at a chance to do something unique and something to make his parents proud of him. He immediately agreed and became a solider. Which after a few tests they learned he was already great at it, excelling at basic and more advanced training. Completing it in half the time most did.
It didn't take him long to raise in the ranks. Becoming known for his skill and also more infamous for his personality. As they called him, Donovan "The Friendly" for his very false happy social personality. As it didn't take long for him to make enemies, but they weren't stupid enough to outright suggest anything of the sort. His superior's in the army were highly considering a leader position for him only holding back due to their uncertainly of how loyal he actually is... |
55,931 | 1,532 | 18 | 2,208 | 1,061 | SMSgt. Helena "Hellcat" Vortzeria
A small convoy of LCTs rolled into the base nearly right after the preliminary battle had launched. They all came to a stop just near the frontlines, deploying three squads of Avalian Airborne Assault troops. This group in particular was but a small chunk of the 909th Airborne Assault Group, sent to the strange new world officially as part of Avalia's contribution, but mostly as a vacation of sorts. The 909th was a harden group of insurgent hunters, and after a string of uprisings, they needed a break, and this was their perfect opportunity. However, these soldiers, now surrounded by smoldering, shallow craters and magical ice spikes sticking up from the ground, began to have second thoughts about this deployment.
However, Sgt. Helena "Hellcat" Vortzeria wasn't bothered by the scene. Regardless of this battle, the situation was already infinity better than what she was used to. "For one, I'm not in the middle of enemy territory, surrounded." Helena thought as she waved goodbye to her comrades and went off to find her new patchwork squad. "Yeah, this should be fine. Fighting mages and knights will be hell of a lot better than some crazed cultist or angry farmer with a rocket launcher. Well.... that giant dead troll over there does challenge that thought, but ahhh fuck it, I'll cross that bridge when I get there." Helena thought as she walked around the lines, trying to find her squad. After awhile, Helena decided just to simply ask a nearby soldier. Spotting a Corporal she yelled to him as she approached.
"Hey, Pretty Boy! You know where the hell Captain Saiyako's squad is? Can't seem to find anyone amongst this mob." As she got closer, Helena was able to see the open fields before the lines. Thousands, if not tens of thousands of bodies, horses, swords, and monsters alike lay dead or dying in the field. She couldn't help but whistle at the sight. "Fuck me.... I guess this was a god damn slaughter, wasn't it?" she commented aloud. | Helena Vortzeria
Up there, in the sky, the world is divided into bastards and suckers. Make your choice.
-Senior Master Sergeant Helena Vortzeria, 909th Airborne Assault
Name
Helena Vortzeria
Nicknames
Helena, Hellcat
Age
26
Gender
Female
Homeworld
Avalia
Rank
Senior Master Sergeant
Role
Assault Specialist. She's the one kicking down your door, jumping on top of you, and stabbing your face until it stops looking like a face.
Appearance
Nothing is particularly phenomenal about Helena's physical traits. She has a semi muscular build with brown hair and blue eyes. Despite military regulations, she keeps her hair somewhat long and usually wears it down and loose. In terms of her clothing out of combat, Helena keeps herself fairly neat and clean, always maintaining a sharp image to a reasonable degree.
Now, in combat, Helena wears the MK4 Ariel Assault Variant of the traditional Avalian exo-armor. The main difference between the suits, other than the slight difference in appearance, is an upgraded servo system built into the exo-skeleton of the suit. This means she can lift heavier objects than normally capable of and take longer to become exhausted. This makes this particular variant slightly heavier than others, yet as with the Avalians, it still maintains the ability of using boosters to allow long falls/jumps, or even short, sustained flights. Helena has modified her particular suit by upgrading her back mounted, forward facing boosters to allow her to gain short boosts of speed and increase her "long jump" arc.
Equipment
ARAMS 41 Assault Carbine, CQC Variant. Shorter barrel and carries a shotgun attachment.
M3P-4 10mm Pistol
RO-3 Omni Grenade... lots of them.
Flashbangs!
A Gurkha(Otherwise known as a "Kukri") Blade. A personal weapon (in more ways than one!).
Personality
Most could describe her attitude with one, simple word. "Pissed" Simply put, Helena never seems to be in a good, calm mood. More accuratly, one could describe Helena as, "The Avalian sterotype, that being, typically free matured, jumpy, and nearly suicidal bravery, pushed through a filter of absolute hatred and rage."
Off the battlefield, Helena is, for lack of a better term, a bit of a bitch. She'll be ruthlessly sarcastic and witty, calling people out on any kind of bullshit they try to fly past her. Often times she'll walk around base smoking, without a care in the world for anyone else's opinion.
On the battlefield, she is one of the fiercest motherfuckers out there. No hesitation, no mercy, no fear. To coin a term, one could easily see Helena as "Tactically Suicidal". She has absolutely no problem dieing on the battlefield, hell, it seems like she even wants to, desperately. However, she's not crazy/stupid either. For example, Helena will charge a machinegun nest, guns blazing, but only if she knows that there is a good enough chance she can take it down before her gun stops firing. Constantly, she bets her life, living on a knifes edge of odds, playing that game of Russian roulette, hoping, praying, that someday that one chamber with the bullet lands on her.
This is because, if one where to somehow tolerate her sarcastic, overcritical nature, they will find someone crying, someone calling for help. Helena has been not always been like this, and there are shards of a much kinder, much friendlier version of her lying around, deep inside. All it takes is someone to finally put her back together. For this to be seen, one must have the rare privilege of being in the presence of Helena when she is with her little sister.
Traits
Close Quarters Combat Specialist. And I can't stress this enough. Going toe to toe with Helena will mean certain death. No facy martial arts, no "honor" in fighing, just unreglated, utterly brutal hand-to-hand combat. She doesn't fight "for sport" for an important reason.
Licence Avalian Pilot
Can take a serious beating and still kick your ass
Swears.... a lot
Bit of a smug asshole
Absolutely loath people of Terra and Ennedi
Heavy Smoker, practically an alcoholic
Secretly loves ancient Classical music
Despises the "brainwashed masses" of the cult religion
History
Helena actually started out as a pretty charming gal. She was born into an agricultural floating island on Avalia and started off life with a happy family of crop dusters. Her mother flew a cargo plane airline between the island and a major city while her father flew his plane for farmers. Of course, her family wasn't particularly wealthy, but that never stopped them from trying to make the best of their situation.
However, as a wise man once said, "Life is a TV show of suffering, broken up by brief commercial breaks, and this one had been one long break, but now, we're back to our regularly scheduled program of suffering." First, Helena's mother lost her business when a larger airliner took over and ran the family business into the ground. While her father remained hopeful, the mother slowly began to descend into a pit of depression. That company had been the dream of Helena's mother, and now it was gone forever. It did not matter what her own children said, nothing changed and soon after, her mother disappeared all together. Thus Helena's father was left to take care of the family. However, despite his best efforts, he was forced to work himself to exhaustion, slowly chipping away at his health. Though by this time, Helena was of age to join the military, and decided she would support her family too by taking up the enticing offer to become an Airborne Soldier of the Union. The Airborne soldier is the shock trooper, the ones that usually die first in any major engagement. However, they were payed more than the average soldier, so she took the job, against her father's wishes.
At first, military life wasn't all that bad. Helena displayed plenty of natural talents for a soldier and had joined during a time of peace. It did not last, as one would expect, as she was soon called to action to deal with a rapidly growing "heretical" group on the fringe of Union territory. She was a deployed in the first wave via orbital drop pods. This would be later called the "Karia Conflict" as the group heretics turned out to be a larger, and better prepared for this assault than command had originally thought.
"You could look up in the sky every day for I think.... the first three... no.. uh, four, yeah, four months of the campaign and just watch as debris from our ships rained down on the planet. Just think, millions of fucking tons of metal, electronics, men, ect, falling from orbit. It was one hell of a spectacle. Disturbingly beautiful if I'm honest. I... I think that actually helped me get through that fucking hell hole... Just looking up from a muddy fox hole and seeing that tragic event.... It just made me glad to think those Terran bastards that put us here were now burning up in the atmosphere thanks to their 'superiority'." -Helena's description of the opening days of the Karia Conflict
The Terran commanders of the fleet had sent the Avalian 909th Airborne Assault Division to soften up ground targets so the regular Terran infantry could land easily and march right over the heretics who dare opposed them. However, after launching the first waves of drop pods, they unexpectedly had flew their small assault fleet right into an orbital minefield, well disguised as the asteroids that filled the belt that orbited Karia. The heretics had waited for the perfect time then simply obliterated the small fleet, stranding the remnants of the 909th on their planet. Despite this, the 909th didn't completely break. They held out, always remaining mobile and never letting the enemy encircle them. In fact, by the time the reinforcement fleet arrived, Karia's forces had been reduced considerably. However, it was brutal, dirty fighting. Many conflicts were ambushes set by either side, or merciless raids on military and civilian targets alike. Helena survived it all and was promoted thanks to that, but when she came home on leave, she was a different woman. She won't talk about the specifics, but her brutality is somewhat infamous among veteran members of the 909th. Helena went on to participate in a few more operations before she was recommended by her commander to join the 1st Recon. Her commander thought that a mission as equally outlandish as it was.... peaceful even, would be a good change in pace.
Yur a Ultrasmurf. (idk..........) |
55,932 | 1,532 | 19 | 2,224 | 2,424 | Cpl. Donovan “The Friendly” Valentine
Donovan was not exactly a very patient person, the seconds of silence was like an unmitigated disaster. He despised waiting for someone to speak, especially when it was stopping him from satiating his craving for some exquisite wine gifted to him by his mother. He couldn't bare looking around at this dreary field full of the lifeless bodies for any longer. Though not because of remorse or that he found dead bodies quite unsightly, which he did, but mainly finding he was very bored. The silence was interrupted from hearing what he could describe to himself as a shrill harpie shrieking at him calling him 'pretty boy' which was something he thoroughly detested. His attention turned to her as his mind scanned for a name, not able to place it.
“Unfortunately dear, you just missed her, she went to her bunker for some rest and I also was about to do the same.” Donovan replied with his usual delightful charming tone, casually looking in Helena's general direction but not at her face. “Oh joy, a shrill women, with a mouth like a sewage drain. Just my luck.” Donovan thought in his head smiling at her pleasantly, keeping his composure they fact she was strikingly similar to the women that got him demoted was not helping his first impressions of her. “Yeah, it's quite an atrocious sight isn't it, my name's Donovan, by the way. Yours?” He replied asking her as if he cared. | Donovan “The Friendly” Valentine
"The good of the few, are in fact still good to the many. Whether they see it yet or not."
-Himself
Name
Donovan Valentine
Nicknames
”The Friendly” a sarcastic nickname if there ever was one.
Age
25 years old
Gender
Male
Homeworld
High Terra
Rank
Corporal
Role
He is considered an elite combat solider, being exceptional in what most soliders should be.
Appearance
He is 6'0 in length, with a surprisingly muscular body that you wouldn't guess by looking at him. Sometimes wearing glasses, other times not. He wears his mother's clothing line, finding anything else unacceptable. He is a noble of a rather rich family, so his armored suit is literally painted in real gold for nothing more to show off.
Equipment
M-54A1 Battle Rifle (a highly advanced prototype version, modified to be even more effective weapon as the battery drains much slower, giving it an extended usefulness. It costs far more than most soldiers could afford.)
M3P-4 10mm Pistol (as a side arm. With several addition clips of ammunition)
A standard black combat knife.
RO-3 Omni Grenade (prototype versions of these grenades, that also happen to carry a deadly toxin, if the blast doesn't kill them, the poison gas will.)
Standard Gas Mask
Pain pills in a pez-like dispenser (strong medication, that make him feel nothing, and numbs pain almost instantly.)
Personality
Donovan certainly would be what you'd think of when you think of your typical, raised in incredible wealth and got almost everything he could ask for. He was spoiled rotten as a child. He lived a rather perfect life. He's only thing he suffered from is how much he wanted another sibling so he could have a friend as when he was young most people tend to avoid him, scared of his status. Often alone, learning he was his only friend.
He grew up quite bitter of most people and is incredibly arrogant and self centered or at least only cares about his own and his family's pride. He will do anything, to make a difference he feels will change his world for the better. He will defy orders, betray others. He'd kill a child if he or his family benefitted from it. Morality means next to nothing to him, he does not feel sympathy for those he is ordered to kill. But to the average stranger who somehow doesn't know who he is. He is an incredibly good solider, and a surprisingly an effective leader and support. He is very charming, and is quite a gentleman to women. His laugh is almost contagious. Being quite social. Most of it being an act, being smart enough to know you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.
Finding this fantasy world as literal gold mine, full of resources his parents could use to highly improve their companies. He doesn't see any of them as people, he sees them all as nuisances that he would be more than happy to rid their world of. Not that he'll behave that way in front of them.
Traits
Loves to drink his fancy wine, you could consider him a borderline alcoholic.
Incredibly rich (if there's a new weapon or piece of technology, he will use it. His family won't let him have anything but the best.)
A scary good solider, very quick, strong and sharp. Very good with most weapons and using combat vehicles. His abilities are superior to an average soldier.
He detests the cold weather. He gets bad headaches in the cold weather.
Often humming to himself.
Is incredible at lying and manipulation. (which is why he loves doing it so much.)
Carries glasses with him, that he doesn't need solely because some women say he looks good in them.
History
His parents lived in the lap of luxury, one being a wealthy business owner, of multiple major construction, oil and diamond mining companies, while his mother had her own very popular and very expensive 'Valentine's' for men and women's clothing line. So ever since he was born, he was never told no. As he got the best food, from a professional chef, and was taught by a private tutor. He also had a professional maid to clean his room, but he often cleaned it himself. But that didn't mean he didn't spend time with his family, as his mother would often test clothing on him and often had him watch her create clothes, while the father often took him fishing every other weekend on their motorboat. The only thing he didn't have was a younger sibling, which he wanted a little brother. Mainly because he felt very alone. As his father kept him away from the poor folk and even some of the richer folk because they we're far too snobbish in his mother's words. So he didn't have many friends, and he very quickly over the year got used to being alone, with the occasional hired company. He enjoyed spending time with his parents more than anyone else. Loving and respecting them a lot, finding his mother to making the most beautiful clothes in the world and his father the most brilliant, got his desire for wine as his father would often let him have a sip every time he asked for one.
When he became old enough to be legally allowed to drive, thought that didn't stop him from doing it multiple times before then. He would often drive out and spoil women on dates. Going on a date with a new women every week at least. He made his own friends, throwing his charm and money around without hesitation. Though he never really made any real personal connections and it only made him dislike people in general. He would often have sex, even a few times of the same sex just because he could. Because it provided him with some company, and some shallow pleasure. But nothing he did really made him happy, he felt as if he had no true calling in life.
Until that day, When he learned of the GATE incident, he was instantly drawn to the news, being quite curious. As was both of his parents as they wondered. What kind of materials, and what kind of resources do they have in another world? Just imagine what we could do with them! They asked their son, to become a solider and to go to the new world and make them proud. They had connections with someone in the military that could make him shoot up in ranks quite easily and they'd make sure he had the best equipment. With that offer in his head, at a chance to do something unique and something to make his parents proud of him. He immediately agreed and became a solider. Which after a few tests they learned he was already great at it, excelling at basic and more advanced training. Completing it in half the time most did.
It didn't take him long to raise in the ranks. Becoming known for his skill and also more infamous for his personality. As they called him, Donovan "The Friendly" for his very false happy social personality. As it didn't take long for him to make enemies, but they weren't stupid enough to outright suggest anything of the sort. His superior's in the army were highly considering a leader position for him only holding back due to their uncertainly of how loyal he actually is... |
55,933 | 1,532 | 20 | 589 | 2,821 | LUCIO DANTE
The graven quiet of the Imperial Palace's South Wing was broken by a terse rapping upon a heavy, wooden door. Zmeyj Vladis, Knight-Commander of the Imperial Fourth Legion (colloquially known as the Shadow of Vostoroy), stood uncomfortably outside the chamber which he had just knocked upon. Despite the late hour, the senior knight stood in his dress uniform, the traditional black and midnight blue of the Fourth Legion. As a respected veteran, Vladis had accomplished much in his years of service, both as a knight and commander of his legion. Reconnaissance, espionage and unconventional warfare were the Fourth's specialties, though their existence was something like a state secret. As far as the enemies of Imperia were aware, there was no Fourth Legion.
"Enter," sounded a resounding voice from the other side of the door.
Vladis swallowed, suddenly realizing that his throat had gone dry, and entered the chamber. The quarters were impressive; a large table for dining (though covered in plans and reports), a small library of scrolls and books, a private bath chamber, and countless trophies from innumerable battles and campaigns. Bright crimson and shining gold filled the room, in heraldry and drapery both. Not far from the door, near one of the south-facing windows, stood the man that Vladis had come to see. He stood a head taller than any man that Vladis had ever met, and his very form seemed to radiate power and magnificence. He was Lord-Commander of the Imperial Military, the legendary Angel of Death, the immortal and unconquerable Lucio Dante.
And here Vladis was, meeting him in his private chambers, while the man was dressed in his bedclothes. The two had met before, though it was in the presence of the Emperor and several other Knight-Commanders. Dante had presided over the meeting, merely a formality to discuss logistics and minor strategy, though for such a simple occasion he was dressed in the full, golden regalia for which he was widely known. Vladis had never seen the man outside of his armor, much less met him alone and in secrecy. He was clad in simple woolen bed-robes (dyed deep crimson, of course), barefoot and without any adornment. Dante turned from gazing solemnly out the window to face Vladis, allowing the Knight-Commander a good look at his superior. While rumor held that Dante was as old as the Empire itself, and sure enough neither Vladis nor any of his colleagues could remember a time before Dante's command, only now did he believe it. The man looked ancient, his hair white as snow, deep ravines etched into his face, and a distinctly tired look in his deep, red eyes. He did not look weak or frail, his body still mighty and strong, but never the less he looked to be a man that had seen more years and far more battles than the gods had intended for him.
"Lord-Commander." Vladis dropped his head and placed his fist over his heart in a salute as soon as Dante had turned his venerable gaze to him.
"Your report, Ser Vladis?" Dante asked in a voice that echoed richly from the walls. Vladis could not help it, but a shiver ran through him as he heard the Lord-Commander speak. It was a sound like war-drums, or metal being beaten upon an anvil.
Wasting no more time with formalities, Vladis retrieved the papers tucked under his arm, and glanced at them again before summarizing: "Yes, milord. The attack was carried through exactly as planned. The Seventh Legion's Tenth Auxiliary Company assaulted the invader's position at nightfall hours ago, under the command of Marquis Sigard. They were wiped out roughly an hour ago. My scouts returned to me within the hour. As expected, the invaders' military strength is staggering, but it is not insurmountable. They have no detectable mages among their number, and no defense against magic. Their defensive strategy relies heavily on fortified positions, though their infantry is highly mobile." Dante said nothing merely rubbing his chin thoughtfully as his eyes became distant. "I will leave the full report with you, milord."
"Very well." Dante gestured to his dining table, already overflowing with paperwork, and Vladis placed the documents on a mostly-clear space. "Excellent work, Ser Vladis. I will have greater need of you and your Legion in the future; stay vigilant."
"Ever vigilant, ever faithful." Vladis answered with the traditional motto of the Fourth Legion. Though many in his legion prescribed to a different code: "Always watching, never trusting."
Though his expression still seemed troubled, the Lord-Commander nodded at this, and made a motion somewhere between a salute and a dismissal. "Good. That will be all."
"Very well, milord." Vladis saluted again and departed Dante's chamber, shutting the heavy door behind him.
Dante paced about his chamber, deep in thought. He idly glanced back to his windows, and noted that the grey light of dawn was beginning to creep over the horizon. In a motion that had become routine to him, Dante drew heavy, red curtains down over his windoes, leaving only the dim light of his few lanterns that glittered against his many gilded trophies and artworks. Feeling slightly overwhelmed, Dante stopped his pacing to stand before the shrine to the gods in the corner of his chamber. Dropping to his knees in a stance of piety, Dante prostrated himself before the gods in prayer. He prayed for guidance in these troubled times, and he prayed for strength. Strength for himself, and strength for Imperia. | LUCIO DANTE
"He today who sheds his blood with me shall stand as my brother, eternal."
-Diego Cervantes, the Spear of Aquilonia
Name
Lucio Dante
Nicknames
Lord-Commander of the Imperial Military, the Angel of Death, Hammer of the Emperor, the Blood of Aquilonia
Age
Roughly 1,100
Gender
Male
Race
Vampire
Kingdom
Imperia, Vassal-City of Aquilonia
Appearance
To the citizens and enemies alike of Imperia, Lord-Commander Dante is an implacable and awe-inspiring figure. A tremendous man that stands nearly seven feet high, he is never seen in public unless clad in ornate regalia. Widely known for donning the golden Armor of Saint Lucas, his personal raiment of crimson and gold is known as Angelo Testarossa. Such is the might of Dante's magic that he seems eternally cloaked in the light of his Iron Halo, and he is known to soar on angelic, ivory wings that ceaselessly bleed through their feathers. In private company, Dante wears simple robes of red and white, and keeps his face uncovered. His many years are clear in his features, as his long, fine hair has turned completely white, and the lines of centuries of warfare are etched into his face. Even so, he has an ethereal, otherworldly beauty with chiseled features, ivory skin, eyes like rubies and long, white fangs. Dante often adorns himself with writings of scripture, golden medallions, mementos of his fallen comrades, and other such trinkets, and displays his personal heraldry (a drop of blood framed by alabaster wings) on many of his belongings.
Equipment
Armor of Saint Lucas: the inherited armor of the previous Lord-Commander of the Imperial Military, fitted to meet Dante's heroic size. Burnished gold in color, the armor is crafted to display a sculpted, statuesque physique, complete with a death-mask cast into an eternal warcry. A masterwork of artifice, the armor has all the strength of steel at far less weight, allowing the agile Dante to weave through battle as he is known to do.
Angelo Testarossa: Dante's personal armor, more ceremonial in design but just as practical in battle as the Armor of Saint Lucas. Red steel, inlaid with gold filigree, the armor is dense and heavy, but lends terrific protection against enemy arms. A man without Dante's strength would be unable to move in such armor, but the Lord-Commander is an unstoppable juggernaut when on the charge in this raiment.
Aquila: the legendary Spear of Aquilonia for which Deigo Cervantes, Commander of the Eighth Legion, was famed. A masterwork spear, gold in color and emblazoned with the heraldry of ancient Aquilonia, it is a priceless work of art as much as it is a deadly weapon.
Sangue Tenebre: the personal weapon of Lord-Commander Dante, commissioned prior to his first campaign as Commander of the First Legion. A greatsword gilded in Dante's heraldry, and built to withstand his tremendous strength. The crimson blade of the sword is of a special construction, able to cut through steel and flesh with equal ease, and moves through the air at such speed that the metal seems to sing.
Magic
Dante is a noted master of the Book of Blessing, though with the remarkable exception that he cannot use his magic to heal. Unknown to most, this handicap is an extension of his vampiric nature, as such monsters cannot create life. Even so, Dante makes use of holy magic to smite his enemies with purifying light, carry himself aloft on angelic wings that weep martyr's blood, and protect himself from enemy magics with the use of a luminous "Iron Halo" that surrounds him.
Personality
By most standards, Dante is a reserved and withdrawn fellow. He speaks little, though when he does so, his words are utterly profound. Personal glory matters little to the Angel of Death, as he has been honored enough for several lifetimes over his many years. Quiet professionalism and dignity surround him, but he is not standoffish. Though to many he is a legendary and unapproachable figure, he cares strongly for those under his command, and is a calm and patient listener. Humility and composure are his hallmark traits, as his many years have brought him great wisdom and inner strength.
However, one should not mistake his reserved nature for submissiveness. Dante holds his honor and his values strongly and uncompromisingly, and woe befall those who threaten his faith, his king, or his country. He is not afraid to speak out against convention or authority when he knows he must. Though his vampiric nature is vicious and bestial, Dante keeps his darkest urges well-contained. Even in the heat of battle, Dante's fury is cold and tranquil; viciously rending his foes without undue malice or enjoyment. That is not to say that his inhuman instincts are easily ignored, as they press against his mind at all hours, and it is his supreme willpower that allows him to retain control.
Traits
Master strategist, veteran of hundreds of military campaigns.
Unparalleled warrior, with centuries of experience in battle.
Master of the Blessed Book, though unable to use healing spells.
Imbued with unnatural strength and vitality, as well as immortality through vampirism.
History
Vampires are strange and reclusive creatures that lurk in the underbelly of many societies throughout Deaus. They came into being an eon ago through the bargaining with daemons for the gift of immortality. These monsters creep through the night and drink the blood of men to perpetuate their unholy lives. The closest that vampires come to living openly are the Sangue Nostra of the city of Aquilonia. As old as the venerated city itself, the Sangue Nostra forms a hierarchy of the criminal underworld of the city, keeping crime tightly controlled, but also under their protection. Lucio Dante was born as yet another daemon-blooded scion of the Sangue Nostra some eleven-hundred years ago. Like most vampiric youths, he was plagued by nightmares for his first years as his otherwise human flesh came to terms with the unholy potency in his veins. Dante suffered more than most, and often had to be locked away in a coffin during his daylight sleeping hours as his nightmares were vicious and caused him to lash out physically. Often he would be unlocked from his casket to find that he had clawed the inside of the lid unti his hands had gone bloody. The elders feared that the child would not survive his first decade, such was his torment.
However, Dante held strong by the inspiration of a childhood hero. Diego Cervantes, a famed knight and leader of Imperia's Eighth Legion (known as the Sons of Aquilonia), was the idol of a young Dante. Cervantes, called the Spear of Aquilonia, was the victor of many campaigns against savage monsters and foreign invaders. An avatar of chivalry and justice, Dante kept faith in his neophyte years by aspiring to become such a hero. Wearing a hood, mask and robes to shield himself from the sun, Dante ventured out one day to meet his idol, and upon finding Cervantes in the city plaza, demanded to be made his squire. Cervantes laughed, asking what knight would wear a mask, thus keeping him from taking rightful credit for his mighty deeds. Dante replied that he would not fight for glory or gold, but to protect and inspire the masses. Impressed by his answer, Cervantes took on the young man as his squire, all the while ignorant of his true nature.
For years Dante grew up under the watchful guidance of the Spear of Aquilonia. He continued to wear a mask and heavy robes, though donned a full helm and armor in battle, and so years passed without Cervantes ever seeing his squire's face. Dante learned quickly, and his unholy strength made him a force to be reckoned with in battle. His greatest issue laid in controlling his temper, which was fueled by his vampiric bloodlust. Even so, Dante eventually was knighted by Cervantes, and was considered a true warrior of Imperia and Aquilonia. However, some short years after, a devastating campaign against a foul daemon horde nearly destroyed the Eighth Legion. Cervantes, as well as much of the legion's senior leadership, had been killed by the campaign's end. Be it through luck, skill or divine providence, the young Ser Dante was the senior-most knight left in the legion, and so was appointed by default as the Commander of the Eighth Legion. Such an inauspicious appointment was seen as a grave omen by the remainder of the legion, who feared that their ancestral banners would soon be retired forever. Deep in mourning for his lost master, Dante took up the man's famous spear, Aquila, and took the angelic wings of his heraldry and made them part of his own; adding a drop of blood to show the sacrifice given for the good of the people.
As the Eighth Legion was slowly rebuilt, Knight-Commander Dante looked inward to resolve his own personal struggles. He would not due his legion justice if he continued to be ruled by his instincts. Dante took to the church, spending much time learning scripture and meditation from the priests and chaplains. It was in these long hours of inner reflection that Dante discovered the Book of Blessings. Seeing it as antithesis to his vampiric nature, he took up the study and practice of holy magic, hoping it would lead him away from his darker urges. Dante took well to learning these magics, which also aided him in learning to curb his urges and impulses. By slight degrees he grew less brash and became a stronger man for it, and so his legion became stronger. Dante led numerous successful campaigns of retribution against daemons and other such monsters over his centuries of service commanding the Eighth Legion. His vampiric nature had extended his lifespan well beyond that of a normal man, and he was still loathe to share his dark secret with his soldiers. He explained away his longevity by claiming that his prowess in holy magic had extended his lifespan; a rare feat but not one unheard of. This simple lie has protected the secret of his blood even to this day.
The might of the ancient Knight-Commander Dante eventually reached the ears of the Emperor of Imperia. Upon the Emperor's invitation, Dante passed on command of the Eighth Legion to a worthy successor, and went on to lead the prestigious First Legion: the Hammer of the Empire. His continued success as the legion's commander brought him even further prestige and accolades, and he began personal correspondence with the Emperor. Dante's true nature as a Vampire eventually could no longer be hidden from the Emperor, and though the revelation was shocking, it was not the end of Dante's service. Seeing the man to be faithful to the gods and to Imperia, the Emperor decreed that only his family and their closest advisers would know of his true heritage, and by them would be considered an honorary human. Eternally grateful to the royal family, Dante continued to serve them dutifully, and eventually his fame and prowess surpassed the prestige of the First Legion. Dante was appointed as Lord-Commander of the Imperial Military, the highest military official in the Empire, and the direct adviser to the Emperor on martial matters. For hundreds more years Lord-Commander Dante has retained this tremendous honor, lending his expertise to many Emperors and continuing to venture onto the battlefield to lead his men from the front lines. |
55,934 | 1,532 | 21 | 777 | 1,174 | Nikolas Maxwell
Earlier that day
It was crowed in the grand plaza, people tightly packed in all here to hear the emperors speech. The feelings of worry and concern hung heavy in the air. The news of these invaders had a lot of people of worked up which was understandable. But in his years of life and unlife had lead him to think there was more to it then people simply invading, an army simply doesn't invade for the sake of it. But whatever the reason it wasn't Nikolas concern was a fat short old man standing next to him was all that mattered him right now.
For that fat old man was paying Nikolas to protect him. The old man being some minor noble, locked in some feud with some other minor noble. Nikolas's charge worried his rival would send assassins to deal with him. Nikolas didn't really care either way, the noble was willing to meet his price and paid on time and in full each week. Not to mention the noble provided with Nikolas with food and board. Not that he really needed them food these days food had no flavour. Although the drink he provided was good enough to get him drunk after several dozen mugs. As to how it got him drunk Nikolas had no idea. Maybe it was the god of death cutting him a little slack and giving something he could enjoy like he had in life.
Whatever it was he had to be careful while drinking given if he got to drunk he might let it slip he was not alive and was only still in the world thought powerful magic. That the god of death incarnates had placed on him. The living always seemed to fixate on the fact he undead and looked like a zombie. The fact his mind was still his and he didn't mindlessly attack people and eat their flesh.
So here he stood in the plaza surrounded in by the living, dressed in his armour his hand resting on the hilt of his sword as he watched for threats to his charge. A task if he wasn't being paid for he rather be anywhere else. Whatever the emperor had to say didn't interest Nikolas given this wasn't the first time he had heard an emperor make a speech. Still given he have no choice but to listen he paid it some attention.
Once it was over Nikolas noticed a lot of little arguments break out along with a few small fights. Sadly for Nikolas his charge got into an argument with a group of young men next to him. An argument Nikolas quickly had to step in the middle of with his sword out and raised.
"Back off you lot, that's your only warning." Nikolas stated in a threatening tone. Stepping in front of his charge. The young men looking Nikolas over once before backing down seemingly unwilling to pick a fight with someone was was armed and armoured. Or maybe it was the guards that already began to move into the crowd to break up any fights.
Sheathing his blade Nikolas heard his charge tell him he was headed to the inn they where staying at Nikolas nodding once as he turned to follow the minor lord. Unaware that he and his charge where being followed by a group several well armed assassins and a pair of magic user What would happen next would leave Nikolas out of job.
Later that night
The rest of the day had been a real mess for Nikolas, as he now sat in the inn, jobless staring at his 3rd cup of cheap ale. The old minor lord had been kicked by a barge of ice spikes, while several assassins kept Nikolas distracted in melee combat. Even as he cut down a couple of the assassins he couldn't stop the magic users form killing the lord. Once the lord was dead the assassin back off while the magic users distracted Nikolas before retreating as well. Leaving the undead warrior alone with with his now dead charge.
The fight had drawn in the guards who questioned Nikolas for several hours before he was able to convince them he wasn't the guilty party. Only letting him go, when the assassins where discovered to part of guild that had been causing trouble in the empire for sometime. A guild Nikolas had tangled with a few times so learning that wasn't surprised they had let him live, well as close as he could get.
Still it didn't help him now, as he needed work again at some point. The coin he had earned of the minor lord wouldn't last for ever.
"So back to square one. Been a while since I've in the Imperial city without work. Hopefully my what little reputation I've maintained as reached here. Oh well I've got a few day's that lord paid for a room and I plan on using it. No point on letting go to waste. At least the innkeeper didn't mind me staying in the room." he thought downing another mug ale which was a little hard as he was still in his armour. So he split some of it down the front of it, but at this point he didn't care.
"Another drink!" he told a passing barmaid the undead soldier words slurred oh so slightly, his plan was to drink the night away while he worked out what he'd do with himself. He knew there was work out there it was just a matter of finding it. But Nikolas hoped it just fall into his lap and save him the trouble of looking. | ANAT
My Hippocratic oath? To keep my a comrades alive. Be it healing them or killing you.
-Anat.
Name
Anat Tauret
Nicknames
Ant (your all welcome to come up with your own ones for her if you like.)
Age
30
Gender
Female
Homeworld
Fuso
Rank
Sergeant
Role
Field Medic
Appearance
Anat stands around 6'1ft (185.9 cm).
Anat has painted a big red crude + on the back of her armor and a smaller red + the front of her armor on the the left side of the chest plate. She as a tattoo on her upper left arm with 2 crossed swords under a helmet with word 96th KNIGHT under it.
Equipment
1x Type 108 Automatic Carbine
1x M3P-4 10mm Pistol
1x Type-0 Warblade (the word knight is engraved into the handle)
1x MXR Drone (the word Sparks is painted on it along with small red plus)
1x Field Hospital Medical Kit
Personality
Once a nice friendly girl hardened by nearly a decade of military service. Anat tends to keep her true emotions and thoughts to herself unless she dealing with someone she trusts. Never really getting close, saying a lot without saying whats really on her mind. This is simply down to the fact as someone who has fought in battle she has seen people she calls friends die. Something in the past has really bothered her, so tends to keep people emotionally distant. Being someones friend without being a friend. Until someone proves they know how not to die at least for a fight or two. Is when she really starts thinking about trusting someone beyond being a fellow solider.
Once Anat calls someone a friends she calls them that for life and will share her feelings and thoughts openly if asked or if she thinks it needed. Once a friend the only what to make Anat hate you is to break her trust something not easily done once gained. She is not a person who likes taking charge that often although she is skilled enough of a solider and fought enough battles she could lead a squad if she wanted to. But she as no interest in doing so she is left with no other choice. She prefers taking orders rather then giving them.
Although carefree and cheery like many Fusans Anat as quite a nasty temper on her. While not overly short she as habit of snapping at people that do something to her she doesn't like. When Anat gets pissed off at something her first reaction is the urge to punch what ever as pissed her off. If she can't do that she'll abuse it verbally if that's not possible she'll starts muttering away to herself for a little bit before claiming down.
On the battle field Anat like many Fusans level headed and clam, even in the most dire of situations. The only time things start to bother her is if she someone she was trying to treat dies on her. It is the once thing she can't stand and bothers her deeply even if logically she can't save everyone she treats. When it comes to treating people Anat as always been told she as little in a beside manner and has threatened to kill her charges more then once if they complain about pain. Not that she would this is merely an empty threat to make them shut up and only dose it if simply telling them to shut it doesn't work.
When treating someone a more gentle side of Anat comes out as she will her best not to hurt her charges.
Outside of medical use that gentle side is kept buried for all but inmate moments, when she is by her lonesome or a really close friend.
Anat is fairly social but likes to have her alone time. Where she can partake in one of her hobbies or lose herself in some novel. She is analytical thinker and loves to play devils advocate. At times a more promiscuous side of her shows itself. She also as a strong scenes of pride when it comes to her medical skills and knowledge.
Traits
Detailed Medical Knowledge
Hates 95% of Terran's (She'd shoot them if they where not bothers and sister in arms.)
Great at sewing and drawing. ( her down time hobbies)
Left Handed
Highly skilled at melee combat and loves it. (If she wasn't a field medic she would specialize in it.)
Over prospective of her Drone. (Don't touch it. No really don't touch her drone.)
HATES colour purple.
Afraid of the dark.
Talks to herself, often on what she is currently thing about. Sometimes argues with herself when trying to deiced on something.
Is not a fan of those form Khorenheim. (The sticks up those guys butts have sticks up there butts.)
Loves reading.
Starts getting bored when she stuck doing the same thing day in day out.
History
Born on the world Fuso in the heart of its capital city Anat lead a good childhood and rarely wanted for anything her parents easily provided for her. Born to a pair of doctors Anat spent a lot of her young childhood in the hospital where her parents worked. Watching them work as much as she was allowed finding what they did most interesting. Unaware that this interest would grow in to passion and later a her going off to get her qualification as a doctor.
Beside that Anat had a fairly normal childhood her only complaint she spent to much time in hospitals which as a kid she found rather dull but as she grew older and started to love medicine learned to appreciate it. Getting to learn form the doctors when it didn't interfere with their duties. By the time she was old enough to be left on her own Anat kept coming of her own free will. Having begun the basics of medicine in her free time under the hospitals doctors. Reading medical texts simply because she found it fun.
By the time she had finished her schooling and was ready for higher education Anat already knew what she wanted to do and made sure to do everything to get in to medicine. Her hard work paying off end completing her education in the field of medicine. She then found herself working in a small medical clinic which at first was fun. But after a year she grew weary of treating people with basic illnesses and or minor injures finding the life to static too repetitive. Still wanting to practices medicine while making life a little more interesting she ended up joining the military. How she came to joining the military she can't recall but she dose know started as a night on the town and ended in drunken brawl with a military officer that she apparently held her own in. The night ended up her apparently signing up but Anat doesn't remember.
Given she couldn't quit once signed up Anat decided to see where Military life would take her, know they always needed a doctors and field medics.
After several months of basic training Anat grew to enjoy the idea of fighting while trying to patching someone up, knowing these people would actually appreciate her work. So the moment she completed basic training and was allowed to apply for extra training specializing as field medic she jumped at the chance. After a little more training she was recognized as a field medic and assigned to a 8th Fusan Regiment and placed in the 96th division called the Fusan Knights for their skill in melee combat. (I'm not good with how military units are broken down so correct me if I'm wrong.)
The first week in her new unit was difficult with other solider picking on the new member in a playful teasing way. But after several week and a set of training drills interplanetary training drills High Terran unit they grew to like Anat and she earned the nick name Ant for reasons she can not fathom. Not long the drills her unit was deploy to world near Fuso that it got into a small war with. The war was mostly skirmish's, over couple of months several larger battles did break out and Anat's unit was right in the middle of it. Her first major battle Anat as forgotten but she recalls the fear and adrenaline everything happening so fast she had just followed orders and somehow pulled though.
It was the third larger battle did Anat save the life of her commanding officer who had gotten himself badly injured. How exactly she doesn't recall but she apparently she made an impression as she was given a drone. After year the Union decided to step in end the conflict it ending peacefully for the most part. For a time Anat was sent home for some R and R. During that time she heard of what happened Ennedi and soon after the call for volunteer for a new unit being formed to go though the gate. Finding the idea bizarre and she wanted to see for herself so volunteered.
Nikolas Maxwell
Never upset a god, you may end paying for it for a long time. If not you but someone you love.
-Nikolas
Name
Nikolas Maxwell
Nicknames
Maxwell (open to suggestions)
Age
Exact age Unknown but over 350
Gender
Male
Race
Formally Human
Kingdom
Unknown
Appearance Nikolas tends to keep himself covered at all times. Wearing his armour as much a possible when around others. If he has to take it off he will wear whatever will cover his flesh and eyes. In the terms of headgear he wears hoods and anything that covers his face with whatever he can get his hands on. When he is around those who don't know what he is. When his around people who know what he is and don't mind. Nikolas doesn't cover up so much and at time can be seen shirtless.
Equipment
An ancient blade that Nikolas as carried with him for so long he wouldn't know what to do if he lost it. A blade forged with long for gotten methods and enchanted with magic allowing it to remain as strong and sharp as the day it was made. While no sharper then a normal sword this blade doesn't lose it edge as it is used and is more effect against the undead.
If unsheathed in a dark area the blade glows a sickly green colour when in Nikolas's hands. When in the hands of the living the sword glows bright white.
The item the houses Nikolas soul. Unlike a normal phylactery this one can only be destroyed with high level magic form the book of blessing. It can be broken which for a time will render Nikolas decayed body mindless for a time. But unless destroyed by high level magic form the book of blessing it will reform after an hour or two.
Like this but glows a light blue.
Your basic run of the mill steel armour with no form of magic. Crafted for Nikolas by a master blacksmith at great cost who is aware of his condition. The armour is very well made and fairly durable. The armour is quite heavy and slows Nikolas's movements a little but provides good protection against blades and arrows. The armour was custom made for Nikolas so is fitted for him and made in the style of his armour while he was alive making it unique.
Magic
None
Personality
Nikolas is an understanding individual and tries not to judge people by there looks and hates when people they do. Being undead he is a little wary of the living and tries to stay out of the middle of large crowds unless necessary. Also because of his undead nature he dislikes talking about himself and when he dose tend to outright lie or tell tails back form when he was alive. Although he lies about himself Nikolas is not a very good liar, but it never stops him form trying as it better then telling someone the truth.
For those who become aware of his true nature and don't try to destroy him Nikolas often make the effort to become friends with. If he manages that he become very open about some of his life and will help out those he calls friend. He is also willing to give advice to those he calls a friends, although it may not always be the best advice.
Over all Nikolas is a very clam person rarely letting his emotions get the better of him, well aware what might happen if he dose. He is the type who doesn't back down form a challenge when one is presented to him normally trying the direct approach when trying solve a problem. If that fails Nikolas will simply keep trying until he come up with another solution or until it direct approach works.
At time Nikolas feels the urge to consume the flesh of the living, although he is unsure why this urge is very powerful and difficult to control. When dealing with this he drives everyone around him away and tries to be alone or spend time with his own kind. On rare occasions he can become a mindless almost like his soul is trying to leave the realm of the living but can't. During these times Nikolas's body can and often dose become aggressive attacking any living thing near him. Turning on friend and foe alike. While aware of the issue Nikolas can't do anything to stop it, but is aware when the everything starts to fell distance he need to get away form everyone and lock himself away.
Traits
Being undead is vulnerable to the book of blessing.
Doesn't need to eat, sleep, drink or breath. (benefits of being dead)
Doesn't get tired.
As no sense of touch or taste. (This took a while to get used to)
Can talk to other undead.
Likes being in crypts and graveyards. (his home away form home)
Immune to poison.
his right knee tends to crick when he walks and its cold. (old bones don't like walking in the cold)
Loves drinking as oddly enough he can get drunk for some reason. (Magic is a funny thing no)
Master Swordsman (you live for over 100 years and try not master at least one weapon)
A great hero in life Nikolas was once a soldier for hire famed for being one of the best able to best any beast in the land. This however is in an Era all but forgotten Nikolas exploits no longer remembered by the living.
But in life he was a man to behold and man who was willing to fight for anyone who could afford his price. Gold and glory where what this man lived for and both he had. It wasn't until he was sent to kill a necromancer that had taken up residence near a small village and the locals where scared of what the magic user might do to them.
The villagers some how managed to pay his price. So Nikolas set of on a hunt to slay the necromancer. What little did he know, the job would be one he would never complete until much later. Over the course of many months on his hunt of this necromancer and several encounters with his pray he eventually fell for for his target. Over another several months the two somehow got close and fell in love. Nikolas kept "hunting" the Necromancer only to keep spending time with her. But despite there feelings they still fought trying to kill each other. Nikolas cutting down many of her undead to reach her only to...*cough*
This lasted for several years until Nikolas fell extremely ill and died before anything could be done to help him. But despite that he died a happy man. Leaving everything to his love.
Upset over the lose of her lover and refusing to let him go. The necromancer who Nikolas had called Nena out of affection stole his body form his family crypt and burnt it to the ground roughly a month his death.
Form there Nena used her magic to preserve his body as she began to work on ways to bring her lover back. Knowing she could easily bring him back as a mindless zombie under her control. But that wasn't what she wanted. Nena wanted to bring Nikolas back with his mind intact with a physical body completely free form control. But such power was beyond her and so she began to research and experiment taking many lives and souls caring little for who they belonged to.
Sadly for Nena not matter how hard she tried she could never develop a spell to bring her lover back, each failure pushing Nena into madness and after several months Nena had all but lost her mind. Driven solely by her original goal
Her actions though didn't go unnoticed and the god of death began to grow annoyed with the necromancer who constantly was perverting the rules of life and death. For a time the god had let her actions slide knowing one day she would die, but her research and experimentation bore some fruit as she made herself a lich and in unlife continued her never ending research. Having become madly obsessed with her goal.
Now furious with the necromancer and wanting to stop Nena the god of death sent their incarnate to deal with situation. The incarnate deciding to bring Nena long dead love back to life this his mind completely intact hoping that would quell the necromancer. However what happened next the incarnate never could have predicted. Not long after being brought back Nikolas had saw what Nena become. Sad to see his love fall so low he stuck her down by smashing her phylactery. An act the ended his loves unlife. But as her soul started to slip into the after life. The god of deaths incarnate appeared, quite surprised by the situation.
The god of death wanted Nena soul to punish her for perverting the rules of life and death. Not wanting his love to punished Nikolas begged the god of death to let Nena pass into the after life. In exchange he would walk the in the world of the living helping those in need it until he had paided the price for the lives and souls Nena had taken and whatever else the god thought was necessary.
For whatever reason the god of death accepted the deal and to insure Nikolas would fulfil his end of the deal the gods incarnate preserve his body with powerful magic so it would not further decay but could not be reintegrated. The incarnate placed then Nioklas's soul inside a phylactery. A phylactery that was nearly indestructible, so only those gifted in the book of blessing stood a chance at destroying it.
So Nikolas began his quest to help living, but trying to help the living is hard when your a corpse. Despite Nikolas best efforts anyone alive that meet him and became aware of his nature became afraid of him. Although Nikolas dose his best to be understanding about it. At times he finds at time all he wants to do is consume their tasty flesh. But even so he will not rest until he has paid of he loves debt and is allowed to join her in the afterlife. So in unlife he works as a soldier for hire once again using the money he makes to maintain a carefully crafted persona and help those in need. Hoping that one day the god of death will allow him to die and rejoin his love in the afterlife.
NOTE: Nena is somehow the god of death. DO NOT FORGET THIS.
NPC
Name
Elizabeth Laryn
Nicknames
Liz, Specter
Age
29
Gender
Female
Role
Scout
Personality
Driven by her duty to serve the Union. Liz dose whatever she is ordered to the best of her abilities. She is completely loyal to the union and a devout to the church of Terra. Liz is not afraid to sacrifice herself in to fulfill her duty. In personal situation Liz is a loner sticking to herself and contently minding her own business. When she dose interacting with someone she come of as warm and friendly but very awkward almost like she as not interacted with people before. Around her superiors she is very serious.
NPC
Name
Natasha Korshunov
Nicknames
Dozer
Age
39
Gender
Female
Role
Ambassadorial Bodyguard
Personality
A woman who knows what she wants and is not afraid to take it. Natasha is a loud mouth the simply ooze's confidence and rightly so. This woman as fought more battles in internal union wars then some would in there life time. She is loyal to the union and ambassador Muhfeld and in a rough way caring of others she respects. Just don't piss her off, Natasha is lethal with her fist's and even more so with her twin custom made fisto's and she not afraid to use them. Also Nastasha is the type just doesn't know when to give up and would rather take a roll of the dice then play it safe. Although she may not look or act it she has a genius level intellect.
NPC
Name
Moskvin Korshunov
Nicknames
Daka, Mos
Age
26
Gender
Male
Role
Heavy weapon/ Demo specialist Ambassadorial Bodyguard
Personality
At first glance he's dumber then a box of hammers. Due to his simple way of speaking an understanding. But what Moskvin lacks in books smarts he makes up for it in his sheer stubbornness and knowledge of things that go Kaboom and heavy weapons. He is the right hand of a Ambassador Muhlfeld when he wants someone day completely and utterly fucked. He is completely loyal to Ambassador Muhfeld and would die to protect him. Anyone else can get fucked in fact he'd climb over the bodies of fall comrades or simple shove them out of the way at chance to fill enemies with enough lead to call someone a pencil. Moskvin as a very short temper and tends to hit things that upset him. He tends to get into a lot of fight with his sister but deep down he loves her to bits. Although he may not look it Moskvin is talented painter and loves animals. For some reason he never shows his face around others.
NPC
Name
Jurgen Muhfeld
Nicknames
None
Age
65
Gender
Male
Role
Ambassador
Personality
Claim and always well spoken. Jurgen at first glance is the very embodiment of the best refinement the Union has to offer. Truth be told he is man that always tries to get his way and is used to it. He is a man of a short temper along with some childish tendency's.
He is a man of great influence in parts of union and he's not afraid to throw the weight of his influence around to get his own way. He's not a fan of violence and prefers it not be used around him. Truth be told he just worried he'd have to get his hands dirty instead of someone else. Deep down though he truly thinks peace if the way forward.
He as a liking for the Korshunov siblings and used his leverage to get them assigned to him as bodyguards and the two have been working with him proudly for some time. He has used every favor he was owed to get him assigned to the 1st recon as an attachment wanting to one of the first to try negotiate with who ever dwell on the other side of the portal.
NPC
Name
Brain Corvus
Nicknames
Crow
Age
39
Gender
Male
Role
Quartermaster
Personality
A sly and cunning man who seems to appear in odd places. He is the type who always seem to acquire things and has no issue with selling said things for a "fair" price. Brain is very charismatic and is very good at prying information out of people with only a few words. People also seem to just naturally trust Brain and tell him things they might not others. He's a very skilled lie and often makes up stores that out of his month sound truthful. Brian is a yellow bellied coward and will always try to run form a fight, he is how ever not easily intimidated. |
55,935 | 1,532 | 22 | 2,208 | 1,061 | SMSgt. Helena "Hellcat" Vortzeria
“Unfortunately dear, you just missed her, she went to her bunker for some rest and I also was about to do the same.” the man said, with a seemingly friendly tone. Helena huffed in frustration. She'd hope to size up her new squad leader, but alas she was supposedly... tired. "Actually... what the hell.... 'she'? I was under the impression the leader was a dude... Well, it is Fuso, so who the hell knows what those crazy guys are up too...." Helena thought as she sized up her squadmate. He seemed decent enough, but Helena never trusted a smile from a Terran. Not after Operation Glorious Decent when she got the chillingly same friendly smile from a Terran officer that assured her they would be backed up by Terra's finest. As it turned out, "backing up" turned into, "You're our meat shield".
“Yeah, it's quite an atrocious sight isn't it, my name's Donovan, by the way. Yours?” he said, regarding the scene before them. Helena's helmet retracted, revealing her icy blue gaze, staring straight through the soldier of Terra before her. Sighing, she got out a pack of cigarettes and flicked one out, placing it in her mouth, before turning away from Donovan to look out over the massacre again.
"'Atrocious' wouldn't be the word I'd used to describe this, Pretty Boy, and I would start getting used to scenes like this." She paused and lit the cigarette, taking a puff before continuing. "Seems like our new enemy is using nothing but ancient weapons and strange powers to face us. Crazy bastards probably can't even comprehend the hell they've just released upon themselves." she paused, inhaling the relaxing smoke, blowing through her nose. "I'm Senior Master Sergeant Vortzeria, or just Sergeant Vortzeria if ya want. Of the 909th originally. You?" She asked, not particularly interested, but it seemed Helena had nothing better to do. On the inside, she couldn't help but smile a bit. "Well, besides the now present stench, I'd say this is starting to feel more like leave than a deployment. I actually have nothing better to do.... Huh..." she thought to herself, feeling for the first time in awhile, a little hopeful. | Helena Vortzeria
Up there, in the sky, the world is divided into bastards and suckers. Make your choice.
-Senior Master Sergeant Helena Vortzeria, 909th Airborne Assault
Name
Helena Vortzeria
Nicknames
Helena, Hellcat
Age
26
Gender
Female
Homeworld
Avalia
Rank
Senior Master Sergeant
Role
Assault Specialist. She's the one kicking down your door, jumping on top of you, and stabbing your face until it stops looking like a face.
Appearance
Nothing is particularly phenomenal about Helena's physical traits. She has a semi muscular build with brown hair and blue eyes. Despite military regulations, she keeps her hair somewhat long and usually wears it down and loose. In terms of her clothing out of combat, Helena keeps herself fairly neat and clean, always maintaining a sharp image to a reasonable degree.
Now, in combat, Helena wears the MK4 Ariel Assault Variant of the traditional Avalian exo-armor. The main difference between the suits, other than the slight difference in appearance, is an upgraded servo system built into the exo-skeleton of the suit. This means she can lift heavier objects than normally capable of and take longer to become exhausted. This makes this particular variant slightly heavier than others, yet as with the Avalians, it still maintains the ability of using boosters to allow long falls/jumps, or even short, sustained flights. Helena has modified her particular suit by upgrading her back mounted, forward facing boosters to allow her to gain short boosts of speed and increase her "long jump" arc.
Equipment
ARAMS 41 Assault Carbine, CQC Variant. Shorter barrel and carries a shotgun attachment.
M3P-4 10mm Pistol
RO-3 Omni Grenade... lots of them.
Flashbangs!
A Gurkha(Otherwise known as a "Kukri") Blade. A personal weapon (in more ways than one!).
Personality
Most could describe her attitude with one, simple word. "Pissed" Simply put, Helena never seems to be in a good, calm mood. More accuratly, one could describe Helena as, "The Avalian sterotype, that being, typically free matured, jumpy, and nearly suicidal bravery, pushed through a filter of absolute hatred and rage."
Off the battlefield, Helena is, for lack of a better term, a bit of a bitch. She'll be ruthlessly sarcastic and witty, calling people out on any kind of bullshit they try to fly past her. Often times she'll walk around base smoking, without a care in the world for anyone else's opinion.
On the battlefield, she is one of the fiercest motherfuckers out there. No hesitation, no mercy, no fear. To coin a term, one could easily see Helena as "Tactically Suicidal". She has absolutely no problem dieing on the battlefield, hell, it seems like she even wants to, desperately. However, she's not crazy/stupid either. For example, Helena will charge a machinegun nest, guns blazing, but only if she knows that there is a good enough chance she can take it down before her gun stops firing. Constantly, she bets her life, living on a knifes edge of odds, playing that game of Russian roulette, hoping, praying, that someday that one chamber with the bullet lands on her.
This is because, if one where to somehow tolerate her sarcastic, overcritical nature, they will find someone crying, someone calling for help. Helena has been not always been like this, and there are shards of a much kinder, much friendlier version of her lying around, deep inside. All it takes is someone to finally put her back together. For this to be seen, one must have the rare privilege of being in the presence of Helena when she is with her little sister.
Traits
Close Quarters Combat Specialist. And I can't stress this enough. Going toe to toe with Helena will mean certain death. No facy martial arts, no "honor" in fighing, just unreglated, utterly brutal hand-to-hand combat. She doesn't fight "for sport" for an important reason.
Licence Avalian Pilot
Can take a serious beating and still kick your ass
Swears.... a lot
Bit of a smug asshole
Absolutely loath people of Terra and Ennedi
Heavy Smoker, practically an alcoholic
Secretly loves ancient Classical music
Despises the "brainwashed masses" of the cult religion
History
Helena actually started out as a pretty charming gal. She was born into an agricultural floating island on Avalia and started off life with a happy family of crop dusters. Her mother flew a cargo plane airline between the island and a major city while her father flew his plane for farmers. Of course, her family wasn't particularly wealthy, but that never stopped them from trying to make the best of their situation.
However, as a wise man once said, "Life is a TV show of suffering, broken up by brief commercial breaks, and this one had been one long break, but now, we're back to our regularly scheduled program of suffering." First, Helena's mother lost her business when a larger airliner took over and ran the family business into the ground. While her father remained hopeful, the mother slowly began to descend into a pit of depression. That company had been the dream of Helena's mother, and now it was gone forever. It did not matter what her own children said, nothing changed and soon after, her mother disappeared all together. Thus Helena's father was left to take care of the family. However, despite his best efforts, he was forced to work himself to exhaustion, slowly chipping away at his health. Though by this time, Helena was of age to join the military, and decided she would support her family too by taking up the enticing offer to become an Airborne Soldier of the Union. The Airborne soldier is the shock trooper, the ones that usually die first in any major engagement. However, they were payed more than the average soldier, so she took the job, against her father's wishes.
At first, military life wasn't all that bad. Helena displayed plenty of natural talents for a soldier and had joined during a time of peace. It did not last, as one would expect, as she was soon called to action to deal with a rapidly growing "heretical" group on the fringe of Union territory. She was a deployed in the first wave via orbital drop pods. This would be later called the "Karia Conflict" as the group heretics turned out to be a larger, and better prepared for this assault than command had originally thought.
"You could look up in the sky every day for I think.... the first three... no.. uh, four, yeah, four months of the campaign and just watch as debris from our ships rained down on the planet. Just think, millions of fucking tons of metal, electronics, men, ect, falling from orbit. It was one hell of a spectacle. Disturbingly beautiful if I'm honest. I... I think that actually helped me get through that fucking hell hole... Just looking up from a muddy fox hole and seeing that tragic event.... It just made me glad to think those Terran bastards that put us here were now burning up in the atmosphere thanks to their 'superiority'." -Helena's description of the opening days of the Karia Conflict
The Terran commanders of the fleet had sent the Avalian 909th Airborne Assault Division to soften up ground targets so the regular Terran infantry could land easily and march right over the heretics who dare opposed them. However, after launching the first waves of drop pods, they unexpectedly had flew their small assault fleet right into an orbital minefield, well disguised as the asteroids that filled the belt that orbited Karia. The heretics had waited for the perfect time then simply obliterated the small fleet, stranding the remnants of the 909th on their planet. Despite this, the 909th didn't completely break. They held out, always remaining mobile and never letting the enemy encircle them. In fact, by the time the reinforcement fleet arrived, Karia's forces had been reduced considerably. However, it was brutal, dirty fighting. Many conflicts were ambushes set by either side, or merciless raids on military and civilian targets alike. Helena survived it all and was promoted thanks to that, but when she came home on leave, she was a different woman. She won't talk about the specifics, but her brutality is somewhat infamous among veteran members of the 909th. Helena went on to participate in a few more operations before she was recommended by her commander to join the 1st Recon. Her commander thought that a mission as equally outlandish as it was.... peaceful even, would be a good change in pace.
Yur a Ultrasmurf. (idk..........) |
55,936 | 1,532 | 23 | 2,224 | 2,424 | Cpl. Donovan “The Friendly” Valentine
Growing ever fatigued and annoyed as the seconds ticked by. Feeling like minutes to him by how little he wanted to be around. Donovan struggled to not just leave them both immediately, without responding. But he convinced himself, someone with such high class would converse even with the insignificant ones. He had to keep up his appearances, continuing to have a genuine smile and act interested in what this women had to say. Being able to fake sincerity better than anyone he knew. Realizing what he must of said previously, his rather embarrassing slip of the tongue was because this women was making him think of that girl. Only confirming how much he desperately needed a drink and to escape. Donovan cleared his throat a bit as he scratched his nose briefly taking a moment to regain his composure, just keeping his screw up to himself for the moment. Just letting her continue to talk while smoking her cigarettes.
However, calling him 'Pretty Boy' again crossed Donovan's patience threshold and something about her words just pissed him off. Assuming he hadn't already became indifferent to violence was certainly insulting his experience in the field and abruptly spoke up before she could say another sentence. “I'm very sorry but I'll have to continue our conversation some other date. I'm quite exhausted from the day and I was meant to have a discussion with my teammates earlier and I promised to speak to them eventually. So I'm afraid I must be going...” Donovan turned away from them both started to leave. “Very nice to meet you both.” Donovan quickly added, with his back turned as his face couldn't be any different from his pleasant sounding tone. Donovan quickly left and headed back into his semi-private room where he could finally be alone. As his parent's money had some lovely perks, being secluded away from the people he could hardly stand was his paradise.
Donovan sat down in his chair with a long frustrated growl and pulled out some of his fancy wine. Opening it and started to chug it straight from the bottle. When he was in this kind of mood and by himself he couldn't care less how uncivilized this behavior would be considered. Spending the next several minutes silently drinking, polishing off a half a bottle of highly alcoholic wine before putting the top back on and laying down in his bed rubbing his forehead. “Daft wench.” Donovan cursed under his breath, slamming his fist down into his bed.
“God dammit. What do I have to do to prove that I'm superior?” He exclaimed still keeping his voice down enough to likely not be overheard unless someone was right outside. “What the hell do I have to do, before I get back to where I'm supposed to be. No one should have authority over me beside my parents, everyone else is incompetent, thin-skinned or simply less worthy than me. Especially those cowards hiding in their ranks, hoping that by lessening my power I'm somehow forced to become subservient to those egotistical fools. Well their dead wrong...” Donovan ranted aloud to himself venting his anger. It felt cathartic to do so, just smiling afterward as he got under his covers and relaxed.“Well tomorrow’s another day...” He thought to himself, letting out a small chuckle. | Donovan “The Friendly” Valentine
"The good of the few, are in fact still good to the many. Whether they see it yet or not."
-Himself
Name
Donovan Valentine
Nicknames
”The Friendly” a sarcastic nickname if there ever was one.
Age
25 years old
Gender
Male
Homeworld
High Terra
Rank
Corporal
Role
He is considered an elite combat solider, being exceptional in what most soliders should be.
Appearance
He is 6'0 in length, with a surprisingly muscular body that you wouldn't guess by looking at him. Sometimes wearing glasses, other times not. He wears his mother's clothing line, finding anything else unacceptable. He is a noble of a rather rich family, so his armored suit is literally painted in real gold for nothing more to show off.
Equipment
M-54A1 Battle Rifle (a highly advanced prototype version, modified to be even more effective weapon as the battery drains much slower, giving it an extended usefulness. It costs far more than most soldiers could afford.)
M3P-4 10mm Pistol (as a side arm. With several addition clips of ammunition)
A standard black combat knife.
RO-3 Omni Grenade (prototype versions of these grenades, that also happen to carry a deadly toxin, if the blast doesn't kill them, the poison gas will.)
Standard Gas Mask
Pain pills in a pez-like dispenser (strong medication, that make him feel nothing, and numbs pain almost instantly.)
Personality
Donovan certainly would be what you'd think of when you think of your typical, raised in incredible wealth and got almost everything he could ask for. He was spoiled rotten as a child. He lived a rather perfect life. He's only thing he suffered from is how much he wanted another sibling so he could have a friend as when he was young most people tend to avoid him, scared of his status. Often alone, learning he was his only friend.
He grew up quite bitter of most people and is incredibly arrogant and self centered or at least only cares about his own and his family's pride. He will do anything, to make a difference he feels will change his world for the better. He will defy orders, betray others. He'd kill a child if he or his family benefitted from it. Morality means next to nothing to him, he does not feel sympathy for those he is ordered to kill. But to the average stranger who somehow doesn't know who he is. He is an incredibly good solider, and a surprisingly an effective leader and support. He is very charming, and is quite a gentleman to women. His laugh is almost contagious. Being quite social. Most of it being an act, being smart enough to know you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.
Finding this fantasy world as literal gold mine, full of resources his parents could use to highly improve their companies. He doesn't see any of them as people, he sees them all as nuisances that he would be more than happy to rid their world of. Not that he'll behave that way in front of them.
Traits
Loves to drink his fancy wine, you could consider him a borderline alcoholic.
Incredibly rich (if there's a new weapon or piece of technology, he will use it. His family won't let him have anything but the best.)
A scary good solider, very quick, strong and sharp. Very good with most weapons and using combat vehicles. His abilities are superior to an average soldier.
He detests the cold weather. He gets bad headaches in the cold weather.
Often humming to himself.
Is incredible at lying and manipulation. (which is why he loves doing it so much.)
Carries glasses with him, that he doesn't need solely because some women say he looks good in them.
History
His parents lived in the lap of luxury, one being a wealthy business owner, of multiple major construction, oil and diamond mining companies, while his mother had her own very popular and very expensive 'Valentine's' for men and women's clothing line. So ever since he was born, he was never told no. As he got the best food, from a professional chef, and was taught by a private tutor. He also had a professional maid to clean his room, but he often cleaned it himself. But that didn't mean he didn't spend time with his family, as his mother would often test clothing on him and often had him watch her create clothes, while the father often took him fishing every other weekend on their motorboat. The only thing he didn't have was a younger sibling, which he wanted a little brother. Mainly because he felt very alone. As his father kept him away from the poor folk and even some of the richer folk because they we're far too snobbish in his mother's words. So he didn't have many friends, and he very quickly over the year got used to being alone, with the occasional hired company. He enjoyed spending time with his parents more than anyone else. Loving and respecting them a lot, finding his mother to making the most beautiful clothes in the world and his father the most brilliant, got his desire for wine as his father would often let him have a sip every time he asked for one.
When he became old enough to be legally allowed to drive, thought that didn't stop him from doing it multiple times before then. He would often drive out and spoil women on dates. Going on a date with a new women every week at least. He made his own friends, throwing his charm and money around without hesitation. Though he never really made any real personal connections and it only made him dislike people in general. He would often have sex, even a few times of the same sex just because he could. Because it provided him with some company, and some shallow pleasure. But nothing he did really made him happy, he felt as if he had no true calling in life.
Until that day, When he learned of the GATE incident, he was instantly drawn to the news, being quite curious. As was both of his parents as they wondered. What kind of materials, and what kind of resources do they have in another world? Just imagine what we could do with them! They asked their son, to become a solider and to go to the new world and make them proud. They had connections with someone in the military that could make him shoot up in ranks quite easily and they'd make sure he had the best equipment. With that offer in his head, at a chance to do something unique and something to make his parents proud of him. He immediately agreed and became a solider. Which after a few tests they learned he was already great at it, excelling at basic and more advanced training. Completing it in half the time most did.
It didn't take him long to raise in the ranks. Becoming known for his skill and also more infamous for his personality. As they called him, Donovan "The Friendly" for his very false happy social personality. As it didn't take long for him to make enemies, but they weren't stupid enough to outright suggest anything of the sort. His superior's in the army were highly considering a leader position for him only holding back due to their uncertainly of how loyal he actually is... |
55,937 | 1,532 | 24 | 465 | 6,811 | Cpt. Saiyako
As the light flitered through the fluffy clouds of dawn, the captain awoke from his "bed" and rubbed his eyes before running it through his hair, he could feel how dead and dirty it was as his arm stumbled around for his helmet. As the sun bounced into his irises, he sat up and stretched his neck, turns out that sacks full of whatever wasn't ideal for his body. Who would have thought?
Saiyako called out for Oni, no response. Another call, no robot came. Cursing as he stood up and stretched, he looked down on to his datapad and sighed. Causality counting time was always fun. From a preliminary look, about 4 people had been taken out last night, oh how much fun it would be later on when he had to write up the paperwork. Stretching once more and looking into the sky, he couldn't help but smile at the sun; the air was so fresh, so clean, there was no smoky oder or lingering chemical scents that he had gotten so accustom to back on Fuso, not even the parks had air this natural.
Turning his head, the Fusan gazed once more around before opening up communications, his voice crackling through the radio, "Erm.. attention all member of the First Recon, line up at the front of our barracks for line up or something..."
The man noted two things as he stood up: one, his radio must have gotten damaged some how, it didn't crackle that much normally and two, it seemed that his horrible sleep was affecting his ability to captain-ing right. Not that he ever really did that all too well.
Fumbling with his directions for another minute before just sort of stumbling down the paths and trenches as other dashed to and fro in a flurry of uniforms and bandages, Saiyako tried to find his way. It seemed that many soldiers had the same idea as him and where passed out on the sideline in varying stages of being awake. Pot holes and craters still smoldering from what he presumed to be stray fireballs as the sound of vehicle recovery crews pulling back a metal husk of a Thorgrim broke the morning winds.
Turning the corner, he found his soldier already standing in front of their barracks in two rows. Seems like they do a better job than he once did when he was at their level. Yawning as he began to sleepily sound off names, he let his mind wander about all sorts of trivialities that would no doubt get him a mouth full should anyone know. "Alright all of you gents, and ladies." Saiyako loudly mumbled (seemed like his throat was still asleep or something), "Your orders are to remain in that boxy-thingy until I get some more orders or something... I need some coffee..."
Lazily saluting them, Saiyako once again wondered away, waddling a bit duck-footed as he went off his merry way. Wandering about the camp toward the general direction of the his quarters, wondering where the fuck Oni was once again. | HWANGI SAIYAKO
If you look like you know what you're doing, then people will believe you do know what you're doing.
-Saiyako
Name
Hwangi Mukuri Saiyako
Nicknames
Saiya (Nickname)
Age
30
Gender
Male
Homeworld
Fuso
Rank
Captain
Role
Unit Commander
Appearance
Judging solely from appearances, Saiyako looks nothing like what one would expect from an officer, even by Fusan standards. His brownish-redish hair is always in varying amounts of ruffled or crumpled, dark lines hung under his dark golden eyes from his many all nighters no doubt, whatever happens during these long moons is known only by Saiyako himself. With a body type between his natural skinny frame and the body mass built up by military training, the man doesn't look like one you'd immediately expect to be a soldier but more of a bookworm who spent too much time at the gym. His resting, apathetic bitch face is only broken by the occasional cocky smile that arises when he feels the rare need to outdo someone.
In terms of outfits, Saiyako generally finds himself in any number and amount of clothing; like many Fusans he has no qualms about walking around in his underwear or nightwear and has been spot on more than one occasional strolling between the showers and his quarters nude. He also has a bad habit of tramping around in his sleeping clothes until noon when he knows he has no planned assignments or tasking for that day. Surprisingly enough however, his actual officer's dress uniform is perfectly kept in pristine condition, not a speck of dust on it, not a hole anywhere, not a button loose.
Equipment
Fusan Type 108 Automatic Carbine
Fusan Type 0 Warblade
ARMA Unit "Oni"
M3P-4 10mm Pistol
RO-3 Omni Grenade
Officer's Regimental Guide Manual
Personality
Laid back almost to the point of apathy, Saiyako is more extreme case of the famous Fusan calmness and indifference. With and almost superhuman ability of procrastinating and extending deadlines, Saiyako rarely feels urgency with things like paper work of which he sees as his greatest foe. One could say he's a fatalist, believing that his life is already set out by some greater power who isn't the Primarch or the pantheons of Terranism causing friction between him and the Inquisition who keeps tabs on all commissioned officers, his apparent lack of zeal doesn't help.
Of course, now with the arrival of the Gate, that personal philosophy has more or less gone out the window. In its place there's a new sense of excitement which Saiyako hasn't felt in a long time as before him is a beautiful world straight from a fantasy game. He works with greater speed and efficiency now although relative to others he still works dreadfully slow. Any official papers like reports while likely be handed in a week late with crumpled corners, an improvement from when papers would go missing for months in Saiyako's hands and come out like they were in their own war in the bowls of his desk. The only type of papers which he hasn't failed to submit on time are papers relating to the well being of his unit; things such as payrolls and requisition forms have rarely failed to be handed on time and are the only things which he will rarely submit early. Perhaps this is rooted from an amicable nature that's hidden under layers of apparent boredom and snark.
In battle, his apathetic nature is incredibly apparent, Saiyako appearing to give absolutely zero shits about being shot at or yells about him getting down. Of course this doesn't mean he's slow or combat stupid, his indifference to danger and gore is one of the primary reason behind his promotions. The battlefield is also the only place where his normal expression breaks and is replaced by a slightly cocky grin and an air of confidence. Its not uncommon for him to challenge someone to see how fast they can dash into cover while under fire as although he doesn't care much for the insults people call him, he does enjoy showing people up sometimes even if he doesn't always win them.
Traits
Seemingly apathetic to danger, blood, and insults
Wonderful chief
Deadlines are relative
Something of best friends with his ARMA unit
Fusan army training which comes with better melee skills
Master of procrastinating
Reliable regarding matters of his unit's well being
Fan animated shows and has a small collection of figurines and collectables in his quarters
Atheistic
History
Saiyako was born to a medical researcher space elevator operator on a space station in orbit around the Fuso. His life was normal for the most part, no sudden parental deaths or secret family wealth to be inherited; Saiyako was just a normal boy who lived life between the station and planet side. While definitely not the upper crust of society, his family was more than able to pay for their lifestyle and some of the gifts the child would want; perhaps one reason why Saiyako was even more laid back than most Fusans. The biggest change in his life up to that point would be the birth of his little sister when he was six. Things changed for Saiyako when Hwangi Tantan Mutoi came into his life but not too dramatically. Like his parents, Saiyako did his best to shower Mutoi with love and affection.
Maintain respectable grades throughout his teenaged years, the turning point of his life hit both him and his family hard, quite literally. During a family trip which Saiyako had offered to drive, his father next to him and his mother in the back with his sister, a mechanical failure cause the car to veer into oncoming traffic where a cargo transport plow right into them. Despite Saiyako, his mother and his sister all recovering, his father never did for some reason. Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months but his father wasn't recovering for some reason, doctors attributed it to some genetic issue that was preventing his body from healing as it should and instead was actually decaying.
Life suddenly went downhill as Saiyako started failing his classes and locked himself in his room for hours at a time, feeling as if he was the one who cause his father's pain, eventually refusing to go visit him out of shame and guilt. The last time Saiyako would see his father would be on his father's death bed who told him:
"Son, there is no hidden treasure of our family for which I can pass on to you. There is no secret wealth which I can let you inherit. No portal to a magical world that I have been hiding. No secret society that I've been a part of. You are completely normal, you are no fairy tale hero like the one in the shows you once watched and the books me and your mother once read you; there is nothing special about you. You are just you.
But you are unbound, free of any strings of destiny. Your fate is no one but your own. There is nothing to hold you back from your greatness..."
Of course, Saiyako didn't understand what his father meant at that point, but it broke something inside of him and turned him apathetic, not even flinching as he watched his father's coffin be lowered into the earth and buried. It was as if he stopped caring about everything and it showed; he later failed out of school before he could even get into a college and barricaded himself in his room, nothing his sister or his mother did could get him out.
Faced with a dead husband and a depressed, apathetic son, Saiyako's mother died of a heart attack little over a year later and Saiyako was again silent as his mother was buried next to her lover. Realizing that there was no way that both he and his little sister could survive on government subsidies, Saiyako got a job in the only place that would accept him: the army.
After months of training, he was deployed to various rebel stations and worlds as part of the 6th Fusan Regiment, 21st Assault Division nicknamed the "Golden Foxes". Through many a battles and a fair bit of luck, Saiyako had been promoted to the rank of 2nd LT after the previous one had died in battle, his apathetic nature leading him the ability to remain remarkable nonchalant even by Fusan standards. After doing his 3rd tour, he heard wind of a portal that had opened up on the backwater desert planet of Ennedi to what the first scouts said was a "fantasy" world. Upon hearing that, something made him smile and started up his excitement, an emotion he hadn't felt in a long time. Signing up without haste, Saiyako felt like he finally understood what his father's words from all those years ago meant; he had the chance not to fulfill his destiny, but a chance to make his own.
EKO DONPARE
Female Ver.
I've seen you somewhere, I've heard your name from someone, I've remembered your appearance from something.
-Eko
Male Ver.
Change isn't good or bad by nature; it just happens.
-Eko
Name
Eko Donpare, Incarnate of Tenzayn
Nicknames
Ekochi (female only)
Ekal (male only)
Age
807 (Actual age appearance varies)
Gender
Gender fluid, literally
Race
Human Incarnate
Kingdom
Crown of Sarleon, Vassal of the Empire
Appearance
While minor details may change, Eko's appearance can be divided between her male appearance and his male appearance. In his male form, Eko is a tall if not slightly lanky individual with sharp features with red hair and a nobly ruffled white hair. In her female form, Eko keeps the white hair (although it now reaches somewhere near her lower back). Notably shorter, female Eko stands about a foot shorter than his male version with amethyst eyes; her features however are still graceful and wispy in a way.
In terms of clothing, again Eko can change at will but for the most part he's found in some getup that looks quite a lot like something you'd see from the 1700s or the 1800s on High Terra. A tattered, fancy navy blue military's officer overcoat with golden lining and tassels with some red details and golden buttons. A powder white scarf is attached to his neck and held in place with a delicate golden jewel; a large hat with a flume of white feathers and a rose stuck in its side can also sometimes be seen, more often on her female version.
Equipment
Coat of Donpare - The famous coat of the Incarnate of Tenzayn, it looks like something Napoleon would wear. Despite its appearance, its actually Eko's armor, each thread turned from silk and fabric into thread with the strength of steel by Tenzayn themselves. It also has the effect of making the wearer consistently clear of mind and fearless, changing said fear into euphoria strangely enough although this barely effects Eko when she puts it on.
Regalis Concerto - Eko's primary weapon, it is a very fancy and royal looking glaive. Besides being able to cut through armor and flesh with ease, it also acts as a sort of condute for Eko's magic, basically a giant magic wand that Eko can actually use in one hand in a similar fashion to that of a conductor's baton. The weapon itself was created for Eko by Tenzayn after his asscention into Incarnatehood.
Magic
Eko uses Book of Evolution at a master-level due to his Incarnate status
Personality
Like most things about him, Eko's personally can quickly change. While not as fast or extreme as someone tainted by the Book of Circus, there are definitely warning signs that need to can be seen as a sign of warning and caution. Her two most common moods is a cocky, headstrong personality and a rather sentimental personality. His first one can usually be defined as "somewhere between 'fuck you' in a mocking manner and 'I'd fuck you" while with the second he acts as if she was drunk and has deep thoughts (or tries to be with varying levels of success).
An interesting point of note is that Eko is far less surprised by the Union's technology than other people and takes quite a bit of interest in them.
Traits
Master of Book of Evolution, granting him a limited number of spells from other Lores
Immortality and invulnerability due to Incarnate status as well as super human abilities
Fearless, most of his fear has been removed due to his natural hubris and the Coat of Donpare.
Has a direct line to Tenzayn, God of Change; Tenzayn doesn't always pick up or answer correctly, occasionally forcing his Incarnate to answer to a squirrel or something.
History
Despite living for many hundreds of years, Eko talks remarkably little about his past, especially the time before he became an Incarnate. While this is common amongst many Incarnates (as many Gods will wipe the memories of their chosen), Eko admits that Tenzayn has never tampered with her memory. And even though there might be some who claim to know Eko's history, all of them are completely different stories.
The only history Eko will ever say is that his ancestor once lived on an island far, far away and that since he became an Incarnate he's split his time between wandering the land and attending to the Great Shrine of Tenzayn. |
55,938 | 1,532 | 25 | 2,224 | 2,424 | Cpl. Donovan “The Friendly” Valentine
Donovan didn't wake up from the morning's light peering through the barracks neither did the ghastly nightmares that caused him to alter the position he was sleeping, every couple of minutes throughout that entire night. Most importantly, he didn't wake up on his own. Donovan arose and quickly tried to dress and make himself decent, feeling his hair standing up. As he completely aware someone was on the other side of the door, and frankly it better of been Captain Saiyako or they needed a really good reason they woke him up early. Despite him despising being awoken by someone else, he got himself ready in about a minute. Luckily unlike most, he rarely got hangovers anymore. Despite that specific wine bottle having an alcoholic content level closer to fifty percent and the amount he guzzled down would of probably knocked some unconscious.
Fabricating the best indiscernible and counterfeit smile he could muster, he popped his head outside taking a moment to clear his throat and change his tone to sound pleasant seeing it was just another solider on their team, and no one actually significant. “Yes? Did you have something to discuss with yours truly?” Donovan asked even trying to sound playful, believing he sounded very charming. Though his smug demeanor wasn't hard to spot at the moment, though by how cautious the individual looked it was safe to assume he already knew about Donovan's performance quite well. It took him slightly longer than it should of to actually respond, the solider not looking directly at him. Donovan glaring eyes could easily tell the solider felt like he was about to learn what shooting the messenger meant, but it made him even more impatient waiting for a proper reply since it was clearly had to be something important to wake him up.
Donovan exhaled some calmly finding that being respected had some disadvantages. “What did you need solider? You had something important to tell me right?” Donovan asked again not bothering to recall their name, stepping fully outside his room. The man nodded swiftly in response. “Sorry for waking you, I was told that you have a call on hold for you right now.” The solider answered. “Thank you.” Donovan replied sounding polite but couldn't help but think. “Idiot, it shouldn't of taken you so long to tell me, I don't want to keep someone waiting for me.” Donovan walked away from the solider towards where his call would be.
But before Donovan could even arrive, the speakers blared out as he could hear the Captain explaining that all members needed to stand at attention. Frustrated but also knowing he couldn't miss an order regardless how lazily vocalized as it sounded. Rubbing his eyes some as he quickly headed where all the other soldiers starting to gather and stand lined up. He stood up straight looking professional looking around able to tell by the grim expression on some of their faces, there were some casualties but he didn't really notice anyone missing. “Dying that quickly in war, your families should hang their heads in shame...” He thought to himself looking at Saiyako, still prepared to ask him some questions but from how exhausted he looked, he wondered if he'd even get any valid explanations.
Waiting and watching the Captain wandering away giving his orders, that he essentially he no actual orders. Donovan didn't waste any more time standing around with all the others. Walking back to his phone call, finding that at least no one else was there picking up the phone. “Hello?” Donovan greeted as he heard the sweet cheery feminine voice as his eyes brighten up as a genuine smile appeared on his face. “Mother, how wonderful it is to hear from you. I've missed talking to you...” Donovan spoke sounding pleased listening to her words. Before he took a small pause before questioning back, “What do you mean by bad news mother?” | Donovan “The Friendly” Valentine
"The good of the few, are in fact still good to the many. Whether they see it yet or not."
-Himself
Name
Donovan Valentine
Nicknames
”The Friendly” a sarcastic nickname if there ever was one.
Age
25 years old
Gender
Male
Homeworld
High Terra
Rank
Corporal
Role
He is considered an elite combat solider, being exceptional in what most soliders should be.
Appearance
He is 6'0 in length, with a surprisingly muscular body that you wouldn't guess by looking at him. Sometimes wearing glasses, other times not. He wears his mother's clothing line, finding anything else unacceptable. He is a noble of a rather rich family, so his armored suit is literally painted in real gold for nothing more to show off.
Equipment
M-54A1 Battle Rifle (a highly advanced prototype version, modified to be even more effective weapon as the battery drains much slower, giving it an extended usefulness. It costs far more than most soldiers could afford.)
M3P-4 10mm Pistol (as a side arm. With several addition clips of ammunition)
A standard black combat knife.
RO-3 Omni Grenade (prototype versions of these grenades, that also happen to carry a deadly toxin, if the blast doesn't kill them, the poison gas will.)
Standard Gas Mask
Pain pills in a pez-like dispenser (strong medication, that make him feel nothing, and numbs pain almost instantly.)
Personality
Donovan certainly would be what you'd think of when you think of your typical, raised in incredible wealth and got almost everything he could ask for. He was spoiled rotten as a child. He lived a rather perfect life. He's only thing he suffered from is how much he wanted another sibling so he could have a friend as when he was young most people tend to avoid him, scared of his status. Often alone, learning he was his only friend.
He grew up quite bitter of most people and is incredibly arrogant and self centered or at least only cares about his own and his family's pride. He will do anything, to make a difference he feels will change his world for the better. He will defy orders, betray others. He'd kill a child if he or his family benefitted from it. Morality means next to nothing to him, he does not feel sympathy for those he is ordered to kill. But to the average stranger who somehow doesn't know who he is. He is an incredibly good solider, and a surprisingly an effective leader and support. He is very charming, and is quite a gentleman to women. His laugh is almost contagious. Being quite social. Most of it being an act, being smart enough to know you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.
Finding this fantasy world as literal gold mine, full of resources his parents could use to highly improve their companies. He doesn't see any of them as people, he sees them all as nuisances that he would be more than happy to rid their world of. Not that he'll behave that way in front of them.
Traits
Loves to drink his fancy wine, you could consider him a borderline alcoholic.
Incredibly rich (if there's a new weapon or piece of technology, he will use it. His family won't let him have anything but the best.)
A scary good solider, very quick, strong and sharp. Very good with most weapons and using combat vehicles. His abilities are superior to an average soldier.
He detests the cold weather. He gets bad headaches in the cold weather.
Often humming to himself.
Is incredible at lying and manipulation. (which is why he loves doing it so much.)
Carries glasses with him, that he doesn't need solely because some women say he looks good in them.
History
His parents lived in the lap of luxury, one being a wealthy business owner, of multiple major construction, oil and diamond mining companies, while his mother had her own very popular and very expensive 'Valentine's' for men and women's clothing line. So ever since he was born, he was never told no. As he got the best food, from a professional chef, and was taught by a private tutor. He also had a professional maid to clean his room, but he often cleaned it himself. But that didn't mean he didn't spend time with his family, as his mother would often test clothing on him and often had him watch her create clothes, while the father often took him fishing every other weekend on their motorboat. The only thing he didn't have was a younger sibling, which he wanted a little brother. Mainly because he felt very alone. As his father kept him away from the poor folk and even some of the richer folk because they we're far too snobbish in his mother's words. So he didn't have many friends, and he very quickly over the year got used to being alone, with the occasional hired company. He enjoyed spending time with his parents more than anyone else. Loving and respecting them a lot, finding his mother to making the most beautiful clothes in the world and his father the most brilliant, got his desire for wine as his father would often let him have a sip every time he asked for one.
When he became old enough to be legally allowed to drive, thought that didn't stop him from doing it multiple times before then. He would often drive out and spoil women on dates. Going on a date with a new women every week at least. He made his own friends, throwing his charm and money around without hesitation. Though he never really made any real personal connections and it only made him dislike people in general. He would often have sex, even a few times of the same sex just because he could. Because it provided him with some company, and some shallow pleasure. But nothing he did really made him happy, he felt as if he had no true calling in life.
Until that day, When he learned of the GATE incident, he was instantly drawn to the news, being quite curious. As was both of his parents as they wondered. What kind of materials, and what kind of resources do they have in another world? Just imagine what we could do with them! They asked their son, to become a solider and to go to the new world and make them proud. They had connections with someone in the military that could make him shoot up in ranks quite easily and they'd make sure he had the best equipment. With that offer in his head, at a chance to do something unique and something to make his parents proud of him. He immediately agreed and became a solider. Which after a few tests they learned he was already great at it, excelling at basic and more advanced training. Completing it in half the time most did.
It didn't take him long to raise in the ranks. Becoming known for his skill and also more infamous for his personality. As they called him, Donovan "The Friendly" for his very false happy social personality. As it didn't take long for him to make enemies, but they weren't stupid enough to outright suggest anything of the sort. His superior's in the army were highly considering a leader position for him only holding back due to their uncertainly of how loyal he actually is... |
55,939 | 1,532 | 26 | 902 | 430 | Eko Donpare
&
Maion Isensjäl
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
Softly Maion heard her own breath together with the evening birds and with the dense sound from the lively citadel. Golden rays with a flaming red and pink light blessed the peaceful yet tense atmoshpere that surrounded this awe stunning place.
The guards looked at the women as she dropped to her knees before them, there was a stirring amongst the men as they heard her name. Word from travelers spoke of a woman from the House of Wayfinder who was said to be behind many a uprisings and such in their lands. Under their breaths, the guards spoke in hushed whispers with mouths hidden behind hands until their captain parted them and they stood at attention as he approached the woman before them.
"So..." the big bodied man crossed his arms, "State your business here Wayfinder, what trouble do you conspire to spark in Imperia?"
Maion gazed the man before her with a intensive stare.
"I do not wish to bring upon you any darkness, if you will sir, I would like to give you the truth of what has happened in Gallogoth along with my services and my men." She was trying her outmost to appear as humble as she wish she felt. It is not as if this is how she had imagined herself appear before the empire, neither did she wish to remain so submissive. Though for once in Maions life she had to prove to her men what it truly ment to be of noble descent. If the captain was thinking of keeping the attitude up and not meeting Maion at her lowest she would probably have to go on her offense.
Your move... she thought as she kept her eyes on him.
"Is that a threat?" The captain sneered as stared down the Wayfinder, "Under Imperial Law code I am placing you under arrest for the threatening of an Imperial officer!"
The man chuckled to himself as the guards restrained the woman and two began to frog march her into the city towards the jails no doubt. His words, while slightly twisted, where true to an extent; anyone who threatens an Imperial political or governmental official and cannot show proof of identification as a noble or such otherwise is normally jailed. Skipping some steps and altering some words technically would make it legal for him to do this and the woman wouldn't know any better. Hardly anyone knew the law code well enough even within the army so his soldiers would take it at face value too. Hell, if this woman was the Wayfinder she claimed to be, he might get a promotion from all of this.
"Guards!" the captain turned around with a hearty laugh, "Make sure she gets the extra strong chains-"
Heads turned as the captain's words were suddenly interrupted and a piercing pain shot through his body. Looking down, the man saw nothing but red and steel emerging from his chest. Putting a shaky hand on the wound, he let his hand marinate in the blood pumping out of his new cavity. B-b-blood...? he thought to himself before the blade was swiftly pulled from his chest and he slumped to his knees.
"Greetings Miss Isensjäl, and farewell gentlemen." a female figure rose from behind the previously alive captain, now adding all his comrades to the God of Death's to-do-list with a few quick strokes from a bloodied blade, "You've just been granted a change of fate."
Maion was stunned by the captains action but before she could melt what had just happened down and counter act she was held down by guards and restrained, quickly nodding to her guards to remain passive. So evil truly is anywhere where humans prosper... she thought, the captain disregarding her noble banner in hand, the guards swiping it away with their feet, trampling on her pride.
Biting it together as she started to get escorted to wherever they had in mind, her guards following without resistance.
Maion felt the rage build up inside of her and just as she was about to lose it the captain suddenly halted in whatever obnoxious words he had on his tounge, struggled in pain and fell to the ground. Before her stood an astonishing woman with godlike silvery hair, more gracious than the ice and eyes so attractive that Maion wished her bath was filled with water just as clear.
"Art thou okay?" Eko chuckled as she swung her blade hard and fast to clean it, the blood drops forming a perfect half-moon around her, "Can you stand up?"
The Incarnate examined the woman closely. There was a certain level of elegance which she gave off even if she was on the ground, Eko's suspicions about her being a noble woman were proven once she saw the banner. House Wayfinder of the Gallogoth Commonwealth, seems like Tenzayn was right once again, not that he never wasn't.
"Lord Tenzayn has offered you a change of fate," Eko swung her blade out at a perfect 90 degree angle and bowed, "I am his Incarnate, Eko Donparre. What might bring someone such as you here?"
Maion rose slowly, "Yes I am Miss Eko...", it would take a moment before she could grasp her own situation.
"It seems fate has prolonged my excistence for yet a moment longer and I do not wish to be ungrateful, but I think you saving my ass might have blown my chances of ever getting an asylum in the empire for myself and my men... We have been running from the Gallogoth Commonwealth authorities, we are merely refugees and targets for greedy and unspeakable foes from back home." Maion stated regaining her composure, "Milady, unless you can help me further you should leave this place, I will take responsability for your actions and stay where I am, after all it would be pointless to try and run." Maion said and looked at her own weapon, picking it up and nodded to her men to close in on her and get free, wether she would fight or talk was now up to the Empires approach.
"Alrighty," Eko sheathed her sword and began to circle around the noble, "But first we're going to make some changes to you. You're way to conspicuous!"
Walking behind the Maion, she placed a hand on her left shoulder, slowly pacing behind her field of view. By the time Eko had reached her right shoulder, the hand was larger and his voice deeper as he playfully transformed behind her. Gently patting her head, Eko walked over to her fallen banner and picked it up. Decent bit of workmanship, nothing outstanding in his eyes but not too bad, for a family like the Wayfinders any who. He had a right to be critical it, hundreds of years of staring at the damn things must account to something surely.
"For example, this is too much, you'll never be able to hid." Eko suddenly kneel down and broke the banner in two over his knee, both of them turning to ash in his hands, not even being set on fire first, "Next is your clothing; you want to be hidden then look like the masses!"
Eko boldly proclaimed before realizing a flaw in his plans, nervously chuckling as he faced Maion once more, "Erm... do you happen to have a spare set?"
Maion stared angered at Eko, "What the hell do you think you are doing!?" she blurted as she suddenly noticed that circling her she had become an he, "Mind telling me what is going through your head just now? Why did you break my banner and what are you suggesting that I should do!" Maion noticed the Empire guards that was still alive looking at them intruiged and perhaps a bit scared of that Eko person.
"You need more soldiers and the like no?" Eko began to walk down the long path, turning to Maion but continued moving, "But with limited resources, you can't exactly hire all the mercenaries you want right? Fear not, I already have an idea."
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
The sun waned as Eko finally lead Maion to a small ledge over looking a valley. From some distance away he could spot the smoke of a war camp, then on the other was several large, grey-ish cubes and other strange looking buildings that Eko could only make out with magic-assisted vision; some of them didn't even look like buildings but instead just tubes on boxy things in holes on a cross. Beyond their lines of trenches and towers, there was a field full of wired coils and odd metal X's; what strangest they bring.
Turning around, the Incarnate produced a blanket of sort and threw it towards Maion who wasn't far behind, "Put that on, I fear that tonight might be a bit cold. Also, if you would, could you please help gather some dry wood? For a fire of course."
Nodding she accepted Eko's offer, "So, mind telling me why we are doing this again?" Maion replied and tightened her cloak a bit before wrapping herself in the blanket that she just got handed to her. Making the count of her own men to make sure non had been left behind, before counting the other imperials that Eko had forcefully recruited on the day they met, the day that Eko saved Maion.
Since she had learned that Eko was quite the hot shot. It appears as Eko is a some kind of human looking wonder that is either blessed or cursed with powers, both felt as possible truths and though what he or she was had yet to be explained to Maion. So far this was based on her own observations of Eko. Maion and her personal men was wearing cloth and cloaks over their armor so to cover from where they came, the only clue if one had proper knowledge of Gallogoth commonwealth houses was Maion's rapier which was garned and skillfully crafted making it unique among rapiers. The view from which they stood revealed many wonderous things, strange to her eyes and while the Imperial Citadel was awe striking, what Maion now soaked in was with her green eyes was structures of which the likes she had never seen before.
Eko smiled as he began to pile on wood on an eventual fire pit, "Enjoying the view?"
The Incarnate chuckled he felt the flow of magic change ever so slightly; most would never notice unless they were a grand master of magic or something like that... or an Incarnate. There was no doubting it, this slight shift had been felt by all of the gods and their respective Incarnates. Eko shuttered in his place. Funny, such a small wind, even smaller than that of a breeze was able to unnerve him when nothing has managed to do it for centuries. Such could only be possible by an entire change in the system of magics as otherwise the only thing he would have felt was a spark of euphoria of which never came.
"I advise you get some sleep now," Eko walked up behind the Wayfinder, shortening himself as he turned once more into his female form, "We're going to have a long night tomorrow. I also advise you keep that blanket handy, it does more than to keep you warm you know." | Maion Isensjäl
"Evil be your foe, thus I am evil!"
~Mik-hain Vilidanh upon the final battle of Endry's frozen plains against his former ally and friend, during a civil war in Gallogoth Commonwealth.
Name
Maion Isensjäl the First. ~Wayfinder Household
Nicknames
Maion by friends. "Wayfinder Dirt" or "Maion the Dishonored" by most.
Age
34.
Gender
Female.
Race
Human.
Kingdom
Gallogoth Commonwealth.
Appearance
Shoulder lenght red hair, green eyes, light and freckled skin, fare and regal by all standards.
Maion is fit and has a warriors aura in her noble appearance. Her stance, tall nature and feminine nature could attract many whom is unaware of whom she is. Maion is incredibly well composed and radiates a self centered passion.
Equipment
A full set of leather armor with a matching mask which is all partially plated and is well decorated with the Wayfinder's crest and ancestory symbols.
The Wayfinder Rapier. A rapier made out of the finest quality and most efficient pieces of materials. The rapier has a clear and spring green metal look to it made out of something called earth essence and metal making it light and incredibly durable. It has a hilt made out of a red type of wood and a guard decored with red gold.
A regal and highly trained brown horse.
Magic
Quite adept with the Book of Frost and though it is not her forte it can be fatal to let your guard down due to her more warrior like looks.
Personality
Self centered with a good heart behind a prison of swords. Likes to have a good time and dueling. Maion is strict, stubborn and has a passive-aggressive nature.
She prefers to use sarcasm in harsh condescending ways towards anyone whom questions her or is unable to respect her standing in society.
Maion has an provokative attitude and likes to be acknowledged as dominant.
Traits
Great with horses and alternative mounts.
Is known to fancy duels and for having a odd style of fencing technique in battles.
Has been known to inspire commoners and has acted a little bit as diplomatic voice for commoners.
An adept tactician with all the basics thought into her spine.
Has tendencies to try and find your weakness, expose or use it against you or her foes.
Maion is currently infamously known for betraying the people of her lands and Gallogoth Commonwealth, wether it is true or not only the few and brave dares question it out loud.
Likes her meed and wine more than most people, shortly she knowns how to drink.
History
In order to understand we shall start with the history of the Wayfinder Household.
The Wayfinder Household was made and dubbed thus for about 500 years ago by the current regent monarch of Gallogoth Commonwealth. This household was praised for their hard work with the commoners and to rise from a commoner to a noble the Wayfinders had a long reign locally as the peoples diplomat. Now jumping forward to todays regent, Maion Isensjäl.
The Wayfinder is a small household formerly well respected and gowned with both medals and a history of opposing other households and monarchs to the extent possible without raising unnecessary war. Thus while The Wayfinders is a small and solid household it would be a lie to claim that they are without enemies. So, Maion has been a name of controversity, other households has recently taken advantage of her status and held her responsible for a number of uprisings in areas around the Wayfinder's governed land. This is purely a war of economics and under complicated and rather mysterious circumstances has succeeded. Now being wanted by the Gallogoth Commonwealth Maion Isensjäl has run away seeking asylum with'in the Grand Empire of Imperia, offering herself and her small troop of guards for service. With her Noble and knightly qualities she hopes to be accepted by their will... Maion was raised by both her parents being thought both the family style sword play (rapier specifically) and by an tutor in the arts of magic she would come to make an semi adept with the Book of Frost. Up till she was nineteen and her mother was put out of her miserable insanity sickness. Just two years later her father died of natural age leaving Maion in charge of the Wayfinder Household at the young age of twentyone. The rest inbetween the past and present has all been game for what has now happened.
Guards of Wayfinder:
Traits: The Wayfinder Guard is known to have knightly qualities though their skill varies inbetween a gesel squire to a respectable knight. The lowest ranks fight with an axe and buckler and are just called vanguard, they are easy to underestimate but unless you plan to keep your distance they will give you a fight for the money. The second rank carries shield and spear, they are trusted guards that are trusted with maintaining a strong line of defense when necessary. These are simply called the Main Guard.
Third rank carries a little more armor and bastard swords (One and a half handers, used either way), these are men or women that Maion know, talks to privately and has her full respect. They are called Wayfinder Knights and has gone through the earlier ranks making a name for themselves and done something to catch Maions eye of respect. These are men and women that will crush anyone whom threatens Maions safety directly and if they don't kill their target they will die trying to take you to hell with them. It is likely that they have learned a Book as well as encouraged by Maion, however it is hard to tell their level of skill in these.
Ps, you suck bro... K? Luv ya. |
55,940 | 1,533 | 0 | 1,894 | 5,788 | The day had finally come. For a month now, students from all around the world of Remnant have been living within the walls of Vale in preparation of the tenth Vytal Festival since the war between the Humans and the Faunus. Since the great battle between the two races, Humans and Faunus alike have been reaching for a peaceful future. However, there are still many who resent the animal hybrid species, even in a time of peace.
The people of Vale, as well as other from across the kingdoms, have been readying themselves for the festivals, setting their best wares and preparing their best foods for others to enjoy. It was a festival of unity and prosperity, thanking the world for giving them what they have now. They were safe from the Grimm, and they were privileged enough to see the best and brightest students from each academy fight against one another in the spirit of friendship and competition.
The vendors had been ready far before the day actually began, waiting for people to enjoy their culture in its different forms. Some offered food, others clothes, and anything else that could be varied on location.
Bergen had left the room that her team was in long before the sun rose. Even on the day of the festival, there was no excuse for her to not train her hardest.
Now, the sun shone overhead, two of the professors from Beacon were busy talking to one another about the festival itself, as well as the competitors in this year's tournament.
Meanwhile, Burgundy was busy working on her seventh bowl of noodles, chowing down as if there were no tomorrow. She didn't know where her teammates were, but she was sure that they would find her before the competition started. | Name: Echo Marine?
Team: BEAT
Birth Date: May 2nd
Age: 18
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Designation: Sophomore Student at Atlas Academy
In Depth Appearance: Echo is a tall, strongly-built girl, with long legs, wide shoulders, and wide hips. Her skin is approximately mocha in tone, and contrasts extravagently with her poofy blue hair, which is tied back in a bush except for jagged bangs. Fairly thick eyebrows, full lips, and a near-permanent smirk distinguish her face.
On the battlefield or the stage, Echo's attire of choice is a gray crop-sleeved sweaterskirt, yellow bows as her hairtie and her belt, streamlined cotton pants, and white tennis shoes with yellow soles. Black elastic wraps adorn her arms, extending into fingerless gloves. This garb overall displays a simple functionality, though not without its own assertive style.
Weapon: The simple title of Echo's weapon, the Boomstick, masks a great degree of sophistication and flexibility seemingly unfit for a brutish hammer. To begin, the Boomstick is an immense mallet, meant to be swung with both hands. The force of a proper swing is capable of making dents in Grimm armor plates and metal alike. Though slower and not as adaptable as a blade or even a mace, this huge weapon nevertheless boasts a highly effective inelegance masked beneath a hip exterior.
More interesting than the Boomstick's raw pummeling capabilities, however, are the two sound-based devices built into it. Lying well-sheltered in the hammerhead, an extremely potent boombox creates forceful reverberations in the vicinity of the weapon when swung, giving the Boomstick an area-of-effect capable of launching things it isn't even touching. Additionally, a microphone exists in the bottom of the Boomstick's handle, though this serves more of an entertainment purpose than a tactical one.
Semblance: Stemming from Echo's unwillingness to back down even when greatly challenged, her semblance Run it Back restores her own aura to its level a few moments ago, making her resistent to burst damage and even able to stay in a fight when she might otherwise be taken down. This talent's nature as a sort of 'second wind' however, prevents her using her ability more than once or twice per fight, leading her to save it for big moments. The ability is extremely taxing on her body, and even two uses has great effects on her soon after, requiring her to finish a fight quickly after using her semblance.
Personality: In a word, adamant. Echo is proud, resolute in what she believes in, and strong-willed to the point of obnoxiousness. Despite being overly inclined to prefer everything being done her way, she will relent if sufficiently convinced—a quality she shamelessly touts as being representative of her consideration for others' thoughts, which she lacks. Though of average intelligence, she is less proficient than most in picking up on the feelings of others. She doesn't ever let her opponents get through to her, thinking this to be an act of submission; for instance, if slandered for her weight, Echo might turn it around to point out that she's not trying to pretend she's something she's not. Echo also tends to hold grudges. Despite being self-centered and somewhat arrogant, she is not in the least bit mean-spirited and will not actively seek to hurt the feelings or attack the beliefs of others, and if she discovers she has done so, she will apologize.
On the flipside, Echo exhibits a loyalty and reliability that make her a steadfast ally, if not a steadfast friend. The military tradition of her family perseveres in her, and Echo remains optimistic despite the tragedies and struggles of the world to inspire confidence and toughness in others. All in all, she is an indomitable spirit, for better or worse, whose confidence can be both self-destructive and self-preservative.
Place of Origin: Atlas
Relations with other Players:
Burgundy - Echo holds a certain level of respect for Burgundy. Not only because she is the leader of the team, but also due to the fact that she always appears to be on the top of her game. she seems to view Burgundy in the same prodigal light that many of the faculty in the academy do, but her respect is not to be mistaken for idolism. The two tend to make jokes about one another, Echo's favorite one being a half true statement in how she believes that men should be throwing themselves at her feet and forming a reverse harem for her. It usaully gets a good laugh out of the both of them. Despite how close the two are, she is still unaware of the rigorous training that Burgundy sneaks off to to maintain her status as a pending specialist.
Albus -The two are quite the odd pair. They speak like a couple and are more open with eachother than they actually know. Their relationship can be described as 'Tough Love'. They share insults together without even knowing that they are both actually giving eachother a piece of themselves. But in combat Albus and Echo do not work well together like Albus does with Tawne.
Tawne - Echo and Tawne represent a compromising clash. More than anyone else on the team, and often more than anyone else they know, Echo and Tawne butt heads on the smallest of issues, seemingly just for the sake of it. Since day one, each has treated one another like a sibling, with a great deal of understanding and care veiled behind an equal but much more visible quantity of teasing, calling out, and competition. Both strive to be the 'big brother' of the relationship.
This get's the Pyro Seal of approval, and is automatically accepted. |
55,941 | 1,533 | 1 | 646 | 1,002 | Team DEVL
Bored, yet undeniably sharp emerald irises glinted within the annoying sunlight, as the one and only Daelon 'Eden' Verde treated his pale skin to the slightly frustrating heat of Vale's sunny atmosphere. The teenager wasn't yet sure if he preferred this weather to the more colder, brisker environment that was Mistral, but, regardless, it was certainly a change of scenery. Sat underneath the hastily-sewn tarp of a lemonade stand, Eden took a short sip of the sugary sweet drink, before leaning back in the oddly comfortable wooden chair, and releasing a low sigh. He wasn't lazy, for sure - well, that's what he told himself - but he had to admit...drinking lemonade and relaxing in the open air was a lot better than spending 24 hours training, perfecting a style that he has long since became an expert in. True, his marksmanship could probably use some polishing off, but what was the use of constantly stressing his body? Both body and mind needed the occasional rest, and despite the noisy, loud atmosphere of the festival and it's occupants, this was a nice place to rest. Hell, he could even feel his eyes drifting into the deep, dark abyss of sleep...And finally...relief. He was submerged in the darkness, his eyes closed.
Just then, he was quickly jolted awake by a slap across the back of his head by his teammate, Lapis and with the familiar call of...
"What's up, idiot?"
"The sun and the moon...and apparently, not my beauty rest..." He mumbled the last part, opening one eye to glare at the offending woman. A gloved hand rose from it's resting place to rub the slightly sore spot at the back of his head, ruffling feathery locks of black hair. "What do you need, Lapis?"
"Need? I need oxygen, I want to win the Vytal festival. Come on, Tori is waiting for us in the dorm." The girl responded, her arms crossed, and her feet making an impatient rhythm on the concrete ground.
Knowing that Lapis was an incredibly persistent daughter of a bitch, Eden mumbling an obscenity underneath his breath, stood, grabbing his backpack off of the table as he did. "Lead the way." The teen frowned, eyeing his abandoned lemonade forlornly.
The clock in the team's dorm room ticked away, each second swallowed up by the constantly moving hand of time. Victoria pressed her closed fist up against her punching bag. The fabric of the bag was lined with kevlar, and inside the bag was dozens and dozens of tightly compacted concrete. Normal punching bags often didn't even last a single punch or two with her before it swung wildly off of its hook and against the wall. As she activated her semblance, she felt warmth race up and down her arm, as her blue aura ignited and danced along her skin. Victoria inhaled deeply before pulling back her arm, in one sharp motion she suddenly exhaled, her fist impacting hard against the stone wrapped in kevlar. She felt the shock wave, but not the pain or shattered hands she would have felt if she did not have her semblance active. As the kinetic energy from her punch died down, she sensed the stone-like material cracking beneath the fabric.
"Over compensating much?" Joked, Lapis as the she entered the room. She took a seat on her bed, scratching her chin as she continued to speak.
Eden stopped at the doorway, leaning against the wall as he watched the two. Inside his mind, however, he was still mourning the loss of his lemonade. Vale really knew how to make the liquid just the perfect amount of sweet. His tongue salivated at the thought.
Staring at himself in the mirror, upon hearing the familiar muffled crack of concrete against her fist from inside the bathroom, Eminence gave a slight sigh when he noticed the brutality of her punch had actually caused the mirror to crack straight down the middle, having almost finished brushing his wet, thick and heavy set of purple coloured hair, just out of the bath, Eminence cleaned the grime off his body quickly, before putting on his garments, dressed and suited, ready for the occasion at hand.
Hand upon the bathroom door, the familiar frigid touch of metal, Eminence pulled on it, allowing the "Human" to walk into the main room of the dorm, where it appeared everyone else was standing.
"If you keep training like this, that's probably going to be the tenth dummy this week! And i don't think we have enough Lien to buy one every hour...! Or forty mirrors a day...!" The heir spoke politely, obviously only meaning this as a joke. He was glad he was in a group filled with such vibrant characters, however none of them knew of his ... actual features, with him hiding the fact he is actually a faunus. Still, he was glad he got to spend time with them, and he hoped one day he could trust them enough to look past who he really was, in time of course.
"Oh, relax, it's fine. My mom's the one who pays for the punching bags... Unless you want me to stop asking her for them and take their place." Victoria replied with a grin. "As for your mirrors, you can send her the bill too, I'll make sure it ends up where it belongs." Truthfully, she was talking about the trash. She deactivated her semblance, the flames disappeared instantly like a blown out candle.
"In any case...! We should probably go over our plans for the tournament, who'll be going into each round, what we should do to chain our attacks together, that sort of thing? Unless breakfast and lunch sound like a good idea first...?"
Lapis slumped back on her bed, stretching her arms out and staring at the ceiling.
"Breakfast does sound good" She murmered "But we should probably start training, we've not got a lot of time before it all starts" She bounced off of her bed, before flattening her hair with her hand and continuing. "That is unless comatose boy over here wants to catch some sleep first" she taunted, sticking a thumb out towards, Daelon.
Eden frown-smirked, something unique to him, before straightening up from his leaning position. "No, your bullshit woke me up. Let's go." He had previously scouted out the festival layout a while back, mostly for places where he could be alone to listen to music or sleep or whatever he wanted to do at the time, and had came upon a bit of a gem, as far as solitary training fields went. Turning around, Eden rose a hand in a 'Come hither' gesture as he made his way out of the building.
The festival was still active, but a lot more manageable, now that some time had passed since the grand opening. Eden paused as he exited their temporary shelter, turning around and walking backwards as he spoke. "It's a ways off...just gotta go through the sewers, and up through a different grate." He instinctively side-stepped a child as they ran past, still walking backwards. "Hidden away and all that." Turning around, Eden was about to continue leading, when he came face to face with a rather disturbing scene.
A red-haired chick pigging out on noodles, the broth flying everywhere.
He calmly flicked a flying piece of noodle out of the air, before it could impact his face. His eyes, usually cool and sharp, twitched slightly. He really hated ramen. It reminded him of worms.
He was deathly afraid of worms.
Eminence had almost jumped into action when the flying piece of noodle shot straight for him, though he had no need to rush since Eden had already deflected it with the tip of his finger. Lightly stumbling, Eminence straightened himself up and coughed, a little embarrassed at his preemptive actions.
"Sorry...! I was going to uh... nevermind, you handled that yourself! ... A waste of a noodle though!"
Lapis' face grew with glee as she saw the noodle stand, she could hardly even see the girl through her own unsatiable hunger. She almost leapt into the seat, slamming her hand down and ordering the patron to get her a bowl of noodles. A minute or so later and it had arrived, she slammed a not down and began chowing down into the noodles.
The thick purpled haired heir raised an eyebrow when he saw, Lapis lunge for the noodle stand like some form of insatiable grimm, and chuckled at the sight of her literally devouring her meal like a beast from a horror movie. Honestly he didn't know whether to be surprised or afraid. Possibly both. Though the scent of the noodles did make him hungry.
"I think i'll take a bowl myself...!" Eminence spoke, taking a few seats down from, Lapis, he smiled politely, ordering himself a bowl of noodles with PLENTY of meat, needing to sate his canines on something of a less "vegeterian" lifestyle, he tried his best to be polite as he ate, to keep proper form, though the desire to drill into his noodles like Lapis was all the more tempting, he decided to keep himself from doing so.
With a disgruntled frown, Eden collapsed into a nearby seat, propped his chin up on his fist, and watched his teammates eat the nasty worms. "Training my ass." He said under his breath.
And he still didn't have his damned lemonade. | ＮＡＭＥ:: Daelon 'Eden' Verde
ＧＥＮＤＥＲ:: Male
ＡＧＥ:: 17
ＳＰＥＣＩＥＳ:: Human
ＴＥＡＭ:: --
ＳＹＭＢＯＬ:: --
ＳＥＭＢＬＡＮＣＥ:: Speed/Agility. When activated, his speed leaves him as a black and emerald-green blur to others' eyes, while Eden's own brain allows him the necessary ability to process things at this fast pace, if only for a limited amount of time, meaning that he either has to use it in bursts, or end the fight before his brain and body gets muddled from the stress. This amazing speed makes him incredibly lethal in combat, and can be used to chain together fast attacks with his blades. Due to a side-effect, he often leaves behind fading, emerald-green streaks, from his eyes constantly adjusting to his speed. It's an odd side-effect, and doesn't help, nor detriment his ability. Due to his speed, Eden often needs to eat high-energy foods and drinks, which is why he often drinks Monster Energy Sodas.
ＷＥＡＰＯＮ:: Exodus Zinnia is a dual-type of weapon, personally crafted by Eden himself. Thusly, it is still prone to upgrades and changes, whenever he has time for such things. Exodus Zinnia's appearance is that of two long, razor-sharp, sleek black katanas, with a dark steel and mechanical hilt, and with the razor-sharp edges of the blades being a deep emerald green - for aesthetic purposes. Small, steel, cylinder barrels are built into the bottom of the edge of the blades. Connected to these barrels are small black triggers. A pull on the trigger, and high-caliber sniper rounds will tear from the barrels, travelling up the length of the blade's edge and entering whatever he was aiming at - with Eden using the recoil as an enhancement to his acrobatic combat style.
This usually means that, to aim, he simply has to point the blades at the opponent, and squeeze the triggers. However, when Exodus Zinnia is in it's blades form, he doesn't aim all that much. He is in melee range, the sharp blade cleaving through enemy after enemy, with Eden mainly shooting as an after-thought;; a commonly used tactic is the blades are pierced hilt deep into an enemy, and he squeezes the triggers, the massive recoil blasting him backwards. The monster suffers from twin deep stab wounds, and the destruction of two high-calibered, explosive sniper rounds tearing into it's body. Highly efficient at mid-to-close range. Can insert dust crystals into the bottom of the hilts, to consume the blade in the crystals' respective element.
When he slams the blades together, hilt-first, a sensor takes over, instantly transforming Exodus Zinnia into it's sniper rifle form;; a large, long, and surprisingly light-weight, high-calibered sniper rifle, combined with an enhanced-zoom scope on the top. He usually uses this for when he needs complete accuracy, and when he needs to keep his distance. He can insert Dust cartridges into the gun as well, for a variety of different effects. The gun is primarily black, like the blades form, with emerald accents. Highly efficient at long range, with some potential at close-range, depending on the user's skill level.
ＣＯＬＯＵＲ:: Emerald/Verde Green.
ＡＰＰＥＡＲＡＮＣＥ :: Eden is a lean young man, standing at around 5'11 or so, with a slim, yet defined and athletic physique that, while isn't bulky, allows him exponential speed and agility, whilst his strength itself isn't low. His skin is a tad pale, but nothing too extreme;; regardless, it goes well with his long, naturally silky black hair, which is naturally set into two long locks that rests over both shoulders. His eyes themselves are a bright green, seeming almost yellow in different lightings. His general clothing consists of a black shirt, and a pair of vaguely militarized black pants, with dark boots and fingerless gloves.
His clothing has an occasional emerald highlight, with forest-green bandages wrapped around his left thigh - pinning a holster there, and along his boots. His black and forest-green, compact bacpack is generally on his back, wherever he goes, holding light-weight items only he knows about. It's fabric can apparently be turned from a steel-like hardness, into a pillow-like softness, as he uses the backpack for both resting his head on, and in emergency combat situations. Exodus Zinnia is usually in it's travel-safe form - two dark black, emerald-accented rings, on the index fingers of his left and right hand.
ＰＥＲＳＯＮＡＬＩＴＹ:: Eden is seen, by others, as a cool-headed, apathetic, reserved, and rather laidback sort of character, preferring solitude and keeping to himself, rather than large groups or things such as that nature, which can even make him seem rather lazy at times. He's generally in high control of himself and his actions, his semblance having a side-effect of him being able to process and adapt to things faster than the average. While he prefers peace and quiet, he also has a razor-sharp wit, which is only enhanced by his occasional smirks or smiles. His distant coldness, however, tends to make him unapproachable at times.
His humor is a tad dry and sarcastic, a bit black and dark, but it's usually in a humorous manner - he doesn't really talk all that much, but he when he feels the need to, he can crack a joke. Thing is, he just leaves that stuff up to his teammates or friends, feeling a bit more comfortable in the shadows, out of the way, watching out for other things the others may be too distracted to notice. In battle, he shows why he should be feared by the Grimm. He's not afraid of a challenge ;; rather, he loves challenges, due to his prodigal prowess in combat, and wouldn't shy away from a fight or dare. His cool demeanor can annoy a few of the more hotheaded students, but that's just how the cookie crumbles. He's quite the studious and scholastic student, and whenever he doesn't feel like coming up with a reply to someone else, he usually just quotes a stanza or verse from a poem or speech, even if that specific verse has nothing to do with the situation at hand. That could usually make the person get angry and walk away, which was usually Eden's plan in the first place.
He is a very inquisitive person, and if something interest hims, he usually doesn't give up on sating his curiosity. This goes hand-in-hand with his bravery and persistence, which can come off as stubborn at times.
ＨＩＳＴＯＲＹ:: Eden is a man of a very...well, not lonely past, but a solitary and risky past. Born within an orphanage in the more...shadier streets of Mistral, he had always been a determined and street-savvy young boy. Stealing food from his patrons whenever they decided to hold out on the kids, and sharing it amongst the other young boys and girls, he was seen as an older-brother figure to the kids, and as he began to grow older, he began to rationalize his thieving as helping - even as he moved on from stealing from patrons, and stealing from the rich, themselves. Of course, his stint as an agile and sneaky thief caused him to get into quite a few fights on the street, which is where the rough-draft of Exodus Zinnia was created from - a pair of shabby stone swords he built out of awe of actual blades.
When he managed to get all of the kids in the orphanage enough food to last a long time, Eden moved on, running away from the orphanage that he no longer needed, and getting into more trouble. It was around this time, at the age of 14, when he was found by a teacher from Sanctum, an Academy on Mistral similar to Vale's Signal Academy. The woman having been on vacation, he had tried to pickpocket her when she walked into an alleyway, and when she turned around with a giant blade swinging towards him, instincts took over and Eden blurred behind her, sweeping her legs out from underneath her. She flipped in mid air and pulled a revolver out of the freaking alley wall, and aimed a shot at his torso. He saw the bullet moving slowly, as his eyes glowed, and Eden streaked behind her again, slamming a fist into her solar plexus. This is how he met his mentor, Viola.
Viola, after the scuffle, had sensed something in the street-rat, and grabbed him before he could run. After a conversation, in which he agreed to go to Sanctum Combat Academy, Viola continued with her shopping, and met up with Eden later that day, at their designated meeting spot - one of Eden's hideouts. That was the start of the second part of his life...school. There, he got into quite a few fights, but began to find a niche he enjoyed - hunting. He excelled in combat, with his street-smart instincts, natural fighting ability, his intelligence, and his semblance. Exodus Zinnia, originally a failed project, came into fruition, with the help of a couple of other teachers. Before he knew it, he was going to Haven Academy, put into a team, becoming an actual Huntsman..
ＯＴＨＥＲ:: Ready. My semblance would probably be some sort of telekinesis. I'm not a very active person. |
55,942 | 1,533 | 2 | 1,449 | 5,931 | Echo Marine, Albus Alliquam, Tawne Adagio
What started out as a mischievous smirk developed into a smug shuckle and finally culminated in a raucous guffaw. Over the course of a few moments, Tawne proved less and less able to contain his mirth as what began as an experimental joke culminated into hijinks worth of a true master of the art of sabotage. In fact, the sophomore could not even look at the screen without cracking up, however composed he managed to make himself. Finally, he called out across the hotel room, "Albus! Get over here and get a load of this!" He span his laptop around neatly on the smooth wooden desk so that the faunus could get a good look.
Albus was finishing homework. Writing on two seperate sheets of paper that acted as notes. " Alright- Alright. " He chuckled, sliding of the chair and quickly jogged over to Tawne, " Awww~ Why are you doing this without me! " Albus pouted, his elbow resting against the chair.
Leaning on his crossed arms, Tawne tapped the edge of the computer, inviting his friend to figure out the story for himself. "There's no time to waste when it's time to evil-do! The evil that I do do. Check it out: you remember Star Colony, right? Well, these new guys just made a little base on the server, and I dropped by to give 'em a little 'welcoming present', heheh! It looks like a doormat, but it's really a pitfal trap full of dust bombs. I've already killed two of the suckers! You shoulda heard them over the voice chat. So pissed off!" He whirled the laptop around and set his dextrous fingers dancing across the keyboard, like an artist on his loom. "What's next, do you think? Falling anvils? Tripwires? Ooh, I know. I'll lead a monster inside."
He intently looked at the screen, trying his hardest to focus, " Hmm...this is a hard one. I'd suggest rigging a bomb to a signal chest. Put something you least need in it. And bam! You have the most basic trap. " Albus couldn't think of anything else at the moment. Homework was more important to him at the time.
An uncharacteristic surge of panic crossed Tawne's face. His steady tapping of fingers on keys swelled to a fever pitch, and he cried in mock, "Wagh! I've been found out! One of the admins is running after me! I mean, it's only been like, thirty minutes. I'd figured he was either blind or ramming a few too many hotpockets into his piehole. No, no, no...! Aw, what a gem. Kicked from the server for the day. The fun police strikes again!" A few clicks of the mouse exited out of the game and back to desktop. Tawne leaned back in his chair, not at all perturbed by this turn of events. Sunlight filtering through the blinds caught his eye, and with a start he realized he'd forgotten breakfast.
" Really? Again? Do I have to make more apologization emails to the server owners?" Albus laughed lightly, standing up straight and his hands sliding down into his pockets as he watched. There wasn't much he could do right now, his eyes were baggy from lack of sleep. Albus wanted to do more, but obviously his father wanted him to score the highest in Beacon. He couldn't fufill two wishes at a time, " I need to do my homewor- "
An abrupt slam of the bathroom door cut Albus off. Echo appeared in casual clothing, her still-wet hair neatly poofed. "What're you two bozos yakking about? More bullying people online, you bully?" She grabbed a yellow bandana and tied it with deft precision around her hair. Tawne shrugged nonchalantly, casual as ever. "Studio wouldn't have put pressure pads and retracting panels in if they didn't want 'em used. Besides, if I were you, Ech, I'd be a lot more worried about your newest viral video. Shower scenes are all the rage on Dank.com." He grinned and rose to his feet. Echo, who knew her teammate merely jibed her, rolled her eyes and pulled the bow tight. "You'd know."
Sighing again, Albus rubbed his head and walked back to his desk on the other side of the room. More focused on his homework as...usual? His grades had been declining and Albus tried to focus but with such rowdy friends that was almost impossible. He couldn't have the fun he liked but at least he was with the people he cared about. "Echo! Don't-...do anything right now. I am busy and-...and I need to do my homework."
The bluenette cast Albus an incredulous look. "I hope 'don't do anything' doesn't include breakfast. Crunch numbers if ya like; I'm gonna go eat. Finish quick. Today's the big day. If we're gonna pull off Plan Beat we need at least one more rehearsal, all four of us. Ya with me, Tawne?"
She turned to look at him, but found the bespectacled lad only a few inches away. With a laptop powered down, a chair pushed in, and a stomach a-rumbling, Tawne was the spitting image of ready. "Nope. I'll need at least two hours."
Albus frowned, and after a moment of intense thought piped up with, "I'll stay here." No sooner than the words come out of his mouth, his teammates vanished, leaving Albus to the privacy of the hotel room. Even such a mundane place held great promise on a day like this, though. While they might not look it, no member of BEAT could be more amped about the chance to represent Atlas in the tournament of all tournaments, the Vytal Festival. Albus took in the silence of the room...for once it was quiet. Though he had felt uncomfortable without the comfort of others nearby. He grabbed the books next to the computer and jumped onto his bottom half of his bed.
Meanwhile, the two Atlesians met their first obstacle only moments into their trek for breakfast. Tawne insisted that they patronize the nearby pancake house, Mad Stacks, while Echo argued that they'd be able to rendezvous with their team leader at a noodle shack. "You nuts, Ech? Burg's a big girl, she can handle herself for a little while out in the real world. Knowing her she'd be too busy trying to eat her way into immobility to even acknowledge we exist. Mad Stacks is where it's at." He leaned against the hotel doorway, hands resting idly in his pockets with one of his feet stuck behind the other. Still not adjusted to the full sunlight, he waited for Echo to stop glaring at him.
She obliged, though only after remarking through pursed lips, "We have pancakes all the time, doofus. We still gotta wrap up the plan. Noodles or no noodles, Burgundy will get it. There's a lot ridin' on us today." Regretting having to give up on pancakes but well aware of how productive an attempt to change his comrade's mind might be, Tawne pushed off the building at set off into the bustling festival grounds, Echo right alongside. "No pressure though," he sneered to no-one in particular.
In short order, the pair arrived at the noodle stall, homing in on a waterfall of luxuriant scarlet hair. Tawne and Echo seated themselves on either side of Burgundy, effectively trapping their leader between them. Sure enough, the girl had already eaten enough to satisfy a family or two. Naturally, Tawne wasted no time pointing this out. "Geez, Burg. I really am surprised you aren't a blimp by now. Must have God's own metabolism." He signalled a staff member. "One udon. Please." He cast an eye down the stall, spotting a black-haired girl in gray nearly as gluttonous as Burgundy. The three individuals around her also caught his attention, and a logical realization ensued. Whistling, Tawne received his udon, and remarked to his friends, "Those four are too unique-looking to be normal. Figure they're competitors?"
Halfway through a bite of soba, Echo followed his eyes. Rather than spending time pondering or not, she slurped down her food and said aloud, "Hiya. Hmm...group of four, cool threads? Y'all competing in the Vytal Festival tournament?" For the moment at least, these new faces interested her more than running over a plan with Burgundy, not that the redhead had finished stuffing her face. | Name: Tawne Adagio
Team: BEAT
Birth Date: August 31st
Age: 18
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Designation: Sophomore Student at Atlas Academy
-=-=-
In Depth Appearance: Tawne is of slighty above average height and physical condition, giving him a wiry frame. Long, nimble fingers give him admirable dexterity. His face sports a cleft chin, green eyes, and a rounded nose. Tawne's hair is nearly platinum blonde, practically sun-colored, and very bright. It falls to about his chin, but is commonly kept brushed back. His green eyes match the green-tinted panes of his black glasses.
Tawne's favorite clothes for times of action are loosely ceremonial, and vividly colored except for a loose black undershirt. A yellow-range mantle hangs down his front and back, kept in place by a wrap around his neck. A gray scarf with an intricate, white, curvy design serves him as a belt. On his arms and feet are leather vambraces and boots of the same style. Deep red pants complete the ensemble.
Weapon: Sticky Keys is a weapon both comically brutal and gloriously inelegant. This bizarre armament combines a keyboard with a butcher's cleaver, its single huge blade jutting out from the instrument's forward side. Handles exist at both the top and bottom of the weapon for strategic gripping, though the top one hides a special feature: a trigger for the double-barreled shotgun embedded in the weapon's top. Never meant for accuracy or delicacy, this shotgun serves as a powerful deterrent to anyone believing the cleaver blade to be easy to get around.
Semblance: Tawne's semblance, Spinout, comes into effect with anything in his vicinity that starts to spin, be it a ball, a weapon, or himself. Spinout enhances the spin, increasing speed and force while stabilizing trajectory, all of which ramp up over time. For instance, Tawne can throw a ball and have it fly perfectly straight, then grind into a target. He can perform enhanced lariats, rolls, tornado throws, and even hurricane kicks. Spinout derives from his tendency to be either brash or crazy in trying times, and to put a unique spin on whatever comes his way.
-=-=-
Personality: In essence, Tawne tends to play by his own somewhat loony rules. He's intelligent and quick-witted but with a snarky and sarcastic bent, quick to make jokes about and trivialize things that might matter to others. He views taking things too seriously as 'tryharding', and anathema to fun--which is what truly matters to him. Tawne loves a good time, whether playing games, making music, or fighting. Despite his general acidity and brashness, he actually does really enjoy hanging out with others, and will work tirelessly to return kindness to those who show it to him. To those close to him, he is equal parts irritating and inseparable. When things get tough, Tawne tends to go nuts, acting with a rather manic vigor. While possessed of a decent self-esteem, Tawne is intensely self-depreciating, though whether this is a joke at his expense or at egotists' few can rightly say. Despite his cynicism and slight kookiness, Tawne is kept firmly on the side of justice and goodness by his spirituality.
Place of Origin: Canopy, Atlas
History: In the city of Canopy in Atlas, a couple with no desire or need to marry became a family. From an early age it was evident that Tawne took after both the keen intelligence of his mother, the banker Saffron, and the creative wisdom of his father, the pianist Gormon. He also displayed an inability to mesh with other children, often driving them away with his sharp sense of humor and sometimes hurtful bluntness. Nevertheless, he exhibited an endearing kind of annoying, and his parents loved him. Other adults often felt surprised to see the compassionate and helpful side of the boy who often needled their children in school. Tawne, meanwhile found the fulfillment in religion that he did not get from other kids; it was spirituality that inspired him to do the best he could in life.
During his education, it became clear that Tawne delighted in music as much as his father, but rather than take an interest in finance he found satisfaction and creative potential in combat. As such, the government moved him into Atlas Academy when the time came, and there he found both a blend of his two passions and a few individuals who really understood him: his teammates. Tawne continued to devote himself to the rigors of education, though never abandoning his cuttingly jovial nature.
Relations with other Players: Tawne is fast friends with his teammate Albus. Though the two are vastly disparate in a variety of ways, they have formed a powerful bond of friendship, pretty much brothers in arms. Working together remarkably well, they are ideal partners both in music and in battle, able to coordinate attacks for maximum effectiveness and humiliation. If some sort of prank is going down, you can be sure that these two aren't far from it.
Extra: My semblance would be sneezing at gale force winds. |
55,943 | 1,533 | 3 | 1,329 | 2,344 | Victoria sat there uninterested, waiting for her other two team mates to finish devouring their meals. She had never been a girl for ramen, or any other soup-based foods. She enjoyed different cuts of meat, especially well-done steak. Not to mention, she wasn't particularly hungry, having ate a few snacks before training, so ramen definitely wasn't on her list of priorities. She really wanted to train, though. "Training, my ass." whispered Daelon to himself. She turned to face him and gave him a sly smile.
With another glance towards her hungry team mates, Victoria turned her attention elsewhere, absent-mindedly zipping up front of her jacket - a nervous habit. Said habit was disrupted by the sudden approach of another group of teenagers around their age - students, most-likely, here to compete in the Vytal Tournament. The three seemed to know the girl with the red hair sitting near them as they sat with her and began talking amongst themselves. All of a sudden, one member of the other team spoke up. "Hiya. Hmm...group of four, cool threads?" Victoria snickered at that comment. "Y'all competing in the Vytal Festival tournament?"
Victoria turned and looked at the blue-haired stranger.
"Heh, no not competing. We're going to win the Vytal." she replied with an arrogant smirk. "How about you?" | T H E B A S I C S
|Name|
Victoria Lazuli
|Team|
DEVL
|Age|
17
|Race|
Human
|Gender|
Female
|Designation|
Student
A P P E A R A N C E
|In Depth Appearance|
Victoria is a dark-skinned short girl of average build. Her wavy hair is a dark brown which is often worn down, with the very end of her hair at the back being dip dyed a vibrant blue. Victoria typically wears a blue hooded jacket, in which is tucked a light blue scarf, over a long grey shirt that tends to poke out from under her jacket, along with a pair of black jeans. She also wears a pair of white and light blue sneakers as well as leather blue fingerless gloves.
|Scars, Tattoos, Other Markings|
Victoria has a trail of various scars, scratches and bruises along her arms and knuckles, which she keeps hidden with her jacket and gloves.
G E T T I N G T O K N O W M E
|Likes & Dislikes|
✔ Mango, her pet parakeet
✔ Puns
✔ Scarves
✔ Reading
✔ Punching
✔ Family
✔ Azured Victory
✘ The Ocean
✘ Traitors
✘ Competition
✘ Criminals
✘ Cold weather
✘ Grimm
✘ Drama
D E L V I N G D E E P E R
|Personality|
Victoria isn't exactly a nice person; this much, you may or may not see from the get-go. Victoria often views being in her Team as an honour, and naturally, any other team is automatically inferior, the girl has absolutely no problem cutting anyone down with words as sharp as her weapon. Ruthless, is a way to describe her. Despite all of this, however, she reserves a hidden kindness within her venom-laced heart. For those that she brings herself to trust, she trusts them almost without hesitation, with almost a desperate sense of comradeship. As trusting relations and true friendship wasn't something she experienced much of in her rich lifestyle, true friends are hard to come by, and thus, secretly cherished. With all of her flaws and strengths, do not think that Victoria would leave a comrade to die. She would fight through thick and thin to help, even if she stops occasionally to fix her hair. Surprisingly, she enjoys clever puns. This is part of the reason why she named her weapon 'Azured Victory', though if you ask her the reason she named it that, she will desperately deny it and make up a random reason.
|Weapon Name|
Azured Victory
|Weapon Appearance/Function|
Azured Victory appears to be a regular blue and grey rapier sword fit for Victoria's traditional fencing fighting style, but Azured Victory is anything but traditional when Victoria activates the engine within the pommel of the sword. The engine is activated by the trigger hidden underneath the removable guard. Upon activation, the blade of the rapier expands and becomes a high powered drill capable of boring through thick metal.
Azured Victory has one final form in which the drill bit expands exponentially to an incredible length and width, increasing Azured Victory's power to unimaginable levels. Though the form has one potentially fatal drawback; Victoria's beloved weapon has a very high chance of breaking completely, possibly leaving her defenceless. Due to this, Victoria hardly ever uses it.
|Semblance|
By channelling her Aura into either of both of her arms, Victoria can make her fists inhumanly powerful, causing her punches to be like sledgehammers. This ability manifests in the form of blue flame-like energy that constantly travel up and down her arms. Although her semblance allows some degree of enhanced durability, punching something dense while it is active would still damage her, albeit with bruises and scars, rather than completely shattered bones. Her semblance also emits light and heat.
|Place of Origin|
Mistral
|History|
Victoria was born into a somewhat well-off family in Mistral. Though she grew up without any relative difficulties, she never had many friends during her childhood due to the sumptuousness and solitude of her family's manor. She attended private lessons, orchestrated by her father's extensive bank account. The private lessons were, surprise surprise, taught to her within her own home, and thusly, Victoria never really got to see much of the outside world. Sure, she went out occasionally for celebratory dinners and to 'shop until she dropped' with some of the more empty-brained of the maids and workers that her father hired, but over-all, she had a surprisingly lonely childhood. Her father was an Executive Administrator for the Mistral Trade Route, and spent most of his time bossing people around on boats and ships along the coast. However, Victoria's father was a warm and incredibly kind man, and despite him not being there all the time, he was there for her, regardless, and she loved him dearly for that. It was a running joke between the two, for him to always bring home a terribly clever, and cheesy pun whenever he managed to get home from his job, which is where Victoria's love for puns originated from. As far as her education went, Victoria was a fighter, moreso than she was a scholar. Due to recommendations, she could have went to Atlas, the militaristic Huntsmen Academy in the kingdom of the same name, but she declined it in favour of the Sanctum Combat Academy closer by - she was definitely not interested in some sweaty, military dump. Within the Academy, Victoria established herself, easily, as the top popular girl within the school, who had brains behind her beauty, though, despite all this, she struggled to come up with an adequate name for her own weapon. The name was actually given to her by her father, who came up with the pun based on Victoria's name, and the fact that Azured was the only thing he could come up with at the time - hence Azured Victory, her custom-made rapier drill. She loved it, and it became her favourite, and signature, weapon. However, all good things came come to an end eventually. Whilst loading supplies off the coast of Vale, her father's ship was sunk by aquatic Grimm - a surprise attack that no one expected to happen. He perished, along with his crew.
Victoria was forever shattered, though this only strengthened her resolve to become a Huntress, with an unfortunate side effect of a more hostile, personality change. Three years have passed since then, and Victoria was invited to Haven Academy, to destroy the plagues on humanity, the Grimm.
|Extra|
Victoria owns a pet Sun Parakeet named Mango at home.
If I had a semblance, it'd probably be some sort of Guardian Manifestation or general Cryokinesis. |
55,944 | 1,533 | 4 | 2,454 | 659 | Training my ass Spoke their team leader, making Eminence frown a little sadly at his words. He hoped he didn't mean that in spite, would have been a little bit rude of Daelon to do so. Eminence sighed apologetically, and with haste finished his meal, pushing the bowl to the slide. His eyes met Daelon's.
"I'm sorry we're not immediately beginning training, I never had anything to eat this morning and since someone else was going off to eat, I wouldn't be the type to just let them eat alone... Guess i'm just nice that way! Regardless, training on an empty stomach isn't exactly the best way to begin! So maybe you should loosen up and fill up before you start rumbling midway through practice! I don't carry snacks on me so... I wouldn't be able to give you a pick me up, Dee...!"
However before the heir could speak anymore, he sensed the approach of students unfamiliar to him, most likely another team competing in the festival given their talk about admiring their threads and asking if they were competing in the tournament themselves. The confident yet arrogant reply from Victoria made him smile, though he wasn't about to get ahead of himself, he needed a lot more training before he was going to be ready for anything. Eminence took note of their appearances, smiling affectionately at them.
"We'll try the best we can, as i'm sure you all will! Quite the garments yourselves! Seems like everyone in the tournament would be equally suited to a cosplay competition! Heh, perhaps once peace is brought to the world completely, we can have a Vytal festival that consists of less... aggressive displays of fun! ... Names Eminence. Eminence Manchester... What about yourselves?" | “Desperate to reveal, yet desperate to hide. To show ones own self, is to leave everything else behind..."
"I have yet to make that ultimate choice.”
-Eminence
OOC:
|Eminence Manchester|
|Team|
TBA
|Birth Date|
19/7
|Age|
17
|Race|
Saint Bernard Canine Faunus(Hidden)
|Gender|
Male
|Designation|
Student
Appearance:
|Appearing as an averaged physique'd, 6 foot tall, incredibly thick purple long haired male, with healthy Caucasian skin and a pretty face, Eminence wears a colourful purple and gold trimmed buttoned tailcoated jacket, with a white and purple trimmed shirt beneath, with a silver necklace tied loosely around his neck. He wears a set of formal purple leggings, the same colour as his jacket, with a pair of beautiful white formal shoes, purple soled.
Eminences faunus parts, i.e, his floppy Saint Bernard canine ears and poofy tail are hidden away, with Eminence's ears hidden underneath his thick set of hair, and his tail conveniently hidden in his leggings, with the tail-coat of his jacket further hiding the tail away.|
Weapon Name:
Claudia
Weapon Appearance/Function:
Appearing as a large two handed Zweihander made of incredibly durable sharp metals with a golden jeweled metallic hilt, with golden markings running along each side of the blade, these markings are actually comprised of dust forged into the blade, which turns the Zweihander into an incredibly vicious high frequency blade, vibrating to add to its cutting potential, running on dust, when he activates the dust, it allows his blade to slice through nearly any type of material for a short time.
The weapon can then break apart at the tip of the sword, sliding back and breaking apart to slide against thearm of Eminence, quickly twisting and merging itself over his left arm, to forge an arm cannon from his fist to his elbow, allowing him to fire concentrates explosions of dust from within, allowing him to cause great damage over a large area, though the weapon is show and requires precise aiming to execute effectively, and is easily dodge-able by incredibly fast opponents.
Holstered/Sheathed Appearance:
In its sheathed appearance, Eminence simply sheath his zweihander form into a glistening white metallic sheath on his back.
Form(s):
Form 1: Zweihander
Form 2: Arm cannon
Wanting to protect those around him and see his friends unharmed, what makes Eminence special is that using his own Aura, eminence can conjure a powerful shield before himself made of his energy to block and stop incoming attacks, allowing him to jump in the way of enemy strikes heading for either himself or his friends and absorb the damage using his Aura Shield, though this isn't as far as his power can go.
Disliking those who beat down others, those with malice, Eminence can build up energy with each blow he takes using his energy shield, and dish out even greater damage by expelling this energy outward using a massive laser like beam, absorbing the damage he would take and dealing that same power outward in retaliation, as such, this ability is used for defense, with the ability to go offensive once enough damage is delt.
|Likes & Dislikes|
✔
* Dogfood
* Meats
* Tennis balls, or other varients
* Folk music
* Fast food
* Affection like a dog would
* Reading
* Videogames
* People who are understanding
* Countrysides
✘
* Fear of cats
* Loud obnoxious noises
* Fancy/rich food
* Those with malicious intent
* His father
* Alcohol
|Personality|
Gentle, kind and compassionate, who loves everyone, even those considered "lesser" by society, Eminence isn't what you'd expect from a rich boy, he isn't a selfish arrogant brat, but instead a loving if somewhat naive male who simply wishes to make everyone happy. Eminence is a gentleman in his mannerisms, showing a love for serving others to make them happy, which happens to be strange given the fact you'd think the rich would be the ones to BE served, this just goes to show his very selfless nature.
An individual who hates narcissists and those who think they're better than everyone else, Eminence knows what its like to be ridiculed and despised for being something you can't control, though because he happens to be a faunus, it forces him to become very pensive, always pondering on what peoples opinions would be of him if they discovered who he actually was, and as such is constantly questioning about hiding who he is away from others, or keeping his status in his rich house hold.
|Place of Origin|
Mistral
|History|
Son to the current heir of the Manchesters, a rival family contesting against the Schnnee Dust Company for dust. Situated in Mistral, and being one of the richest families on the continent, Eminence was born into a very powerful line, and as such would be forced to follow in his families footsteps, forcing him to train in their style of combat, forced to do what they say, forced to look respectful and beautiful at all times, Eminence never could do many things on his own, without someone dictating his every choice.
Though nobody in his family, only his mother, and a few hand picked servants know of his Faunus heritage, his mother having died shortly after his birth, was a Faunus, who gave birth to the boy away from the prying eyes of his father, for fear of being exiled or executed for being different, his mother hid her faunus features just like Eminence does, and by hiding her Faunus features, hid away the fact that she was of a different race, a race which Eminence's racist father despised, and as such, she got pregnant with his child, with his father never knowing that the child was a faunus, thanks to the work of Miss Holly, a maid whom loyally served Miss Claudia, Eminences mother from her childhood.
Acquiring a very costly education, and schooled by one of the most prestigious hunting schools in Mistral, Eminences grades were always top notch, both because he wanted to do good and the fear of failing such a large corporation, which he thought of as a noose tied around his neck, fearful of what the company would do to him if they found him failing or finding out about who he actually was, for years eminence did his hardest to train, though when he trained, and traveled around mistral, he always envied those who weren't of a higher class, the freedom, the joy the casual love they all show for one another made him weep, desiring such a thing himself, eager to meet an actual friend for once, which was one of the main reasons he decided to become a hunter, along with wanting to keep the world safe from Grimm.
Now joining a proper academy, pretending he is simply a human, Eminence heads into his new life, eager to learn and eager to hopefully meet someone who could trust him, meet others who share his ideals and meet people he hasn't met before. It was going to be a long... interesting year.
|Extra|
To be honest, if I were to personally think of my own personal Semblance, it would be to heal people. With a fear of death, saving others would give my own personal self more worth, and make other people much more happy and relaxed. |
55,945 | 1,533 | 5 | 445 | 326 | He watched the two leave the dorm and right as the door shut he could feel a lump in his stomach, feeling guilty for not coming with them. He should feel guilty for the numerous amount of times he had forgotten homework and being scolded by his father but nothing was more heart wrenching than forgetting homework and friends leaving you behind. The scene he'd imagine in his head was more dramatic, " ALBUS SENPAI! DON'T! COME WITH US! " Magic rain was falling, Echo grabbing his hand and yanking him off the bed, " COME! TO THE MAGICAL LAND! " Echo shouted. Albus snickered at the thought, he moved his textbooks off his lap and walked out of the room. He turned and shut the door and walked down the hallway. As he walked down the hall he felt his phone vibrating against his knee, " Oh... " He said with a low voice as his left hand grabbed the phone out of his pockets. Albus, thinking it was his far had answered the call without knowing that it was actually an unknown caller, " Dad? What do you want? " He said with a sarcastic voice, " If this is about losing Donald...I don't want to talk about it! "
"For your sake. Don't lose." The voice on the other side was calm and slow. The person on the other end then became silent, but the call did not end.
Albus didn't recognize the voice, he didn't know what he meant. " H-...what? W-..God dammit! Who the fuck is this? " Albus said with a stern voice. If Echo really had released his phone number...he'd be pissed at her.
The voice still did not respond, and a few moments later, the call was dropped without a word.
Albus was really pissed now. He continued walking though his pace was much faster and his steps were louder. " God dammit Echo... " Albus said as he frowned. About 15 to 20 minutes later, after taking the Air Ship towards Vale, Albus made his way towards the festival grounds somewhere in Vale. After walking around the grounds he'd notice Echo and only Echo, he inhaled and exhaled deeply and walked towards the group of people at the Noodles Stand. | C H A R A C T E R S H E E T
Albus Aliquam
“The Grimm are strange creatures, embodiments of fear. Scary isn't it?”
- Venetus Prismos
Name
Albus Aliquam
Team: N/A
Birth Date: March 15
Age: 16
Race: Faunus (Ezo Wolf)
Gender: Male
Designation: Student
In Depth Appearance:
< H- 5'3 | W- 123.3lb | Build- Lithe >
His gentle features and wide eyes, crowned by an unruly mop of vaguely pinkish orange hair, give him an impression of thoughtfulness. Tufty wolf ears poke out from his scalp, but seldom stand up straight, instead flopping around with every twitch. His irises are a bright yellow. For battle wear, Albus wears a white cloak and at the edges, they are decorated with red lines of string. Underneath the cloak is a red scarf that is long enough to down to his hips, a thin white sweater, 'tight' looking black pants, and leather boots that have been edited to become more comfortable when fighting.
Semblance:
Albus' semblance, Beholder's Eye, gives Albus the ability to draw attention. By saying words like "Pay Attention!" or "Hey!", Albus places people in a trance that forces them to focus their attention on him. For his powers to work, his voice has to be loud and clear. The effects of the spell can be lifted by either knocking out Albus or resisting it with willpower, though, at max, Albus can only hold a person for a total of twelve seconds.
| Weapon: The Acoustic Katar is a dual-purpose bastard sword and electric guitar. It's wide but thin blade and dense plastic guitar portion make it ideal for blocking, and though it requires effective use of range to make use of the limited blade, it manages to combine both power and style. The entire weapon can be split down the middle to make dual blades, sacrificing defensive presence for flexibility and rapid strikes. As a bonus, the sword, in its guitar form, has a secondary feature that produces sound waves at high frequencies when attacking. The vibrations have the capacity to disintegrate stone on contact but the effect weakens if he doesn't strum his guitar after every few swings.
Likes & Dislikes
✔ Non-Assholes, Decent People, Equality, Father, Cookies, Food
✘ Being alone, Assholes, Undecent People, Non-Equality, Cockiness
Personality: Albus is a young man with high self-esteem and a friendly, outgoing nature, accustomed to being the life of the party and happy as the center of attention. To him, nothing beats spending time with friends, and the bonds he forms settle quickly and last. Despite his genial attitude and impetus to improve himself, he doesn't ultimately want to be extraordinary, just well-liked, and is uneasy flaunting his skill around people he cares about. When the going gets tough, though, Albus tends to get serious. On the inside, he nurses a potent fear of loneliness and social exile, which motivates his extroversion.
Place of Origin: Atlas
History:
Born with an innovative family who were proud supporters of the White Fang. His family, devoted as they were to the cause, left traces of it with their son. When he was a child, both of his parents experienced trouble with their lives and being separated most of the time couldn't properly handle a child--and felt guilty for not spending as much time as needed. Under this stress, the mother had divorced the father. Albus didn't understand the situation he was in; his memories beat faint during the divorce, and he remembered being taken by his father right after. His father, retiring from his job spent most of his time caring for the child. Lacking the money to take care of his child, he took a risky loan from his own family, the Aliquam.
Thereafter the Aliquam gained great wealth by selling advanced technology to the public. The upstart company's unique take on appliances that ran on everyday electricity rather than dust appealed to the lower classes of Atlas, and its decent profits allowed Father Aliquam to finance his son's primary education in the art of combat. Finding himself gifted with a natural talent for creating weapons, Albus enrolled in Atlas's pre-academy and soon forged his own weapon: a sword that had the ability to use power cells and dust vials at the same time, crafted with the aid of his father. Though even after the knowledge Albus gained he couldn't fully take in fighting as a whole. His grades began to deter slowly as his strength extremely lacked. Though unbalanced by this he still managed to make it through both semesters by his wits intact. Soon enough he managed to graduate with score's, still higher than most students and was able to skip a year. Thus, he managed to get into Atlas Academy earlier than most.
Relations with other characters: N/A
Extra: N/A
- Thanks to the help of Lugubrious |
55,946 | 1,533 | 6 | 1,449 | 5,931 | Burgundy Slate, Echo Marine, Tawne Adagio
Burgundy had hardly noticed a group of four joining her at the noodle stand. She was able to see them in her peripheral vision, but did not fully register them all. In fact, the only one that she did take notice of was the one who had joined her in scarfing down noodles as if it were their last day alive. She could hear them talking, but their words were just noise to her, drowned out from the noise that she herself was making in the process of eating.
She had hardly even noticed her own teammates appearances until they began speaking. Even just as background noise to her, she knew their voices. She was well aware of what Tawne had said to her, but she wasn't going to pummel him just yet. First they had to win the first bracket of fights, send herself and not-Tawne to the second round, and them beat him to a pulp for calling her a blimp.
Echo spoke out about the other team and their clothing, asking if they were competing as well, which was responded to with a smarmy remark that would allow Burgundy to now hear clearly.
"Echsuuse me?!" She attempted to speak with a mouth full of food. "We ah goin' to win it!" She swallowed down all of the noodles occupying her mouth. Meanwhile, her sunny-haired teammate down the bar leaned forward, snickering, to get a good look at the girl who'd just guaranteed that BEAT wouldn't be taking it easy on her. "You're on your way to winnin' our hearts at least. Hope the others think like you do--if that can be called thinkin'. If nobody's competin', it should default to us, right?" He glanced questingly at Echo, expecting to get an exasperating glare. Instead, he found a look of unexpected agreement, though she didn't share it with Victoria. To her, she merely offered a grunt of affirmation.
Luckily, one of the other members of the other team seemed to more enjoyable company, not looking to fully indulge his partner's answer about the competition. While a non-combat related festival would be nice, Burgundy enjoyed the good fight. This idea didn't chime nearly so well with Tawne, though he could appreciate someone managing to keep their ego from throbbing out in the open. With a gregarious politeness Eminence bounced the compliment given by Echo back into BEAT's court, prompting Tawne to chuckle. "Thanks! I got 'em at Who Cares Emporium," he jibed before scratching his head, confused. "The hell's a cosplay?" he asked his teammates
Echo rested her chin on her fist in serious thought. "Hm. Cosplay's some kinda dress-up game, I think? Dress-up for nerds. Right up your alley, bro." At this, Tawne recoiled. After letting loose a derisive pfffff, he quickly spooned in a mouthful of udon, gulped it down, and then replied, "Yeah, my alley. I'd give you a nasty look, bro, but you've already got one." Echo snorted and leaned back, prompting Tawne to titter. He edged forward again to peer at Eminence, to whom he gave a short wave after he finished talking despite the alarming look that crossed the other boy's face.
"I'm Tawne. T-A-W-N-E. Y? Why not?" His little jape did not seem to make much of an impression, so he adjusted his glasses and continued. Echo, aware of his love for talking, let him introduce her. "The stunningly moderate chick is Burgundy. Sure, she's got a pretty face, but wait 'til you see her other one! And the broad at the end is Echo. We're pretty sure family tree's a cactus; everyone on it's a prick, and really, really tough." His eyes swept over Daelon, Victoria, Eminence, and Lapis in sequence, internalizing their faces. Not being much in the mood for a punch to the face, even with aura, he hoped the other realized as well as his friends that he was joking. By now, Burgundy and Echo knew his derision to be the medium for his affection, but the others might very well get offended for their sakes, too. "Nice to meet you, but it'll be nicer to beat you. Right, Ech?" The bluenette nodded, amused and interested to see how the others might respond. | Name: Tawne Adagio
Team: BEAT
Birth Date: August 31st
Age: 18
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Designation: Sophomore Student at Atlas Academy
-=-=-
In Depth Appearance: Tawne is of slighty above average height and physical condition, giving him a wiry frame. Long, nimble fingers give him admirable dexterity. His face sports a cleft chin, green eyes, and a rounded nose. Tawne's hair is nearly platinum blonde, practically sun-colored, and very bright. It falls to about his chin, but is commonly kept brushed back. His green eyes match the green-tinted panes of his black glasses.
Tawne's favorite clothes for times of action are loosely ceremonial, and vividly colored except for a loose black undershirt. A yellow-range mantle hangs down his front and back, kept in place by a wrap around his neck. A gray scarf with an intricate, white, curvy design serves him as a belt. On his arms and feet are leather vambraces and boots of the same style. Deep red pants complete the ensemble.
Weapon: Sticky Keys is a weapon both comically brutal and gloriously inelegant. This bizarre armament combines a keyboard with a butcher's cleaver, its single huge blade jutting out from the instrument's forward side. Handles exist at both the top and bottom of the weapon for strategic gripping, though the top one hides a special feature: a trigger for the double-barreled shotgun embedded in the weapon's top. Never meant for accuracy or delicacy, this shotgun serves as a powerful deterrent to anyone believing the cleaver blade to be easy to get around.
Semblance: Tawne's semblance, Spinout, comes into effect with anything in his vicinity that starts to spin, be it a ball, a weapon, or himself. Spinout enhances the spin, increasing speed and force while stabilizing trajectory, all of which ramp up over time. For instance, Tawne can throw a ball and have it fly perfectly straight, then grind into a target. He can perform enhanced lariats, rolls, tornado throws, and even hurricane kicks. Spinout derives from his tendency to be either brash or crazy in trying times, and to put a unique spin on whatever comes his way.
-=-=-
Personality: In essence, Tawne tends to play by his own somewhat loony rules. He's intelligent and quick-witted but with a snarky and sarcastic bent, quick to make jokes about and trivialize things that might matter to others. He views taking things too seriously as 'tryharding', and anathema to fun--which is what truly matters to him. Tawne loves a good time, whether playing games, making music, or fighting. Despite his general acidity and brashness, he actually does really enjoy hanging out with others, and will work tirelessly to return kindness to those who show it to him. To those close to him, he is equal parts irritating and inseparable. When things get tough, Tawne tends to go nuts, acting with a rather manic vigor. While possessed of a decent self-esteem, Tawne is intensely self-depreciating, though whether this is a joke at his expense or at egotists' few can rightly say. Despite his cynicism and slight kookiness, Tawne is kept firmly on the side of justice and goodness by his spirituality.
Place of Origin: Canopy, Atlas
History: In the city of Canopy in Atlas, a couple with no desire or need to marry became a family. From an early age it was evident that Tawne took after both the keen intelligence of his mother, the banker Saffron, and the creative wisdom of his father, the pianist Gormon. He also displayed an inability to mesh with other children, often driving them away with his sharp sense of humor and sometimes hurtful bluntness. Nevertheless, he exhibited an endearing kind of annoying, and his parents loved him. Other adults often felt surprised to see the compassionate and helpful side of the boy who often needled their children in school. Tawne, meanwhile found the fulfillment in religion that he did not get from other kids; it was spirituality that inspired him to do the best he could in life.
During his education, it became clear that Tawne delighted in music as much as his father, but rather than take an interest in finance he found satisfaction and creative potential in combat. As such, the government moved him into Atlas Academy when the time came, and there he found both a blend of his two passions and a few individuals who really understood him: his teammates. Tawne continued to devote himself to the rigors of education, though never abandoning his cuttingly jovial nature.
Relations with other Players: Tawne is fast friends with his teammate Albus. Though the two are vastly disparate in a variety of ways, they have formed a powerful bond of friendship, pretty much brothers in arms. Working together remarkably well, they are ideal partners both in music and in battle, able to coordinate attacks for maximum effectiveness and humiliation. If some sort of prank is going down, you can be sure that these two aren't far from it.
Extra: My semblance would be sneezing at gale force winds. |
55,947 | 1,533 | 7 | 843 | 1,812 | The day has finally come. Today Mikoto would be leaving for the Vytal festival, to show what she has been working towards for the past year ever since she finished only third in the regional martial arts championship. Twelve months of soul crushing training later, she emerged as the best fighter on the academy with the promise of attending the most prestigious competition on the world. However the sudden summon by the Academy commander made her worry her plans have been changed.
Knocking on the door, the swan faunus waited to be admitted. Once the door clicked shut behind her, the commander took a while to rise from finishing a piece of bureaucracy. “Cadet Kage. Please, take a seat.” Mikoto thanked him and did so, waiting for him to start. “Let me congratulate you personally on your performance. We do not often see people like you here, being only third in the food chain after the Huntsman and Militaries. That, however, gives us another problem to work around for your attendance on the festival.”
Mikoto’s gaze dropped down: She knew what the problem was. No one else on this academy could stand up to a hunter, and while the officials of the festival might have had made an exception for her, there was an issue of her not having any team. “I see you understand. Fortunately, the headmaster of Beacon offered us his help. You will be assigned to one of Beacon’s incomplete teams. However, due to the secrecy involved in the program, not even Mr. Ozpin knows of your unit’s purpose. As such, you will be representing the hunter school for the time being.”
Mikoto pouted, but knew she should be glad she could participate in the first place and said nothing. “I want you to remain discrete. If at any point it becomes imperative to share your assignment, I want you to contact your CO first, and it will be handled on a per-person security clearance basis. Other than that, treat your time participating in the tournament as being off duty, but I advise you to pay attention. Participate in the classes, observe the others. Those will be the people that will potentially be your opponents. It is a unique opportunity to study them.”
“I understand. If I do well enough and make it to the one on ones, will I be able to represent our school? Despite Paddy- Commander Ryan’s efforts, I am still the only recruit in two years. It might help advertise us a little.” Mikoto asked.
The commander sighed, rubbing his eyes: “The festival was originally founded with only hunters in mind. However, I see what you hint at. I suppose we shall cross that bridge once we get to it. At that point you would also have your results as leverage, it is senseless to bring it up to the officials now.” Walking over to the secretary’s table, he pulled out some paperwork and handed it to her. “These will be your new credentials and instructions. I was briefed in haste on some of the details, but I think it will be best if you heard them from the headmaster himself. You may leave when you’re ready, they are waiting for you.”
With an affirmative and a salute, Mikoto grabbed up the files and left to finish packing.
Day after; Fairgrounds
Mikoto felt strange. The entirety of her past year was a routine. Wake up. Eat. Actually wake up. Go to class. Eat some more. Personal training with Paddy. Eat a lot more. Study. Snack time. Two hours of personal time. Eat again. Work out. A quick prayer to the Old Gods before sleep. Rinse and repeat.
Now she was in the middle of a mess of people in the middle of the week in the middle of the day, and she didn’t quite know what to do with her time. What she did know was that she wanted to change out of her fancy getup so she could let her wings loose. Right now they were crammed into the harness and Mikoto could swear they grown again with how much it made her ache. Perhaps she should just head to the dorms where she would be staying.
Then again, right there was a guy serving food, and she left so early she didn’t grab much of a breakfast. One particular stall attracted a particularly large group of people, so Mikoto had a look at the manu. To her disappointment, most of it was noodles. sighing, the swan went along in search of something with higher animal protein content.
She finally parked in front of a lottery stand - a guy with a cart selling meat on a stick. She recalled some of the health and hygiene inspectorate cadets telling frightening stories about where that meat - if it could be called such - came from, but her growling stomach made her go for it. “Ugh. I hope I don’t get defeated by food poisoning before the fighting even starts.” she hushed for herself, sitting down and taking a bite. | Mikoto Kage
“Who am I? Let’s see. If you’re a hunter, I guess that makes me... a Hunterkiller?”
-Mikoto
Race: Faunus (Mute Swan)
Gender: Female
Age: 17
Nationality: Vale
Designation: Police academy cadet
Mikoto is part of a forming special unit. The hunterkillers are, as the name suggests, specially trained to take on hunters, who are the most respected fighters. Every time a hunter went rogue in the past has been a big problem, and unit like this is meant to contain the problem quickly.
Team: N/A
Appearance:
Mikoto stands circa 178 centimeters tall, with her platform boots giving her what she needs to 180. She is quite strong for her age, being participating in several combat competitions and police training. She weighs about 63 kilos. Her most prominent faunus feature are the two swan wings on her back that have the span of about 200 cm.
Mikoto’s face is dominated by her piercing, bright red eyes. She has an eastern complexion, the slightly yellow skin tone contrasting with her anthracite hair that she usually keeps at shoulder length and well kempt. Her body build is focused more on strength rather than stamina, packing up quite some muscle mass and low fat percentage.
Her battledress consists of a pair of knee high, gray platform boots, black pants and blouse and a gray armored jacket. Coming from rich background, her battledress is trimmed in dark red and gold. She wears red padded gloves to battle. The jacket is modified to allow her wings to unfold and they can be held concealed by a special harness. The jacket comes equipped with magnetic holsters on the lower back for her weapons and several pockets.
When in need of more formal wear, she likes a red trench coat with matching high heels. She modified it to be able to conceal her wings and weapons underneath without looking out of place.
History:
Mikoto was born into the relatively average Kage family living in Mountain Glenn. A mixed family of Vacuo immigrants, her faunus side wasn’t obvious to anyone else in the first two years of her age, before her wings hit a growth spurt. Still, it was another year before she came to the usual faunus problems, having to attend mixed kindergarten.
She managed to bear with it for a year, but when she was four, she finally snapped and beat up one boy that made a comment, sending him to a doctor with a broken nose. She spent her days mostly alone since then as many of the children were afraid of her.
Just as she was about to go to the school for the first time, a rogue hunter on the run from the police destroyed several houses to hinder his pursuers, and Mikoto’s family perished in the attack. Her semblance awoke for the first time, which is what saved her as she extinguished the dust caused fires around her and was able to run through walls to safety. She was then sent to an orphanage in the main city of Vale, but spent her days mostly alone.
When she reached the age of ten, she was adopted by a wealthy family. While initially believing herself to be lucky, she quickly found out her adoptive ‘father’ only wanted her as a Faunus poster child to improve PR, having to adopt a new name against her wishes. While she was given anything money could buy, they didn’t give her the loving family she wanted the most. Her two stepsisters ignored and hated her respectively, but later she formed a love-hate relationship with the younger sister, sharing an interest in fighting and being grateful for the sister at least being honest about hating what she is.
At the age of twelve, Mikoto started attending one of the local combat schools, flat out rejecting being home schooled despite her stepfather’s insistence.
A few years later, her skill grown very good, and she started placing high in competitions. That lead to some media attention to the happiness of her stepfather. However, her story was soon brought to light, making her start withdrawing from people again. She turned to homeschooling and made an uneasy alliance with her younger step sister who was growing tired of her family as well.
After two years of working for the company to fund her plan, she set off to attend Beacon, severing all ties with her adoptive ‘family’ and intending to start again, on her own. Unfortunately, the Initiation proven once and for all that her combat skills were much more suited to fighting a human opponent rather than the Grimm. It had an unforeseen consequence for her though - the police department contacted her with an offer to join a newly formed unit where her skills would be of great use once she graduated from the police academy.
Personality:
Mikoto doesn't actively seek out conversation but she will not shy away from one. The girl is patient and overlooking many things addressed to her faunus side, but she has her limits.
Whereas normally she is well mannered and will go out of her way not to offend people no matter what she may think of them, in a fight or when angered, she is dominated by her emotions, not her reason.
While her anger is cold and calculated, you do not wish to enrage her, as if you push her that far, she will lose all sense and just go berserk on you.
She hates those unlawful with a fiery passion, although rich people and racists are pretty high on the list as well. Despite how she was treated, she is trying to be forgiving, believing it's the only way to achieve some degree of peace in the world.
The girl battles many internal demons and even though she portrays herself as a strong person with a healthy dose of disdain, she can be fragile on the inside. What disturbs her more than most is the thought of losing someone close to her again. She also isn’t too fond of spiders and tight spaces. Her main motivation to keep on living is getting others to accept her because of who she is, not what she is.
In her downtime, she likes to power down and relax, whether that means sleeping all day, stuffing herself with bacon and coffee or reading tales of ancient mythologies with a glass (or a bottle) of rum on hand. If others have to be involved, she wouldn’t say no to a fantasy movie or (window) shopping. Mikoto has a weakness for sporty personal shuttles.
Being a choleric faunus comes with it’s own list of hatreds, like water (which make her wings heavy and useless) or cold (which she feels more due to her higher body temperature). For some reason, the taste of potatoes makes her want to hurl, much like the cheesy romance movies or the boring historical novels. She gets violent on trolls and hates criminals above all else for taking her family and normal life from her, putting them in the same sack with the Grimm.
Skills:
Being adopted by a wealthy family, she was taught self defense and took liking to combat. Trained in a universal style, she can make use of nearly every weapon, although she prefers light, more nimble instruments like her swordwand or a dagger. Her technique focuses on precise, quick and powerful attacks while conserving energy between them. As she knew she had a semblance from long before, she pushed to get herself a full combat education to perfect her aura mastery. Later in her years her fighting style developed into something brutal, intending to not only just destroy the enemy, but make them suffer. It is even reflected in the modifications she made to her weapons, like using serrated blades, or ditching a shield for a secondary dagger.
Life in the high class however also lead to some duties. As an adoptive member of a family owning the Remnant’s leading company producing musical instruments, she can play nearly anything. Being cast as a PR figure, she is used to appearing in front of masses and can be politically correct in most situations.
From her life in the orphanage, she picked up some minor survival skills, although she lived in luxury for so long it would take her time to adjust back to it.
While her weapons might give the impression that Mikoto is a swordswoman, she is in fact a dust caster, capable of weaving the Nature’s Wrath into nearly anything she needs given enough time. She uses three categories of moves - First are those she practices often enough to be able to perform them with thought alone. The second less frequent she needs a focusing agent, such as a phrase or a sequence of tones to help her summon the attack. Last but not least, Mikoto can achieve anything she has enough aura, dust and time for through drawing magic circles.
Powers:
Her faunus heritage gives Mikoto several capabilities she can use for great effect. First and foremost, she can use her wings to heighten and extend her jumps to about twice that of a human, or to glide and soften her fall. They are, however, too small for her to fly. The lack of tail used to be a problem, but she smartly modified her battledress with a half-cape that is attachable to her boots that can substitute well enough.
Her bones are less dense than that of a usual human, contributing to her overall low weight, which unfortunately break more easily if her aura is brought down. Her metabolism is faster, making the girl quite a glutton and yet unable to gain any weight and moving her average body temperature to about 40°C.
Having both large reserve and skill to wield it efficiently, Mikoto’s aura is on the more impressive side of the scale. Its color is pure white, and it manifests as quills falling around her.
Semblance - Arcane destroyer: Mikoto's body becomes an intangible spectre and her voice gains a creepy reverb to it. Her weapon is also surrounded in the same substance of white color. In this state, Mikoto can not be physically harmed, however she still hurts the same if her aura fails to block an attack, and she loses the ability to parry with her weapons. If the 'damage' is sufficient, she will forcibly revert back to normal, more often than not incapacitated by hurting as much as if she was actually dealt the blows. In this state, dust based spells tend to break up on contact with her, hence the name.
Equipment:
Collapsible Swordwand Dust Carrier - Swan Song: A swordwand that can be converted from one to the other simply by sliding the guard down the grip. This action retracts or extends the blade into the blunt part of the weapon. As such, the weapon is primarily designed for stabbing attacks rather than slashing, although it is capable of both. The counterweight can hold dust crystals, and Mikoto is particularly fond of the fire ones. The blade is made from dust-enhanced black metal that seems to be reflecting shadows rather than light.
Tactical Dust Carrier - Quilltact: A dagger with perforated blade holding three dust capsules, usually the remaining types to complement the Swansong’s fire crystals. Mikoto built a flute into the hilt which she uses as a focus help to cast some of her more demanding spells.
Extra:
Voice: Anna Hutchison
Theme: Gåte - Sjå Attende
Mikoto is ambidextrous.
She is bi, leaning towards girls. |
55,948 | 1,533 | 8 | 1,329 | 2,344 | Echsuuse me?! Mumbled the red haired girl through a mouthful of food, barely preventing herself from spitting out pieces of noodle. "We ah goin' to win it!"
Victoria merely let out a quiet chortle in response, before giving her a mischievous smile. Her blond team mate poked out his head from behind the row and began speaking to Victoria.
"You're on your way to winnin' our hearts at least." Victoria rolled her eyes and stared ahead. "Oh boy..." she murmured to herself. "Hope the others think like you do--if that can be called thinkin'. If nobody's competin', it should default to us, right?" Victoria tilted her head slightly before responding with a hushed "Touché" accompanied by her trademark smirk. She brushed back the right side of her hair past her ears and was about to move on to say something else when Eminence began politely conversing with the other group. Victoria gave him a repulsed, horrified look, as if to say "What are you doing being nice to the enemy?!". Victoria zoned out again when they began talking about something called Cosplay, and resumed her habit of playing with her jacket zipper.
Eden had skillfully ignored Eminence's awkward apology. He had always been weirded out about how the boy could not understand when someone was just being sarcastic/cynical, but he assumed that it was some sort of...eh, he didn't know, and it hurted his head to even think about it, honestly. Instead, Eden sat back and watched his teammates converse with the other team, not really caring all that much about the missed training time. He did, in fact, care about how his damn lemonade was abandoned and alone, but there wasn't much he could do about that, now was there?
The blond member of Team BEAT spoke up again, introducing himself as Tawne before moving on to the rest of the team. "The stunningly moderate chick is Burgundy. Sure, she's got a pretty face, but wait 'til you see her other one! And the broad at the end is Echo. We're pretty sure family tree's a cactus; everyone on it's a prick, and really, really tough."
Victoria tapped Daelon on the shoulder and whispered. "Oh, I like him." with a snicker, while still fiddling with the jacket zipper.
Daelon's sensitive ears caught the distracting sound of metal quietly clinking, and he instinctively glanced over at Victoria, arching a slim black eyebrow at the girl's nervous habit. "Orphans die when you do that." he said, completely serious.
Victoria paused and stared Daelon dead in the eyes before continuing the habit, all the maintaining eye contact as if she was daring him to stop her. "Wait, aren't you an orphan? Oh yeah, you are." She once again continued the habit.
"Harsh." Eden smirked, turning his attention back to the other team, just in time to hear their final question. It would be nicer to beat them? Heh."I doubt it, but you'll try anyway. Good luck." He stood, brushing locks of hair out of his eyes. He really should cut it. "Let's go, Team DEVL." Turning around, the teen rose a hand in farewell, continuing on the path. Victoria was caught off guard by Daelon's sudden departure.
"Uh... Um... It was nice meeting you... I think? she said before she ran off to catch up. | T H E B A S I C S
|Name|
Victoria Lazuli
|Team|
DEVL
|Age|
17
|Race|
Human
|Gender|
Female
|Designation|
Student
A P P E A R A N C E
|In Depth Appearance|
Victoria is a dark-skinned short girl of average build. Her wavy hair is a dark brown which is often worn down, with the very end of her hair at the back being dip dyed a vibrant blue. Victoria typically wears a blue hooded jacket, in which is tucked a light blue scarf, over a long grey shirt that tends to poke out from under her jacket, along with a pair of black jeans. She also wears a pair of white and light blue sneakers as well as leather blue fingerless gloves.
|Scars, Tattoos, Other Markings|
Victoria has a trail of various scars, scratches and bruises along her arms and knuckles, which she keeps hidden with her jacket and gloves.
G E T T I N G T O K N O W M E
|Likes & Dislikes|
✔ Mango, her pet parakeet
✔ Puns
✔ Scarves
✔ Reading
✔ Punching
✔ Family
✔ Azured Victory
✘ The Ocean
✘ Traitors
✘ Competition
✘ Criminals
✘ Cold weather
✘ Grimm
✘ Drama
D E L V I N G D E E P E R
|Personality|
Victoria isn't exactly a nice person; this much, you may or may not see from the get-go. Victoria often views being in her Team as an honour, and naturally, any other team is automatically inferior, the girl has absolutely no problem cutting anyone down with words as sharp as her weapon. Ruthless, is a way to describe her. Despite all of this, however, she reserves a hidden kindness within her venom-laced heart. For those that she brings herself to trust, she trusts them almost without hesitation, with almost a desperate sense of comradeship. As trusting relations and true friendship wasn't something she experienced much of in her rich lifestyle, true friends are hard to come by, and thus, secretly cherished. With all of her flaws and strengths, do not think that Victoria would leave a comrade to die. She would fight through thick and thin to help, even if she stops occasionally to fix her hair. Surprisingly, she enjoys clever puns. This is part of the reason why she named her weapon 'Azured Victory', though if you ask her the reason she named it that, she will desperately deny it and make up a random reason.
|Weapon Name|
Azured Victory
|Weapon Appearance/Function|
Azured Victory appears to be a regular blue and grey rapier sword fit for Victoria's traditional fencing fighting style, but Azured Victory is anything but traditional when Victoria activates the engine within the pommel of the sword. The engine is activated by the trigger hidden underneath the removable guard. Upon activation, the blade of the rapier expands and becomes a high powered drill capable of boring through thick metal.
Azured Victory has one final form in which the drill bit expands exponentially to an incredible length and width, increasing Azured Victory's power to unimaginable levels. Though the form has one potentially fatal drawback; Victoria's beloved weapon has a very high chance of breaking completely, possibly leaving her defenceless. Due to this, Victoria hardly ever uses it.
|Semblance|
By channelling her Aura into either of both of her arms, Victoria can make her fists inhumanly powerful, causing her punches to be like sledgehammers. This ability manifests in the form of blue flame-like energy that constantly travel up and down her arms. Although her semblance allows some degree of enhanced durability, punching something dense while it is active would still damage her, albeit with bruises and scars, rather than completely shattered bones. Her semblance also emits light and heat.
|Place of Origin|
Mistral
|History|
Victoria was born into a somewhat well-off family in Mistral. Though she grew up without any relative difficulties, she never had many friends during her childhood due to the sumptuousness and solitude of her family's manor. She attended private lessons, orchestrated by her father's extensive bank account. The private lessons were, surprise surprise, taught to her within her own home, and thusly, Victoria never really got to see much of the outside world. Sure, she went out occasionally for celebratory dinners and to 'shop until she dropped' with some of the more empty-brained of the maids and workers that her father hired, but over-all, she had a surprisingly lonely childhood. Her father was an Executive Administrator for the Mistral Trade Route, and spent most of his time bossing people around on boats and ships along the coast. However, Victoria's father was a warm and incredibly kind man, and despite him not being there all the time, he was there for her, regardless, and she loved him dearly for that. It was a running joke between the two, for him to always bring home a terribly clever, and cheesy pun whenever he managed to get home from his job, which is where Victoria's love for puns originated from. As far as her education went, Victoria was a fighter, moreso than she was a scholar. Due to recommendations, she could have went to Atlas, the militaristic Huntsmen Academy in the kingdom of the same name, but she declined it in favour of the Sanctum Combat Academy closer by - she was definitely not interested in some sweaty, military dump. Within the Academy, Victoria established herself, easily, as the top popular girl within the school, who had brains behind her beauty, though, despite all this, she struggled to come up with an adequate name for her own weapon. The name was actually given to her by her father, who came up with the pun based on Victoria's name, and the fact that Azured was the only thing he could come up with at the time - hence Azured Victory, her custom-made rapier drill. She loved it, and it became her favourite, and signature, weapon. However, all good things came come to an end eventually. Whilst loading supplies off the coast of Vale, her father's ship was sunk by aquatic Grimm - a surprise attack that no one expected to happen. He perished, along with his crew.
Victoria was forever shattered, though this only strengthened her resolve to become a Huntress, with an unfortunate side effect of a more hostile, personality change. Three years have passed since then, and Victoria was invited to Haven Academy, to destroy the plagues on humanity, the Grimm.
|Extra|
Victoria owns a pet Sun Parakeet named Mango at home.
If I had a semblance, it'd probably be some sort of Guardian Manifestation or general Cryokinesis. |
55,949 | 1,533 | 9 | 1,918 | 8,262 | Silme Raana
Golden eyes glared out over the crowd of competitors, focusing somewhat intensely on one in particular with long purple hair. Silme had been coming over here with the express purpose of getting some noodles, but it seemed to be unexpectedly busy today an the last thing he wanted was to get dragged into a conversation with a bunch of fuckwads. However, as he looked them over, he caught the scent of a couple different Faunus on the wind, about 3 if his nose was right(and it always was), but to his confusion, he could only spot two. One was some form of wolf from what he could tell, and the other, while well hidden as she ate near one of the lottery stands, had definitely been the source of the more avian scent, but that left uncalled for. He'd strafed the area a bit, looking as if he had been trying to decide which of the many stands in the area had food worth getting(in truth, the noodle stand was the place to go for the safest food, as the guy kept his stuff pretty clean. The others . . .varied depending on how soon they'd be exoecting a visit from the health inspectors). It was only after the third pass that he finally had a good idea of who the third Faunus was, and he was currently struggling with himself on not confronting the fucker right then and there. The fact that he was hiding his Faunus features was just eating at Silme's patience, as such action was to fly in the face of everything that Faunus had accomplished in recent years, or even worse, just flagrant disregard to one's Faunus heritage in order to appease human society.
It was disgusting, and he wanted to fuckin' deck the fucker right then and there, his animalistic instincts doing nothing to lessen his anger, but he took a small breath, calming himself a little before he went over to the noodle stand, getting a greeting from the owner, who was currently indebted to Carver for helping him with a loan(by killing off the guy who the stand owner had owned moany to) and thus rewarded Carver by promising to give him and any of his men who happen to stop by a bowl of noodles every once and awhile on the house. Taking the bowl, he calmly and quietly by himself a short ways away from the group and watch the domesticated fuckwad. He wouldn't try to hide it, nor would he look away if he or any of his friends noticed, because honestly, he didn't think very highly of the humans that were on his team either, as they either didn't notice(making them idiots) or they were the reason for it(which made them even bigger fuckwads than they already were). It'd be obvious that he had some problem with the purple haired boy, if not by the fiercely disapproving and angered look in his eye, then by the light growling that could be heard if they got close enough. Either way, he'd just eat, going over in his head what he should do in this situation. He couldn't just assault him, that'd be a one stop ticket to jail, and just confronting him would draw the ire of his friends, which would eventually lead to a fight with how these kinds of things, this leading to the same result.
In the end, he decided to simply kick his bitch ass if he ever met him in the festival, as he was obviously a Hunter given the conversation his team was having with the other group. With that decided, he'd continue to eat his noodles, and if the fuckwad or his friends had a problem with his observation and came to him about it, he'd simply ignore them, as none of them were really worth his time, and he had no reason to kick their asses . . . yet.
and any of his friends who notice. | C H A R A C T E R S H E E T
Silme Raana
“You keep staring and you're going to lose an eye."
-Silme Raana, Age 10
T H E B A S I C S
|Name|
Silme Raana
|Team|
MASK
|Birth Date|
|Age|
17
|Race|
Timber Wolf Faunus
|Gender|
Male
|Designation|
reluctant Student, Secret Criminal
A P P E A R A N C E
|In Depth Appearance|
Silme is on the taller side, being around 6ft tall with room to grow, his silver hair cut short in a wild, unkempt style to keep it from getting in the way of his fighting. His eyes are a fierce amber color, closer in appearance to that of his animal lineage, especially when his instincts start to take over. He has a lean muscled figure covered with scars from his numerous criminal escapades, as well as a tattoo on his arm of a snarling wolf. As for his Faunus features, he has an easily noticeable pair of wolf ears on his head, as well as a tail, claws, and sharp canines that he's all to ready to use if needed.
G E T T I N G T O K N O W M E
|Likes & Dislikes|
✔ fighting, other Faunus, Scarlet Ravagers, taking humans down a pegor six,
✘ being alone, people in general, Faunus who try and 'fit in'Domesticated fuckwads, Humans, hyper people, being touched, being told what to do, authority, Carver, Carver's weird habits, Hunters
Weapon: The Scarlet Ravagers: He uses a pair of Specialized Customizable Clawed Gauntlets that he can alter for various combat and utility functions, as well as changing into either a pair of Customized SMGs, with rapid- and burst-fire modes, for him to dual wield, or into two double-sided short swords. All variations of weapons can be augmented with Dust cartridges for various effects and attacks.
He can also use them as a means of traversal by firing out the claws as a form of grappling hook attached to a good amount of strong, lightweight metal cable.
Fighting Style: Hit them faster and hit them hard, he is a Striker type fighter, extremely good at offense even against superior numbers. However, his defensive capabilities aren't the greatest, but they aren't the worst either. To help with this style, he's actually augmented his Aura so that it gives more of a physical power boost at the cost of it's defensive capabilities, making him a good deal stronger and a great deal faster than most, but taking hits is something he tries to avoid.
Sembalance: Corrosion, It is a very offensive Sembalance that allows Silme to imbue his attacks with a reddish-silver aura. This Aura is extremely effective at dealing damage, but it's usefulness truly shines when it comes with dealing with heavily armored enemies. With this ability, he can easily weaken most types of armor so and items, making him very effective at damaging and even destroying the weapons of others to lessen their combat effciency.He can even apply his ability against the defensive aura of others, though it isn't as effective, it still allows him to do more damage then normal.
D E L V I N G D E E P E R
|Personality|
♦ Aggresive ♦ Rebellious ♦ Somewhat Clueless ♦ Short-Temper♦
Silme is a loner by trade, and while he'll deny it vehemently, he really wishes he wasn't. He wants to connect with people, have real friends and family again, but he's afraid that he'll just get left behind again, abandoned by those he loved the most. Outwardly and in public, however, he's very abrasive, blunt, and vulgar, ready to speak his mind and pounce on anyone who tries to stop him(sometimes literally). The surest way to get on his shit list is to tell him what to do, as he hates that more than anything, especially if it's a human.
As far as fighting goes, he'll use evey advantage to win and will fight to the ducking end with all the feral energy of a wild beast. Now a trained killer, he'll have no problem ending his foes of the need arises, though not a second before. He has some sense of honor in that he won't fight a helpless opponent or murder innocents, but other than that, he can head cold and heartless as Carver himself.
|Place of Origin|
Vale
|History|
Silme is the son of two well-respected hunters, who were also terrible parents. While they did love their son, they were always out on the job, protecting others from danger while neglecting the one who needed them most. Then, they simply never came back, having gone MIA in the line of duty. Silme spent a few weeks devesatated by the loss, but that sadness soon turned to anger, distrust, and deep seated hatred against Hunter society as a whole.
Silme has since then gotten involved with some unsavory types, getting himself stuck in the criminal underground and making a name for himself for his impressive fighting skills. When he was in trouble with some gangs looking to put him in his place, Carver showed up to save his hide and forcibly employ him into his service. Silme hates this arrangement, but he can't get out if it since Carber has him by the throat in more ways then one. His time as Carver's protege hasn't been all bad, however, as the former hunter has taught him many thinks in the time they've been together that, when combined with his own natural skill and garnered combat experience, makes him a force to be reckoned with in battle.
|Relations with other characters|
|Extra|
Hates to be mothered or otherwise taken care of
Tail and Ears give away his feelings, especially when he try's to hide them
Wolf blood gives him increased endurance, Stamina, strength, and senses, though the most enhanced are his stamina and senses. He also has a very strong bite, capable of breaking bones if he bites down hard enough.
He has a helmet styled in the fashion of a Beowulf mask that he wears for intimidation purpoaes and to hide his identity while doing criminal activity. The eyes glow silver and red, and his voice becomes heavily distorted, adding to the monstrous appearance
Has a tough time controlling his more animalistic side
C H A R A C T E R S H E E T
Carver Aureus
“Life's much too short to worry about petty things like laws or decency. Have an affair, punch a hobo, stab somebody, do whatever the hell you want, cause everything's permitted as long as you don't get caught.”
-Carver Aureus
T H E B A S I C S
|Name|
Carver Aureus
|Team|
|Birth Date|
Wouldn't you like to know
|Age|
32
|Race|
Human
|Gender|
Male
|Designation|
Crime Boss, Father figure(?) for Silmefor better or for worse
A P P E A R A N C E
|In Depth Appearance|
Carver is a man blessed with saintly good looks, with sparkling green eyes and straight blonde hair that reach to his shoulders. His figure is what you'd expect of a Hunter, lean and toned, plenty muscular physique and covered with a variety of scars, most of them being old wounds from his hunting days. When it comes to his clothing, he usually wears high-quality dress clothes that have been modified for use in combat while still remaining rather stylish, usually in the forms of jackets, slacks, and dress shoes.
|Scars, Tattoos, Other Markings|
He has a large tattoo that spans the whole of his back and spills over on to his arms, a veritable tapestry of colors that seems to span the rainbow. They shimmer with iridescent colors when shown to the light, and seem to glow when in the dark. Despite their beauty, Carver is very adverse o discussing them and will either dodge the questions or, if people still try to pry, get violent.
G E T T I N G T O K N O W M E
|Likes & Dislikes|
✔ Women(Especially Faunus women), money, Freedom, Silme when he isn't being a little brat, Luxury, messing with the police and Hunters
✘ People mentioning tattoos, people who go back on deals, traitors, mindless violence, self-righteous types, hero types, Uppity rats that don't know their place
Weapon: Never being one to play by the rules, Carver bears two weapons, A mechanized long-sword that can turn into a form of chainsaw by splitting in half, edge-wise, and ejecting a number of inch long serrated blades. His other weapon is a powerful revolver that bears a Dust Applicator, as well as a varied internal barrel. By pressing a button, he can change how the dust effects the bullet, from either simply affecting the bullet, to drawing a line of elemental energy as it travels, to even apply an effect to the target on hit. Not only that, but the bullets it fires have a very high impact, meaning they can do quite a lot of damage if they hit, though consecutive firing is near impossible due to the extreme recoil the weapon has. He can also out fit it with specially designed Aura-piercing rounds, but these are incredible expensive black market items, so he only uses them when faced with no other option.
Semblance: Live Fast, Die Hard; these are the words that he lives by and his his ability reflects that. When active, he gains a slight golden glow, as well as an impressive boost to his speed, but the thing that makes this Semblance dangerous is that when he gets into a fight that stacked against him, he gets even stronger. The more damage he takes and the less Aura he has, the stronger his Semblance becomes, enabling him to move faster and hit harder then he normally be able to. He can also apply his Semblance to a single limb, doubling the boost to speed but only to that limb, making it most useful when he's trying to get a shot on an unsuspecting foe or trying to overwhelm his opponent with a furious flurry of attacks.
Aside from that, Carver is very skilled in the ways of manipulating dust, having had to deal with it being engrained to his skin since birth and being forced to train with his father for experiments. While he may not like it using it, the dust in his skin is something he's very use to using, as he can now launch attacks using it without even a second thought. It's draining, however, to use it too much, hence why he tends to rely on his other skills first, only resorting to dust when he needs to make sure a foe is finished. He can use all forms of elements, as well as mixing them together to form new effects, and the results can be as devastating as they are tiring.
D E L V I N G D E E P E R
|Personality|
♦ Ruthless ♦ Laid back ♦ Care-free ♦ Flirtatious ♦
Carver is a Free spirit, both a lover and a fighter who doesn't care about societal taboos and has a love for the strange and unnatural. This is why he doesn't mind the Faunus like some other humans might, and even prefers them to humans since they seem to be clearly superior. He bears a somewhat odd fixation on women of the Faunus variety(any species of Faunus), and tends to treat them with all kinds of flattery, flirtation, and seduction, though he does this to all women, in truth. Faunus just get special attention.
With men, he tends to be sarcastic jackass with a superiority complex, not really treating themas if they're on the same level as he is. He also tends to demean them heavily and may have played a part in Silme's tendency to insult someone as soon as he sees them, as that's what he tends to do, often with a nickname of sorts. However, don't let his odd behaviors fool you, the man is as heartless and ruthless as they come, if not more so, dealing with everything in his way in a calculated and cool manner. He's broken his share knees and necks to get to where he is today, and will never lose any sleep over it. He beleives in survival of the fittest, and anyone who falls to him deserved to get crushed by his presence.
|Place of Origin|
Vale
|History|
Carver's childhood was a miserable one, as he had the misfortune of having a mad man as his father. Obsessed with discovering the secrets of dust, aura, semblances, and even further along, attempting to replicate the tale of the 4 maidens. To that end, he experimented on a number of hapless people in the shadows of Vale, learning much about the nature of Aura and Semblances that others couldn't even begin to comprehend, but through methods that few others would pursue in order to get the same result. Carver was not born naturally, but was created using the life force of many, meant to be a perfect being in every way. As Carver grew up, however, he began to notice something.
He was better than his father, which was inevitably followed by the fact that he was better than everyone else as well.
This didn't give him an arrogant attitude or excessive pride, just a simple realization that he shouldn't have to listen to those who are inferior to him. So, once he learned everything there was to know from his father, he left the man to stare at his burning hime, all of his discoveries set to torch to prevent another him form being made. The last he saw of his father was the man trying to rush into the building and reclaim his research. After that day, Carver was taken in by a nice family at the age of 14 and soon became known as a prodigy among prodigies. It was here that he learned all their was to know about Hunting Grimm, about the world at large, and many, many more things. He eventually became a hunter and had a grand life, but he felt . . . constrained by the laws set in place by those who couldn't understand his superiority. It ate at him, killing his desire to do anything day by day until, finally, he had enough. Tired of it all, he faked his own death at the hands of a Grimm, then went off to pursue a career that fit more with his beliefs. Apparently, that career was being a crime boss
|Relations with other characters|
Silme's father figure
|Extra| |
55,950 | 1,533 | 10 | 1,894 | 5,788 | This is sure to be a fascinating day today! All of our contestants for today's Vytal Festival tournament have been handpicked from each of the four kingdoms, and are ready to do their homes proud while squaring off against other hunters and huntresses in training! Like he always did, Professor Oobleck spoke at a thousand miles an hour. "This is also the first year in which each of the brackets are going to be held differently than before."
Professor Port nodded to the bespectacled man beside him in agreement. "Yes, this will be the first year where the tournament will start on the doubles round. Each of the teams competing will divide into two smaller teams to fight against another pair. The winning pair will proceed onto the next bracket. In the second round, the winners of the past round will all participate in a four-way battle against one another. Whoever competes against who is decided on random, which does make it possible for teammates to fight one another! Only one person from each fight in the second round can proceed, meaning that you will have to make a tough choice to move on, or let your teammate move on."
Port had been prepared to speak, but another voice rang out instead. "And the final round will be a singles round, pitting the remaining hunters and huntresses against each other." The voice came from one of the beacon professors alongside Oobleck and Port. She sat sideways on the chair, careful with her large tail.
"Oho!" Oobleck called out. "Professor Cross, I'm glad you've made it." He watched as the ebony skinned Faunus took her seat next to Oobleck and away from Port. He turned to the camera once again with a smile. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is our fellow teacher and huntress, Professor Cross. She teaches the science behind the weapons that our students wield, and is an accomplished huntress in her own right!"
"Hello everyone. As Professor Oobleck said, my name is Professor Ophelia Cross, and this will be the second time that I have joined these men in announcing the Vytal Festival while in Vale." She smiled to the camera. "And I'd like to give a shout out to me daughter, who is competing in the tournament today! Knock 'em dead Amari!" | Name: Echo Marine?
Team: BEAT
Birth Date: May 2nd
Age: 18
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Designation: Sophomore Student at Atlas Academy
In Depth Appearance: Echo is a tall, strongly-built girl, with long legs, wide shoulders, and wide hips. Her skin is approximately mocha in tone, and contrasts extravagently with her poofy blue hair, which is tied back in a bush except for jagged bangs. Fairly thick eyebrows, full lips, and a near-permanent smirk distinguish her face.
On the battlefield or the stage, Echo's attire of choice is a gray crop-sleeved sweaterskirt, yellow bows as her hairtie and her belt, streamlined cotton pants, and white tennis shoes with yellow soles. Black elastic wraps adorn her arms, extending into fingerless gloves. This garb overall displays a simple functionality, though not without its own assertive style.
Weapon: The simple title of Echo's weapon, the Boomstick, masks a great degree of sophistication and flexibility seemingly unfit for a brutish hammer. To begin, the Boomstick is an immense mallet, meant to be swung with both hands. The force of a proper swing is capable of making dents in Grimm armor plates and metal alike. Though slower and not as adaptable as a blade or even a mace, this huge weapon nevertheless boasts a highly effective inelegance masked beneath a hip exterior.
More interesting than the Boomstick's raw pummeling capabilities, however, are the two sound-based devices built into it. Lying well-sheltered in the hammerhead, an extremely potent boombox creates forceful reverberations in the vicinity of the weapon when swung, giving the Boomstick an area-of-effect capable of launching things it isn't even touching. Additionally, a microphone exists in the bottom of the Boomstick's handle, though this serves more of an entertainment purpose than a tactical one.
Semblance: Stemming from Echo's unwillingness to back down even when greatly challenged, her semblance Run it Back restores her own aura to its level a few moments ago, making her resistent to burst damage and even able to stay in a fight when she might otherwise be taken down. This talent's nature as a sort of 'second wind' however, prevents her using her ability more than once or twice per fight, leading her to save it for big moments. The ability is extremely taxing on her body, and even two uses has great effects on her soon after, requiring her to finish a fight quickly after using her semblance.
Personality: In a word, adamant. Echo is proud, resolute in what she believes in, and strong-willed to the point of obnoxiousness. Despite being overly inclined to prefer everything being done her way, she will relent if sufficiently convinced—a quality she shamelessly touts as being representative of her consideration for others' thoughts, which she lacks. Though of average intelligence, she is less proficient than most in picking up on the feelings of others. She doesn't ever let her opponents get through to her, thinking this to be an act of submission; for instance, if slandered for her weight, Echo might turn it around to point out that she's not trying to pretend she's something she's not. Echo also tends to hold grudges. Despite being self-centered and somewhat arrogant, she is not in the least bit mean-spirited and will not actively seek to hurt the feelings or attack the beliefs of others, and if she discovers she has done so, she will apologize.
On the flipside, Echo exhibits a loyalty and reliability that make her a steadfast ally, if not a steadfast friend. The military tradition of her family perseveres in her, and Echo remains optimistic despite the tragedies and struggles of the world to inspire confidence and toughness in others. All in all, she is an indomitable spirit, for better or worse, whose confidence can be both self-destructive and self-preservative.
Place of Origin: Atlas
Relations with other Players:
Burgundy - Echo holds a certain level of respect for Burgundy. Not only because she is the leader of the team, but also due to the fact that she always appears to be on the top of her game. she seems to view Burgundy in the same prodigal light that many of the faculty in the academy do, but her respect is not to be mistaken for idolism. The two tend to make jokes about one another, Echo's favorite one being a half true statement in how she believes that men should be throwing themselves at her feet and forming a reverse harem for her. It usaully gets a good laugh out of the both of them. Despite how close the two are, she is still unaware of the rigorous training that Burgundy sneaks off to to maintain her status as a pending specialist.
Albus -The two are quite the odd pair. They speak like a couple and are more open with eachother than they actually know. Their relationship can be described as 'Tough Love'. They share insults together without even knowing that they are both actually giving eachother a piece of themselves. But in combat Albus and Echo do not work well together like Albus does with Tawne.
Tawne - Echo and Tawne represent a compromising clash. More than anyone else on the team, and often more than anyone else they know, Echo and Tawne butt heads on the smallest of issues, seemingly just for the sake of it. Since day one, each has treated one another like a sibling, with a great deal of understanding and care veiled behind an equal but much more visible quantity of teasing, calling out, and competition. Both strive to be the 'big brother' of the relationship.
This get's the Pyro Seal of approval, and is automatically accepted. |
55,951 | 1,533 | 11 | 1,449 | 5,931 | Echo Marine, Tawne Adagio
Tawne witnessed with nonplussed disinterest the immodest and earnest contest emerging between Victoria and Daelon, her opposition of his objection an amalgamation of cruelty and camaraderie. Only a few moments later, the opposing entourage elected to exit, even as a gray-haired grouch seated himself nearby over a bowl of noodles to leer, seething, in the students’ general direction. Distracted for the moment from DEVL, Tawne cast a brief, unfazed look Silme’s way, finding that whatever surliness that excused such a milk-curdling grimace did not appear to be directed his way. Incorrectly assuming him to be an everyday idiot, Tawne finished his udon and stood up from the noodle stand just in time to see his brother-in-arms arriving.
He saluted Albus, saying ”Hi-de-ho. You know, you just missed meeting –in person!- the future champion team of the Vytal Festival. They were true winners, the stuff of legend! No doubt you will regret this momentous occasion for years to come. Hey, want to go try the festival games?” He turned partially around toward Burgundy, squinting in the manner of the esteemed philosopher. ”Might be just us, though. Berg’s won’t be done bloating for another hour or so.”
Slurping down the last of her soba, Echo span around on her stool and stood up. ”Not so fast. I’m up for a game or two before we get down to business.” She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand before crossing her arms. She only managed a single step forward, however, before a little TV screen hanging in the back of the noodle stand switched from boring news to a live feed from the stadium box. Both Echo and Tawne turned around to listen, the professors onscreen unfamiliar to them. When Oobleck mentioned a change in rules and Port began to explain, all of team BEAT froze. The only sound coming from any one of them was a thin stream of air from Tawne, hissed through his teeth: ’ffffffffffffff-
Halfway through the explanation, he burst. ”Fiddle! Sticks! What!? Who thought of this? We can’t do our super-special-secret-plan anymore!” He trailed off, however, when Professor Cross appeared on the screen. His expression changed instantly at the sight of a mature woman with an intriguing sense of style. Frowning comically with his eyebrows up, he waited patiently for her to finish before turning to his teammates. Theatrically rubbing his hands together, he remarked, ”I really must say, I’ve never seen a whale that’s such a fox! I might not mind bein’ knocked dead by a daughter of hers.”
Echo’s eyes nearly crossed in exasperation. ”You’re a real dolt. It’s even dumber since I know you’re not serious. I hope ya do get into the second round—I’ll have a real excuse to whoop ya myself.” She began to walk, leaving the noodle stand behind, and Tawne strode alongside her. ”D’you think that announcement means the fights are about to start?” Her teammate shook his head. A minute later she found herself steered toward an orange minigame tent, where the task appeared to be to hit a slowly-moving target with a baseball. The obvious ploy on Tawne’s part earned him a sour look, but the boy appeared unabashed as he lined up his shot. A moment later, the ball sailed from his fingertips, headed straight for the target’s bullseye. Before it hit, however, it curved upward and soundly missed, bouncing off the backboard. Tawne pretended to be upset. ”Impossibru! I was dead-on! How rigged can ya get?” Echo punched his arm as they left, while the confused and irked gamemaster replayed in his head the physically impossible shot. ”Show-off.”” Grinning, Tawne held his arms behind his back, and the two trekked on, discussing what could be done to make up for the now-unusable super-secret-plan. | Name: Tawne Adagio
Team: BEAT
Birth Date: August 31st
Age: 18
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Designation: Sophomore Student at Atlas Academy
-=-=-
In Depth Appearance: Tawne is of slighty above average height and physical condition, giving him a wiry frame. Long, nimble fingers give him admirable dexterity. His face sports a cleft chin, green eyes, and a rounded nose. Tawne's hair is nearly platinum blonde, practically sun-colored, and very bright. It falls to about his chin, but is commonly kept brushed back. His green eyes match the green-tinted panes of his black glasses.
Tawne's favorite clothes for times of action are loosely ceremonial, and vividly colored except for a loose black undershirt. A yellow-range mantle hangs down his front and back, kept in place by a wrap around his neck. A gray scarf with an intricate, white, curvy design serves him as a belt. On his arms and feet are leather vambraces and boots of the same style. Deep red pants complete the ensemble.
Weapon: Sticky Keys is a weapon both comically brutal and gloriously inelegant. This bizarre armament combines a keyboard with a butcher's cleaver, its single huge blade jutting out from the instrument's forward side. Handles exist at both the top and bottom of the weapon for strategic gripping, though the top one hides a special feature: a trigger for the double-barreled shotgun embedded in the weapon's top. Never meant for accuracy or delicacy, this shotgun serves as a powerful deterrent to anyone believing the cleaver blade to be easy to get around.
Semblance: Tawne's semblance, Spinout, comes into effect with anything in his vicinity that starts to spin, be it a ball, a weapon, or himself. Spinout enhances the spin, increasing speed and force while stabilizing trajectory, all of which ramp up over time. For instance, Tawne can throw a ball and have it fly perfectly straight, then grind into a target. He can perform enhanced lariats, rolls, tornado throws, and even hurricane kicks. Spinout derives from his tendency to be either brash or crazy in trying times, and to put a unique spin on whatever comes his way.
-=-=-
Personality: In essence, Tawne tends to play by his own somewhat loony rules. He's intelligent and quick-witted but with a snarky and sarcastic bent, quick to make jokes about and trivialize things that might matter to others. He views taking things too seriously as 'tryharding', and anathema to fun--which is what truly matters to him. Tawne loves a good time, whether playing games, making music, or fighting. Despite his general acidity and brashness, he actually does really enjoy hanging out with others, and will work tirelessly to return kindness to those who show it to him. To those close to him, he is equal parts irritating and inseparable. When things get tough, Tawne tends to go nuts, acting with a rather manic vigor. While possessed of a decent self-esteem, Tawne is intensely self-depreciating, though whether this is a joke at his expense or at egotists' few can rightly say. Despite his cynicism and slight kookiness, Tawne is kept firmly on the side of justice and goodness by his spirituality.
Place of Origin: Canopy, Atlas
History: In the city of Canopy in Atlas, a couple with no desire or need to marry became a family. From an early age it was evident that Tawne took after both the keen intelligence of his mother, the banker Saffron, and the creative wisdom of his father, the pianist Gormon. He also displayed an inability to mesh with other children, often driving them away with his sharp sense of humor and sometimes hurtful bluntness. Nevertheless, he exhibited an endearing kind of annoying, and his parents loved him. Other adults often felt surprised to see the compassionate and helpful side of the boy who often needled their children in school. Tawne, meanwhile found the fulfillment in religion that he did not get from other kids; it was spirituality that inspired him to do the best he could in life.
During his education, it became clear that Tawne delighted in music as much as his father, but rather than take an interest in finance he found satisfaction and creative potential in combat. As such, the government moved him into Atlas Academy when the time came, and there he found both a blend of his two passions and a few individuals who really understood him: his teammates. Tawne continued to devote himself to the rigors of education, though never abandoning his cuttingly jovial nature.
Relations with other Players: Tawne is fast friends with his teammate Albus. Though the two are vastly disparate in a variety of ways, they have formed a powerful bond of friendship, pretty much brothers in arms. Working together remarkably well, they are ideal partners both in music and in battle, able to coordinate attacks for maximum effectiveness and humiliation. If some sort of prank is going down, you can be sure that these two aren't far from it.
Extra: My semblance would be sneezing at gale force winds. |
55,952 | 1,533 | 12 | 511 | 3,294 | Teàrlag Cirsium
The Vytal Festival. A biannual celebration of the ceasefire that ended the Great War seven decades ago. There's parades, food, cheap merchandise, and for some reason, a combat tournament, hence why I'm sitting here on a bench in the fairgrounds rather than in my dorm room back at Shade Academy. It's ironic how everybody's celebrating the end of a war with fighting of all things, but whoever came up with the idea sixty years ago must not have gotten the memo. And so here I am, representing Vacuo in some competition about unity or what-not so that glory, honour, fame and all that other meaningless stuff gets added to Shade's rep.
Not like it really matters. There's only like, what, four Huntsman academies anyway. Shade's never gonna face enrolment issues.
I didn't really want to be part of this entire competition thing, but the other three betrayed me. They sought to stand out and get good grades, nullifying my desire to just remain in Vacuo and laze about. Curse their ambition and motivation. I could have been avoiding all this instead of scoping out the competition. Not that I even know where the 'competition' is.
It's a big fairground. A big waste of money too.
At least it's reusable.
I sigh, leaning back against the wooden bench. Maybe I should get some food. Scoping out the competition's a pretty energy-intensive task, and I guess the real only good thing about this place is the Valic cooking. Noodles here are actually pretty great.
Not a lot of it in Vacuo.
And it's probably going to be overpriced stuff anyway. Have to feed off the wallets of the poor. | Name: Teàrlag Cirsium
Age: 17
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Nationality: Vacuuan
Designation: Huntress
Team: TSUN (Tsunami)
Appearance: A pale youth whose features clearly paint her as a native to the metropolitan city-state of Vale, Teàrlag is almost delicate in her appearance, false advertisement for those who know of her personality. Indeed, with her height of a metre sixty, slightly shorter than most girls her age, as well as her soft and gentle looks, she could almost be considered cute or waifish, but the cynical and dead gaze present in her otherwise beautiful purple eyes tell a different story. The twin-tailed girl is definitely pretty, but like the black-and-red and discs clipped to her violet hair, her soul is hellish, an bottomless pit of self-loathing and cynicism that contrasts immensely with her looks.
Her outfit consists of a black, hooded jacket (lined with red in certain areas), which is haphazardly thrown over a short minidress that shares a colour with her hair, albeit a slightly lighter shade. It extends down beyond her waist by only several centimetres, leaving a small gap of pale, almost-white skin visible before it meets her woollen, overknee thigh-high socks, which are also a purplish colour (violet of course, pretty much being her favourite colour in that she has absolutely no real negative opinion of it). Indeed, it could be said, in the tongue of Internet-going cartoon fanatics, that she possesses "Rank A" zettai ryouiki, though whether or not this has ascended to "Rank S" is dependent on one's judgement of her personality. Digressions on forbidden territory aside, the purple-haired girl also wears simple but tough black boots.
Colour: Thistle Purple
Personality: A cynic down to her very bones (or so she thinks), Teàrlag Cirsium is not a girl with an overly favourable view of the world. To her, life is harsh, uncaring and utterly meaningless, an endless cycle of drudgery that seeks to wear away at one's self until death finally comes. It's a rather dreary and morbid opinion, but she's embraced it, and with racial tensions between human and Faunus, the constant fight for survival against the hordes of monstrous Grimm, and the knowledge that each day people you've met will find themselves at risk of dying, she feels like the world itself supports her beliefs. Not to mention the utter lack of mercy society holds for its own citizens, the vapid nature of the cliques and ingroups that promotes the concept of an "us and them", or even the innate selfishness of the common person. She hates it, and her grumpy, sour attitude to things is emblematic of that antipathy towards everything in the world. This makes her out to be somewhat of a rebellious loner, raging against the world and all its injustices.
The fact of the matter is, however, that she's resigned herself to it all. She sees the world in a pessimistic light and she knows she can't change it.
Deep down however, she still possesses an incredible resolve, and the courage to fight for those in need of being defended. She hates to see people cry, and will do anything to wipe those tears away, even if it's at great cost to herself. Her self-worth is utterly lacking; she doesn't believe herself to be worthy of care (though she can still be hurt, no matter how many excuses she makes or how much she tries to deny it), and it is for the sake of others that she fights. Teàrlag doesn't like to admit it, but underneath that grumpy, cynical exterior lies a girl who's really just like any other average teenager, a girl with self-doubts and flaws and precious people, even if she thinks she isn't. She can't accept praise or gratitude that easily, and frequently denies doing anything out of a sense of philanthropy. Because she doesn't believe she can, because she doesn't believe she could be that much of a help.
It gets her flustered, really.
She's not a particularly motivated person either, content with being another average student in Vacuo. It's strange then, to know that this girl is the leader of her team of huntresses, when she seems so lacking in any positive leadership qualities. But she cares for people (even if she does her best to avoid establishing strong relationships), has strong tactical sensibilities, and from time to time can muster up something surprisingly inspirational. Otherwise however, she prefers to take things easy and avoid the struggle. Teàrlag is also a gigantic nerd, and one would be surprised to note that she possesses an incredible singing voice honed from an almost fanatical devotion to karaoke. She also likes deep-fried foodstuffs.
Teàrlag Cirsium is a complicated girl with a complicated sense of self.
She might seem like she's just another cynic, but there's more to her than that.
Equipment:
Her primary piece of hunting equipment is called Lonnbeimnech Taranaich, which is split into a number of parts. The first is a six foot long lochaber axe (Lonnbeimnech) made from a dense and highly durable metallic substance. It possesses an incredibly low resistance, a physical property that is quite conducive (pun intended) towards the use of Teàrlag's semblance. Indeed, it serves as a lightning rod, providing a path of least resistance and absorbing electricity into its body, as well as the reverse (which provides her foes quite the shocking experience). With its high heat capacity and low coefficient of thermal expansion, the blade of the weapon can be superheated to over three thousand five hundred degrees celsius, enabling it to slice apart foes with greater ease. Said blade can also be launched as a rocket, trailing long, fine copper wires behind it as it flies into the distance. This essentially leaves the weapon as a staff until the head makes it return (as it contains its own propellant).
The second part of the Lonnbeimnech Taranaich, on the other hand, consists of two electrical amplifiers (Taranaich) bound to her wrists that can launch bolts of electricity at her foes, but when combined with the lochaber axe, form what can be best described as a electromagnetic slingshot. Utilising lightning dust and her semblance in tandem, she can propel anything placed within the sling at speeds far greater than what is provided by a standard slingshot. Her projectiles for this tend to vary, but she does possess a stock of tungsten rounds to be used specifically for such purposes.
Beyond her main weapon, however, Teàrlag also makes use of a set of ten sgian-dubh knives, which are safely sheathed and hung from garters near the top of her thigh-high socks (with five knives on each leg). They serve as her backup tools, cooking utensils and et cetera, placed in a less obvious location in order to keep a sense of surprise. They are not particularly special, but have also been balanced so that she can throw them at enemies, usually with strings upon strings of copper wire (rolls of which she keeps pocketed) in order to further assist the usage of her semblance if necessary.
Fighting Style:
Despite her apathy towards achieving anything beyond average in her studies as a Huntress, Teàrlag Cirsium is actually surprisingly skilled as a fighter (honed by the desire to actually remain alive, because no matter how much she dislikes the world, she isn't yet suicidal), and knows both her weapons and powers and weaknesses and strengths inside-out. She mainly serves as a sharpshooter, firing off highly accurate shots from her long-ranged weapons to neutralise her enemies and provide openings for the rest of her team. However, she is also decently capable in melee, especially with her electrically-infused strikes adding an extra dimension of pain to her blows. The techniques she uses are not particularly polished or well-thought-out, but her skill is respectable enough, and her willingness to make use of any resources available and her desperation if thrown into a corner is what makes her truly dangerous there.
Semblance:
Marchysgallen - the power provided to Teàrlag by her semblance essentially transforms her (pun very much intended) into a dynamo, a walking producer of electrical energy that can be utilised in a number of different ways. When active, she is constantly converting her aura into electricity stored within her body, which she can expel from her body, though not in a particularly fine manner. She possesses zero fine control over her lightning (which takes upon a purple colour), with most of her tool-less skills with it boiling down to, with only one exception, essentially pointing and firing off bolts of electricity that end up dissipating after a short range due to the resistance of the air. As such, she tends to rely on the assistance of her weapons to best make use of her powers, though when she's dealing with her mundane, day-to-day life she doesn't need them; charging her phone or game consoles simply by touching them is incredibly useful, after all.
Her ability to channel electricity is heavily dependent on the presence of conductors, but there is one technique she has refined that serves as the one exception. With great concentration, she can envelop her entire body in a field of electrons, repelling outwards as a burst or wave of electricity that is both offensive and defensively orientated. Her most common use of this ability however, is to simply cover herself in lightning and run into people, which can essentially be considered an electrifying tackle. It is incredibly dangerous, especially taking into account the amplitude and voltage of the electricity she produces, but requires her to focus quite a bit on keeping the field stable.
When not active, her semblance can still be noticeable, thanks to the smell of ozone that permeates the air around her, and the infrequent sparks of electricity that leap off her skin.
History:
The third of five daughters born to a family of Vacuuan hunters residing in Vale, nobody really expected much of Teàrlag Cirsium, the ignored middle child who really had nothing going for her. She was just another kid, another average little girl who was outshone by her more exciting and colourful family members. Not that she really minded. She was fine (or at least she claimed she was) with being just another number for the census, another statistic that went through school, where the drudgery and repetitivity of the world, where the knowledge that they could die at any moment, slowly but surely eroded away at whatever hope and optimism she had for becoming anything more. She became a loner, a pessimistic girl who spent her days sitting in the corner of the classroom, doing the bare minimum required for her to pass her classes.
When she was thirteen, her parents moved them back to Vacuo.
It was difficult, adjusting to both a new country and a new environment. But she managed (for a given value of the term), settling back into the endless drudgery as another average student once more. She woke up, went to school, did her work, went home, played video games, practiced fighting, went to sleep, repeat. It was an endless cycle, and it didn't endear her to the world at all. It was as if she was going through the motions, training to become a hunter simply because her parents and some of her siblings were.
Teàrlag barely made it into Shade Academy.
She would have left as well, would have given up on the career of a huntress, of a career that could easily end in her death, but something stopped her. She found people who she ... wasn't averse to, people whose presence she probably would have somewhat missed. And Teàrlag realised that she didn't want to see them hurt and crying. So she stayed. Even though she doubted her own skills, even though she found it all so utterly lacking and useless, she didn't want to see people hurt.
Being a huntress meant that she could wipe away some of those tears.
(Not that she cared or anything.)
Relations with other characters:
Not yet applicable
Extra:
-VA: Kakazu Yumi (JP)
-Cirsium is the genus of the spear thistle, the national flower of Scotland
-As a workaholic, my semblance would likely give me the ability to ignore sleep. |
55,953 | 1,533 | 13 | 2,699 | 1,255 | du Acier - The Penthouse
“Welcome Mrs. Acier.” A man said in a very-Vale tone of voice.
“Oh, darling are you proposing?” Noël said with an audible and somewhat demeaning laugh.
“Excuse me Mrs?” He said, most certainly in the tone of voice that confirmed the proletariat in his genes.
“There you go again, I swear there’s something in the water with you Valians. Ma’am will do quite fine thank you.” She said pulling out a clutch from her coat pocket and handing the man a bill. “I expect my bags in my room in two minutes.”
“Ma’am, I just hold the door.” The doorman complained.
“Look at the bill dear.” Noël chided.
“Right away ma’am.” The doorman said lunging towards the vehicle that took her from the dreaded airport in Vale to this godforsaken hotel.
Noël’s walk through the lobby of the hotel garnered looks from passersby. She laughed inwardly as she thought about the kind of looks the rest of her team would garner given the fact that she was by far the poorest of the three.
Noël opened the door to the penthouse suite with a sigh. They just didn’t make them like in Atlas anymore. She decided it didn’t really matter, she’d roughed it in worse conditions then the ones she currently bore. She immediately began walking towards the kitchen putting her hair into a messier bun than what was typically acceptable in common society – she found herself thanking god that wasn’t where she was. She examined the stove, oven, and other dispensaries and gave them a nod. They would do.
Before long her doorman-promoted bellhop arrived with her bags.
“Ma’am, if you don’t mind me asking, why are half of these food?” The simpleton asked her.
“If I don’t make them a nice dinner, I don’t know who will.” Noël said aloud – a hint of something genuine colouring her phrasing. “Thank you bellhop, you may make your exit.” And so he did.
Noël immediately reached into her bag of clothes and found her 'Don’t tell the chef to shut up.' Apron that Brennan had bought her when she finally made a steak he liked a couple months back.
Afterwards Noël quickly took the bags to the kitchen and took out her knives she made in her smithy. She pulled three pans out of one of the larger bags and placed them on the stove, igniting the contraption with a seemingly stone-aged dial.
She took a smaller sauce pan and retrieved a bottle of bourbon from the fridge pouring it into the sauce pan and letting it heat up. Watching the bourbon carefully, Noël knew when it as time and removed the sauce pan from the stove – took a match and struck it against the counter top. She carefully ignited the bourbon and let it flame for about thirty seconds. She then covered the sauce pan and took it off the stove.
Quickly three slabs of meat followed onto the pans each taking up nearly an entire pan, certainly no one pan could hold the two steaks. They sizzled as Noël hummed a tune to their melody as she quickly grabbed a small stick of butter and shaved a small amount off into Albert’s pan. He liked some butter, but not much. She reached into the same bag that had carried her slabs of steak and retrieved a pepper shaker and cracked some pepper onto the steak while it was cooking.
She quickly and skillfully diverted her attention to a group of red potatoes chopping them up quickly into fine yet not chip-sized portions. She threw them in with Kek’s steak in order for them to both fry and salivate with the steak. She produced quite a few more potatoes for Brennan, he always wanted more than everyone else. She chopped his up and added them to his pan as well. She dug a little deeper into her groceries in order to produce a few Portobello mushrooms – Kek’s topping of choice. But before dicing them she took Albert’s steak off the heat and quickly dipped into it with a knife in order to insure that it was as rare as he liked it.
Delighted at the sight of the blood, she placed his steak back on the stove and set the heat to very low, in order to keep it warm. She then turned back to the mushrooms. Dicing them up into perfectly sized portions she laid them out one by one atop Kek’s steak, his cooked the longest so she knew they would glaze into the meat perfectly by the time he would eat it.
She took Brennan’s slab of meat of the heater second and gulped. She knew that her partner was very particular about just how medium rare his steak was. It was the first time Brennan raised his voice at Noël. The moment when Noël truly dedicated herself to mastery – of the medium rare steak. She made the smallest incision on the side of the steak in order to check it’s perfection and was happy to find that she was right on the money.
Finally she took Kek’s medium-well done steak off the heater, his was the easiest and she knew she had perfected his first – so she didn’t bother checking. She also decidedly guessed a long while ago on one eve when she had messed up his order that he wouldn’t argue about it or raise any concerns, he was nice in that way.
Noël immediately began plating the dishes, she knew her team would be arriving any second now. She placed Brennan at the head of the table because otherwise he may implode rather violently, herself to his right as it was closest to the fridge to reach for condiments, refills and other needs. Across from herself was Albert, Brennan’s left hand man and at an easy vantage point to discuss things with both Brennan and herself. Across the table from Brennan was Kek, an intellectual member of the team and the happiest eater.
Before making sure everyone had their drinks Noël retrieved the bourbon sauce that she had created for Kek and lightly drizzled it onto the meat making sure to use everything that was available in the small pan. Content with her work she placed all of the cooking utensils and dishes in the dishwasher.
She quickly fetched three glasses from the kitchen. She filled one with milk, another with with a cocktail she had named the Tarik River Cocktail consisting of a 20 year old Atlesian whisky, Créme de Cacao and peach bitters, and finally for Albert a flute filled with the finest Schneelager – a lager filled with golden dust that enhances the taste.
She sent out a text and wiped her brow upon finally finishing her task.
From: Noël du Acier
To: Team B(etter than you)ANK
Dinner is served. In the penthouse – see you soon, lots of love. ヽ(≧ω≦)ﾉ | Name:
Noël Du Acier
Race:
Human
Gender:
Female
Age:
19
Nationality:
Atlesian
Team:
BANK
Designation:
Assassin/Brawler
Appearance:
Personality:
Noël is one of the kinder members of Bank. She is best described through her hard-working demeanor, her greed for money and her absolute devotion to her team. Her hard-working attitude comes from when she was just seven years old. Eleven years ago her parents lost nearly everything they had. She was put to work, trained by the best blacksmiths Atlas and two lives worth of favors could afford her. While she is no master blacksmith herself. She is a woman who was raised by a forge. She knows the ins and outs of smithing like a second language. She has worked tooth and nail to help her parents regain both the finances and the status they once held so dearly, while they aren’t truly there – they’re one their way.
Noël’s greed for money while incessant isn’t born purely out of sin and fear of poverty. Instead it has a slightly more noble birth. When her father first lost all of his money Noël has fond memories of their long days in the forge. One of those days he picked her up with his mighty log-like arms and heaved her onto his shoulder. He didn’t meet her wondering gaze, instead the fire was reflected deep in his iris. “Only the fools die rich Noël.” He said to her. “Get as much capital as you can in your life, spend what you must, what you’d like to, and then give it all away.” She has held that mantra very close to her heart ever since.
Noël’s team means quite a bit to her, though for her sake and their own she doesn’t make it known all too often. They got together only eight months ago, but even in that short amount of time they are a highly cohesive unit. She, Brennan, Albert, and Kek all spent the first few months dictating ways in which they’d rather be spending for time. But as push came to shove and the team couldn’t find words that sounded better than Bank – Brennan became the team leader. As soon as that decision passed over an air of ease settled over the team. It only took them three months as well.
Skills:
Noël has been taught since a young age to wield her two weapons a bow and arrow and a staff. Some of the best trainers Atlesian money can afford.
An incredible blacksmith for her age.
She utilizes a bow primarily for the stigma levied commonly against archers – primarily that they are weak in close range combat. Surprising them with her talent in utilizing her staff in close range combat attributing to many of her victories.
Financially stable, but in comparison to her teammates rather poor.
Weapons/Equipment:
Evangile de la Richesse (as pictured in her appearance): Noël’s weapon of choice is deceiving on many fronts. She typically carries it on her back, it appears to be a wooden stick. However it is actually made of steel. She typically utilizes it as a staff but is able to fire arrows from it using her dust strings. These strings form as Noël performs the motion of drawing a bow, otherwise they do not form. This works via a connection to Noël’s glove that forms the string between the tips of the staff. She uses dust arrows as well in order to create multiple effects. She has these tied so they hand around her lower back. The effects that an individual arrow can produce are: a stream of water along the trail of the arrow (moving at the same speed and direction as the arrow), a gust of wind following the arrow and spiraling outwards from its landing position, a constant stream of fire produced from the shaft of the arrow, and using earth dust, the ability to shatter ground that it comes into contact with as long as it is in the form of some dirt/mineral compound.
Semblance:
(Working title) Problèmes D’aujourd’hui: Noël once fully enveloping an object in her aura is able to make replications and considerable amounts of them at that. However, she may also utilize dust in place of her aura to replicate objects. Most commonly she uses her dust arrows, mid-flight or otherwise.
History:
Working on it
Relations with other characters:
Brennan: The leader of her team – Brennan and Noël have an odd relationship. It could be defined as a rivalry, but that suggests and animosity that is simply no longer present for these two. They work well in combat with one another and Noël trusts his orders in a fight completely. He guides where her arrows will fall and where her staff will strike, and she wouldn’t have it any other way. Casually, he sometimes tells her to shut up – as do the rest of her team, but she doesn’t really mind as she talks a lot and tends to speak her mind too frequently. She also tends to find herself cooking for her team whenever she can, she worries they don’t eat very well let alone regularly.
(Subject to change) Albert: To Noël, Al is sort of like combining the financial sense of a business mogul with the tact and care of a surgeon. He tends to know exactly what the team needs and in turn Noël. Whether he decides to actually give Noël or the team what it needs is a case by case study. She finds that Albert is another strong tactician on the team and when Brennan is either too preoccupied or some form of improvisation is required she knows that Albert is well aware of the situation. Something Noël found confusing at first but later one nice about her teammate was that while he was quick to tell her to shut up like the rest of her team, he was very quick to defend her.
Kek: Noël knows the Tarik family well due to their owning of the major railroad systems in Atlas. Their reaches extend greatly across Remnant and that feeling extends to Kek. Always the quieter member of BANK at first Noël feared what he may be thinking, scheming. One spring eve Kek and Noël were walking home from a training session, they lived about the same way from the academy. A young man approached Noël scoffing to himself at her family’s misfortune, Kek perked up and shot the offender a look that could kill. “Shut the fuck up.” He said, and the boy did. Immediately after he turned back to Noël and grimaced at her. “I really think that I should be the leader, how are any of us going to get around without railroads?” That time, Noël didn’t remind him that there was transportation by air.
Extra:
Bakes a mean butterscotch cinnamon pie.
Will roast you with the intensity of a thousand suns.
Resident hype man of team BANK.
Refuses to wear plaid on plaid. |
55,954 | 1,533 | 14 | 1,894 | 5,788 | Burgundy was only allowed to slime ever so slightly at her wise cracking teammate. There were times when she wanted to just launch a fist to his face for his remarks, but she felt that a little uptalking and wisecrackery would do some good just before the tournament. She almost considered laughing at Tawne's little remark to their team name, but, as a dear and close friend, he shouldn't know that she actually found a few of his remarks remotely funny.
She shifted in her seat just ever so slightly, making herself as comfortable as she could without sitting all the way back in the chair. The newly named Team DEVL had done their business and left the stand, allowing her to continue eating in peace. Her hands, both equipped with silverware to devour the noodles before her, moved at mach five to deliver the food to her mouth, continuing her original plan. She wasn't a star, per-se, but she did do enough side work and other odds and ends to support herself. It only added to her superstar persona that people seemed to buy into, which, in a sense, she was glad about. It make people focus on her fighting, her deeds, and most importantly, her team. She wasn't allowed to fail, which she did whatever she could to keep from happening, and treated her teammates like she had known them all her life.
But none of that really matter. The more important item of focus was the food that somehow did not change her appearance in the least, despite the mass quantities being shoved into her mouth. | Name: Echo Marine?
Team: BEAT
Birth Date: May 2nd
Age: 18
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Designation: Sophomore Student at Atlas Academy
In Depth Appearance: Echo is a tall, strongly-built girl, with long legs, wide shoulders, and wide hips. Her skin is approximately mocha in tone, and contrasts extravagently with her poofy blue hair, which is tied back in a bush except for jagged bangs. Fairly thick eyebrows, full lips, and a near-permanent smirk distinguish her face.
On the battlefield or the stage, Echo's attire of choice is a gray crop-sleeved sweaterskirt, yellow bows as her hairtie and her belt, streamlined cotton pants, and white tennis shoes with yellow soles. Black elastic wraps adorn her arms, extending into fingerless gloves. This garb overall displays a simple functionality, though not without its own assertive style.
Weapon: The simple title of Echo's weapon, the Boomstick, masks a great degree of sophistication and flexibility seemingly unfit for a brutish hammer. To begin, the Boomstick is an immense mallet, meant to be swung with both hands. The force of a proper swing is capable of making dents in Grimm armor plates and metal alike. Though slower and not as adaptable as a blade or even a mace, this huge weapon nevertheless boasts a highly effective inelegance masked beneath a hip exterior.
More interesting than the Boomstick's raw pummeling capabilities, however, are the two sound-based devices built into it. Lying well-sheltered in the hammerhead, an extremely potent boombox creates forceful reverberations in the vicinity of the weapon when swung, giving the Boomstick an area-of-effect capable of launching things it isn't even touching. Additionally, a microphone exists in the bottom of the Boomstick's handle, though this serves more of an entertainment purpose than a tactical one.
Semblance: Stemming from Echo's unwillingness to back down even when greatly challenged, her semblance Run it Back restores her own aura to its level a few moments ago, making her resistent to burst damage and even able to stay in a fight when she might otherwise be taken down. This talent's nature as a sort of 'second wind' however, prevents her using her ability more than once or twice per fight, leading her to save it for big moments. The ability is extremely taxing on her body, and even two uses has great effects on her soon after, requiring her to finish a fight quickly after using her semblance.
Personality: In a word, adamant. Echo is proud, resolute in what she believes in, and strong-willed to the point of obnoxiousness. Despite being overly inclined to prefer everything being done her way, she will relent if sufficiently convinced—a quality she shamelessly touts as being representative of her consideration for others' thoughts, which she lacks. Though of average intelligence, she is less proficient than most in picking up on the feelings of others. She doesn't ever let her opponents get through to her, thinking this to be an act of submission; for instance, if slandered for her weight, Echo might turn it around to point out that she's not trying to pretend she's something she's not. Echo also tends to hold grudges. Despite being self-centered and somewhat arrogant, she is not in the least bit mean-spirited and will not actively seek to hurt the feelings or attack the beliefs of others, and if she discovers she has done so, she will apologize.
On the flipside, Echo exhibits a loyalty and reliability that make her a steadfast ally, if not a steadfast friend. The military tradition of her family perseveres in her, and Echo remains optimistic despite the tragedies and struggles of the world to inspire confidence and toughness in others. All in all, she is an indomitable spirit, for better or worse, whose confidence can be both self-destructive and self-preservative.
Place of Origin: Atlas
Relations with other Players:
Burgundy - Echo holds a certain level of respect for Burgundy. Not only because she is the leader of the team, but also due to the fact that she always appears to be on the top of her game. she seems to view Burgundy in the same prodigal light that many of the faculty in the academy do, but her respect is not to be mistaken for idolism. The two tend to make jokes about one another, Echo's favorite one being a half true statement in how she believes that men should be throwing themselves at her feet and forming a reverse harem for her. It usaully gets a good laugh out of the both of them. Despite how close the two are, she is still unaware of the rigorous training that Burgundy sneaks off to to maintain her status as a pending specialist.
Albus -The two are quite the odd pair. They speak like a couple and are more open with eachother than they actually know. Their relationship can be described as 'Tough Love'. They share insults together without even knowing that they are both actually giving eachother a piece of themselves. But in combat Albus and Echo do not work well together like Albus does with Tawne.
Tawne - Echo and Tawne represent a compromising clash. More than anyone else on the team, and often more than anyone else they know, Echo and Tawne butt heads on the smallest of issues, seemingly just for the sake of it. Since day one, each has treated one another like a sibling, with a great deal of understanding and care veiled behind an equal but much more visible quantity of teasing, calling out, and competition. Both strive to be the 'big brother' of the relationship.
This get's the Pyro Seal of approval, and is automatically accepted. |
55,955 | 1,533 | 15 | 1,918 | 8,262 | Silme Raana
After finishing up his bowl of noodles, which were delicious as always, Silme got up to return the bowl to the stand, casting a look at the red haired girl who was ferociously devouring her own meal like she hadn't eaten in days. And people like to call us animals, sheesh, was she raised in a barn? He thought to himself as he shook his head in disgust, before he turned his attention back to the task at hand. Once the bowl had been returned, he made to walk away, to where he had no real idea, only to feel himself being surrounded.
Looking up, he saw the recognizably ugly mug of John Cameron, the lead thug of one of Carver's few rivals, who he only keeps around to help keep the law enforcement off his back. The man's boss was of some reputation as a former hunter himself, but John himself was a Beacon drop-out with hardly any idea of how to use his aura, et thinks that just because he got into beacon that he's the best around. He was annoying to deal with at the best of times, which this currently wasn't, as Silme was still pretty agitated by seeing that domesticated dog faunus, and thus wasn't in the mood for the meathead's bullshit.
"What do you want, John, I'm not in the mood."
"Too bad, Slime, I've been asked to invite you to a special gathering, and I'm afraid I can't take no for an answer. Isn't that right boys?" John smirked as he saw Silme's eye twitch, turning to address the 15 or so men he'd brought along to assist in the collection, his grin widening as they all shared a laugh at the silver haired boy's behalf. "I'm not quite sure why I needed so many men to bring in one boy, especially when he's just a good for nothing ani-." As John had been talking, Silme's ears had slowly began to press themselves against his head, the tips facing back, his tail slowly beginning to sway side to side as his anger began to climb. However, when John crossed the line by proceeding to call him an animal, Silme lost all semblance of control, his lips curling back into a visicious snarl as he grabbed the man by his shirt mid-sentence and proceed to silence him with a savage headbut straight into his nose. This caused it to break in a gout of blood, but Silme wasn't done yet, as he repeated the action 3 more times, before proceeding to toss the man high into the air. As he fell to the ground, Silme performed a spinning round house kick just as he came within range, sending him and the few of his unlucky goons that managed to get in the way into a nearby wall.
Luckily for them, Silme had gained enough control at that point to not use his full aura boosted strength, so they were all alive, though medical attention would probably be needed and John would be incapable of eating anything solid for a lot longer. Silme angrily looked at the other goons, who quickly decided that they weren't getting paid enough for this crap and decided to collect their wounded and scatter like the insects they were. He spat after them in disgust, reaching up to wipe John's blood of his face. He looked at his now bloodied sleeve distastefully, muttering something about how he'd just gotten it clean and that he'd find the bastard and make him pay for the cleaning bill later. Thanks to his aura, Silme was more or less unaffected by the repeated blows to the head, though he was sure that he'd be hearing about this sooner rather than later. He mumbled to himself as he continued to walk away from the scene, unaware that his actions had disturbed the piece, and more specifically, that he had unknowingly knocked over
Burgandy's noodle during the short skirmish, his kick having sent a goon into the table and launching the bowl into the air only to land with a crack against the pavement.
"I really need to work on my temper a little, maybe take another one of those anger management courses . . . actually, the last time I went to one of those, I ended up destroying a couple chairs . . . and walls . . . maybe broke a bone or two. . . *sigh* I have a problem." | C H A R A C T E R S H E E T
Silme Raana
“You keep staring and you're going to lose an eye."
-Silme Raana, Age 10
T H E B A S I C S
|Name|
Silme Raana
|Team|
MASK
|Birth Date|
|Age|
17
|Race|
Timber Wolf Faunus
|Gender|
Male
|Designation|
reluctant Student, Secret Criminal
A P P E A R A N C E
|In Depth Appearance|
Silme is on the taller side, being around 6ft tall with room to grow, his silver hair cut short in a wild, unkempt style to keep it from getting in the way of his fighting. His eyes are a fierce amber color, closer in appearance to that of his animal lineage, especially when his instincts start to take over. He has a lean muscled figure covered with scars from his numerous criminal escapades, as well as a tattoo on his arm of a snarling wolf. As for his Faunus features, he has an easily noticeable pair of wolf ears on his head, as well as a tail, claws, and sharp canines that he's all to ready to use if needed.
G E T T I N G T O K N O W M E
|Likes & Dislikes|
✔ fighting, other Faunus, Scarlet Ravagers, taking humans down a pegor six,
✘ being alone, people in general, Faunus who try and 'fit in'Domesticated fuckwads, Humans, hyper people, being touched, being told what to do, authority, Carver, Carver's weird habits, Hunters
Weapon: The Scarlet Ravagers: He uses a pair of Specialized Customizable Clawed Gauntlets that he can alter for various combat and utility functions, as well as changing into either a pair of Customized SMGs, with rapid- and burst-fire modes, for him to dual wield, or into two double-sided short swords. All variations of weapons can be augmented with Dust cartridges for various effects and attacks.
He can also use them as a means of traversal by firing out the claws as a form of grappling hook attached to a good amount of strong, lightweight metal cable.
Fighting Style: Hit them faster and hit them hard, he is a Striker type fighter, extremely good at offense even against superior numbers. However, his defensive capabilities aren't the greatest, but they aren't the worst either. To help with this style, he's actually augmented his Aura so that it gives more of a physical power boost at the cost of it's defensive capabilities, making him a good deal stronger and a great deal faster than most, but taking hits is something he tries to avoid.
Sembalance: Corrosion, It is a very offensive Sembalance that allows Silme to imbue his attacks with a reddish-silver aura. This Aura is extremely effective at dealing damage, but it's usefulness truly shines when it comes with dealing with heavily armored enemies. With this ability, he can easily weaken most types of armor so and items, making him very effective at damaging and even destroying the weapons of others to lessen their combat effciency.He can even apply his ability against the defensive aura of others, though it isn't as effective, it still allows him to do more damage then normal.
D E L V I N G D E E P E R
|Personality|
♦ Aggresive ♦ Rebellious ♦ Somewhat Clueless ♦ Short-Temper♦
Silme is a loner by trade, and while he'll deny it vehemently, he really wishes he wasn't. He wants to connect with people, have real friends and family again, but he's afraid that he'll just get left behind again, abandoned by those he loved the most. Outwardly and in public, however, he's very abrasive, blunt, and vulgar, ready to speak his mind and pounce on anyone who tries to stop him(sometimes literally). The surest way to get on his shit list is to tell him what to do, as he hates that more than anything, especially if it's a human.
As far as fighting goes, he'll use evey advantage to win and will fight to the ducking end with all the feral energy of a wild beast. Now a trained killer, he'll have no problem ending his foes of the need arises, though not a second before. He has some sense of honor in that he won't fight a helpless opponent or murder innocents, but other than that, he can head cold and heartless as Carver himself.
|Place of Origin|
Vale
|History|
Silme is the son of two well-respected hunters, who were also terrible parents. While they did love their son, they were always out on the job, protecting others from danger while neglecting the one who needed them most. Then, they simply never came back, having gone MIA in the line of duty. Silme spent a few weeks devesatated by the loss, but that sadness soon turned to anger, distrust, and deep seated hatred against Hunter society as a whole.
Silme has since then gotten involved with some unsavory types, getting himself stuck in the criminal underground and making a name for himself for his impressive fighting skills. When he was in trouble with some gangs looking to put him in his place, Carver showed up to save his hide and forcibly employ him into his service. Silme hates this arrangement, but he can't get out if it since Carber has him by the throat in more ways then one. His time as Carver's protege hasn't been all bad, however, as the former hunter has taught him many thinks in the time they've been together that, when combined with his own natural skill and garnered combat experience, makes him a force to be reckoned with in battle.
|Relations with other characters|
|Extra|
Hates to be mothered or otherwise taken care of
Tail and Ears give away his feelings, especially when he try's to hide them
Wolf blood gives him increased endurance, Stamina, strength, and senses, though the most enhanced are his stamina and senses. He also has a very strong bite, capable of breaking bones if he bites down hard enough.
He has a helmet styled in the fashion of a Beowulf mask that he wears for intimidation purpoaes and to hide his identity while doing criminal activity. The eyes glow silver and red, and his voice becomes heavily distorted, adding to the monstrous appearance
Has a tough time controlling his more animalistic side
C H A R A C T E R S H E E T
Carver Aureus
“Life's much too short to worry about petty things like laws or decency. Have an affair, punch a hobo, stab somebody, do whatever the hell you want, cause everything's permitted as long as you don't get caught.”
-Carver Aureus
T H E B A S I C S
|Name|
Carver Aureus
|Team|
|Birth Date|
Wouldn't you like to know
|Age|
32
|Race|
Human
|Gender|
Male
|Designation|
Crime Boss, Father figure(?) for Silmefor better or for worse
A P P E A R A N C E
|In Depth Appearance|
Carver is a man blessed with saintly good looks, with sparkling green eyes and straight blonde hair that reach to his shoulders. His figure is what you'd expect of a Hunter, lean and toned, plenty muscular physique and covered with a variety of scars, most of them being old wounds from his hunting days. When it comes to his clothing, he usually wears high-quality dress clothes that have been modified for use in combat while still remaining rather stylish, usually in the forms of jackets, slacks, and dress shoes.
|Scars, Tattoos, Other Markings|
He has a large tattoo that spans the whole of his back and spills over on to his arms, a veritable tapestry of colors that seems to span the rainbow. They shimmer with iridescent colors when shown to the light, and seem to glow when in the dark. Despite their beauty, Carver is very adverse o discussing them and will either dodge the questions or, if people still try to pry, get violent.
G E T T I N G T O K N O W M E
|Likes & Dislikes|
✔ Women(Especially Faunus women), money, Freedom, Silme when he isn't being a little brat, Luxury, messing with the police and Hunters
✘ People mentioning tattoos, people who go back on deals, traitors, mindless violence, self-righteous types, hero types, Uppity rats that don't know their place
Weapon: Never being one to play by the rules, Carver bears two weapons, A mechanized long-sword that can turn into a form of chainsaw by splitting in half, edge-wise, and ejecting a number of inch long serrated blades. His other weapon is a powerful revolver that bears a Dust Applicator, as well as a varied internal barrel. By pressing a button, he can change how the dust effects the bullet, from either simply affecting the bullet, to drawing a line of elemental energy as it travels, to even apply an effect to the target on hit. Not only that, but the bullets it fires have a very high impact, meaning they can do quite a lot of damage if they hit, though consecutive firing is near impossible due to the extreme recoil the weapon has. He can also out fit it with specially designed Aura-piercing rounds, but these are incredible expensive black market items, so he only uses them when faced with no other option.
Semblance: Live Fast, Die Hard; these are the words that he lives by and his his ability reflects that. When active, he gains a slight golden glow, as well as an impressive boost to his speed, but the thing that makes this Semblance dangerous is that when he gets into a fight that stacked against him, he gets even stronger. The more damage he takes and the less Aura he has, the stronger his Semblance becomes, enabling him to move faster and hit harder then he normally be able to. He can also apply his Semblance to a single limb, doubling the boost to speed but only to that limb, making it most useful when he's trying to get a shot on an unsuspecting foe or trying to overwhelm his opponent with a furious flurry of attacks.
Aside from that, Carver is very skilled in the ways of manipulating dust, having had to deal with it being engrained to his skin since birth and being forced to train with his father for experiments. While he may not like it using it, the dust in his skin is something he's very use to using, as he can now launch attacks using it without even a second thought. It's draining, however, to use it too much, hence why he tends to rely on his other skills first, only resorting to dust when he needs to make sure a foe is finished. He can use all forms of elements, as well as mixing them together to form new effects, and the results can be as devastating as they are tiring.
D E L V I N G D E E P E R
|Personality|
♦ Ruthless ♦ Laid back ♦ Care-free ♦ Flirtatious ♦
Carver is a Free spirit, both a lover and a fighter who doesn't care about societal taboos and has a love for the strange and unnatural. This is why he doesn't mind the Faunus like some other humans might, and even prefers them to humans since they seem to be clearly superior. He bears a somewhat odd fixation on women of the Faunus variety(any species of Faunus), and tends to treat them with all kinds of flattery, flirtation, and seduction, though he does this to all women, in truth. Faunus just get special attention.
With men, he tends to be sarcastic jackass with a superiority complex, not really treating themas if they're on the same level as he is. He also tends to demean them heavily and may have played a part in Silme's tendency to insult someone as soon as he sees them, as that's what he tends to do, often with a nickname of sorts. However, don't let his odd behaviors fool you, the man is as heartless and ruthless as they come, if not more so, dealing with everything in his way in a calculated and cool manner. He's broken his share knees and necks to get to where he is today, and will never lose any sleep over it. He beleives in survival of the fittest, and anyone who falls to him deserved to get crushed by his presence.
|Place of Origin|
Vale
|History|
Carver's childhood was a miserable one, as he had the misfortune of having a mad man as his father. Obsessed with discovering the secrets of dust, aura, semblances, and even further along, attempting to replicate the tale of the 4 maidens. To that end, he experimented on a number of hapless people in the shadows of Vale, learning much about the nature of Aura and Semblances that others couldn't even begin to comprehend, but through methods that few others would pursue in order to get the same result. Carver was not born naturally, but was created using the life force of many, meant to be a perfect being in every way. As Carver grew up, however, he began to notice something.
He was better than his father, which was inevitably followed by the fact that he was better than everyone else as well.
This didn't give him an arrogant attitude or excessive pride, just a simple realization that he shouldn't have to listen to those who are inferior to him. So, once he learned everything there was to know from his father, he left the man to stare at his burning hime, all of his discoveries set to torch to prevent another him form being made. The last he saw of his father was the man trying to rush into the building and reclaim his research. After that day, Carver was taken in by a nice family at the age of 14 and soon became known as a prodigy among prodigies. It was here that he learned all their was to know about Hunting Grimm, about the world at large, and many, many more things. He eventually became a hunter and had a grand life, but he felt . . . constrained by the laws set in place by those who couldn't understand his superiority. It ate at him, killing his desire to do anything day by day until, finally, he had enough. Tired of it all, he faked his own death at the hands of a Grimm, then went off to pursue a career that fit more with his beliefs. Apparently, that career was being a crime boss
|Relations with other characters|
Silme's father figure
|Extra| |
55,956 | 1,533 | 16 | 843 | 1,812 | Mikoto's current feelings were something between a complete and utter debilitating boredom and a slight fright - she could have sworn some of that 'chicken' she just ate had whiskers. But she was hungry so she rolled the dice. All that was changing rapidly though as a fight broke out. Seeing one or two of the fighters actively use aura during the skirmish, her interest was piqued - not enough though to act just yet. Instead, she sent a text to Paddy, reporting what she was seeing and whether she should engage. His response wasn't quite what she hoped for:
You're on leave Mikoto, so am I and I was hoping to get some extra sleep! Call a patrol car to pick up the pieces and move on with your day.
And quit being such a workaholic!
Looking up to see the brawl concluded with negligible property damage, Mikoto slid her scroll back to her pocket with a pout, taking a good long look at the guy who started the exchange. Hopefully someone participating in the tournament, then perhaps she could deliver a little justice - he did assault the others, regardless of who they were or what they were talking about, the most that could account for would be an extenuating circumstance. Although most of all, I would have likely done the same bloody thing. she thought, thinking it wise not to mention that to her boss.
"I'm certain the occasional meltdown is healthy for the mind." she said after his self diagnosis, "You should be more careful though - one never knows when the police might be watching." she smirked, imagining this situation if she already had her badge. That would have gone quite differently, most likely with him being cuffed on the backseat of her cruiser on their way to the nearest precinct. | Mikoto Kage
“Who am I? Let’s see. If you’re a hunter, I guess that makes me... a Hunterkiller?”
-Mikoto
Race: Faunus (Mute Swan)
Gender: Female
Age: 17
Nationality: Vale
Designation: Police academy cadet
Mikoto is part of a forming special unit. The hunterkillers are, as the name suggests, specially trained to take on hunters, who are the most respected fighters. Every time a hunter went rogue in the past has been a big problem, and unit like this is meant to contain the problem quickly.
Team: N/A
Appearance:
Mikoto stands circa 178 centimeters tall, with her platform boots giving her what she needs to 180. She is quite strong for her age, being participating in several combat competitions and police training. She weighs about 63 kilos. Her most prominent faunus feature are the two swan wings on her back that have the span of about 200 cm.
Mikoto’s face is dominated by her piercing, bright red eyes. She has an eastern complexion, the slightly yellow skin tone contrasting with her anthracite hair that she usually keeps at shoulder length and well kempt. Her body build is focused more on strength rather than stamina, packing up quite some muscle mass and low fat percentage.
Her battledress consists of a pair of knee high, gray platform boots, black pants and blouse and a gray armored jacket. Coming from rich background, her battledress is trimmed in dark red and gold. She wears red padded gloves to battle. The jacket is modified to allow her wings to unfold and they can be held concealed by a special harness. The jacket comes equipped with magnetic holsters on the lower back for her weapons and several pockets.
When in need of more formal wear, she likes a red trench coat with matching high heels. She modified it to be able to conceal her wings and weapons underneath without looking out of place.
History:
Mikoto was born into the relatively average Kage family living in Mountain Glenn. A mixed family of Vacuo immigrants, her faunus side wasn’t obvious to anyone else in the first two years of her age, before her wings hit a growth spurt. Still, it was another year before she came to the usual faunus problems, having to attend mixed kindergarten.
She managed to bear with it for a year, but when she was four, she finally snapped and beat up one boy that made a comment, sending him to a doctor with a broken nose. She spent her days mostly alone since then as many of the children were afraid of her.
Just as she was about to go to the school for the first time, a rogue hunter on the run from the police destroyed several houses to hinder his pursuers, and Mikoto’s family perished in the attack. Her semblance awoke for the first time, which is what saved her as she extinguished the dust caused fires around her and was able to run through walls to safety. She was then sent to an orphanage in the main city of Vale, but spent her days mostly alone.
When she reached the age of ten, she was adopted by a wealthy family. While initially believing herself to be lucky, she quickly found out her adoptive ‘father’ only wanted her as a Faunus poster child to improve PR, having to adopt a new name against her wishes. While she was given anything money could buy, they didn’t give her the loving family she wanted the most. Her two stepsisters ignored and hated her respectively, but later she formed a love-hate relationship with the younger sister, sharing an interest in fighting and being grateful for the sister at least being honest about hating what she is.
At the age of twelve, Mikoto started attending one of the local combat schools, flat out rejecting being home schooled despite her stepfather’s insistence.
A few years later, her skill grown very good, and she started placing high in competitions. That lead to some media attention to the happiness of her stepfather. However, her story was soon brought to light, making her start withdrawing from people again. She turned to homeschooling and made an uneasy alliance with her younger step sister who was growing tired of her family as well.
After two years of working for the company to fund her plan, she set off to attend Beacon, severing all ties with her adoptive ‘family’ and intending to start again, on her own. Unfortunately, the Initiation proven once and for all that her combat skills were much more suited to fighting a human opponent rather than the Grimm. It had an unforeseen consequence for her though - the police department contacted her with an offer to join a newly formed unit where her skills would be of great use once she graduated from the police academy.
Personality:
Mikoto doesn't actively seek out conversation but she will not shy away from one. The girl is patient and overlooking many things addressed to her faunus side, but she has her limits.
Whereas normally she is well mannered and will go out of her way not to offend people no matter what she may think of them, in a fight or when angered, she is dominated by her emotions, not her reason.
While her anger is cold and calculated, you do not wish to enrage her, as if you push her that far, she will lose all sense and just go berserk on you.
She hates those unlawful with a fiery passion, although rich people and racists are pretty high on the list as well. Despite how she was treated, she is trying to be forgiving, believing it's the only way to achieve some degree of peace in the world.
The girl battles many internal demons and even though she portrays herself as a strong person with a healthy dose of disdain, she can be fragile on the inside. What disturbs her more than most is the thought of losing someone close to her again. She also isn’t too fond of spiders and tight spaces. Her main motivation to keep on living is getting others to accept her because of who she is, not what she is.
In her downtime, she likes to power down and relax, whether that means sleeping all day, stuffing herself with bacon and coffee or reading tales of ancient mythologies with a glass (or a bottle) of rum on hand. If others have to be involved, she wouldn’t say no to a fantasy movie or (window) shopping. Mikoto has a weakness for sporty personal shuttles.
Being a choleric faunus comes with it’s own list of hatreds, like water (which make her wings heavy and useless) or cold (which she feels more due to her higher body temperature). For some reason, the taste of potatoes makes her want to hurl, much like the cheesy romance movies or the boring historical novels. She gets violent on trolls and hates criminals above all else for taking her family and normal life from her, putting them in the same sack with the Grimm.
Skills:
Being adopted by a wealthy family, she was taught self defense and took liking to combat. Trained in a universal style, she can make use of nearly every weapon, although she prefers light, more nimble instruments like her swordwand or a dagger. Her technique focuses on precise, quick and powerful attacks while conserving energy between them. As she knew she had a semblance from long before, she pushed to get herself a full combat education to perfect her aura mastery. Later in her years her fighting style developed into something brutal, intending to not only just destroy the enemy, but make them suffer. It is even reflected in the modifications she made to her weapons, like using serrated blades, or ditching a shield for a secondary dagger.
Life in the high class however also lead to some duties. As an adoptive member of a family owning the Remnant’s leading company producing musical instruments, she can play nearly anything. Being cast as a PR figure, she is used to appearing in front of masses and can be politically correct in most situations.
From her life in the orphanage, she picked up some minor survival skills, although she lived in luxury for so long it would take her time to adjust back to it.
While her weapons might give the impression that Mikoto is a swordswoman, she is in fact a dust caster, capable of weaving the Nature’s Wrath into nearly anything she needs given enough time. She uses three categories of moves - First are those she practices often enough to be able to perform them with thought alone. The second less frequent she needs a focusing agent, such as a phrase or a sequence of tones to help her summon the attack. Last but not least, Mikoto can achieve anything she has enough aura, dust and time for through drawing magic circles.
Powers:
Her faunus heritage gives Mikoto several capabilities she can use for great effect. First and foremost, she can use her wings to heighten and extend her jumps to about twice that of a human, or to glide and soften her fall. They are, however, too small for her to fly. The lack of tail used to be a problem, but she smartly modified her battledress with a half-cape that is attachable to her boots that can substitute well enough.
Her bones are less dense than that of a usual human, contributing to her overall low weight, which unfortunately break more easily if her aura is brought down. Her metabolism is faster, making the girl quite a glutton and yet unable to gain any weight and moving her average body temperature to about 40°C.
Having both large reserve and skill to wield it efficiently, Mikoto’s aura is on the more impressive side of the scale. Its color is pure white, and it manifests as quills falling around her.
Semblance - Arcane destroyer: Mikoto's body becomes an intangible spectre and her voice gains a creepy reverb to it. Her weapon is also surrounded in the same substance of white color. In this state, Mikoto can not be physically harmed, however she still hurts the same if her aura fails to block an attack, and she loses the ability to parry with her weapons. If the 'damage' is sufficient, she will forcibly revert back to normal, more often than not incapacitated by hurting as much as if she was actually dealt the blows. In this state, dust based spells tend to break up on contact with her, hence the name.
Equipment:
Collapsible Swordwand Dust Carrier - Swan Song: A swordwand that can be converted from one to the other simply by sliding the guard down the grip. This action retracts or extends the blade into the blunt part of the weapon. As such, the weapon is primarily designed for stabbing attacks rather than slashing, although it is capable of both. The counterweight can hold dust crystals, and Mikoto is particularly fond of the fire ones. The blade is made from dust-enhanced black metal that seems to be reflecting shadows rather than light.
Tactical Dust Carrier - Quilltact: A dagger with perforated blade holding three dust capsules, usually the remaining types to complement the Swansong’s fire crystals. Mikoto built a flute into the hilt which she uses as a focus help to cast some of her more demanding spells.
Extra:
Voice: Anna Hutchison
Theme: Gåte - Sjå Attende
Mikoto is ambidextrous.
She is bi, leaning towards girls. |
55,957 | 1,533 | 17 | 1,894 | 5,788 | Burgundy was lost in her food, but she knew the moment that one of her forks didn't have any noodles with it that something was wrong. Her eyes flickered at high speeds, looking about to see who could have done such a thing to her food. Obviously it was the faceless goon right next to her, but who was the one who had thrown the thug?
Not even a second passed by since she lost her food and her eyes were already locked onto the man which she believed caused this mess. She twisted her torso to look at him, her arm swinging to gain momentum to throw the fork at his feet.
"Hey!" Burgundy called out tp the violent man. "You owe me for that bowl! You threw me off!" | Name: Echo Marine?
Team: BEAT
Birth Date: May 2nd
Age: 18
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Designation: Sophomore Student at Atlas Academy
In Depth Appearance: Echo is a tall, strongly-built girl, with long legs, wide shoulders, and wide hips. Her skin is approximately mocha in tone, and contrasts extravagently with her poofy blue hair, which is tied back in a bush except for jagged bangs. Fairly thick eyebrows, full lips, and a near-permanent smirk distinguish her face.
On the battlefield or the stage, Echo's attire of choice is a gray crop-sleeved sweaterskirt, yellow bows as her hairtie and her belt, streamlined cotton pants, and white tennis shoes with yellow soles. Black elastic wraps adorn her arms, extending into fingerless gloves. This garb overall displays a simple functionality, though not without its own assertive style.
Weapon: The simple title of Echo's weapon, the Boomstick, masks a great degree of sophistication and flexibility seemingly unfit for a brutish hammer. To begin, the Boomstick is an immense mallet, meant to be swung with both hands. The force of a proper swing is capable of making dents in Grimm armor plates and metal alike. Though slower and not as adaptable as a blade or even a mace, this huge weapon nevertheless boasts a highly effective inelegance masked beneath a hip exterior.
More interesting than the Boomstick's raw pummeling capabilities, however, are the two sound-based devices built into it. Lying well-sheltered in the hammerhead, an extremely potent boombox creates forceful reverberations in the vicinity of the weapon when swung, giving the Boomstick an area-of-effect capable of launching things it isn't even touching. Additionally, a microphone exists in the bottom of the Boomstick's handle, though this serves more of an entertainment purpose than a tactical one.
Semblance: Stemming from Echo's unwillingness to back down even when greatly challenged, her semblance Run it Back restores her own aura to its level a few moments ago, making her resistent to burst damage and even able to stay in a fight when she might otherwise be taken down. This talent's nature as a sort of 'second wind' however, prevents her using her ability more than once or twice per fight, leading her to save it for big moments. The ability is extremely taxing on her body, and even two uses has great effects on her soon after, requiring her to finish a fight quickly after using her semblance.
Personality: In a word, adamant. Echo is proud, resolute in what she believes in, and strong-willed to the point of obnoxiousness. Despite being overly inclined to prefer everything being done her way, she will relent if sufficiently convinced—a quality she shamelessly touts as being representative of her consideration for others' thoughts, which she lacks. Though of average intelligence, she is less proficient than most in picking up on the feelings of others. She doesn't ever let her opponents get through to her, thinking this to be an act of submission; for instance, if slandered for her weight, Echo might turn it around to point out that she's not trying to pretend she's something she's not. Echo also tends to hold grudges. Despite being self-centered and somewhat arrogant, she is not in the least bit mean-spirited and will not actively seek to hurt the feelings or attack the beliefs of others, and if she discovers she has done so, she will apologize.
On the flipside, Echo exhibits a loyalty and reliability that make her a steadfast ally, if not a steadfast friend. The military tradition of her family perseveres in her, and Echo remains optimistic despite the tragedies and struggles of the world to inspire confidence and toughness in others. All in all, she is an indomitable spirit, for better or worse, whose confidence can be both self-destructive and self-preservative.
Place of Origin: Atlas
Relations with other Players:
Burgundy - Echo holds a certain level of respect for Burgundy. Not only because she is the leader of the team, but also due to the fact that she always appears to be on the top of her game. she seems to view Burgundy in the same prodigal light that many of the faculty in the academy do, but her respect is not to be mistaken for idolism. The two tend to make jokes about one another, Echo's favorite one being a half true statement in how she believes that men should be throwing themselves at her feet and forming a reverse harem for her. It usaully gets a good laugh out of the both of them. Despite how close the two are, she is still unaware of the rigorous training that Burgundy sneaks off to to maintain her status as a pending specialist.
Albus -The two are quite the odd pair. They speak like a couple and are more open with eachother than they actually know. Their relationship can be described as 'Tough Love'. They share insults together without even knowing that they are both actually giving eachother a piece of themselves. But in combat Albus and Echo do not work well together like Albus does with Tawne.
Tawne - Echo and Tawne represent a compromising clash. More than anyone else on the team, and often more than anyone else they know, Echo and Tawne butt heads on the smallest of issues, seemingly just for the sake of it. Since day one, each has treated one another like a sibling, with a great deal of understanding and care veiled behind an equal but much more visible quantity of teasing, calling out, and competition. Both strive to be the 'big brother' of the relationship.
This get's the Pyro Seal of approval, and is automatically accepted. |
55,958 | 1,533 | 18 | 1,288 | 1,334 | "Lot of fuss about nothing, huh?"
The question was more rhetorical than not, and was mostly to announce Umeko's presence to her comrade. The Atlesian had elected, apparently, to go for her signature style rather than something flashier. Not that she was ever exactly understated. Tsunami's all-ranger regarded the scene over sunglasses that looked suspiciously expensive, pushing them back up her nose once she'd had her fill of the view. Not very much was happening before the fights, but whether that was good or bad depended on your view. Regardless of her own, she seemed to have acquired two more bags on top of the one slung over her shoulders; nondescript, generic, in other words exactly what every vendor at the Festival was using to pack their sales. Apparently 'nothing' was enough to merit at least a little shopping.
She gestured vaguely towards the commotion at the noodle stand, rolling her eyes with exaggerated exasperation. Not everyone could wait for the fights to throw their temper tantrums. Looked like someone with a bad case of chronic meddler syndrome had decided to step in, too, probably to give Mr. Tantrum a stern warning to not do that again. There was a frustrated customer, too. Pretty standard, frankly. Whoever thought gathering the most competitive, hot-headed, and violent collection of do-gooders and thrillseekers Remnant had ever seen in one place on a regular basis was a good idea was an idiot. Wasn't even worth thinking about, honestly. It'd be pretty minor compared to what competitor and fan alike would do before the Festival was done.
Anyone who thought it was for the Grimm clearly had never seen a pissed off fan.
"None of the real vendors arrive til at least tomorrow." She complained, leaning against the back of Tear's seat. "They've all gotta wait for the first few rounds to be done. They only bother making merch for the favorites. Wonder what they'll make for me?"
"Did you see? There's a team DEVL? Swear to God, they're biting my style." | Name: 川口 梅子 (Kawaguchi Umeko)
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Age: 18
Nationality: Atlesian Origin, Vacuuan Affiliation
Team: TSUN (Tsunami)
Designation: Huntress
Appearance: Standing slightly taller than average, albeit not by much, Umeko clearly cares about her appearance. Her clothes are, without exception, kept immaculately clean and worn in specific combinations planned out long in advance. She wears them quite well, too; Umeko is unquestionably a striking individual. She's built like a fighter, with a solid stance and toned limbs, but her choice of style usually makes her seem much more lithe than she is. Her brown hair is straight and shoulder length, worn differently depending on what she thinks will look best. Umeko is almost always grinning a wide, amiable grin like she wants the entire world to be her friend and invites them to be so. The deep blue eyes set above that grin are highly expressive, and very much the gateway to whatever Umeko is thinking.
Her clothes tend towards the blue end of the spectrum, but their style is incredibly variable. On a daily basis, when attending classes, she generally wears something close to the traditional Atlesian student uniform, in spite of her actual affiliation. She bends this habit for formal events, during which she does don the official Shade uniform. Casually, on the other hand, her wardrobe is nearly infinite; clothes for every occasion, every type of weather, and every temperature. Light jackets are quite common, as is the occasional sweater. Most casual settings will see her in jeans, but the odd semi-formal will prompt the use of a skirt. Wherever she goes, Umeko wants to be the best dressed in the room.
She does have an outfit that could be considered something of a signature, however. A pair of dark blue jeans paired with classy (but intentionally durable) shoes paired with a deep blue top. Over that she adds a waist-length white jacket, with the emblem of Shade stitched in black over what appear to be devil horns on either shoulder. She's never seen, regardless of her attire, without her headband and rarely without her white messenger bag,
Personality: Umeko is friendly, oblivious, and a little too eager to show off. She thrives on being the center of attention, having the most friends, and standing in the shining spotlight. At least that's the disposition she likes to show to the world. The truth is much, much more layered. The hordes of acquaintances and casual friends are kept at arms length, prevented from seeing past the veneer they're supposed to see. Beneath the mask is a much more contemplative young woman, someone much more sensible than her almost arrogant public persona implies. Umeko realized, quite a long time ago, that her peers (and elders) tended to underestimate her due to her bubbly nature and fashion-oriented interests. So why not use that to her advantage?
The real Kawaguchi Umeko is highly driven, and paradoxically, infinitely more willing to criticize someone the more she cares about them. Such criticisms, truth be told, are often emphatic, occasionally angry, and very impassioned. But on the other side of the same coin, those she cares about can be subject to displays of loyalty or affection that would seldom be extended to one of her superficial 'friends'. The truest sign of her friendship is being permitted to see underneath the public facade.
Fighting Style: Despite the attitude she projects, Umeko is a devastating all-range fighter. Lacking in raw power, she instead focuses on technique and battlefield control. The White Devil's forms give her both offensive and defensive capabilities at all ranges, and her Semblance gives her the ability to alter her environment a little as needed. Her preference, most of the time, is to act as a mid-to-close range combatant. Her rifle, and its sword form, give her the precision she needs to land dangerously precise strikes while her shield ensures she can take hits just as well as give them. But given the nature of her team, she is not the only (or necessarily the best) suited for this role. When the situation requires she transitions smoothly into acting as mid-to-long range fire support, using her remote shield bits to harass the enemy from any angle, and her rifle to hit where it hurts. Her Semblance is no slouch in this role, either, as it allows her to redirect shrapnel and detritus in creative ways.
Simply put, Umeko will adapt to any scenario one attempts to force her in as best she can. And much of the time, that is quite well. After a bout with her in the arena, few ever quite buy into her seemingly oblivious nature ever again.
Weapons/Equipment: Remnant Expansion (Prototype) #78 Unit 2 Grimm-Use Non-Demanding Armament Machine ver. White Devil: The White Devil started life as a project for the Atlesian military. Atlas has long believed in recruiting their Hunters into service as Atlesian Specialists, but the common Atlesian soldier has never been able to go toe-to-toe with the foes that Hunters handled. They had to rely on strength of numbers, not individual capabilities. The Grimm-Use series was intended to permit the common soldier the adaptability to handle as many foes as a Hunter, if not with quite as much skill. In fact that was the purpose; a set of equipment that could be used for maximum effect, with minimum skill. The project showed promise, but ultimately was a casualty of Atlas’ changing goals. They no longer wanted to increase a soldier’s effectiveness, they wanted to take the soldier off the battlefield entirely.
So Sunrise Industries, the contractor for its development, mothballed the project. The five units that had been produced were put into storage and forgotten. Sunrise Industries itself, unable to keep up with the changing mindset, declared bankruptcy a few short years later and its assets were liquidated. The five prototypes were sent to auction, while the Atlesian military’s active contracts were subsumed by other contractors. And that was when they fell into Umeko’s hands.
The White Devil consists of two primary parts; a handheld semiautomatic railgun rifle, and a large quadrilateral shield. The railgun operates by using lightning Dust to generate the magnetic field necessary to launch a projectile along two rails at exceptionally high velocities, making the weapon highly destructive to compensate for its low rate of fire. Using a trigger mechanism in the handle the railgun converts to a long, slim sword. This sword uses the same lightning Dust to superheat the blade’s edge, drastically increasing its penetrating power.
The shield, in its base configuration, is just that; a shield. It secures itself parallel Umeko’s forearm, with a handle gripped in her left hand, and can be easily used to defend against attacks. Its secondary uses, on the other hand, are much less obvious. The handle is connected to the rest of the shield by two long cords, and the handle contains a small motor to retract or release those cables with the press of a button. The shield itself splits in half, both halves folding to create a rail-based firing aperture similar to that of her rifle. These halves fire a laser based on technology being developed for a separate Atlesian project. In this form the halves of the shield use Gravity Dust to become weightless. Like the cables that connect them to their handle, the firing mechanisms are controlled by an adjacent button.
Both halves of the White Devil have storage forms for noncombat situations. The rifle folds to stow away inside the shield, which uses the seams for its transformation to become a rigid messenger bag.
The final piece of Umeko’s equipment, developed independently of the rest,is a visor and earpiece that contains the functionality of a Scroll while providing eye protection from both shrapnel and blinding light. Outside of combat the device looks very much like an unusual headband. Upon activation it flips down and the v-shaped antennae deploy above her forehead.
Semblance: Center of Attention: Umeko can control the relative gravitational attractions generated by an object. All objects, however small, exert some degree of gravitational pull on all the other objects around them. Umeko can affect the intensity of these pulls, allowing her to manipulate the gravity generated. Most commonly this is used to cause objects to fall into a stable orbit around her, or another object, mistakenly leading many to believe she controls the orbit of objects. The reality is much more nuanced in its potential applications.
History: In Atlas, name and standing is everything. The Schnees are but the most well-known example. What matters is what you have, who you know, and how you got there. If you weren't born with a silver spoon in your mouth you'll spend your entire life kicking and punching to claim one. Everyone knows the names of each industry's titans, but few will remember the small families you meet on the street. In that way, Kawaguchi Umeko is of little note. A deep search of her history will find a modest career in modeling for different magazines, fashion in particular, and her transcripts from Atlas' academy for young hunters and huntresses. A deeper search will find little more about the Kawaguchi family. Simply another foot note in Atlesian history.
Unless one happened to find her birth certificate, and discover that she was born Umeko Huntian, not Kawaguchi. Unlike Kawaguchi, the name 'Huntian' is known to many. The Huntians have been joined at the hip with Atlas' military-industrial complex for generations, supporting, funding, or running dozens of different weapon manufacturers over the years. They made themselves rich off of Atlas' military generations ago, and kept the family interests in good shape through every highpoint and recession since. After all, with the Grimm out there, there'll always be a need for weapons. The Huntians rubbed shoulders with the elite, and were quite content to stay within their echelon. Until, that is, one of the family's minor heirs fell in love with a young worker at the head office.
Robert Huntian's, in his family's eyes, ill-planned love resulted in Umeko's birth. Though he had every intention of sticking with the family he had created, the mastermind of the Huntian empire were less than pleased by the idea. Robert eventually succumbed to the pressures of his more business-minded relations, and returned to the family's good graces. He made sure Umeko and her mother were very well cared for, with as much money as they needed to live comfortably. A share of this money, every month, went into an account in Umeko's name for her to use when she was old enough. Umeko herself grew up attending the kingdom's best academies, with few illusions over the circumstances of her birth. Even fewer about her standing compared to her peers.
Some combination of these truths lead her, at the age of eleven, to discard the Huntian name. From that point on every document was handled using her mother's name, and Umeko Huntian vanished from the paper trails of the Atlesian government. When one of the Huntian empire's investments, Sunrise Industries, went belly-up a year later she found herself drawn towards the liquidation auction and from there to her calling.
While the next generation of Huntians were groomed for business, Umeko entered into Atlas' school for hunters. Her own funds, carefully tucked away until she was old enough, were in good standing when she became a teenager. They were soon supplemented by work done on the side, showcasing fashion and gear in magazines geared towards hunters and huntresses, and invested carefully according to advice and careful consideration. When Kawaguchi Umeko entered Atlas' answer to Signal, no one knew who she was. By the time she left she had made herself known as a highly capable fighter, and a charismatic individual.
It was her success that lead her to leave Atlas. It is no secret, in any of the kingdoms, that the Atlesian specialists were usually recruited from the best of Atlas' training facilities. If she carried on into the next school, she might face the same recruitment efforts. So she packed her bags, gathered what resources were hers, and moved to Vacuo to attend Shade.
Relations with other characters: N/A
Extra: My semblance... Probably something to do with tech, honestly |
55,959 | 1,533 | 19 | 1,918 | 8,262 | Silme Raana
Silme turnrd to look at the commenter withma raised eyebrow, which was soon followed by a harsh bark of laughter at her intended warning.
"Oh yeah, because the police in this town are so damn intimidating. Maybe to lesser people, but as far as I'm concerned, the teachers and admin at Beacon are the ones I worry are watching me, not some inept buffoons with badges." He chuckled for a bit longer, probably about to say one more disrespectful remark, only to find the red-haired Cusinart from before standing in front of him, looking a little less than pleased.
At first, Silme merely ignored her, not in the mood for debling with another uppity human, but then he thought back on her words and turned arounf, passing her by again to head to the noodle cart.
"Hey Samuel, the hollow legged glutton over there has a point. I did wreck the bowl . . . and a few furnishings, so I shpukd pay you back for it. How much we talking here?"
Samuel, a middle-aged looking man with black hair that had been peppered with bits of gray, shook his head at Silme's rudeness and disregard for his best customer. "It'll be about $10 for the bow and $120 for the other damages. But more imoortantky, don't talk that way about my number 1 customer, Silme, having you start a fight is bad enough for business as it is."
"Yeah, yeah," Silme mumbled reaching into his pockets to pull out his wallet and taking out the needed funds. Carver was filthy rich, which meant he didn't give a damn about the amounts of money Silme usually took from him, especially since it rarely occured due to how much of a cheapskate Silme could be, only spending his money on the bare essential on most days. Hell, there were times that Carver took him out for 'bonding exercises', taking him out a number of pointless and stupid tasks that Silme might have enjoyed if not for Carver's presence. The man spent all of his time either insultung everyone around him or elegantky slobbering over women who catch his eye. Needless to say, these were sone of the dullest nights of his lifr, and he'll never be able to get those hours back.
I swear that the only reason he even does these things is that he thinks it'll get him more women to screw with at the end of the day. Well, that and he likes to watch me suffer.
Silme let out an annoyed sigh as he walked away, stopping infront of Burgundy with an bored expression on his face as he seized her up in his head, not overky impressed with what he saw. "Thanks for the reminded Red, hate to be a bother to Samuel. Also, if you want to start another incident than be my guest, but I'd rather we wait until the Festival. Last thing I need is to hear Amari's mouth if I get myself kicked out for fighting another competitor, though judging from the look of you, I'm not sure how much of a fight it'd be." Silme would wait for Burgundy's reaction with a silent anticipation. While he may seem uninterested by his facial expressions, his stance was completely on guard even if it appeared relaxed to a casual observer. His faunus feartures also gave away his anticipation, his ears reared back and his tail wagging lazily behind him in slow, circular movements. Contrary to what he said, Silme could tell that a fight with Burgandy would be a fun one, and he really was hoping to get a fight out of her. He honestly only joined the games to fi d people worth his time to fight, so he honestly didn't care if he got disqualified over a good fight. | C H A R A C T E R S H E E T
Silme Raana
“You keep staring and you're going to lose an eye."
-Silme Raana, Age 10
T H E B A S I C S
|Name|
Silme Raana
|Team|
MASK
|Birth Date|
|Age|
17
|Race|
Timber Wolf Faunus
|Gender|
Male
|Designation|
reluctant Student, Secret Criminal
A P P E A R A N C E
|In Depth Appearance|
Silme is on the taller side, being around 6ft tall with room to grow, his silver hair cut short in a wild, unkempt style to keep it from getting in the way of his fighting. His eyes are a fierce amber color, closer in appearance to that of his animal lineage, especially when his instincts start to take over. He has a lean muscled figure covered with scars from his numerous criminal escapades, as well as a tattoo on his arm of a snarling wolf. As for his Faunus features, he has an easily noticeable pair of wolf ears on his head, as well as a tail, claws, and sharp canines that he's all to ready to use if needed.
G E T T I N G T O K N O W M E
|Likes & Dislikes|
✔ fighting, other Faunus, Scarlet Ravagers, taking humans down a pegor six,
✘ being alone, people in general, Faunus who try and 'fit in'Domesticated fuckwads, Humans, hyper people, being touched, being told what to do, authority, Carver, Carver's weird habits, Hunters
Weapon: The Scarlet Ravagers: He uses a pair of Specialized Customizable Clawed Gauntlets that he can alter for various combat and utility functions, as well as changing into either a pair of Customized SMGs, with rapid- and burst-fire modes, for him to dual wield, or into two double-sided short swords. All variations of weapons can be augmented with Dust cartridges for various effects and attacks.
He can also use them as a means of traversal by firing out the claws as a form of grappling hook attached to a good amount of strong, lightweight metal cable.
Fighting Style: Hit them faster and hit them hard, he is a Striker type fighter, extremely good at offense even against superior numbers. However, his defensive capabilities aren't the greatest, but they aren't the worst either. To help with this style, he's actually augmented his Aura so that it gives more of a physical power boost at the cost of it's defensive capabilities, making him a good deal stronger and a great deal faster than most, but taking hits is something he tries to avoid.
Sembalance: Corrosion, It is a very offensive Sembalance that allows Silme to imbue his attacks with a reddish-silver aura. This Aura is extremely effective at dealing damage, but it's usefulness truly shines when it comes with dealing with heavily armored enemies. With this ability, he can easily weaken most types of armor so and items, making him very effective at damaging and even destroying the weapons of others to lessen their combat effciency.He can even apply his ability against the defensive aura of others, though it isn't as effective, it still allows him to do more damage then normal.
D E L V I N G D E E P E R
|Personality|
♦ Aggresive ♦ Rebellious ♦ Somewhat Clueless ♦ Short-Temper♦
Silme is a loner by trade, and while he'll deny it vehemently, he really wishes he wasn't. He wants to connect with people, have real friends and family again, but he's afraid that he'll just get left behind again, abandoned by those he loved the most. Outwardly and in public, however, he's very abrasive, blunt, and vulgar, ready to speak his mind and pounce on anyone who tries to stop him(sometimes literally). The surest way to get on his shit list is to tell him what to do, as he hates that more than anything, especially if it's a human.
As far as fighting goes, he'll use evey advantage to win and will fight to the ducking end with all the feral energy of a wild beast. Now a trained killer, he'll have no problem ending his foes of the need arises, though not a second before. He has some sense of honor in that he won't fight a helpless opponent or murder innocents, but other than that, he can head cold and heartless as Carver himself.
|Place of Origin|
Vale
|History|
Silme is the son of two well-respected hunters, who were also terrible parents. While they did love their son, they were always out on the job, protecting others from danger while neglecting the one who needed them most. Then, they simply never came back, having gone MIA in the line of duty. Silme spent a few weeks devesatated by the loss, but that sadness soon turned to anger, distrust, and deep seated hatred against Hunter society as a whole.
Silme has since then gotten involved with some unsavory types, getting himself stuck in the criminal underground and making a name for himself for his impressive fighting skills. When he was in trouble with some gangs looking to put him in his place, Carver showed up to save his hide and forcibly employ him into his service. Silme hates this arrangement, but he can't get out if it since Carber has him by the throat in more ways then one. His time as Carver's protege hasn't been all bad, however, as the former hunter has taught him many thinks in the time they've been together that, when combined with his own natural skill and garnered combat experience, makes him a force to be reckoned with in battle.
|Relations with other characters|
|Extra|
Hates to be mothered or otherwise taken care of
Tail and Ears give away his feelings, especially when he try's to hide them
Wolf blood gives him increased endurance, Stamina, strength, and senses, though the most enhanced are his stamina and senses. He also has a very strong bite, capable of breaking bones if he bites down hard enough.
He has a helmet styled in the fashion of a Beowulf mask that he wears for intimidation purpoaes and to hide his identity while doing criminal activity. The eyes glow silver and red, and his voice becomes heavily distorted, adding to the monstrous appearance
Has a tough time controlling his more animalistic side
C H A R A C T E R S H E E T
Carver Aureus
“Life's much too short to worry about petty things like laws or decency. Have an affair, punch a hobo, stab somebody, do whatever the hell you want, cause everything's permitted as long as you don't get caught.”
-Carver Aureus
T H E B A S I C S
|Name|
Carver Aureus
|Team|
|Birth Date|
Wouldn't you like to know
|Age|
32
|Race|
Human
|Gender|
Male
|Designation|
Crime Boss, Father figure(?) for Silmefor better or for worse
A P P E A R A N C E
|In Depth Appearance|
Carver is a man blessed with saintly good looks, with sparkling green eyes and straight blonde hair that reach to his shoulders. His figure is what you'd expect of a Hunter, lean and toned, plenty muscular physique and covered with a variety of scars, most of them being old wounds from his hunting days. When it comes to his clothing, he usually wears high-quality dress clothes that have been modified for use in combat while still remaining rather stylish, usually in the forms of jackets, slacks, and dress shoes.
|Scars, Tattoos, Other Markings|
He has a large tattoo that spans the whole of his back and spills over on to his arms, a veritable tapestry of colors that seems to span the rainbow. They shimmer with iridescent colors when shown to the light, and seem to glow when in the dark. Despite their beauty, Carver is very adverse o discussing them and will either dodge the questions or, if people still try to pry, get violent.
G E T T I N G T O K N O W M E
|Likes & Dislikes|
✔ Women(Especially Faunus women), money, Freedom, Silme when he isn't being a little brat, Luxury, messing with the police and Hunters
✘ People mentioning tattoos, people who go back on deals, traitors, mindless violence, self-righteous types, hero types, Uppity rats that don't know their place
Weapon: Never being one to play by the rules, Carver bears two weapons, A mechanized long-sword that can turn into a form of chainsaw by splitting in half, edge-wise, and ejecting a number of inch long serrated blades. His other weapon is a powerful revolver that bears a Dust Applicator, as well as a varied internal barrel. By pressing a button, he can change how the dust effects the bullet, from either simply affecting the bullet, to drawing a line of elemental energy as it travels, to even apply an effect to the target on hit. Not only that, but the bullets it fires have a very high impact, meaning they can do quite a lot of damage if they hit, though consecutive firing is near impossible due to the extreme recoil the weapon has. He can also out fit it with specially designed Aura-piercing rounds, but these are incredible expensive black market items, so he only uses them when faced with no other option.
Semblance: Live Fast, Die Hard; these are the words that he lives by and his his ability reflects that. When active, he gains a slight golden glow, as well as an impressive boost to his speed, but the thing that makes this Semblance dangerous is that when he gets into a fight that stacked against him, he gets even stronger. The more damage he takes and the less Aura he has, the stronger his Semblance becomes, enabling him to move faster and hit harder then he normally be able to. He can also apply his Semblance to a single limb, doubling the boost to speed but only to that limb, making it most useful when he's trying to get a shot on an unsuspecting foe or trying to overwhelm his opponent with a furious flurry of attacks.
Aside from that, Carver is very skilled in the ways of manipulating dust, having had to deal with it being engrained to his skin since birth and being forced to train with his father for experiments. While he may not like it using it, the dust in his skin is something he's very use to using, as he can now launch attacks using it without even a second thought. It's draining, however, to use it too much, hence why he tends to rely on his other skills first, only resorting to dust when he needs to make sure a foe is finished. He can use all forms of elements, as well as mixing them together to form new effects, and the results can be as devastating as they are tiring.
D E L V I N G D E E P E R
|Personality|
♦ Ruthless ♦ Laid back ♦ Care-free ♦ Flirtatious ♦
Carver is a Free spirit, both a lover and a fighter who doesn't care about societal taboos and has a love for the strange and unnatural. This is why he doesn't mind the Faunus like some other humans might, and even prefers them to humans since they seem to be clearly superior. He bears a somewhat odd fixation on women of the Faunus variety(any species of Faunus), and tends to treat them with all kinds of flattery, flirtation, and seduction, though he does this to all women, in truth. Faunus just get special attention.
With men, he tends to be sarcastic jackass with a superiority complex, not really treating themas if they're on the same level as he is. He also tends to demean them heavily and may have played a part in Silme's tendency to insult someone as soon as he sees them, as that's what he tends to do, often with a nickname of sorts. However, don't let his odd behaviors fool you, the man is as heartless and ruthless as they come, if not more so, dealing with everything in his way in a calculated and cool manner. He's broken his share knees and necks to get to where he is today, and will never lose any sleep over it. He beleives in survival of the fittest, and anyone who falls to him deserved to get crushed by his presence.
|Place of Origin|
Vale
|History|
Carver's childhood was a miserable one, as he had the misfortune of having a mad man as his father. Obsessed with discovering the secrets of dust, aura, semblances, and even further along, attempting to replicate the tale of the 4 maidens. To that end, he experimented on a number of hapless people in the shadows of Vale, learning much about the nature of Aura and Semblances that others couldn't even begin to comprehend, but through methods that few others would pursue in order to get the same result. Carver was not born naturally, but was created using the life force of many, meant to be a perfect being in every way. As Carver grew up, however, he began to notice something.
He was better than his father, which was inevitably followed by the fact that he was better than everyone else as well.
This didn't give him an arrogant attitude or excessive pride, just a simple realization that he shouldn't have to listen to those who are inferior to him. So, once he learned everything there was to know from his father, he left the man to stare at his burning hime, all of his discoveries set to torch to prevent another him form being made. The last he saw of his father was the man trying to rush into the building and reclaim his research. After that day, Carver was taken in by a nice family at the age of 14 and soon became known as a prodigy among prodigies. It was here that he learned all their was to know about Hunting Grimm, about the world at large, and many, many more things. He eventually became a hunter and had a grand life, but he felt . . . constrained by the laws set in place by those who couldn't understand his superiority. It ate at him, killing his desire to do anything day by day until, finally, he had enough. Tired of it all, he faked his own death at the hands of a Grimm, then went off to pursue a career that fit more with his beliefs. Apparently, that career was being a crime boss
|Relations with other characters|
Silme's father figure
|Extra| |
55,960 | 1,533 | 20 | 1,826 | 1,165 | "Ayy-yooo! Leave it to you to turn a right good penthouse into a fookin' soup kitchen on the first afternoon, Noël." From the other room, there came a large smacking sound, as Brennan Griese high fived the doorway with two hands. The flight had clearly made him restless; every step of his had a quote-unquote subtle energy to it that rang in the air. "What'd you slap yourself together this time, darlin'? I hope it's fricasseed Mistralian young, or I'm gonna sulk me way through dinner."
Walking into the kitchen with his carry on still slung over his shoulder, Brennan made a show of looking delightfully surprised and slung his left arm around Noël's neck. The team captain tightened it playfully and let the carry-on bag slide onto the floor without reverence. His eyes were locked on the plate at the end of the table, with the large glass of milk, extra potatoes (!) and the most perfect slab of meat since infant Brennan himself.
"Well, ayy now, I suppose that's actually not the worst meal man ever slapped to a fookin' plate! Close. But you stopped yourself right 'fore the bottom of the barrel."
He picked up his bag again and set it on a spare section of the countertop, unzipping it and pulling out a grey t-shirt he'd purchased while spectating the last Vytal Festival. It read 'ATLAS WILL INDOCTRINATE YOUR YOUTH,' complete with a foreboding-looking airship branded with 'INDOCTRINATE,' and was one of Brennan's favorite shirts to lounge about in. Though he had put on a good bit more muscle since he had joined Atlas; it had begun to feel a bit more snug whenever he put it on, and now that they were back in the familiar fairgrounds where all of Remnant flocked once every two years, it might be time to size up again.
"So what the fook was that thing you put on the end of your text?" Brennan asked, unbuttoning his dress shirt with his back to Noël. "Looked like a perforated spleen. Or a sinister whoopie cushion." | Name: Brennan Ailill Griese, the Captain of Industry
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 19
Nationality: Atlesian
Team: BANK
Designation: Subject 0081: Highly Ravenous, Do Not Unleash Huntsman
Appearance:
Several inches over the average height and athletically broad, Brennan only tends to look somewhat leaner in comparison to his teammate. In reality, though perhaps not a powerhouse on Kek’s level, it’s clear he doesn’t take many cheat days. Brennan himself is very handsome, with a strong jaw, bright red-gold eyes, and a perpetual hysterical laugh never far from his lips. Ever professional, he tends to wear black pants or jeans with white dress shirt, sleeves rolled up. He will always either wear suspenders or a slim-fitting black vest. His coal-black hair is long, but not unruly – half the time it tends to be pomaded backwards lustrously, and half the time he lets it hang free over his eyes. Surprisingly, he’s not one for much gaudy orientation. The only concession to jewelry he wears is a slender silver chain on his neck, from which hangs two Claddagh rings barely visible through an unbuttoned collar.
History:
Brennan’s father was only one generation removed from their fortune, but it was clear he had forgotten where it came from. Brennan’s grandfather had initially gone into business as a founding partner of the Schnee Dust Company, but foresaw a coming monopoly on the Dust market and the coming problems with the use of Faunus labor. Therefore, he sold every last share at top dollar and came out with enough money to float him through the rest of his life; a series of sensible investments in property and budding tech firms with interests in Aura and Dust only compounded the fortune, until it was clear no Griese would ever have to worry again.
As you can imagine, this had made Brennan’s father complacent, a trait not shared by his rowdy, implacable only son. A talented little scrapper (to his father’s chagrin) from an early age, Brennan seemed to have determined his path even before he quite knew what the Huntsman path was, and went away to Sanctum Academy in Mistral for combat training at the age of 12. When he returned to Atlas after four years, though, he took a couple drop years to begin taking a hands on role in some investments of his own. Finally, at the age of 19, he enrolled in Atlas Academy to seek out a career as a Huntsman and engage himself in higher study.
Pleasantly, he found himself on a team with three other members of the Atlesian business elite, and though at first their squabbles over leadership and natural competitive edges had led them to all eschew each other, once the question of leadership was truly decided and began to work as a unit, BANK (as they had been first colloquially, then officially known) became an inseparable juggernaut, often able to discern strategies and fight alongside or independent of each other with mere near-telekinetic glances. At the head of this specialized team is Brennan Griese himself – and though his father insists he’s going through a phase, Brennan finds the thrill of being a Huntsman and the challenge of impossible odds far more satisfying a life than a sterile boardroom, where he had no chance of anything but even greater success.
Not the most heady of futures to a young man such as him.
Personality:
Despite what his teammates like to mutter to themselves, there’s really no one but Brennan who could lead BANK with any efficiency. He balances the three proper attitudes for business on the tip of his finger – cold and pragmatic on the battlefield, when his team is most in need of direction; open-hearted, jovial, and irreverent at a public setting or presentation; and funny, fluent and respectful in a one on one setting. While not an out and out asshole, years of relative dominance amongst his peers and the restlessness of being born into wealth and lacking things to do with it has completely coated Brennan in bulletproof confidence. This sense of self-assurance can often cross the line to out and out conceit.
Even if Brennan isn’t the most talented fighter on the team (an honor that goes to Kek) he’s easily the psychological warrior of BANK. A born performer, hyping up the crowd comes as easily as breath to Brennan – the sheer act of pumping his arms to raise a mob’s volume seems to feed him with a psychotic, insatiable energy. Though he’s cunning enough to guess at many a psychological weakness, public displays of disrespect towards the other three Huntsmen academies are more his speed. Brennan is a madman. He will raise chants amongst students. He will spout disrespectful limericks towards upcoming competitors. He will buy other students dinner and a Scroll because “those on death row have rights in Atlas. We love the damned! We love them so much that we give them last meals and phone calls home.” He is not above buying out a Mistralian merch stand and tying shirts to banners in a sick mockery of a funeral procession.
Despite this, surprisingly, the charismatic, quasi-psychotic Atlesian is not inglorious in victory or defeat. Often he will seek out as many opponents as possible after the post-fight bloodlust has worn off and his throat requires a brief rest and congratulate them on their performance. It would appear that this frenzied, hypercompetitive jock state ebbs away as soon as the bellows in the arena die down, giving way to a civil, if overbearing, young man who fights every duel like it’s the time of his life. In addition, though he will never advertise this fact – going so far as to pin all credit/blame on Noel – he tends towards charity, or taking his excess money and scattering it through the immediate area.
“Tears, laughter, pleasure and pain! I bring the fire, THEN I MAKE IT RAIN!”
Skills:
A skilled orator and hand-to-hand combatant, Brennan is most skilled in a fight when he’s able to manipulate Dust to full effect. Both of his weapons – as well as his fortune – rely upon the propellant, and he’s learned to use them appreciatively. He’s also the leader of BANK for a reason – a smart tactician, gauging his team’s strengths and weaknesses, he can coordinate group attacks with relative ease and very rarely has to deal with someone falling out of formation or losing their head in the fight. Ironically, not even he is exempt from this sense of focus.
Semblance:
Slick as a Whistle: Brennan’s Semblance is friction manipulation. Simply put, he is able to generate, remove, or control friction in order to propel himself forward, stop something in its tracks by sending it slipping and sliding, or maneuver up solid surfaces more fluidly.
Weapon:
Veblen Good: An energy whip of Brennan’s own design, Veblen Good is a potent weapon even without a power source, able to open up stinging cuts on an opponent with ease or ensnare itself around a body part with a flick of Brennan’s wrist. Its real power, though, comes from the holster built into the handle of the whip, complete with small trigger. When loaded with a Dust crystal or cartridge, the trigger can be pressed in, energizing the whip with Dust for several minutes and imbuing it with whatever particular type Brennan loaded it with. In a pinch, in case of a lack of crystals, the whip can also be powered for a limited time with the Trustbusters.
In its coiled form, Veblen Good can still be loaded with a Dust cartridge and powered up. In this state, Brennan can utilize the weapon as an energy targe, also imbued with whatever element the Dust was and combining with his aura to form a large protective shield.
Trustbusters: A pair of Dust-knitted gloves that operate independently of Veblen Good, the Trustbusters would ostensibly not have much power on their own. Thus, Brennan has done some modification, turning what was once a pair of glorified hand protection into augmented weapons all their own. When a Dust crystal or cartridge is crushed inside one of the Trustbusters, the specialized fabrics and the Dust already latent inside will absorb the Dust Brennan wants to utilize. This surcharge allows him to power up something he chooses with Dust, whether it be Veblen Good or something inanimate…or just hit someone with a burning fist.
Relationships:
Albert Morgan: To put it frankly, Brennan and Morgan aren’t friends – but they should be. Both tend to speak fast and take shots at the things around them, and while they often fall into a rapport and coordinate alongside each other well in combat, they don’t hang out on a personal level very often unless someone else is the bridge between them. Despite their aloofness from each other, Brennan enjoys the other heir’s company, and can even be heard to openly laugh at some of Albert’s ideas and jokes. The team leader has decided to try and attempt to forge a real bond with his partner as time goes on.
Noël Du Acier: Perhaps the only member of BANK Brennan can truly said to be close to, Noel is the target of more of his mocking barbs than any other – as well as the target of slightly more extolled pride. Though he is first in the chorus of telling the talkative blacksmith to just shut the hell up, he tends to treat her as something of a precocious younger sister, and knows how to play to her strengths in the field. They will sometimes hang out without the company of anyone else, though usually only for a quick meal. Though he talks a big game about letting her reap her just desserts for running her mouth so often, Noel’s charitable heart is a quiet soft spot for the braggadocio-fueled Atlesian, and slights on her person or (undue) beatings that he thinks she can’t handle will be handled with hot fury.
Kek Tarik: Another team member who, like Morgan, Brennan doesn’t have much of a personal relationship with. Kek, however, has Brennan’s quiet respect if nothing else – as team leader, it’s his job to acknowledge to himself when he’s outmatched, and Kek is pound for pound a better fighter than Brennan himself. As such, he will often just point him in a vague direction and let the big guy go off on his own, only falling in with the rest of the team when it’s time for a complete formation. Outside of the field or classes, Kek will sometimes find himself called on as the deciding vote in an argument with Brennan and Morgan, but otherwise he’s left to his own devices – or to Noel, whom the big guy seems to get on well with.
Trivia:
Theme
Based loosely upon the personality and life of John D. Rockefeller
My Semblance would be telepathy. |
55,961 | 1,533 | 21 | 843 | 1,812 | Well, by your logic I should now headbutt you and ruin somebody's food with your face. Fortunately for you I have class which you seem to lack. Not to mention consistency. How is it that you find it worthy of physical assault when someone insults your species and yet are doing much the same with just a different target group? Irony at its finest, I say. What she thought was more along the lines of Shut the hell up you gaping @#$%^& or I'll beat the tar out of your worthless hypocrite self!, however Commander Ryan has drilled enough self control into her not to explode on the first trigger.
Still, annoying as he was this person was the most interesting thing today yet, so as he left Mikoto followed, making no effort to hide her doing so hoping to be a bit of a spiteful annoyance. She could guess well enough that the guy was a hunter trainee, but she observed trying to peg the school he was attending. He and the shop owner seemed to know each other, and the noodle stand was local business. First name basis, in fact. "So, you attend Beacon?" she hazarded a guess. | Mikoto Kage
“Who am I? Let’s see. If you’re a hunter, I guess that makes me... a Hunterkiller?”
-Mikoto
Race: Faunus (Mute Swan)
Gender: Female
Age: 17
Nationality: Vale
Designation: Police academy cadet
Mikoto is part of a forming special unit. The hunterkillers are, as the name suggests, specially trained to take on hunters, who are the most respected fighters. Every time a hunter went rogue in the past has been a big problem, and unit like this is meant to contain the problem quickly.
Team: N/A
Appearance:
Mikoto stands circa 178 centimeters tall, with her platform boots giving her what she needs to 180. She is quite strong for her age, being participating in several combat competitions and police training. She weighs about 63 kilos. Her most prominent faunus feature are the two swan wings on her back that have the span of about 200 cm.
Mikoto’s face is dominated by her piercing, bright red eyes. She has an eastern complexion, the slightly yellow skin tone contrasting with her anthracite hair that she usually keeps at shoulder length and well kempt. Her body build is focused more on strength rather than stamina, packing up quite some muscle mass and low fat percentage.
Her battledress consists of a pair of knee high, gray platform boots, black pants and blouse and a gray armored jacket. Coming from rich background, her battledress is trimmed in dark red and gold. She wears red padded gloves to battle. The jacket is modified to allow her wings to unfold and they can be held concealed by a special harness. The jacket comes equipped with magnetic holsters on the lower back for her weapons and several pockets.
When in need of more formal wear, she likes a red trench coat with matching high heels. She modified it to be able to conceal her wings and weapons underneath without looking out of place.
History:
Mikoto was born into the relatively average Kage family living in Mountain Glenn. A mixed family of Vacuo immigrants, her faunus side wasn’t obvious to anyone else in the first two years of her age, before her wings hit a growth spurt. Still, it was another year before she came to the usual faunus problems, having to attend mixed kindergarten.
She managed to bear with it for a year, but when she was four, she finally snapped and beat up one boy that made a comment, sending him to a doctor with a broken nose. She spent her days mostly alone since then as many of the children were afraid of her.
Just as she was about to go to the school for the first time, a rogue hunter on the run from the police destroyed several houses to hinder his pursuers, and Mikoto’s family perished in the attack. Her semblance awoke for the first time, which is what saved her as she extinguished the dust caused fires around her and was able to run through walls to safety. She was then sent to an orphanage in the main city of Vale, but spent her days mostly alone.
When she reached the age of ten, she was adopted by a wealthy family. While initially believing herself to be lucky, she quickly found out her adoptive ‘father’ only wanted her as a Faunus poster child to improve PR, having to adopt a new name against her wishes. While she was given anything money could buy, they didn’t give her the loving family she wanted the most. Her two stepsisters ignored and hated her respectively, but later she formed a love-hate relationship with the younger sister, sharing an interest in fighting and being grateful for the sister at least being honest about hating what she is.
At the age of twelve, Mikoto started attending one of the local combat schools, flat out rejecting being home schooled despite her stepfather’s insistence.
A few years later, her skill grown very good, and she started placing high in competitions. That lead to some media attention to the happiness of her stepfather. However, her story was soon brought to light, making her start withdrawing from people again. She turned to homeschooling and made an uneasy alliance with her younger step sister who was growing tired of her family as well.
After two years of working for the company to fund her plan, she set off to attend Beacon, severing all ties with her adoptive ‘family’ and intending to start again, on her own. Unfortunately, the Initiation proven once and for all that her combat skills were much more suited to fighting a human opponent rather than the Grimm. It had an unforeseen consequence for her though - the police department contacted her with an offer to join a newly formed unit where her skills would be of great use once she graduated from the police academy.
Personality:
Mikoto doesn't actively seek out conversation but she will not shy away from one. The girl is patient and overlooking many things addressed to her faunus side, but she has her limits.
Whereas normally she is well mannered and will go out of her way not to offend people no matter what she may think of them, in a fight or when angered, she is dominated by her emotions, not her reason.
While her anger is cold and calculated, you do not wish to enrage her, as if you push her that far, she will lose all sense and just go berserk on you.
She hates those unlawful with a fiery passion, although rich people and racists are pretty high on the list as well. Despite how she was treated, she is trying to be forgiving, believing it's the only way to achieve some degree of peace in the world.
The girl battles many internal demons and even though she portrays herself as a strong person with a healthy dose of disdain, she can be fragile on the inside. What disturbs her more than most is the thought of losing someone close to her again. She also isn’t too fond of spiders and tight spaces. Her main motivation to keep on living is getting others to accept her because of who she is, not what she is.
In her downtime, she likes to power down and relax, whether that means sleeping all day, stuffing herself with bacon and coffee or reading tales of ancient mythologies with a glass (or a bottle) of rum on hand. If others have to be involved, she wouldn’t say no to a fantasy movie or (window) shopping. Mikoto has a weakness for sporty personal shuttles.
Being a choleric faunus comes with it’s own list of hatreds, like water (which make her wings heavy and useless) or cold (which she feels more due to her higher body temperature). For some reason, the taste of potatoes makes her want to hurl, much like the cheesy romance movies or the boring historical novels. She gets violent on trolls and hates criminals above all else for taking her family and normal life from her, putting them in the same sack with the Grimm.
Skills:
Being adopted by a wealthy family, she was taught self defense and took liking to combat. Trained in a universal style, she can make use of nearly every weapon, although she prefers light, more nimble instruments like her swordwand or a dagger. Her technique focuses on precise, quick and powerful attacks while conserving energy between them. As she knew she had a semblance from long before, she pushed to get herself a full combat education to perfect her aura mastery. Later in her years her fighting style developed into something brutal, intending to not only just destroy the enemy, but make them suffer. It is even reflected in the modifications she made to her weapons, like using serrated blades, or ditching a shield for a secondary dagger.
Life in the high class however also lead to some duties. As an adoptive member of a family owning the Remnant’s leading company producing musical instruments, she can play nearly anything. Being cast as a PR figure, she is used to appearing in front of masses and can be politically correct in most situations.
From her life in the orphanage, she picked up some minor survival skills, although she lived in luxury for so long it would take her time to adjust back to it.
While her weapons might give the impression that Mikoto is a swordswoman, she is in fact a dust caster, capable of weaving the Nature’s Wrath into nearly anything she needs given enough time. She uses three categories of moves - First are those she practices often enough to be able to perform them with thought alone. The second less frequent she needs a focusing agent, such as a phrase or a sequence of tones to help her summon the attack. Last but not least, Mikoto can achieve anything she has enough aura, dust and time for through drawing magic circles.
Powers:
Her faunus heritage gives Mikoto several capabilities she can use for great effect. First and foremost, she can use her wings to heighten and extend her jumps to about twice that of a human, or to glide and soften her fall. They are, however, too small for her to fly. The lack of tail used to be a problem, but she smartly modified her battledress with a half-cape that is attachable to her boots that can substitute well enough.
Her bones are less dense than that of a usual human, contributing to her overall low weight, which unfortunately break more easily if her aura is brought down. Her metabolism is faster, making the girl quite a glutton and yet unable to gain any weight and moving her average body temperature to about 40°C.
Having both large reserve and skill to wield it efficiently, Mikoto’s aura is on the more impressive side of the scale. Its color is pure white, and it manifests as quills falling around her.
Semblance - Arcane destroyer: Mikoto's body becomes an intangible spectre and her voice gains a creepy reverb to it. Her weapon is also surrounded in the same substance of white color. In this state, Mikoto can not be physically harmed, however she still hurts the same if her aura fails to block an attack, and she loses the ability to parry with her weapons. If the 'damage' is sufficient, she will forcibly revert back to normal, more often than not incapacitated by hurting as much as if she was actually dealt the blows. In this state, dust based spells tend to break up on contact with her, hence the name.
Equipment:
Collapsible Swordwand Dust Carrier - Swan Song: A swordwand that can be converted from one to the other simply by sliding the guard down the grip. This action retracts or extends the blade into the blunt part of the weapon. As such, the weapon is primarily designed for stabbing attacks rather than slashing, although it is capable of both. The counterweight can hold dust crystals, and Mikoto is particularly fond of the fire ones. The blade is made from dust-enhanced black metal that seems to be reflecting shadows rather than light.
Tactical Dust Carrier - Quilltact: A dagger with perforated blade holding three dust capsules, usually the remaining types to complement the Swansong’s fire crystals. Mikoto built a flute into the hilt which she uses as a focus help to cast some of her more demanding spells.
Extra:
Voice: Anna Hutchison
Theme: Gåte - Sjå Attende
Mikoto is ambidextrous.
She is bi, leaning towards girls. |
55,962 | 1,533 | 22 | 1,449 | 5,931 | Echo Marine, Tawne Adagio
Scarcely had half a minute passed before Tawne and Echo stumbled across their next adventure. Catering to specific clientele, identified by its members’ typical formidability and audacity, an odd metal shack had been erected not far from the line of food stalls. Signs plastered all over identified its purpose clearly, for in enormous comic sans they declared, HUNTERS AND HUNTRESSES – ARE YOU FIT TO SAVE THE WORLD? PROVE IT WITH THE VYTAL CHALLENGE! Intrigued by so bold a statement however obvious the ploy, and by the strangely fascinating contours of the building itself, the Atlesian students approached the metal shack. In a luxurious fold-out chair by the shack’s door reclined a man in black, whose diminutive stature and great fan of red hair naturally drew their eyes.
Simultaneously he noticed them, and in an instant he expertly sized them up as members of his target audience and therefore potential customers. Like a hat he put on his charm and sprang, catlike, from his chair. Adorning a wide, cheeky smile, he offered them a theatrical bow. “Good morning, lady and gentleman! Mr. Cordovan Phlox, at your service. I hope you’ll excuse my showmanship; I never could resist acting the goof. No doubt you’re not here for me, though. You’re here to disabuse me of the foolish notion that you’re not, in fact, fit to save the world. Well, here’s how you’ll do it: inside my little stall here is a testing chamber. Simply step in, and the trials will begin. Nothing dangerous, I assure you, just a fun distraction. And all for just five smackeroons! What do you say, folks?” He crossed his arms and looked sideways at them.
Tawne and Echo shared a look. Both were having trouble suppressing their merriment at Mr. Phlox’s manner and uncanny similarity to the legendary leprechaun, though Tawne suffered more in this regard. He did not allow it to keep him from replying immediately, however. ”Oh, absolutely. Bring it on! I get the feeling it’s me lucky day.” Phlox grinned and pulled open the door, and Tawne stepped inside.
Suddenly deprived of anything to do, Echo leaned against the shack and looked around. As picturesque and full of life as the festival grounds were, nothing stood out to her until she happened to lay eyes on a nearby bench and the two girls there. It did not take an excess of intuition to make the assumption that both were huntresses, though definitely not Altesians. Eager to meet other travelers, Echo made her way toward the bench, made sure she looked companionable, and greeted them. ”Hiya. I was jus walkin’ around, and I saw your hair,” she indicated Tearlag. ”And I thought, that’s incredible. So I thought I’d say hi. Are y’all competin’ in the tourney?” She slipped her hands into her pockets, seemingly not at all worried about any potential awkwardness in this sudden meeting. | Name: Tawne Adagio
Team: BEAT
Birth Date: August 31st
Age: 18
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Designation: Sophomore Student at Atlas Academy
-=-=-
In Depth Appearance: Tawne is of slighty above average height and physical condition, giving him a wiry frame. Long, nimble fingers give him admirable dexterity. His face sports a cleft chin, green eyes, and a rounded nose. Tawne's hair is nearly platinum blonde, practically sun-colored, and very bright. It falls to about his chin, but is commonly kept brushed back. His green eyes match the green-tinted panes of his black glasses.
Tawne's favorite clothes for times of action are loosely ceremonial, and vividly colored except for a loose black undershirt. A yellow-range mantle hangs down his front and back, kept in place by a wrap around his neck. A gray scarf with an intricate, white, curvy design serves him as a belt. On his arms and feet are leather vambraces and boots of the same style. Deep red pants complete the ensemble.
Weapon: Sticky Keys is a weapon both comically brutal and gloriously inelegant. This bizarre armament combines a keyboard with a butcher's cleaver, its single huge blade jutting out from the instrument's forward side. Handles exist at both the top and bottom of the weapon for strategic gripping, though the top one hides a special feature: a trigger for the double-barreled shotgun embedded in the weapon's top. Never meant for accuracy or delicacy, this shotgun serves as a powerful deterrent to anyone believing the cleaver blade to be easy to get around.
Semblance: Tawne's semblance, Spinout, comes into effect with anything in his vicinity that starts to spin, be it a ball, a weapon, or himself. Spinout enhances the spin, increasing speed and force while stabilizing trajectory, all of which ramp up over time. For instance, Tawne can throw a ball and have it fly perfectly straight, then grind into a target. He can perform enhanced lariats, rolls, tornado throws, and even hurricane kicks. Spinout derives from his tendency to be either brash or crazy in trying times, and to put a unique spin on whatever comes his way.
-=-=-
Personality: In essence, Tawne tends to play by his own somewhat loony rules. He's intelligent and quick-witted but with a snarky and sarcastic bent, quick to make jokes about and trivialize things that might matter to others. He views taking things too seriously as 'tryharding', and anathema to fun--which is what truly matters to him. Tawne loves a good time, whether playing games, making music, or fighting. Despite his general acidity and brashness, he actually does really enjoy hanging out with others, and will work tirelessly to return kindness to those who show it to him. To those close to him, he is equal parts irritating and inseparable. When things get tough, Tawne tends to go nuts, acting with a rather manic vigor. While possessed of a decent self-esteem, Tawne is intensely self-depreciating, though whether this is a joke at his expense or at egotists' few can rightly say. Despite his cynicism and slight kookiness, Tawne is kept firmly on the side of justice and goodness by his spirituality.
Place of Origin: Canopy, Atlas
History: In the city of Canopy in Atlas, a couple with no desire or need to marry became a family. From an early age it was evident that Tawne took after both the keen intelligence of his mother, the banker Saffron, and the creative wisdom of his father, the pianist Gormon. He also displayed an inability to mesh with other children, often driving them away with his sharp sense of humor and sometimes hurtful bluntness. Nevertheless, he exhibited an endearing kind of annoying, and his parents loved him. Other adults often felt surprised to see the compassionate and helpful side of the boy who often needled their children in school. Tawne, meanwhile found the fulfillment in religion that he did not get from other kids; it was spirituality that inspired him to do the best he could in life.
During his education, it became clear that Tawne delighted in music as much as his father, but rather than take an interest in finance he found satisfaction and creative potential in combat. As such, the government moved him into Atlas Academy when the time came, and there he found both a blend of his two passions and a few individuals who really understood him: his teammates. Tawne continued to devote himself to the rigors of education, though never abandoning his cuttingly jovial nature.
Relations with other Players: Tawne is fast friends with his teammate Albus. Though the two are vastly disparate in a variety of ways, they have formed a powerful bond of friendship, pretty much brothers in arms. Working together remarkably well, they are ideal partners both in music and in battle, able to coordinate attacks for maximum effectiveness and humiliation. If some sort of prank is going down, you can be sure that these two aren't far from it.
Extra: My semblance would be sneezing at gale force winds. |
55,963 | 1,533 | 23 | 511 | 3,294 | Teàrlag Cirsium
It wasn't really hard to notice Umeko approaching. The Atlesian steel she carries around everywhere always makes my skin tingle with electricity. It's probably from whatever stuff they jam into that try-hard Jetsons aesthetic of theirs. Might be more conductive or something, gives a path of least resistance for all these sparks to travel through. Still, I thought she'd been scoping out the competition herself; she and the others seemed pretty excited for this entire tournament thing. Except ... she's got shopping bags? Oi, it's not like I wanted to do this myself, but geez if you actually wanted to show off in front of everybody for your one second of fame don't get me to do the legwork for you.
I shift my body around a bit so it doesn't hurt to look at little miss mecha lass behind me. She's got those expensive sunglasses, huh? Never really understood why folks'd pour that much money into sunglasses. No bang for your buck, and you could use that money on something that won't break if you drop it. Pretty daft, really.
"You'd be a dunderhead to want your face on merch," I mutter in reply. Think of all the t-shirts people would wear with my face on it. I'd have no freedom at all. I'd be a public figure, and you'd have crazy paps hounding my every move. Couldn't even laze around without people bothering me because they want their own fame and fortune. I'd just be some sorta money tree for people to grab at. A resource, not a person.
Not that it really makes much of a difference in the end, to be frank, but I don't want to be a figma to be lusted over by collectors.
...
That's freaky stuff.
So, team DEVL, huh? That's a name, I guess. Dunno if Umeko even has the style to jag. So what if the "White Devil" gets overshadowed, it's not like this competition really matters, anyway. Just another biannual festival about a war my granda fought in. Just do the entire fighting thing, I guess, look good for Shade Academy, and then go home so I can visit the karaoke bar. Not that I care about it or anything. I just want enough stamps for the free soda.
...
A phantasm from two decades ago's approaching.
Huh, that hair's seriously poofy. And blue. And she's gigantic.
Wait, my hair's incredible? Coming from a girl who walked outta the 70s?
I mean it's not like I don't appreciate the praise or anything but uh-
Wait who even asks people questions like that when they approach them?
Oi that's creepy.
"Yes," I grumble out.
--- | Name: Teàrlag Cirsium
Age: 17
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Nationality: Vacuuan
Designation: Huntress
Team: TSUN (Tsunami)
Appearance: A pale youth whose features clearly paint her as a native to the metropolitan city-state of Vale, Teàrlag is almost delicate in her appearance, false advertisement for those who know of her personality. Indeed, with her height of a metre sixty, slightly shorter than most girls her age, as well as her soft and gentle looks, she could almost be considered cute or waifish, but the cynical and dead gaze present in her otherwise beautiful purple eyes tell a different story. The twin-tailed girl is definitely pretty, but like the black-and-red and discs clipped to her violet hair, her soul is hellish, an bottomless pit of self-loathing and cynicism that contrasts immensely with her looks.
Her outfit consists of a black, hooded jacket (lined with red in certain areas), which is haphazardly thrown over a short minidress that shares a colour with her hair, albeit a slightly lighter shade. It extends down beyond her waist by only several centimetres, leaving a small gap of pale, almost-white skin visible before it meets her woollen, overknee thigh-high socks, which are also a purplish colour (violet of course, pretty much being her favourite colour in that she has absolutely no real negative opinion of it). Indeed, it could be said, in the tongue of Internet-going cartoon fanatics, that she possesses "Rank A" zettai ryouiki, though whether or not this has ascended to "Rank S" is dependent on one's judgement of her personality. Digressions on forbidden territory aside, the purple-haired girl also wears simple but tough black boots.
Colour: Thistle Purple
Personality: A cynic down to her very bones (or so she thinks), Teàrlag Cirsium is not a girl with an overly favourable view of the world. To her, life is harsh, uncaring and utterly meaningless, an endless cycle of drudgery that seeks to wear away at one's self until death finally comes. It's a rather dreary and morbid opinion, but she's embraced it, and with racial tensions between human and Faunus, the constant fight for survival against the hordes of monstrous Grimm, and the knowledge that each day people you've met will find themselves at risk of dying, she feels like the world itself supports her beliefs. Not to mention the utter lack of mercy society holds for its own citizens, the vapid nature of the cliques and ingroups that promotes the concept of an "us and them", or even the innate selfishness of the common person. She hates it, and her grumpy, sour attitude to things is emblematic of that antipathy towards everything in the world. This makes her out to be somewhat of a rebellious loner, raging against the world and all its injustices.
The fact of the matter is, however, that she's resigned herself to it all. She sees the world in a pessimistic light and she knows she can't change it.
Deep down however, she still possesses an incredible resolve, and the courage to fight for those in need of being defended. She hates to see people cry, and will do anything to wipe those tears away, even if it's at great cost to herself. Her self-worth is utterly lacking; she doesn't believe herself to be worthy of care (though she can still be hurt, no matter how many excuses she makes or how much she tries to deny it), and it is for the sake of others that she fights. Teàrlag doesn't like to admit it, but underneath that grumpy, cynical exterior lies a girl who's really just like any other average teenager, a girl with self-doubts and flaws and precious people, even if she thinks she isn't. She can't accept praise or gratitude that easily, and frequently denies doing anything out of a sense of philanthropy. Because she doesn't believe she can, because she doesn't believe she could be that much of a help.
It gets her flustered, really.
She's not a particularly motivated person either, content with being another average student in Vacuo. It's strange then, to know that this girl is the leader of her team of huntresses, when she seems so lacking in any positive leadership qualities. But she cares for people (even if she does her best to avoid establishing strong relationships), has strong tactical sensibilities, and from time to time can muster up something surprisingly inspirational. Otherwise however, she prefers to take things easy and avoid the struggle. Teàrlag is also a gigantic nerd, and one would be surprised to note that she possesses an incredible singing voice honed from an almost fanatical devotion to karaoke. She also likes deep-fried foodstuffs.
Teàrlag Cirsium is a complicated girl with a complicated sense of self.
She might seem like she's just another cynic, but there's more to her than that.
Equipment:
Her primary piece of hunting equipment is called Lonnbeimnech Taranaich, which is split into a number of parts. The first is a six foot long lochaber axe (Lonnbeimnech) made from a dense and highly durable metallic substance. It possesses an incredibly low resistance, a physical property that is quite conducive (pun intended) towards the use of Teàrlag's semblance. Indeed, it serves as a lightning rod, providing a path of least resistance and absorbing electricity into its body, as well as the reverse (which provides her foes quite the shocking experience). With its high heat capacity and low coefficient of thermal expansion, the blade of the weapon can be superheated to over three thousand five hundred degrees celsius, enabling it to slice apart foes with greater ease. Said blade can also be launched as a rocket, trailing long, fine copper wires behind it as it flies into the distance. This essentially leaves the weapon as a staff until the head makes it return (as it contains its own propellant).
The second part of the Lonnbeimnech Taranaich, on the other hand, consists of two electrical amplifiers (Taranaich) bound to her wrists that can launch bolts of electricity at her foes, but when combined with the lochaber axe, form what can be best described as a electromagnetic slingshot. Utilising lightning dust and her semblance in tandem, she can propel anything placed within the sling at speeds far greater than what is provided by a standard slingshot. Her projectiles for this tend to vary, but she does possess a stock of tungsten rounds to be used specifically for such purposes.
Beyond her main weapon, however, Teàrlag also makes use of a set of ten sgian-dubh knives, which are safely sheathed and hung from garters near the top of her thigh-high socks (with five knives on each leg). They serve as her backup tools, cooking utensils and et cetera, placed in a less obvious location in order to keep a sense of surprise. They are not particularly special, but have also been balanced so that she can throw them at enemies, usually with strings upon strings of copper wire (rolls of which she keeps pocketed) in order to further assist the usage of her semblance if necessary.
Fighting Style:
Despite her apathy towards achieving anything beyond average in her studies as a Huntress, Teàrlag Cirsium is actually surprisingly skilled as a fighter (honed by the desire to actually remain alive, because no matter how much she dislikes the world, she isn't yet suicidal), and knows both her weapons and powers and weaknesses and strengths inside-out. She mainly serves as a sharpshooter, firing off highly accurate shots from her long-ranged weapons to neutralise her enemies and provide openings for the rest of her team. However, she is also decently capable in melee, especially with her electrically-infused strikes adding an extra dimension of pain to her blows. The techniques she uses are not particularly polished or well-thought-out, but her skill is respectable enough, and her willingness to make use of any resources available and her desperation if thrown into a corner is what makes her truly dangerous there.
Semblance:
Marchysgallen - the power provided to Teàrlag by her semblance essentially transforms her (pun very much intended) into a dynamo, a walking producer of electrical energy that can be utilised in a number of different ways. When active, she is constantly converting her aura into electricity stored within her body, which she can expel from her body, though not in a particularly fine manner. She possesses zero fine control over her lightning (which takes upon a purple colour), with most of her tool-less skills with it boiling down to, with only one exception, essentially pointing and firing off bolts of electricity that end up dissipating after a short range due to the resistance of the air. As such, she tends to rely on the assistance of her weapons to best make use of her powers, though when she's dealing with her mundane, day-to-day life she doesn't need them; charging her phone or game consoles simply by touching them is incredibly useful, after all.
Her ability to channel electricity is heavily dependent on the presence of conductors, but there is one technique she has refined that serves as the one exception. With great concentration, she can envelop her entire body in a field of electrons, repelling outwards as a burst or wave of electricity that is both offensive and defensively orientated. Her most common use of this ability however, is to simply cover herself in lightning and run into people, which can essentially be considered an electrifying tackle. It is incredibly dangerous, especially taking into account the amplitude and voltage of the electricity she produces, but requires her to focus quite a bit on keeping the field stable.
When not active, her semblance can still be noticeable, thanks to the smell of ozone that permeates the air around her, and the infrequent sparks of electricity that leap off her skin.
History:
The third of five daughters born to a family of Vacuuan hunters residing in Vale, nobody really expected much of Teàrlag Cirsium, the ignored middle child who really had nothing going for her. She was just another kid, another average little girl who was outshone by her more exciting and colourful family members. Not that she really minded. She was fine (or at least she claimed she was) with being just another number for the census, another statistic that went through school, where the drudgery and repetitivity of the world, where the knowledge that they could die at any moment, slowly but surely eroded away at whatever hope and optimism she had for becoming anything more. She became a loner, a pessimistic girl who spent her days sitting in the corner of the classroom, doing the bare minimum required for her to pass her classes.
When she was thirteen, her parents moved them back to Vacuo.
It was difficult, adjusting to both a new country and a new environment. But she managed (for a given value of the term), settling back into the endless drudgery as another average student once more. She woke up, went to school, did her work, went home, played video games, practiced fighting, went to sleep, repeat. It was an endless cycle, and it didn't endear her to the world at all. It was as if she was going through the motions, training to become a hunter simply because her parents and some of her siblings were.
Teàrlag barely made it into Shade Academy.
She would have left as well, would have given up on the career of a huntress, of a career that could easily end in her death, but something stopped her. She found people who she ... wasn't averse to, people whose presence she probably would have somewhat missed. And Teàrlag realised that she didn't want to see them hurt and crying. So she stayed. Even though she doubted her own skills, even though she found it all so utterly lacking and useless, she didn't want to see people hurt.
Being a huntress meant that she could wipe away some of those tears.
(Not that she cared or anything.)
Relations with other characters:
Not yet applicable
Extra:
-VA: Kakazu Yumi (JP)
-Cirsium is the genus of the spear thistle, the national flower of Scotland
-As a workaholic, my semblance would likely give me the ability to ignore sleep. |
55,964 | 1,533 | 24 | 1,288 | 1,334 | Kawaguchi Umeko
,
"Yep!" Umeko confirmed cheerfully, head pivoting to regard the newcomer brightly. Poofy blue hair, wide build, and friendly expression. Not someone she remembered seeing around before, but not someone she was likely to miss in the future. Hair like that, she'd be visible from orbit. The student of Shade shifted a little so she could keep both her less-than-talkative teammate and the newcomer in sight, folding up her sunglasses in her left hand so she could see colors a little more accurately. Echo's hair, as it turned out, was even brighter without the shades. "Gonna take a wild guess and say you are, too. You look real strong!"
"Where you from? Not Shade, we'd know if you were. Not getting a Mistral vibe. Atlas? You look like someone they'd want to recruit." She leaned a little further over the bench, supporting herself by resting her crossed arms on the back of it, and regarded her (she guessed) fellow countrywoman with a bright grin. "Don't mind Tear, here, she's never very talkative."
"And apparently doesn't quite get the wonders of merchandise, either. You have any idea the kind of cash I could make offering to model my own merch for Vale Style Co.? Or Atlesian Accessories?" | Name: 川口 梅子 (Kawaguchi Umeko)
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Age: 18
Nationality: Atlesian Origin, Vacuuan Affiliation
Team: TSUN (Tsunami)
Designation: Huntress
Appearance: Standing slightly taller than average, albeit not by much, Umeko clearly cares about her appearance. Her clothes are, without exception, kept immaculately clean and worn in specific combinations planned out long in advance. She wears them quite well, too; Umeko is unquestionably a striking individual. She's built like a fighter, with a solid stance and toned limbs, but her choice of style usually makes her seem much more lithe than she is. Her brown hair is straight and shoulder length, worn differently depending on what she thinks will look best. Umeko is almost always grinning a wide, amiable grin like she wants the entire world to be her friend and invites them to be so. The deep blue eyes set above that grin are highly expressive, and very much the gateway to whatever Umeko is thinking.
Her clothes tend towards the blue end of the spectrum, but their style is incredibly variable. On a daily basis, when attending classes, she generally wears something close to the traditional Atlesian student uniform, in spite of her actual affiliation. She bends this habit for formal events, during which she does don the official Shade uniform. Casually, on the other hand, her wardrobe is nearly infinite; clothes for every occasion, every type of weather, and every temperature. Light jackets are quite common, as is the occasional sweater. Most casual settings will see her in jeans, but the odd semi-formal will prompt the use of a skirt. Wherever she goes, Umeko wants to be the best dressed in the room.
She does have an outfit that could be considered something of a signature, however. A pair of dark blue jeans paired with classy (but intentionally durable) shoes paired with a deep blue top. Over that she adds a waist-length white jacket, with the emblem of Shade stitched in black over what appear to be devil horns on either shoulder. She's never seen, regardless of her attire, without her headband and rarely without her white messenger bag,
Personality: Umeko is friendly, oblivious, and a little too eager to show off. She thrives on being the center of attention, having the most friends, and standing in the shining spotlight. At least that's the disposition she likes to show to the world. The truth is much, much more layered. The hordes of acquaintances and casual friends are kept at arms length, prevented from seeing past the veneer they're supposed to see. Beneath the mask is a much more contemplative young woman, someone much more sensible than her almost arrogant public persona implies. Umeko realized, quite a long time ago, that her peers (and elders) tended to underestimate her due to her bubbly nature and fashion-oriented interests. So why not use that to her advantage?
The real Kawaguchi Umeko is highly driven, and paradoxically, infinitely more willing to criticize someone the more she cares about them. Such criticisms, truth be told, are often emphatic, occasionally angry, and very impassioned. But on the other side of the same coin, those she cares about can be subject to displays of loyalty or affection that would seldom be extended to one of her superficial 'friends'. The truest sign of her friendship is being permitted to see underneath the public facade.
Fighting Style: Despite the attitude she projects, Umeko is a devastating all-range fighter. Lacking in raw power, she instead focuses on technique and battlefield control. The White Devil's forms give her both offensive and defensive capabilities at all ranges, and her Semblance gives her the ability to alter her environment a little as needed. Her preference, most of the time, is to act as a mid-to-close range combatant. Her rifle, and its sword form, give her the precision she needs to land dangerously precise strikes while her shield ensures she can take hits just as well as give them. But given the nature of her team, she is not the only (or necessarily the best) suited for this role. When the situation requires she transitions smoothly into acting as mid-to-long range fire support, using her remote shield bits to harass the enemy from any angle, and her rifle to hit where it hurts. Her Semblance is no slouch in this role, either, as it allows her to redirect shrapnel and detritus in creative ways.
Simply put, Umeko will adapt to any scenario one attempts to force her in as best she can. And much of the time, that is quite well. After a bout with her in the arena, few ever quite buy into her seemingly oblivious nature ever again.
Weapons/Equipment: Remnant Expansion (Prototype) #78 Unit 2 Grimm-Use Non-Demanding Armament Machine ver. White Devil: The White Devil started life as a project for the Atlesian military. Atlas has long believed in recruiting their Hunters into service as Atlesian Specialists, but the common Atlesian soldier has never been able to go toe-to-toe with the foes that Hunters handled. They had to rely on strength of numbers, not individual capabilities. The Grimm-Use series was intended to permit the common soldier the adaptability to handle as many foes as a Hunter, if not with quite as much skill. In fact that was the purpose; a set of equipment that could be used for maximum effect, with minimum skill. The project showed promise, but ultimately was a casualty of Atlas’ changing goals. They no longer wanted to increase a soldier’s effectiveness, they wanted to take the soldier off the battlefield entirely.
So Sunrise Industries, the contractor for its development, mothballed the project. The five units that had been produced were put into storage and forgotten. Sunrise Industries itself, unable to keep up with the changing mindset, declared bankruptcy a few short years later and its assets were liquidated. The five prototypes were sent to auction, while the Atlesian military’s active contracts were subsumed by other contractors. And that was when they fell into Umeko’s hands.
The White Devil consists of two primary parts; a handheld semiautomatic railgun rifle, and a large quadrilateral shield. The railgun operates by using lightning Dust to generate the magnetic field necessary to launch a projectile along two rails at exceptionally high velocities, making the weapon highly destructive to compensate for its low rate of fire. Using a trigger mechanism in the handle the railgun converts to a long, slim sword. This sword uses the same lightning Dust to superheat the blade’s edge, drastically increasing its penetrating power.
The shield, in its base configuration, is just that; a shield. It secures itself parallel Umeko’s forearm, with a handle gripped in her left hand, and can be easily used to defend against attacks. Its secondary uses, on the other hand, are much less obvious. The handle is connected to the rest of the shield by two long cords, and the handle contains a small motor to retract or release those cables with the press of a button. The shield itself splits in half, both halves folding to create a rail-based firing aperture similar to that of her rifle. These halves fire a laser based on technology being developed for a separate Atlesian project. In this form the halves of the shield use Gravity Dust to become weightless. Like the cables that connect them to their handle, the firing mechanisms are controlled by an adjacent button.
Both halves of the White Devil have storage forms for noncombat situations. The rifle folds to stow away inside the shield, which uses the seams for its transformation to become a rigid messenger bag.
The final piece of Umeko’s equipment, developed independently of the rest,is a visor and earpiece that contains the functionality of a Scroll while providing eye protection from both shrapnel and blinding light. Outside of combat the device looks very much like an unusual headband. Upon activation it flips down and the v-shaped antennae deploy above her forehead.
Semblance: Center of Attention: Umeko can control the relative gravitational attractions generated by an object. All objects, however small, exert some degree of gravitational pull on all the other objects around them. Umeko can affect the intensity of these pulls, allowing her to manipulate the gravity generated. Most commonly this is used to cause objects to fall into a stable orbit around her, or another object, mistakenly leading many to believe she controls the orbit of objects. The reality is much more nuanced in its potential applications.
History: In Atlas, name and standing is everything. The Schnees are but the most well-known example. What matters is what you have, who you know, and how you got there. If you weren't born with a silver spoon in your mouth you'll spend your entire life kicking and punching to claim one. Everyone knows the names of each industry's titans, but few will remember the small families you meet on the street. In that way, Kawaguchi Umeko is of little note. A deep search of her history will find a modest career in modeling for different magazines, fashion in particular, and her transcripts from Atlas' academy for young hunters and huntresses. A deeper search will find little more about the Kawaguchi family. Simply another foot note in Atlesian history.
Unless one happened to find her birth certificate, and discover that she was born Umeko Huntian, not Kawaguchi. Unlike Kawaguchi, the name 'Huntian' is known to many. The Huntians have been joined at the hip with Atlas' military-industrial complex for generations, supporting, funding, or running dozens of different weapon manufacturers over the years. They made themselves rich off of Atlas' military generations ago, and kept the family interests in good shape through every highpoint and recession since. After all, with the Grimm out there, there'll always be a need for weapons. The Huntians rubbed shoulders with the elite, and were quite content to stay within their echelon. Until, that is, one of the family's minor heirs fell in love with a young worker at the head office.
Robert Huntian's, in his family's eyes, ill-planned love resulted in Umeko's birth. Though he had every intention of sticking with the family he had created, the mastermind of the Huntian empire were less than pleased by the idea. Robert eventually succumbed to the pressures of his more business-minded relations, and returned to the family's good graces. He made sure Umeko and her mother were very well cared for, with as much money as they needed to live comfortably. A share of this money, every month, went into an account in Umeko's name for her to use when she was old enough. Umeko herself grew up attending the kingdom's best academies, with few illusions over the circumstances of her birth. Even fewer about her standing compared to her peers.
Some combination of these truths lead her, at the age of eleven, to discard the Huntian name. From that point on every document was handled using her mother's name, and Umeko Huntian vanished from the paper trails of the Atlesian government. When one of the Huntian empire's investments, Sunrise Industries, went belly-up a year later she found herself drawn towards the liquidation auction and from there to her calling.
While the next generation of Huntians were groomed for business, Umeko entered into Atlas' school for hunters. Her own funds, carefully tucked away until she was old enough, were in good standing when she became a teenager. They were soon supplemented by work done on the side, showcasing fashion and gear in magazines geared towards hunters and huntresses, and invested carefully according to advice and careful consideration. When Kawaguchi Umeko entered Atlas' answer to Signal, no one knew who she was. By the time she left she had made herself known as a highly capable fighter, and a charismatic individual.
It was her success that lead her to leave Atlas. It is no secret, in any of the kingdoms, that the Atlesian specialists were usually recruited from the best of Atlas' training facilities. If she carried on into the next school, she might face the same recruitment efforts. So she packed her bags, gathered what resources were hers, and moved to Vacuo to attend Shade.
Relations with other characters: N/A
Extra: My semblance... Probably something to do with tech, honestly |
55,965 | 1,533 | 25 | 1,894 | 5,788 | Burgundy felt honored to be called the man's number one customer, especially since she had only been in Vale for a month or two. Sweet talk or not, she still did not like the condescending words of Silme. Who was he to say that she wouldn't be much of a fight!? She was Burgundy Slate, The Voice of Atlas and the leader of the second year Team BEAT! She could vibrate at such a tone to drive him wild, but at the cost of other faunus being treated to the same torture.
She shifted in her seat, almost growling at him for his words. If they fought, she might get disqualified, and her team would be furious with her. She grumbled, ordering another bowl and eating at a more humane pace this time around. | Name: Echo Marine?
Team: BEAT
Birth Date: May 2nd
Age: 18
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Designation: Sophomore Student at Atlas Academy
In Depth Appearance: Echo is a tall, strongly-built girl, with long legs, wide shoulders, and wide hips. Her skin is approximately mocha in tone, and contrasts extravagently with her poofy blue hair, which is tied back in a bush except for jagged bangs. Fairly thick eyebrows, full lips, and a near-permanent smirk distinguish her face.
On the battlefield or the stage, Echo's attire of choice is a gray crop-sleeved sweaterskirt, yellow bows as her hairtie and her belt, streamlined cotton pants, and white tennis shoes with yellow soles. Black elastic wraps adorn her arms, extending into fingerless gloves. This garb overall displays a simple functionality, though not without its own assertive style.
Weapon: The simple title of Echo's weapon, the Boomstick, masks a great degree of sophistication and flexibility seemingly unfit for a brutish hammer. To begin, the Boomstick is an immense mallet, meant to be swung with both hands. The force of a proper swing is capable of making dents in Grimm armor plates and metal alike. Though slower and not as adaptable as a blade or even a mace, this huge weapon nevertheless boasts a highly effective inelegance masked beneath a hip exterior.
More interesting than the Boomstick's raw pummeling capabilities, however, are the two sound-based devices built into it. Lying well-sheltered in the hammerhead, an extremely potent boombox creates forceful reverberations in the vicinity of the weapon when swung, giving the Boomstick an area-of-effect capable of launching things it isn't even touching. Additionally, a microphone exists in the bottom of the Boomstick's handle, though this serves more of an entertainment purpose than a tactical one.
Semblance: Stemming from Echo's unwillingness to back down even when greatly challenged, her semblance Run it Back restores her own aura to its level a few moments ago, making her resistent to burst damage and even able to stay in a fight when she might otherwise be taken down. This talent's nature as a sort of 'second wind' however, prevents her using her ability more than once or twice per fight, leading her to save it for big moments. The ability is extremely taxing on her body, and even two uses has great effects on her soon after, requiring her to finish a fight quickly after using her semblance.
Personality: In a word, adamant. Echo is proud, resolute in what she believes in, and strong-willed to the point of obnoxiousness. Despite being overly inclined to prefer everything being done her way, she will relent if sufficiently convinced—a quality she shamelessly touts as being representative of her consideration for others' thoughts, which she lacks. Though of average intelligence, she is less proficient than most in picking up on the feelings of others. She doesn't ever let her opponents get through to her, thinking this to be an act of submission; for instance, if slandered for her weight, Echo might turn it around to point out that she's not trying to pretend she's something she's not. Echo also tends to hold grudges. Despite being self-centered and somewhat arrogant, she is not in the least bit mean-spirited and will not actively seek to hurt the feelings or attack the beliefs of others, and if she discovers she has done so, she will apologize.
On the flipside, Echo exhibits a loyalty and reliability that make her a steadfast ally, if not a steadfast friend. The military tradition of her family perseveres in her, and Echo remains optimistic despite the tragedies and struggles of the world to inspire confidence and toughness in others. All in all, she is an indomitable spirit, for better or worse, whose confidence can be both self-destructive and self-preservative.
Place of Origin: Atlas
Relations with other Players:
Burgundy - Echo holds a certain level of respect for Burgundy. Not only because she is the leader of the team, but also due to the fact that she always appears to be on the top of her game. she seems to view Burgundy in the same prodigal light that many of the faculty in the academy do, but her respect is not to be mistaken for idolism. The two tend to make jokes about one another, Echo's favorite one being a half true statement in how she believes that men should be throwing themselves at her feet and forming a reverse harem for her. It usaully gets a good laugh out of the both of them. Despite how close the two are, she is still unaware of the rigorous training that Burgundy sneaks off to to maintain her status as a pending specialist.
Albus -The two are quite the odd pair. They speak like a couple and are more open with eachother than they actually know. Their relationship can be described as 'Tough Love'. They share insults together without even knowing that they are both actually giving eachother a piece of themselves. But in combat Albus and Echo do not work well together like Albus does with Tawne.
Tawne - Echo and Tawne represent a compromising clash. More than anyone else on the team, and often more than anyone else they know, Echo and Tawne butt heads on the smallest of issues, seemingly just for the sake of it. Since day one, each has treated one another like a sibling, with a great deal of understanding and care veiled behind an equal but much more visible quantity of teasing, calling out, and competition. Both strive to be the 'big brother' of the relationship.
This get's the Pyro Seal of approval, and is automatically accepted. |
55,966 | 1,533 | 26 | 1,918 | 8,262 | Silme Raana
Silme clicked his teeth at her refusal, feeling equal parts of disappointment and pride for getting the red haired black hole to back down, even getting her to eat more like a human as well, which was a bonus. As he was about to keep moving on, however, he found his ears to be assaulted by the biggest load of shit he'd heard in his life, courtesy of the Faunus who'd warned him of the police coming his way. Turning to look at her with an incredulous look on his face, as if he couldn't believe that she'd spoken such bullshit with any degree of seriousness, and gave her the amount of respect such belief called for.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot all about the immense hardships that the police has gone through in their pursuit for equality and equal representation in society. Truly, it is harsh of me to call them inept, I would want to hurt their feelings. The police are a downtrodden people, and it's simply putting salt in the wound to insult them as such." Silme voice took on a tone of mocking regret as he gave a low bow to the girl, before rising up to give her an excellent view of his middle finger salute as he gave her his true retort. As he spoke, it was very clear that he was restraining himself from doing something drastic, from his ears to his the way he was basically snarling at her. His eyes were alight with rage, but he knew that now wasn't the time, nor the place. "Sit and spin, you fuckin' brain dead bitch, because what you just said was completely and utterly ridiculous. You're comparing an insult to the police, calling them inept and powerless, which they fuckin' our when it comes to Hunters are expected to face on a regular pace, to a bastard perpetuating a long and painful history of Faunus oppression? Are you a fuckin' idiot or something, to even think of trying to compare the two, or just naturally ready to assume the fucking position like that other piece of domesticated trash over there!?!?! I should give you the same goddamn treatment as I did him, but I'm not about to make life worse for Samuel just because someone decided to teach you such a bullshit philosophy. I can tell just by looking at you that you have some half-decent training, which means that it'd end with more than a broken nose and messed up bowl, so take that as the closest thing to a compliment you're going to get from me. Now get the hell out of my face before I severely fuck yours up."
Silme, having said what he needed to say, and repressing his urge to put his fist through this girl's face repeatedly and violently, turned to walk away, ignoring her question because fuck her and everything she currently stood for. If she tried to push the issue, he'd ignore her, and if she tried to put her hand on him, she'd be met with a solid fist to her face immediately afterwards, and if it hit, she'd feel it because he wasn't holding back at all. Whatever the case, Silme would be want to be as far away from the dumb bitch as he possibly could. Oh yeah, I'm really being prejudice against the police, *tch*. Dumb bitch can't handle the fuckin' truth that, when it comes down to it, the police aren't scary, hell, the military aren't that intimidating either when you get down to it. A Hunter is better than them all individually, and only reason that the police and Military still exist is because the Hunter's are focused on the Grimm. If it wasn't for Grimm, the I'd love to see the police try and stop a Squad of Hunters from doing whatever the hell they wanted. | C H A R A C T E R S H E E T
Silme Raana
“You keep staring and you're going to lose an eye."
-Silme Raana, Age 10
T H E B A S I C S
|Name|
Silme Raana
|Team|
MASK
|Birth Date|
|Age|
17
|Race|
Timber Wolf Faunus
|Gender|
Male
|Designation|
reluctant Student, Secret Criminal
A P P E A R A N C E
|In Depth Appearance|
Silme is on the taller side, being around 6ft tall with room to grow, his silver hair cut short in a wild, unkempt style to keep it from getting in the way of his fighting. His eyes are a fierce amber color, closer in appearance to that of his animal lineage, especially when his instincts start to take over. He has a lean muscled figure covered with scars from his numerous criminal escapades, as well as a tattoo on his arm of a snarling wolf. As for his Faunus features, he has an easily noticeable pair of wolf ears on his head, as well as a tail, claws, and sharp canines that he's all to ready to use if needed.
G E T T I N G T O K N O W M E
|Likes & Dislikes|
✔ fighting, other Faunus, Scarlet Ravagers, taking humans down a pegor six,
✘ being alone, people in general, Faunus who try and 'fit in'Domesticated fuckwads, Humans, hyper people, being touched, being told what to do, authority, Carver, Carver's weird habits, Hunters
Weapon: The Scarlet Ravagers: He uses a pair of Specialized Customizable Clawed Gauntlets that he can alter for various combat and utility functions, as well as changing into either a pair of Customized SMGs, with rapid- and burst-fire modes, for him to dual wield, or into two double-sided short swords. All variations of weapons can be augmented with Dust cartridges for various effects and attacks.
He can also use them as a means of traversal by firing out the claws as a form of grappling hook attached to a good amount of strong, lightweight metal cable.
Fighting Style: Hit them faster and hit them hard, he is a Striker type fighter, extremely good at offense even against superior numbers. However, his defensive capabilities aren't the greatest, but they aren't the worst either. To help with this style, he's actually augmented his Aura so that it gives more of a physical power boost at the cost of it's defensive capabilities, making him a good deal stronger and a great deal faster than most, but taking hits is something he tries to avoid.
Sembalance: Corrosion, It is a very offensive Sembalance that allows Silme to imbue his attacks with a reddish-silver aura. This Aura is extremely effective at dealing damage, but it's usefulness truly shines when it comes with dealing with heavily armored enemies. With this ability, he can easily weaken most types of armor so and items, making him very effective at damaging and even destroying the weapons of others to lessen their combat effciency.He can even apply his ability against the defensive aura of others, though it isn't as effective, it still allows him to do more damage then normal.
D E L V I N G D E E P E R
|Personality|
♦ Aggresive ♦ Rebellious ♦ Somewhat Clueless ♦ Short-Temper♦
Silme is a loner by trade, and while he'll deny it vehemently, he really wishes he wasn't. He wants to connect with people, have real friends and family again, but he's afraid that he'll just get left behind again, abandoned by those he loved the most. Outwardly and in public, however, he's very abrasive, blunt, and vulgar, ready to speak his mind and pounce on anyone who tries to stop him(sometimes literally). The surest way to get on his shit list is to tell him what to do, as he hates that more than anything, especially if it's a human.
As far as fighting goes, he'll use evey advantage to win and will fight to the ducking end with all the feral energy of a wild beast. Now a trained killer, he'll have no problem ending his foes of the need arises, though not a second before. He has some sense of honor in that he won't fight a helpless opponent or murder innocents, but other than that, he can head cold and heartless as Carver himself.
|Place of Origin|
Vale
|History|
Silme is the son of two well-respected hunters, who were also terrible parents. While they did love their son, they were always out on the job, protecting others from danger while neglecting the one who needed them most. Then, they simply never came back, having gone MIA in the line of duty. Silme spent a few weeks devesatated by the loss, but that sadness soon turned to anger, distrust, and deep seated hatred against Hunter society as a whole.
Silme has since then gotten involved with some unsavory types, getting himself stuck in the criminal underground and making a name for himself for his impressive fighting skills. When he was in trouble with some gangs looking to put him in his place, Carver showed up to save his hide and forcibly employ him into his service. Silme hates this arrangement, but he can't get out if it since Carber has him by the throat in more ways then one. His time as Carver's protege hasn't been all bad, however, as the former hunter has taught him many thinks in the time they've been together that, when combined with his own natural skill and garnered combat experience, makes him a force to be reckoned with in battle.
|Relations with other characters|
|Extra|
Hates to be mothered or otherwise taken care of
Tail and Ears give away his feelings, especially when he try's to hide them
Wolf blood gives him increased endurance, Stamina, strength, and senses, though the most enhanced are his stamina and senses. He also has a very strong bite, capable of breaking bones if he bites down hard enough.
He has a helmet styled in the fashion of a Beowulf mask that he wears for intimidation purpoaes and to hide his identity while doing criminal activity. The eyes glow silver and red, and his voice becomes heavily distorted, adding to the monstrous appearance
Has a tough time controlling his more animalistic side
C H A R A C T E R S H E E T
Carver Aureus
“Life's much too short to worry about petty things like laws or decency. Have an affair, punch a hobo, stab somebody, do whatever the hell you want, cause everything's permitted as long as you don't get caught.”
-Carver Aureus
T H E B A S I C S
|Name|
Carver Aureus
|Team|
|Birth Date|
Wouldn't you like to know
|Age|
32
|Race|
Human
|Gender|
Male
|Designation|
Crime Boss, Father figure(?) for Silmefor better or for worse
A P P E A R A N C E
|In Depth Appearance|
Carver is a man blessed with saintly good looks, with sparkling green eyes and straight blonde hair that reach to his shoulders. His figure is what you'd expect of a Hunter, lean and toned, plenty muscular physique and covered with a variety of scars, most of them being old wounds from his hunting days. When it comes to his clothing, he usually wears high-quality dress clothes that have been modified for use in combat while still remaining rather stylish, usually in the forms of jackets, slacks, and dress shoes.
|Scars, Tattoos, Other Markings|
He has a large tattoo that spans the whole of his back and spills over on to his arms, a veritable tapestry of colors that seems to span the rainbow. They shimmer with iridescent colors when shown to the light, and seem to glow when in the dark. Despite their beauty, Carver is very adverse o discussing them and will either dodge the questions or, if people still try to pry, get violent.
G E T T I N G T O K N O W M E
|Likes & Dislikes|
✔ Women(Especially Faunus women), money, Freedom, Silme when he isn't being a little brat, Luxury, messing with the police and Hunters
✘ People mentioning tattoos, people who go back on deals, traitors, mindless violence, self-righteous types, hero types, Uppity rats that don't know their place
Weapon: Never being one to play by the rules, Carver bears two weapons, A mechanized long-sword that can turn into a form of chainsaw by splitting in half, edge-wise, and ejecting a number of inch long serrated blades. His other weapon is a powerful revolver that bears a Dust Applicator, as well as a varied internal barrel. By pressing a button, he can change how the dust effects the bullet, from either simply affecting the bullet, to drawing a line of elemental energy as it travels, to even apply an effect to the target on hit. Not only that, but the bullets it fires have a very high impact, meaning they can do quite a lot of damage if they hit, though consecutive firing is near impossible due to the extreme recoil the weapon has. He can also out fit it with specially designed Aura-piercing rounds, but these are incredible expensive black market items, so he only uses them when faced with no other option.
Semblance: Live Fast, Die Hard; these are the words that he lives by and his his ability reflects that. When active, he gains a slight golden glow, as well as an impressive boost to his speed, but the thing that makes this Semblance dangerous is that when he gets into a fight that stacked against him, he gets even stronger. The more damage he takes and the less Aura he has, the stronger his Semblance becomes, enabling him to move faster and hit harder then he normally be able to. He can also apply his Semblance to a single limb, doubling the boost to speed but only to that limb, making it most useful when he's trying to get a shot on an unsuspecting foe or trying to overwhelm his opponent with a furious flurry of attacks.
Aside from that, Carver is very skilled in the ways of manipulating dust, having had to deal with it being engrained to his skin since birth and being forced to train with his father for experiments. While he may not like it using it, the dust in his skin is something he's very use to using, as he can now launch attacks using it without even a second thought. It's draining, however, to use it too much, hence why he tends to rely on his other skills first, only resorting to dust when he needs to make sure a foe is finished. He can use all forms of elements, as well as mixing them together to form new effects, and the results can be as devastating as they are tiring.
D E L V I N G D E E P E R
|Personality|
♦ Ruthless ♦ Laid back ♦ Care-free ♦ Flirtatious ♦
Carver is a Free spirit, both a lover and a fighter who doesn't care about societal taboos and has a love for the strange and unnatural. This is why he doesn't mind the Faunus like some other humans might, and even prefers them to humans since they seem to be clearly superior. He bears a somewhat odd fixation on women of the Faunus variety(any species of Faunus), and tends to treat them with all kinds of flattery, flirtation, and seduction, though he does this to all women, in truth. Faunus just get special attention.
With men, he tends to be sarcastic jackass with a superiority complex, not really treating themas if they're on the same level as he is. He also tends to demean them heavily and may have played a part in Silme's tendency to insult someone as soon as he sees them, as that's what he tends to do, often with a nickname of sorts. However, don't let his odd behaviors fool you, the man is as heartless and ruthless as they come, if not more so, dealing with everything in his way in a calculated and cool manner. He's broken his share knees and necks to get to where he is today, and will never lose any sleep over it. He beleives in survival of the fittest, and anyone who falls to him deserved to get crushed by his presence.
|Place of Origin|
Vale
|History|
Carver's childhood was a miserable one, as he had the misfortune of having a mad man as his father. Obsessed with discovering the secrets of dust, aura, semblances, and even further along, attempting to replicate the tale of the 4 maidens. To that end, he experimented on a number of hapless people in the shadows of Vale, learning much about the nature of Aura and Semblances that others couldn't even begin to comprehend, but through methods that few others would pursue in order to get the same result. Carver was not born naturally, but was created using the life force of many, meant to be a perfect being in every way. As Carver grew up, however, he began to notice something.
He was better than his father, which was inevitably followed by the fact that he was better than everyone else as well.
This didn't give him an arrogant attitude or excessive pride, just a simple realization that he shouldn't have to listen to those who are inferior to him. So, once he learned everything there was to know from his father, he left the man to stare at his burning hime, all of his discoveries set to torch to prevent another him form being made. The last he saw of his father was the man trying to rush into the building and reclaim his research. After that day, Carver was taken in by a nice family at the age of 14 and soon became known as a prodigy among prodigies. It was here that he learned all their was to know about Hunting Grimm, about the world at large, and many, many more things. He eventually became a hunter and had a grand life, but he felt . . . constrained by the laws set in place by those who couldn't understand his superiority. It ate at him, killing his desire to do anything day by day until, finally, he had enough. Tired of it all, he faked his own death at the hands of a Grimm, then went off to pursue a career that fit more with his beliefs. Apparently, that career was being a crime boss
|Relations with other characters|
Silme's father figure
|Extra| |
55,967 | 1,533 | 27 | 843 | 1,812 | Mikoto clenched her teeth, fighting the urge to grab the offending finger and rip it our of its socket. But other than that gave no sign of tensing up. Mentally though, she was already in combat mode. True, Paddy told her to stay put, but if it was self defense it would be perfectly fine. She would just have to provoke him to be the first one to get physical, which honestly didn't seem so hard. "Spoken like a true primitive. And I wondered why they think of us so low, but with people like you still breathing it is starting to make a bit more sense." she shot back in equally mocking tone.
Her right arm slid down form behind her back and hung along her body, resting over Quilltact's hiding place and ready to draw if necessary. Her eyes sized up the pathetic excuse for a man next to her. Mikoto was pretty certain she could put him to the ground if it came to it. Taking a few faster paces, Mikoto walked past this Silme before turning around and walking backwards, her red eyes pointed at the guy's. "And how do you suppose the oppression started, hm? The humans though themselves superior. Seems exactly like what you are doing. It came to bite the humans in the ass. Are you certain you want to go down this road?" she asked, one eyebrow raised and toying with the thought of casting a sheet of ice under this mongrel's feet. | Mikoto Kage
“Who am I? Let’s see. If you’re a hunter, I guess that makes me... a Hunterkiller?”
-Mikoto
Race: Faunus (Mute Swan)
Gender: Female
Age: 17
Nationality: Vale
Designation: Police academy cadet
Mikoto is part of a forming special unit. The hunterkillers are, as the name suggests, specially trained to take on hunters, who are the most respected fighters. Every time a hunter went rogue in the past has been a big problem, and unit like this is meant to contain the problem quickly.
Team: N/A
Appearance:
Mikoto stands circa 178 centimeters tall, with her platform boots giving her what she needs to 180. She is quite strong for her age, being participating in several combat competitions and police training. She weighs about 63 kilos. Her most prominent faunus feature are the two swan wings on her back that have the span of about 200 cm.
Mikoto’s face is dominated by her piercing, bright red eyes. She has an eastern complexion, the slightly yellow skin tone contrasting with her anthracite hair that she usually keeps at shoulder length and well kempt. Her body build is focused more on strength rather than stamina, packing up quite some muscle mass and low fat percentage.
Her battledress consists of a pair of knee high, gray platform boots, black pants and blouse and a gray armored jacket. Coming from rich background, her battledress is trimmed in dark red and gold. She wears red padded gloves to battle. The jacket is modified to allow her wings to unfold and they can be held concealed by a special harness. The jacket comes equipped with magnetic holsters on the lower back for her weapons and several pockets.
When in need of more formal wear, she likes a red trench coat with matching high heels. She modified it to be able to conceal her wings and weapons underneath without looking out of place.
History:
Mikoto was born into the relatively average Kage family living in Mountain Glenn. A mixed family of Vacuo immigrants, her faunus side wasn’t obvious to anyone else in the first two years of her age, before her wings hit a growth spurt. Still, it was another year before she came to the usual faunus problems, having to attend mixed kindergarten.
She managed to bear with it for a year, but when she was four, she finally snapped and beat up one boy that made a comment, sending him to a doctor with a broken nose. She spent her days mostly alone since then as many of the children were afraid of her.
Just as she was about to go to the school for the first time, a rogue hunter on the run from the police destroyed several houses to hinder his pursuers, and Mikoto’s family perished in the attack. Her semblance awoke for the first time, which is what saved her as she extinguished the dust caused fires around her and was able to run through walls to safety. She was then sent to an orphanage in the main city of Vale, but spent her days mostly alone.
When she reached the age of ten, she was adopted by a wealthy family. While initially believing herself to be lucky, she quickly found out her adoptive ‘father’ only wanted her as a Faunus poster child to improve PR, having to adopt a new name against her wishes. While she was given anything money could buy, they didn’t give her the loving family she wanted the most. Her two stepsisters ignored and hated her respectively, but later she formed a love-hate relationship with the younger sister, sharing an interest in fighting and being grateful for the sister at least being honest about hating what she is.
At the age of twelve, Mikoto started attending one of the local combat schools, flat out rejecting being home schooled despite her stepfather’s insistence.
A few years later, her skill grown very good, and she started placing high in competitions. That lead to some media attention to the happiness of her stepfather. However, her story was soon brought to light, making her start withdrawing from people again. She turned to homeschooling and made an uneasy alliance with her younger step sister who was growing tired of her family as well.
After two years of working for the company to fund her plan, she set off to attend Beacon, severing all ties with her adoptive ‘family’ and intending to start again, on her own. Unfortunately, the Initiation proven once and for all that her combat skills were much more suited to fighting a human opponent rather than the Grimm. It had an unforeseen consequence for her though - the police department contacted her with an offer to join a newly formed unit where her skills would be of great use once she graduated from the police academy.
Personality:
Mikoto doesn't actively seek out conversation but she will not shy away from one. The girl is patient and overlooking many things addressed to her faunus side, but she has her limits.
Whereas normally she is well mannered and will go out of her way not to offend people no matter what she may think of them, in a fight or when angered, she is dominated by her emotions, not her reason.
While her anger is cold and calculated, you do not wish to enrage her, as if you push her that far, she will lose all sense and just go berserk on you.
She hates those unlawful with a fiery passion, although rich people and racists are pretty high on the list as well. Despite how she was treated, she is trying to be forgiving, believing it's the only way to achieve some degree of peace in the world.
The girl battles many internal demons and even though she portrays herself as a strong person with a healthy dose of disdain, she can be fragile on the inside. What disturbs her more than most is the thought of losing someone close to her again. She also isn’t too fond of spiders and tight spaces. Her main motivation to keep on living is getting others to accept her because of who she is, not what she is.
In her downtime, she likes to power down and relax, whether that means sleeping all day, stuffing herself with bacon and coffee or reading tales of ancient mythologies with a glass (or a bottle) of rum on hand. If others have to be involved, she wouldn’t say no to a fantasy movie or (window) shopping. Mikoto has a weakness for sporty personal shuttles.
Being a choleric faunus comes with it’s own list of hatreds, like water (which make her wings heavy and useless) or cold (which she feels more due to her higher body temperature). For some reason, the taste of potatoes makes her want to hurl, much like the cheesy romance movies or the boring historical novels. She gets violent on trolls and hates criminals above all else for taking her family and normal life from her, putting them in the same sack with the Grimm.
Skills:
Being adopted by a wealthy family, she was taught self defense and took liking to combat. Trained in a universal style, she can make use of nearly every weapon, although she prefers light, more nimble instruments like her swordwand or a dagger. Her technique focuses on precise, quick and powerful attacks while conserving energy between them. As she knew she had a semblance from long before, she pushed to get herself a full combat education to perfect her aura mastery. Later in her years her fighting style developed into something brutal, intending to not only just destroy the enemy, but make them suffer. It is even reflected in the modifications she made to her weapons, like using serrated blades, or ditching a shield for a secondary dagger.
Life in the high class however also lead to some duties. As an adoptive member of a family owning the Remnant’s leading company producing musical instruments, she can play nearly anything. Being cast as a PR figure, she is used to appearing in front of masses and can be politically correct in most situations.
From her life in the orphanage, she picked up some minor survival skills, although she lived in luxury for so long it would take her time to adjust back to it.
While her weapons might give the impression that Mikoto is a swordswoman, she is in fact a dust caster, capable of weaving the Nature’s Wrath into nearly anything she needs given enough time. She uses three categories of moves - First are those she practices often enough to be able to perform them with thought alone. The second less frequent she needs a focusing agent, such as a phrase or a sequence of tones to help her summon the attack. Last but not least, Mikoto can achieve anything she has enough aura, dust and time for through drawing magic circles.
Powers:
Her faunus heritage gives Mikoto several capabilities she can use for great effect. First and foremost, she can use her wings to heighten and extend her jumps to about twice that of a human, or to glide and soften her fall. They are, however, too small for her to fly. The lack of tail used to be a problem, but she smartly modified her battledress with a half-cape that is attachable to her boots that can substitute well enough.
Her bones are less dense than that of a usual human, contributing to her overall low weight, which unfortunately break more easily if her aura is brought down. Her metabolism is faster, making the girl quite a glutton and yet unable to gain any weight and moving her average body temperature to about 40°C.
Having both large reserve and skill to wield it efficiently, Mikoto’s aura is on the more impressive side of the scale. Its color is pure white, and it manifests as quills falling around her.
Semblance - Arcane destroyer: Mikoto's body becomes an intangible spectre and her voice gains a creepy reverb to it. Her weapon is also surrounded in the same substance of white color. In this state, Mikoto can not be physically harmed, however she still hurts the same if her aura fails to block an attack, and she loses the ability to parry with her weapons. If the 'damage' is sufficient, she will forcibly revert back to normal, more often than not incapacitated by hurting as much as if she was actually dealt the blows. In this state, dust based spells tend to break up on contact with her, hence the name.
Equipment:
Collapsible Swordwand Dust Carrier - Swan Song: A swordwand that can be converted from one to the other simply by sliding the guard down the grip. This action retracts or extends the blade into the blunt part of the weapon. As such, the weapon is primarily designed for stabbing attacks rather than slashing, although it is capable of both. The counterweight can hold dust crystals, and Mikoto is particularly fond of the fire ones. The blade is made from dust-enhanced black metal that seems to be reflecting shadows rather than light.
Tactical Dust Carrier - Quilltact: A dagger with perforated blade holding three dust capsules, usually the remaining types to complement the Swansong’s fire crystals. Mikoto built a flute into the hilt which she uses as a focus help to cast some of her more demanding spells.
Extra:
Voice: Anna Hutchison
Theme: Gåte - Sjå Attende
Mikoto is ambidextrous.
She is bi, leaning towards girls. |
55,968 | 1,533 | 28 | 1,449 | 5,931 | Echo Marine, Tawne Adagio
The under-her-breath murmur of the purple-haired girl did not, no doubt to her chagrin, penetrate the steady hum of the festival-going crowd to reach Echo’s ears. Fully prepared to lean over and request, with as much non-irate courtesy as she could muster, the response again, Echo paused and changed focus when Umeko replied instead. The headband-clad girl’s infectious smile prompted one from Echo, who reciprocated her silent appraisal. Umeko clearly held a knowledgeable affinity for fashion, combining stylishness and functionality with an affable manner that totally contrasted her dull-eyed companion as far as Echo could tell. An affirmative nod confirmed Umeko’s guess, sending her sensational bun bouncing to boot. ”Mhm! Strongest chick around, most like.” She glanced at the quiet one, wondering why one might be recalcitrant having inserted herself into the middle of a fairground.
Her attention soon returned to Umeko, and in short order she could color herself impressed by her new acquaintance’s powers of observation. Again she nodded, still contaminated by Umeko’ amicable grin. ”Yep! Atlas born an’ raised.” The other girl’s comment on Tearlag’s nature clarified Echo’s pondering somewhat. ”Oh. No worries. There’s a sayin’ I heard: those who speak don’t know, and those who know don’t speak. In other words: fear the quiet ones. I’m sure y’all are gonna make a big splash in the tournament.” Her focus wavered a touch while Umeko delivered her next remark, but Echo thought she got the essence of it. ”You do kinda look like the modelin’ type. Guess if ya wanna start up some merch, you’re gonna have to win big at the fights. Hey, maybe I’ll get an action figure or somethin’. Wonder who’ll get somethin’ first: you or me? Hm.”
At that moment, the metal shack burst open. Out of it stalked Tawne, his glasses in his hands and a mightily pissed look on his face. Multicolored powders blanketed him head to toe, giving him the impression of an abstract art piece. Mr. Phlox, who’d been standing by the door with an almost eager demeanor, furrowed his eyebrows in what might have been mock confusion when Tawne threw him a sourly indignant look. ”You little bastard. Forget ‘challenge chamber’! That was some sort of twisted humiliation box. If I had been wearing my good clothes, I’d-a slugged you right now.” Looking closely, however, a skilled observer might detect traces of concealed mirth in his eyes. After a moment, Tawne snorted. ”You better trick lots more people, and a lot worse than you tricked me. What’s your deal, even? You hate hunters or something?” Phlox clasped his hands together and inhaled, but Tawne cut in again before he could speak. ”Wait, no, sorry. Couldn’t give a crap about your backstory. Carry on…prick.” Grumbling, the living rainbow looked around, and upon spotting Echo he made his way over.
”I wish I thought of something like that. Most academy hunters are so full of themselves, they could use being knocked down a peg by some goof like him.” He put his glasses back on, and through the powdery coating examined Umeko and Tearlag thoroughly. An incredulous look sailed Echo’s way. ”Making friends? Echo, how could you? You broke your eighteen-year-streak. ‘Scuse me, ladies.” With no further warning, Tawne whipped around. Like a top he span rapidly in place, and the powder carpeting him showered off onto the ground and, if they did not move, the girls. Echo, at least, managed to step away far enough so that only a shoe changed color. Even after, however, his hair was a ridiculous blend of blue, green, yellow, and orange—not that he could tell. ”Ah! I feel almost…normal. Anyhoo, who’s youse?” | Name: Tawne Adagio
Team: BEAT
Birth Date: August 31st
Age: 18
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Designation: Sophomore Student at Atlas Academy
-=-=-
In Depth Appearance: Tawne is of slighty above average height and physical condition, giving him a wiry frame. Long, nimble fingers give him admirable dexterity. His face sports a cleft chin, green eyes, and a rounded nose. Tawne's hair is nearly platinum blonde, practically sun-colored, and very bright. It falls to about his chin, but is commonly kept brushed back. His green eyes match the green-tinted panes of his black glasses.
Tawne's favorite clothes for times of action are loosely ceremonial, and vividly colored except for a loose black undershirt. A yellow-range mantle hangs down his front and back, kept in place by a wrap around his neck. A gray scarf with an intricate, white, curvy design serves him as a belt. On his arms and feet are leather vambraces and boots of the same style. Deep red pants complete the ensemble.
Weapon: Sticky Keys is a weapon both comically brutal and gloriously inelegant. This bizarre armament combines a keyboard with a butcher's cleaver, its single huge blade jutting out from the instrument's forward side. Handles exist at both the top and bottom of the weapon for strategic gripping, though the top one hides a special feature: a trigger for the double-barreled shotgun embedded in the weapon's top. Never meant for accuracy or delicacy, this shotgun serves as a powerful deterrent to anyone believing the cleaver blade to be easy to get around.
Semblance: Tawne's semblance, Spinout, comes into effect with anything in his vicinity that starts to spin, be it a ball, a weapon, or himself. Spinout enhances the spin, increasing speed and force while stabilizing trajectory, all of which ramp up over time. For instance, Tawne can throw a ball and have it fly perfectly straight, then grind into a target. He can perform enhanced lariats, rolls, tornado throws, and even hurricane kicks. Spinout derives from his tendency to be either brash or crazy in trying times, and to put a unique spin on whatever comes his way.
-=-=-
Personality: In essence, Tawne tends to play by his own somewhat loony rules. He's intelligent and quick-witted but with a snarky and sarcastic bent, quick to make jokes about and trivialize things that might matter to others. He views taking things too seriously as 'tryharding', and anathema to fun--which is what truly matters to him. Tawne loves a good time, whether playing games, making music, or fighting. Despite his general acidity and brashness, he actually does really enjoy hanging out with others, and will work tirelessly to return kindness to those who show it to him. To those close to him, he is equal parts irritating and inseparable. When things get tough, Tawne tends to go nuts, acting with a rather manic vigor. While possessed of a decent self-esteem, Tawne is intensely self-depreciating, though whether this is a joke at his expense or at egotists' few can rightly say. Despite his cynicism and slight kookiness, Tawne is kept firmly on the side of justice and goodness by his spirituality.
Place of Origin: Canopy, Atlas
History: In the city of Canopy in Atlas, a couple with no desire or need to marry became a family. From an early age it was evident that Tawne took after both the keen intelligence of his mother, the banker Saffron, and the creative wisdom of his father, the pianist Gormon. He also displayed an inability to mesh with other children, often driving them away with his sharp sense of humor and sometimes hurtful bluntness. Nevertheless, he exhibited an endearing kind of annoying, and his parents loved him. Other adults often felt surprised to see the compassionate and helpful side of the boy who often needled their children in school. Tawne, meanwhile found the fulfillment in religion that he did not get from other kids; it was spirituality that inspired him to do the best he could in life.
During his education, it became clear that Tawne delighted in music as much as his father, but rather than take an interest in finance he found satisfaction and creative potential in combat. As such, the government moved him into Atlas Academy when the time came, and there he found both a blend of his two passions and a few individuals who really understood him: his teammates. Tawne continued to devote himself to the rigors of education, though never abandoning his cuttingly jovial nature.
Relations with other Players: Tawne is fast friends with his teammate Albus. Though the two are vastly disparate in a variety of ways, they have formed a powerful bond of friendship, pretty much brothers in arms. Working together remarkably well, they are ideal partners both in music and in battle, able to coordinate attacks for maximum effectiveness and humiliation. If some sort of prank is going down, you can be sure that these two aren't far from it.
Extra: My semblance would be sneezing at gale force winds. |
55,969 | 1,533 | 29 | 1,894 | 5,788 | Burgundy listened to Silme's monologue and Mikoto's additions quietly. Her skirt shifted slightly, seemingly blowing in the light breeze. She was more than aware in just how far the Faunus have to go to reach equality. Silme was using his freedom to stomp on the world Faunus were trying to make equal. He did have points, Burgundy accepted that, but such aggression was the way to handle the situation. Talk like that would make the humans fear the Faunus and hate them even more than they do now. Now was the time for the Faunus to show how good they could be in the world.
With little to say to Samuel or the two teens, Burgundy placed her money down on the table for all the food she had eaten and walked away. Her teammates were doing who knows what, but she knew that they would be fine. Silme, though speaking fervently about how long thee Faunus had to go, didn't seem to respect the freedom that they had now. He had the freedom to say what he wanted, no matter how bad it was, and using his freedoms like that was rather disrespectful. the Faunus were still hard at work for true equality and recognition, and hopefully there would be a little more building of relations before the inevitable turn for the worse. | Name: Echo Marine?
Team: BEAT
Birth Date: May 2nd
Age: 18
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Designation: Sophomore Student at Atlas Academy
In Depth Appearance: Echo is a tall, strongly-built girl, with long legs, wide shoulders, and wide hips. Her skin is approximately mocha in tone, and contrasts extravagently with her poofy blue hair, which is tied back in a bush except for jagged bangs. Fairly thick eyebrows, full lips, and a near-permanent smirk distinguish her face.
On the battlefield or the stage, Echo's attire of choice is a gray crop-sleeved sweaterskirt, yellow bows as her hairtie and her belt, streamlined cotton pants, and white tennis shoes with yellow soles. Black elastic wraps adorn her arms, extending into fingerless gloves. This garb overall displays a simple functionality, though not without its own assertive style.
Weapon: The simple title of Echo's weapon, the Boomstick, masks a great degree of sophistication and flexibility seemingly unfit for a brutish hammer. To begin, the Boomstick is an immense mallet, meant to be swung with both hands. The force of a proper swing is capable of making dents in Grimm armor plates and metal alike. Though slower and not as adaptable as a blade or even a mace, this huge weapon nevertheless boasts a highly effective inelegance masked beneath a hip exterior.
More interesting than the Boomstick's raw pummeling capabilities, however, are the two sound-based devices built into it. Lying well-sheltered in the hammerhead, an extremely potent boombox creates forceful reverberations in the vicinity of the weapon when swung, giving the Boomstick an area-of-effect capable of launching things it isn't even touching. Additionally, a microphone exists in the bottom of the Boomstick's handle, though this serves more of an entertainment purpose than a tactical one.
Semblance: Stemming from Echo's unwillingness to back down even when greatly challenged, her semblance Run it Back restores her own aura to its level a few moments ago, making her resistent to burst damage and even able to stay in a fight when she might otherwise be taken down. This talent's nature as a sort of 'second wind' however, prevents her using her ability more than once or twice per fight, leading her to save it for big moments. The ability is extremely taxing on her body, and even two uses has great effects on her soon after, requiring her to finish a fight quickly after using her semblance.
Personality: In a word, adamant. Echo is proud, resolute in what she believes in, and strong-willed to the point of obnoxiousness. Despite being overly inclined to prefer everything being done her way, she will relent if sufficiently convinced—a quality she shamelessly touts as being representative of her consideration for others' thoughts, which she lacks. Though of average intelligence, she is less proficient than most in picking up on the feelings of others. She doesn't ever let her opponents get through to her, thinking this to be an act of submission; for instance, if slandered for her weight, Echo might turn it around to point out that she's not trying to pretend she's something she's not. Echo also tends to hold grudges. Despite being self-centered and somewhat arrogant, she is not in the least bit mean-spirited and will not actively seek to hurt the feelings or attack the beliefs of others, and if she discovers she has done so, she will apologize.
On the flipside, Echo exhibits a loyalty and reliability that make her a steadfast ally, if not a steadfast friend. The military tradition of her family perseveres in her, and Echo remains optimistic despite the tragedies and struggles of the world to inspire confidence and toughness in others. All in all, she is an indomitable spirit, for better or worse, whose confidence can be both self-destructive and self-preservative.
Place of Origin: Atlas
Relations with other Players:
Burgundy - Echo holds a certain level of respect for Burgundy. Not only because she is the leader of the team, but also due to the fact that she always appears to be on the top of her game. she seems to view Burgundy in the same prodigal light that many of the faculty in the academy do, but her respect is not to be mistaken for idolism. The two tend to make jokes about one another, Echo's favorite one being a half true statement in how she believes that men should be throwing themselves at her feet and forming a reverse harem for her. It usaully gets a good laugh out of the both of them. Despite how close the two are, she is still unaware of the rigorous training that Burgundy sneaks off to to maintain her status as a pending specialist.
Albus -The two are quite the odd pair. They speak like a couple and are more open with eachother than they actually know. Their relationship can be described as 'Tough Love'. They share insults together without even knowing that they are both actually giving eachother a piece of themselves. But in combat Albus and Echo do not work well together like Albus does with Tawne.
Tawne - Echo and Tawne represent a compromising clash. More than anyone else on the team, and often more than anyone else they know, Echo and Tawne butt heads on the smallest of issues, seemingly just for the sake of it. Since day one, each has treated one another like a sibling, with a great deal of understanding and care veiled behind an equal but much more visible quantity of teasing, calling out, and competition. Both strive to be the 'big brother' of the relationship.
This get's the Pyro Seal of approval, and is automatically accepted. |
55,970 | 1,533 | 30 | 1,288 | 1,334 | Kawaguchi Umeko
"You looked like the Atlas type." The Atlesian-born Shade student commented, about to respond to the rest of Echo's statements when a... Rainbow disaster, suddenly entered their sphere of influence. She watched the goings-on between this disaster and the apparent cause of it with a mixture of confusion and something approaching curiosity, but she wrinkled her nose in distaste when the rainbow dust threatened her attire. The faintest application of her Semblance brought the encroaching cloud into a clean, stable orbit around her. Rather than reach her it moved smoothly around her, cloaking her in a thick, vaguely spherical rainbow cloud. It broke off its orbit a few moments later, the change in trajectory sending it to disperse harmlessly behind her, but she still brushed off the sleeves of her jacket as though it had reached her.
"I am Kawaguchi Umeko, and my teammate and I were just talking with Echo. I don't I met you, Mister...?" | Name: 川口 梅子 (Kawaguchi Umeko)
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Age: 18
Nationality: Atlesian Origin, Vacuuan Affiliation
Team: TSUN (Tsunami)
Designation: Huntress
Appearance: Standing slightly taller than average, albeit not by much, Umeko clearly cares about her appearance. Her clothes are, without exception, kept immaculately clean and worn in specific combinations planned out long in advance. She wears them quite well, too; Umeko is unquestionably a striking individual. She's built like a fighter, with a solid stance and toned limbs, but her choice of style usually makes her seem much more lithe than she is. Her brown hair is straight and shoulder length, worn differently depending on what she thinks will look best. Umeko is almost always grinning a wide, amiable grin like she wants the entire world to be her friend and invites them to be so. The deep blue eyes set above that grin are highly expressive, and very much the gateway to whatever Umeko is thinking.
Her clothes tend towards the blue end of the spectrum, but their style is incredibly variable. On a daily basis, when attending classes, she generally wears something close to the traditional Atlesian student uniform, in spite of her actual affiliation. She bends this habit for formal events, during which she does don the official Shade uniform. Casually, on the other hand, her wardrobe is nearly infinite; clothes for every occasion, every type of weather, and every temperature. Light jackets are quite common, as is the occasional sweater. Most casual settings will see her in jeans, but the odd semi-formal will prompt the use of a skirt. Wherever she goes, Umeko wants to be the best dressed in the room.
She does have an outfit that could be considered something of a signature, however. A pair of dark blue jeans paired with classy (but intentionally durable) shoes paired with a deep blue top. Over that she adds a waist-length white jacket, with the emblem of Shade stitched in black over what appear to be devil horns on either shoulder. She's never seen, regardless of her attire, without her headband and rarely without her white messenger bag,
Personality: Umeko is friendly, oblivious, and a little too eager to show off. She thrives on being the center of attention, having the most friends, and standing in the shining spotlight. At least that's the disposition she likes to show to the world. The truth is much, much more layered. The hordes of acquaintances and casual friends are kept at arms length, prevented from seeing past the veneer they're supposed to see. Beneath the mask is a much more contemplative young woman, someone much more sensible than her almost arrogant public persona implies. Umeko realized, quite a long time ago, that her peers (and elders) tended to underestimate her due to her bubbly nature and fashion-oriented interests. So why not use that to her advantage?
The real Kawaguchi Umeko is highly driven, and paradoxically, infinitely more willing to criticize someone the more she cares about them. Such criticisms, truth be told, are often emphatic, occasionally angry, and very impassioned. But on the other side of the same coin, those she cares about can be subject to displays of loyalty or affection that would seldom be extended to one of her superficial 'friends'. The truest sign of her friendship is being permitted to see underneath the public facade.
Fighting Style: Despite the attitude she projects, Umeko is a devastating all-range fighter. Lacking in raw power, she instead focuses on technique and battlefield control. The White Devil's forms give her both offensive and defensive capabilities at all ranges, and her Semblance gives her the ability to alter her environment a little as needed. Her preference, most of the time, is to act as a mid-to-close range combatant. Her rifle, and its sword form, give her the precision she needs to land dangerously precise strikes while her shield ensures she can take hits just as well as give them. But given the nature of her team, she is not the only (or necessarily the best) suited for this role. When the situation requires she transitions smoothly into acting as mid-to-long range fire support, using her remote shield bits to harass the enemy from any angle, and her rifle to hit where it hurts. Her Semblance is no slouch in this role, either, as it allows her to redirect shrapnel and detritus in creative ways.
Simply put, Umeko will adapt to any scenario one attempts to force her in as best she can. And much of the time, that is quite well. After a bout with her in the arena, few ever quite buy into her seemingly oblivious nature ever again.
Weapons/Equipment: Remnant Expansion (Prototype) #78 Unit 2 Grimm-Use Non-Demanding Armament Machine ver. White Devil: The White Devil started life as a project for the Atlesian military. Atlas has long believed in recruiting their Hunters into service as Atlesian Specialists, but the common Atlesian soldier has never been able to go toe-to-toe with the foes that Hunters handled. They had to rely on strength of numbers, not individual capabilities. The Grimm-Use series was intended to permit the common soldier the adaptability to handle as many foes as a Hunter, if not with quite as much skill. In fact that was the purpose; a set of equipment that could be used for maximum effect, with minimum skill. The project showed promise, but ultimately was a casualty of Atlas’ changing goals. They no longer wanted to increase a soldier’s effectiveness, they wanted to take the soldier off the battlefield entirely.
So Sunrise Industries, the contractor for its development, mothballed the project. The five units that had been produced were put into storage and forgotten. Sunrise Industries itself, unable to keep up with the changing mindset, declared bankruptcy a few short years later and its assets were liquidated. The five prototypes were sent to auction, while the Atlesian military’s active contracts were subsumed by other contractors. And that was when they fell into Umeko’s hands.
The White Devil consists of two primary parts; a handheld semiautomatic railgun rifle, and a large quadrilateral shield. The railgun operates by using lightning Dust to generate the magnetic field necessary to launch a projectile along two rails at exceptionally high velocities, making the weapon highly destructive to compensate for its low rate of fire. Using a trigger mechanism in the handle the railgun converts to a long, slim sword. This sword uses the same lightning Dust to superheat the blade’s edge, drastically increasing its penetrating power.
The shield, in its base configuration, is just that; a shield. It secures itself parallel Umeko’s forearm, with a handle gripped in her left hand, and can be easily used to defend against attacks. Its secondary uses, on the other hand, are much less obvious. The handle is connected to the rest of the shield by two long cords, and the handle contains a small motor to retract or release those cables with the press of a button. The shield itself splits in half, both halves folding to create a rail-based firing aperture similar to that of her rifle. These halves fire a laser based on technology being developed for a separate Atlesian project. In this form the halves of the shield use Gravity Dust to become weightless. Like the cables that connect them to their handle, the firing mechanisms are controlled by an adjacent button.
Both halves of the White Devil have storage forms for noncombat situations. The rifle folds to stow away inside the shield, which uses the seams for its transformation to become a rigid messenger bag.
The final piece of Umeko’s equipment, developed independently of the rest,is a visor and earpiece that contains the functionality of a Scroll while providing eye protection from both shrapnel and blinding light. Outside of combat the device looks very much like an unusual headband. Upon activation it flips down and the v-shaped antennae deploy above her forehead.
Semblance: Center of Attention: Umeko can control the relative gravitational attractions generated by an object. All objects, however small, exert some degree of gravitational pull on all the other objects around them. Umeko can affect the intensity of these pulls, allowing her to manipulate the gravity generated. Most commonly this is used to cause objects to fall into a stable orbit around her, or another object, mistakenly leading many to believe she controls the orbit of objects. The reality is much more nuanced in its potential applications.
History: In Atlas, name and standing is everything. The Schnees are but the most well-known example. What matters is what you have, who you know, and how you got there. If you weren't born with a silver spoon in your mouth you'll spend your entire life kicking and punching to claim one. Everyone knows the names of each industry's titans, but few will remember the small families you meet on the street. In that way, Kawaguchi Umeko is of little note. A deep search of her history will find a modest career in modeling for different magazines, fashion in particular, and her transcripts from Atlas' academy for young hunters and huntresses. A deeper search will find little more about the Kawaguchi family. Simply another foot note in Atlesian history.
Unless one happened to find her birth certificate, and discover that she was born Umeko Huntian, not Kawaguchi. Unlike Kawaguchi, the name 'Huntian' is known to many. The Huntians have been joined at the hip with Atlas' military-industrial complex for generations, supporting, funding, or running dozens of different weapon manufacturers over the years. They made themselves rich off of Atlas' military generations ago, and kept the family interests in good shape through every highpoint and recession since. After all, with the Grimm out there, there'll always be a need for weapons. The Huntians rubbed shoulders with the elite, and were quite content to stay within their echelon. Until, that is, one of the family's minor heirs fell in love with a young worker at the head office.
Robert Huntian's, in his family's eyes, ill-planned love resulted in Umeko's birth. Though he had every intention of sticking with the family he had created, the mastermind of the Huntian empire were less than pleased by the idea. Robert eventually succumbed to the pressures of his more business-minded relations, and returned to the family's good graces. He made sure Umeko and her mother were very well cared for, with as much money as they needed to live comfortably. A share of this money, every month, went into an account in Umeko's name for her to use when she was old enough. Umeko herself grew up attending the kingdom's best academies, with few illusions over the circumstances of her birth. Even fewer about her standing compared to her peers.
Some combination of these truths lead her, at the age of eleven, to discard the Huntian name. From that point on every document was handled using her mother's name, and Umeko Huntian vanished from the paper trails of the Atlesian government. When one of the Huntian empire's investments, Sunrise Industries, went belly-up a year later she found herself drawn towards the liquidation auction and from there to her calling.
While the next generation of Huntians were groomed for business, Umeko entered into Atlas' school for hunters. Her own funds, carefully tucked away until she was old enough, were in good standing when she became a teenager. They were soon supplemented by work done on the side, showcasing fashion and gear in magazines geared towards hunters and huntresses, and invested carefully according to advice and careful consideration. When Kawaguchi Umeko entered Atlas' answer to Signal, no one knew who she was. By the time she left she had made herself known as a highly capable fighter, and a charismatic individual.
It was her success that lead her to leave Atlas. It is no secret, in any of the kingdoms, that the Atlesian specialists were usually recruited from the best of Atlas' training facilities. If she carried on into the next school, she might face the same recruitment efforts. So she packed her bags, gathered what resources were hers, and moved to Vacuo to attend Shade.
Relations with other characters: N/A
Extra: My semblance... Probably something to do with tech, honestly |
55,971 | 1,533 | 31 | 1,918 | 8,262 | Silme Raana
Silme's gait slowed to a halt as he turned to look at the girl who was obviously itching to start something with him. He wasn't stupid, he could taste the set up in the air. But at this moment, he couldn't give a crap about that, because right now, he wanted to kick this little cadet's ass all across town. He'd turn around and continue walking in silence, but his course would change, taking them a little bit away from the festival grounds. If Mikoto decided to follow him, they'd arrive in a beaten down looking clearing in the back alleies of this concrete jungle.
He'd step out into the middle of the area, turn around to glare at the cadet, before gesturing towards her with a hand. "I don't think further debate will solve anything, so let's just cut to the chase. Also, since you'rr a dumbass bitch cadet with no idea what she's talking about and can't see the difference between disliking the police and being a racist asshole, I think you should go first. That way, when I fucking curb-stomp your flat-chested, holier-than-thou ass, you can't say I didn't give you a chance. So come on, bitch, let's do this already."
Silme slid into a fighting stance, resisting the urge to fucking charge her and smack her idiotic face into the dirt. But he wanted to have an idea of what he could be dealing with. This was also the reason he didn't have his Scarlet Ravagers out, as he didn't to give her any idea about his fighting style either. | C H A R A C T E R S H E E T
Silme Raana
“You keep staring and you're going to lose an eye."
-Silme Raana, Age 10
T H E B A S I C S
|Name|
Silme Raana
|Team|
MASK
|Birth Date|
|Age|
17
|Race|
Timber Wolf Faunus
|Gender|
Male
|Designation|
reluctant Student, Secret Criminal
A P P E A R A N C E
|In Depth Appearance|
Silme is on the taller side, being around 6ft tall with room to grow, his silver hair cut short in a wild, unkempt style to keep it from getting in the way of his fighting. His eyes are a fierce amber color, closer in appearance to that of his animal lineage, especially when his instincts start to take over. He has a lean muscled figure covered with scars from his numerous criminal escapades, as well as a tattoo on his arm of a snarling wolf. As for his Faunus features, he has an easily noticeable pair of wolf ears on his head, as well as a tail, claws, and sharp canines that he's all to ready to use if needed.
G E T T I N G T O K N O W M E
|Likes & Dislikes|
✔ fighting, other Faunus, Scarlet Ravagers, taking humans down a pegor six,
✘ being alone, people in general, Faunus who try and 'fit in'Domesticated fuckwads, Humans, hyper people, being touched, being told what to do, authority, Carver, Carver's weird habits, Hunters
Weapon: The Scarlet Ravagers: He uses a pair of Specialized Customizable Clawed Gauntlets that he can alter for various combat and utility functions, as well as changing into either a pair of Customized SMGs, with rapid- and burst-fire modes, for him to dual wield, or into two double-sided short swords. All variations of weapons can be augmented with Dust cartridges for various effects and attacks.
He can also use them as a means of traversal by firing out the claws as a form of grappling hook attached to a good amount of strong, lightweight metal cable.
Fighting Style: Hit them faster and hit them hard, he is a Striker type fighter, extremely good at offense even against superior numbers. However, his defensive capabilities aren't the greatest, but they aren't the worst either. To help with this style, he's actually augmented his Aura so that it gives more of a physical power boost at the cost of it's defensive capabilities, making him a good deal stronger and a great deal faster than most, but taking hits is something he tries to avoid.
Sembalance: Corrosion, It is a very offensive Sembalance that allows Silme to imbue his attacks with a reddish-silver aura. This Aura is extremely effective at dealing damage, but it's usefulness truly shines when it comes with dealing with heavily armored enemies. With this ability, he can easily weaken most types of armor so and items, making him very effective at damaging and even destroying the weapons of others to lessen their combat effciency.He can even apply his ability against the defensive aura of others, though it isn't as effective, it still allows him to do more damage then normal.
D E L V I N G D E E P E R
|Personality|
♦ Aggresive ♦ Rebellious ♦ Somewhat Clueless ♦ Short-Temper♦
Silme is a loner by trade, and while he'll deny it vehemently, he really wishes he wasn't. He wants to connect with people, have real friends and family again, but he's afraid that he'll just get left behind again, abandoned by those he loved the most. Outwardly and in public, however, he's very abrasive, blunt, and vulgar, ready to speak his mind and pounce on anyone who tries to stop him(sometimes literally). The surest way to get on his shit list is to tell him what to do, as he hates that more than anything, especially if it's a human.
As far as fighting goes, he'll use evey advantage to win and will fight to the ducking end with all the feral energy of a wild beast. Now a trained killer, he'll have no problem ending his foes of the need arises, though not a second before. He has some sense of honor in that he won't fight a helpless opponent or murder innocents, but other than that, he can head cold and heartless as Carver himself.
|Place of Origin|
Vale
|History|
Silme is the son of two well-respected hunters, who were also terrible parents. While they did love their son, they were always out on the job, protecting others from danger while neglecting the one who needed them most. Then, they simply never came back, having gone MIA in the line of duty. Silme spent a few weeks devesatated by the loss, but that sadness soon turned to anger, distrust, and deep seated hatred against Hunter society as a whole.
Silme has since then gotten involved with some unsavory types, getting himself stuck in the criminal underground and making a name for himself for his impressive fighting skills. When he was in trouble with some gangs looking to put him in his place, Carver showed up to save his hide and forcibly employ him into his service. Silme hates this arrangement, but he can't get out if it since Carber has him by the throat in more ways then one. His time as Carver's protege hasn't been all bad, however, as the former hunter has taught him many thinks in the time they've been together that, when combined with his own natural skill and garnered combat experience, makes him a force to be reckoned with in battle.
|Relations with other characters|
|Extra|
Hates to be mothered or otherwise taken care of
Tail and Ears give away his feelings, especially when he try's to hide them
Wolf blood gives him increased endurance, Stamina, strength, and senses, though the most enhanced are his stamina and senses. He also has a very strong bite, capable of breaking bones if he bites down hard enough.
He has a helmet styled in the fashion of a Beowulf mask that he wears for intimidation purpoaes and to hide his identity while doing criminal activity. The eyes glow silver and red, and his voice becomes heavily distorted, adding to the monstrous appearance
Has a tough time controlling his more animalistic side
C H A R A C T E R S H E E T
Carver Aureus
“Life's much too short to worry about petty things like laws or decency. Have an affair, punch a hobo, stab somebody, do whatever the hell you want, cause everything's permitted as long as you don't get caught.”
-Carver Aureus
T H E B A S I C S
|Name|
Carver Aureus
|Team|
|Birth Date|
Wouldn't you like to know
|Age|
32
|Race|
Human
|Gender|
Male
|Designation|
Crime Boss, Father figure(?) for Silmefor better or for worse
A P P E A R A N C E
|In Depth Appearance|
Carver is a man blessed with saintly good looks, with sparkling green eyes and straight blonde hair that reach to his shoulders. His figure is what you'd expect of a Hunter, lean and toned, plenty muscular physique and covered with a variety of scars, most of them being old wounds from his hunting days. When it comes to his clothing, he usually wears high-quality dress clothes that have been modified for use in combat while still remaining rather stylish, usually in the forms of jackets, slacks, and dress shoes.
|Scars, Tattoos, Other Markings|
He has a large tattoo that spans the whole of his back and spills over on to his arms, a veritable tapestry of colors that seems to span the rainbow. They shimmer with iridescent colors when shown to the light, and seem to glow when in the dark. Despite their beauty, Carver is very adverse o discussing them and will either dodge the questions or, if people still try to pry, get violent.
G E T T I N G T O K N O W M E
|Likes & Dislikes|
✔ Women(Especially Faunus women), money, Freedom, Silme when he isn't being a little brat, Luxury, messing with the police and Hunters
✘ People mentioning tattoos, people who go back on deals, traitors, mindless violence, self-righteous types, hero types, Uppity rats that don't know their place
Weapon: Never being one to play by the rules, Carver bears two weapons, A mechanized long-sword that can turn into a form of chainsaw by splitting in half, edge-wise, and ejecting a number of inch long serrated blades. His other weapon is a powerful revolver that bears a Dust Applicator, as well as a varied internal barrel. By pressing a button, he can change how the dust effects the bullet, from either simply affecting the bullet, to drawing a line of elemental energy as it travels, to even apply an effect to the target on hit. Not only that, but the bullets it fires have a very high impact, meaning they can do quite a lot of damage if they hit, though consecutive firing is near impossible due to the extreme recoil the weapon has. He can also out fit it with specially designed Aura-piercing rounds, but these are incredible expensive black market items, so he only uses them when faced with no other option.
Semblance: Live Fast, Die Hard; these are the words that he lives by and his his ability reflects that. When active, he gains a slight golden glow, as well as an impressive boost to his speed, but the thing that makes this Semblance dangerous is that when he gets into a fight that stacked against him, he gets even stronger. The more damage he takes and the less Aura he has, the stronger his Semblance becomes, enabling him to move faster and hit harder then he normally be able to. He can also apply his Semblance to a single limb, doubling the boost to speed but only to that limb, making it most useful when he's trying to get a shot on an unsuspecting foe or trying to overwhelm his opponent with a furious flurry of attacks.
Aside from that, Carver is very skilled in the ways of manipulating dust, having had to deal with it being engrained to his skin since birth and being forced to train with his father for experiments. While he may not like it using it, the dust in his skin is something he's very use to using, as he can now launch attacks using it without even a second thought. It's draining, however, to use it too much, hence why he tends to rely on his other skills first, only resorting to dust when he needs to make sure a foe is finished. He can use all forms of elements, as well as mixing them together to form new effects, and the results can be as devastating as they are tiring.
D E L V I N G D E E P E R
|Personality|
♦ Ruthless ♦ Laid back ♦ Care-free ♦ Flirtatious ♦
Carver is a Free spirit, both a lover and a fighter who doesn't care about societal taboos and has a love for the strange and unnatural. This is why he doesn't mind the Faunus like some other humans might, and even prefers them to humans since they seem to be clearly superior. He bears a somewhat odd fixation on women of the Faunus variety(any species of Faunus), and tends to treat them with all kinds of flattery, flirtation, and seduction, though he does this to all women, in truth. Faunus just get special attention.
With men, he tends to be sarcastic jackass with a superiority complex, not really treating themas if they're on the same level as he is. He also tends to demean them heavily and may have played a part in Silme's tendency to insult someone as soon as he sees them, as that's what he tends to do, often with a nickname of sorts. However, don't let his odd behaviors fool you, the man is as heartless and ruthless as they come, if not more so, dealing with everything in his way in a calculated and cool manner. He's broken his share knees and necks to get to where he is today, and will never lose any sleep over it. He beleives in survival of the fittest, and anyone who falls to him deserved to get crushed by his presence.
|Place of Origin|
Vale
|History|
Carver's childhood was a miserable one, as he had the misfortune of having a mad man as his father. Obsessed with discovering the secrets of dust, aura, semblances, and even further along, attempting to replicate the tale of the 4 maidens. To that end, he experimented on a number of hapless people in the shadows of Vale, learning much about the nature of Aura and Semblances that others couldn't even begin to comprehend, but through methods that few others would pursue in order to get the same result. Carver was not born naturally, but was created using the life force of many, meant to be a perfect being in every way. As Carver grew up, however, he began to notice something.
He was better than his father, which was inevitably followed by the fact that he was better than everyone else as well.
This didn't give him an arrogant attitude or excessive pride, just a simple realization that he shouldn't have to listen to those who are inferior to him. So, once he learned everything there was to know from his father, he left the man to stare at his burning hime, all of his discoveries set to torch to prevent another him form being made. The last he saw of his father was the man trying to rush into the building and reclaim his research. After that day, Carver was taken in by a nice family at the age of 14 and soon became known as a prodigy among prodigies. It was here that he learned all their was to know about Hunting Grimm, about the world at large, and many, many more things. He eventually became a hunter and had a grand life, but he felt . . . constrained by the laws set in place by those who couldn't understand his superiority. It ate at him, killing his desire to do anything day by day until, finally, he had enough. Tired of it all, he faked his own death at the hands of a Grimm, then went off to pursue a career that fit more with his beliefs. Apparently, that career was being a crime boss
|Relations with other characters|
Silme's father figure
|Extra| |
55,972 | 1,533 | 32 | 1,894 | 5,788 | Oh? Port looked away from the camera to one of the production assistants and one Miss Goodwitch. She was one of the newest additions to tha staff at Beacon Academy, but she had already earned a reputation as a no-nonsense teacher.
Oobleck looked to the side as well, listening in to what the new professor and assistant had to say. With lightning speed, his head whipped back to facing the camera. "Ladies, gentlemen, huntsmen, huntresses, and all students participating in the tournament, the main event of the Vytal festival will be beginning shortly." He took a gulp from his thermos, speeding him up even more so than before. "Please all huntsmen and huntresses in training, make your way to the arena center so the first match can be decided." | Name: Echo Marine?
Team: BEAT
Birth Date: May 2nd
Age: 18
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Designation: Sophomore Student at Atlas Academy
In Depth Appearance: Echo is a tall, strongly-built girl, with long legs, wide shoulders, and wide hips. Her skin is approximately mocha in tone, and contrasts extravagently with her poofy blue hair, which is tied back in a bush except for jagged bangs. Fairly thick eyebrows, full lips, and a near-permanent smirk distinguish her face.
On the battlefield or the stage, Echo's attire of choice is a gray crop-sleeved sweaterskirt, yellow bows as her hairtie and her belt, streamlined cotton pants, and white tennis shoes with yellow soles. Black elastic wraps adorn her arms, extending into fingerless gloves. This garb overall displays a simple functionality, though not without its own assertive style.
Weapon: The simple title of Echo's weapon, the Boomstick, masks a great degree of sophistication and flexibility seemingly unfit for a brutish hammer. To begin, the Boomstick is an immense mallet, meant to be swung with both hands. The force of a proper swing is capable of making dents in Grimm armor plates and metal alike. Though slower and not as adaptable as a blade or even a mace, this huge weapon nevertheless boasts a highly effective inelegance masked beneath a hip exterior.
More interesting than the Boomstick's raw pummeling capabilities, however, are the two sound-based devices built into it. Lying well-sheltered in the hammerhead, an extremely potent boombox creates forceful reverberations in the vicinity of the weapon when swung, giving the Boomstick an area-of-effect capable of launching things it isn't even touching. Additionally, a microphone exists in the bottom of the Boomstick's handle, though this serves more of an entertainment purpose than a tactical one.
Semblance: Stemming from Echo's unwillingness to back down even when greatly challenged, her semblance Run it Back restores her own aura to its level a few moments ago, making her resistent to burst damage and even able to stay in a fight when she might otherwise be taken down. This talent's nature as a sort of 'second wind' however, prevents her using her ability more than once or twice per fight, leading her to save it for big moments. The ability is extremely taxing on her body, and even two uses has great effects on her soon after, requiring her to finish a fight quickly after using her semblance.
Personality: In a word, adamant. Echo is proud, resolute in what she believes in, and strong-willed to the point of obnoxiousness. Despite being overly inclined to prefer everything being done her way, she will relent if sufficiently convinced—a quality she shamelessly touts as being representative of her consideration for others' thoughts, which she lacks. Though of average intelligence, she is less proficient than most in picking up on the feelings of others. She doesn't ever let her opponents get through to her, thinking this to be an act of submission; for instance, if slandered for her weight, Echo might turn it around to point out that she's not trying to pretend she's something she's not. Echo also tends to hold grudges. Despite being self-centered and somewhat arrogant, she is not in the least bit mean-spirited and will not actively seek to hurt the feelings or attack the beliefs of others, and if she discovers she has done so, she will apologize.
On the flipside, Echo exhibits a loyalty and reliability that make her a steadfast ally, if not a steadfast friend. The military tradition of her family perseveres in her, and Echo remains optimistic despite the tragedies and struggles of the world to inspire confidence and toughness in others. All in all, she is an indomitable spirit, for better or worse, whose confidence can be both self-destructive and self-preservative.
Place of Origin: Atlas
Relations with other Players:
Burgundy - Echo holds a certain level of respect for Burgundy. Not only because she is the leader of the team, but also due to the fact that she always appears to be on the top of her game. she seems to view Burgundy in the same prodigal light that many of the faculty in the academy do, but her respect is not to be mistaken for idolism. The two tend to make jokes about one another, Echo's favorite one being a half true statement in how she believes that men should be throwing themselves at her feet and forming a reverse harem for her. It usaully gets a good laugh out of the both of them. Despite how close the two are, she is still unaware of the rigorous training that Burgundy sneaks off to to maintain her status as a pending specialist.
Albus -The two are quite the odd pair. They speak like a couple and are more open with eachother than they actually know. Their relationship can be described as 'Tough Love'. They share insults together without even knowing that they are both actually giving eachother a piece of themselves. But in combat Albus and Echo do not work well together like Albus does with Tawne.
Tawne - Echo and Tawne represent a compromising clash. More than anyone else on the team, and often more than anyone else they know, Echo and Tawne butt heads on the smallest of issues, seemingly just for the sake of it. Since day one, each has treated one another like a sibling, with a great deal of understanding and care veiled behind an equal but much more visible quantity of teasing, calling out, and competition. Both strive to be the 'big brother' of the relationship.
This get's the Pyro Seal of approval, and is automatically accepted. |
55,973 | 1,533 | 33 | 511 | 3,294 | Teàrlag Cirsium
Oi Umeko, you're going to sell out your own body for a bit of dosh and suffer an eternity of people watching your every move? It's a daft idea lass, don't do it. I mean it's not like I care or anything about whether or not you want to or not, but that's a real unwise decision that you'll have to deal with. Becoming a slightly bigger cog in the gears of capitalism and forever trapping yourself in the minds of the people. Even if you want to be forgotten you can't! Some bloke on the CCT-Net's going to be reviewing all the Kawaguchi figmas and the merchandise! People are weird and crappy like that. They always make things worse.
And she's already chatting up the chick with the 80s hair. I glance over at their conversation. They're really animated already. So this is ... self-proclaimed self-strongest chick? Not sure if anyone's really strong at all, but guess I'll take her word for it. And get her name. Maybe. I don't know her name. Umeko why aren't you interrogating deeper we need her name if you want to be a star.
Big splash, as the 80s girl says. I don't care for that but I'm being dragged along and it's a chore to deal with bothered teammates.
...
Oh wow that guys looks like a disaster. Must have had shit luck huh. 80s girl's teammate? Looks like it. Her name's Echo? Great, I guess Nura could go search it up or something and -
The powder carpets my entirety.
Oi it got into my eyes you nincompoop!
I open my mouth to speak to this idjit lad. Then the powder gets in there. Ack it's disgusting. I cough, sending colourful spittle everywhere.
And the matches have started.
Great.
I don't even get to change. | Name: Teàrlag Cirsium
Age: 17
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Nationality: Vacuuan
Designation: Huntress
Team: TSUN (Tsunami)
Appearance: A pale youth whose features clearly paint her as a native to the metropolitan city-state of Vale, Teàrlag is almost delicate in her appearance, false advertisement for those who know of her personality. Indeed, with her height of a metre sixty, slightly shorter than most girls her age, as well as her soft and gentle looks, she could almost be considered cute or waifish, but the cynical and dead gaze present in her otherwise beautiful purple eyes tell a different story. The twin-tailed girl is definitely pretty, but like the black-and-red and discs clipped to her violet hair, her soul is hellish, an bottomless pit of self-loathing and cynicism that contrasts immensely with her looks.
Her outfit consists of a black, hooded jacket (lined with red in certain areas), which is haphazardly thrown over a short minidress that shares a colour with her hair, albeit a slightly lighter shade. It extends down beyond her waist by only several centimetres, leaving a small gap of pale, almost-white skin visible before it meets her woollen, overknee thigh-high socks, which are also a purplish colour (violet of course, pretty much being her favourite colour in that she has absolutely no real negative opinion of it). Indeed, it could be said, in the tongue of Internet-going cartoon fanatics, that she possesses "Rank A" zettai ryouiki, though whether or not this has ascended to "Rank S" is dependent on one's judgement of her personality. Digressions on forbidden territory aside, the purple-haired girl also wears simple but tough black boots.
Colour: Thistle Purple
Personality: A cynic down to her very bones (or so she thinks), Teàrlag Cirsium is not a girl with an overly favourable view of the world. To her, life is harsh, uncaring and utterly meaningless, an endless cycle of drudgery that seeks to wear away at one's self until death finally comes. It's a rather dreary and morbid opinion, but she's embraced it, and with racial tensions between human and Faunus, the constant fight for survival against the hordes of monstrous Grimm, and the knowledge that each day people you've met will find themselves at risk of dying, she feels like the world itself supports her beliefs. Not to mention the utter lack of mercy society holds for its own citizens, the vapid nature of the cliques and ingroups that promotes the concept of an "us and them", or even the innate selfishness of the common person. She hates it, and her grumpy, sour attitude to things is emblematic of that antipathy towards everything in the world. This makes her out to be somewhat of a rebellious loner, raging against the world and all its injustices.
The fact of the matter is, however, that she's resigned herself to it all. She sees the world in a pessimistic light and she knows she can't change it.
Deep down however, she still possesses an incredible resolve, and the courage to fight for those in need of being defended. She hates to see people cry, and will do anything to wipe those tears away, even if it's at great cost to herself. Her self-worth is utterly lacking; she doesn't believe herself to be worthy of care (though she can still be hurt, no matter how many excuses she makes or how much she tries to deny it), and it is for the sake of others that she fights. Teàrlag doesn't like to admit it, but underneath that grumpy, cynical exterior lies a girl who's really just like any other average teenager, a girl with self-doubts and flaws and precious people, even if she thinks she isn't. She can't accept praise or gratitude that easily, and frequently denies doing anything out of a sense of philanthropy. Because she doesn't believe she can, because she doesn't believe she could be that much of a help.
It gets her flustered, really.
She's not a particularly motivated person either, content with being another average student in Vacuo. It's strange then, to know that this girl is the leader of her team of huntresses, when she seems so lacking in any positive leadership qualities. But she cares for people (even if she does her best to avoid establishing strong relationships), has strong tactical sensibilities, and from time to time can muster up something surprisingly inspirational. Otherwise however, she prefers to take things easy and avoid the struggle. Teàrlag is also a gigantic nerd, and one would be surprised to note that she possesses an incredible singing voice honed from an almost fanatical devotion to karaoke. She also likes deep-fried foodstuffs.
Teàrlag Cirsium is a complicated girl with a complicated sense of self.
She might seem like she's just another cynic, but there's more to her than that.
Equipment:
Her primary piece of hunting equipment is called Lonnbeimnech Taranaich, which is split into a number of parts. The first is a six foot long lochaber axe (Lonnbeimnech) made from a dense and highly durable metallic substance. It possesses an incredibly low resistance, a physical property that is quite conducive (pun intended) towards the use of Teàrlag's semblance. Indeed, it serves as a lightning rod, providing a path of least resistance and absorbing electricity into its body, as well as the reverse (which provides her foes quite the shocking experience). With its high heat capacity and low coefficient of thermal expansion, the blade of the weapon can be superheated to over three thousand five hundred degrees celsius, enabling it to slice apart foes with greater ease. Said blade can also be launched as a rocket, trailing long, fine copper wires behind it as it flies into the distance. This essentially leaves the weapon as a staff until the head makes it return (as it contains its own propellant).
The second part of the Lonnbeimnech Taranaich, on the other hand, consists of two electrical amplifiers (Taranaich) bound to her wrists that can launch bolts of electricity at her foes, but when combined with the lochaber axe, form what can be best described as a electromagnetic slingshot. Utilising lightning dust and her semblance in tandem, she can propel anything placed within the sling at speeds far greater than what is provided by a standard slingshot. Her projectiles for this tend to vary, but she does possess a stock of tungsten rounds to be used specifically for such purposes.
Beyond her main weapon, however, Teàrlag also makes use of a set of ten sgian-dubh knives, which are safely sheathed and hung from garters near the top of her thigh-high socks (with five knives on each leg). They serve as her backup tools, cooking utensils and et cetera, placed in a less obvious location in order to keep a sense of surprise. They are not particularly special, but have also been balanced so that she can throw them at enemies, usually with strings upon strings of copper wire (rolls of which she keeps pocketed) in order to further assist the usage of her semblance if necessary.
Fighting Style:
Despite her apathy towards achieving anything beyond average in her studies as a Huntress, Teàrlag Cirsium is actually surprisingly skilled as a fighter (honed by the desire to actually remain alive, because no matter how much she dislikes the world, she isn't yet suicidal), and knows both her weapons and powers and weaknesses and strengths inside-out. She mainly serves as a sharpshooter, firing off highly accurate shots from her long-ranged weapons to neutralise her enemies and provide openings for the rest of her team. However, she is also decently capable in melee, especially with her electrically-infused strikes adding an extra dimension of pain to her blows. The techniques she uses are not particularly polished or well-thought-out, but her skill is respectable enough, and her willingness to make use of any resources available and her desperation if thrown into a corner is what makes her truly dangerous there.
Semblance:
Marchysgallen - the power provided to Teàrlag by her semblance essentially transforms her (pun very much intended) into a dynamo, a walking producer of electrical energy that can be utilised in a number of different ways. When active, she is constantly converting her aura into electricity stored within her body, which she can expel from her body, though not in a particularly fine manner. She possesses zero fine control over her lightning (which takes upon a purple colour), with most of her tool-less skills with it boiling down to, with only one exception, essentially pointing and firing off bolts of electricity that end up dissipating after a short range due to the resistance of the air. As such, she tends to rely on the assistance of her weapons to best make use of her powers, though when she's dealing with her mundane, day-to-day life she doesn't need them; charging her phone or game consoles simply by touching them is incredibly useful, after all.
Her ability to channel electricity is heavily dependent on the presence of conductors, but there is one technique she has refined that serves as the one exception. With great concentration, she can envelop her entire body in a field of electrons, repelling outwards as a burst or wave of electricity that is both offensive and defensively orientated. Her most common use of this ability however, is to simply cover herself in lightning and run into people, which can essentially be considered an electrifying tackle. It is incredibly dangerous, especially taking into account the amplitude and voltage of the electricity she produces, but requires her to focus quite a bit on keeping the field stable.
When not active, her semblance can still be noticeable, thanks to the smell of ozone that permeates the air around her, and the infrequent sparks of electricity that leap off her skin.
History:
The third of five daughters born to a family of Vacuuan hunters residing in Vale, nobody really expected much of Teàrlag Cirsium, the ignored middle child who really had nothing going for her. She was just another kid, another average little girl who was outshone by her more exciting and colourful family members. Not that she really minded. She was fine (or at least she claimed she was) with being just another number for the census, another statistic that went through school, where the drudgery and repetitivity of the world, where the knowledge that they could die at any moment, slowly but surely eroded away at whatever hope and optimism she had for becoming anything more. She became a loner, a pessimistic girl who spent her days sitting in the corner of the classroom, doing the bare minimum required for her to pass her classes.
When she was thirteen, her parents moved them back to Vacuo.
It was difficult, adjusting to both a new country and a new environment. But she managed (for a given value of the term), settling back into the endless drudgery as another average student once more. She woke up, went to school, did her work, went home, played video games, practiced fighting, went to sleep, repeat. It was an endless cycle, and it didn't endear her to the world at all. It was as if she was going through the motions, training to become a hunter simply because her parents and some of her siblings were.
Teàrlag barely made it into Shade Academy.
She would have left as well, would have given up on the career of a huntress, of a career that could easily end in her death, but something stopped her. She found people who she ... wasn't averse to, people whose presence she probably would have somewhat missed. And Teàrlag realised that she didn't want to see them hurt and crying. So she stayed. Even though she doubted her own skills, even though she found it all so utterly lacking and useless, she didn't want to see people hurt.
Being a huntress meant that she could wipe away some of those tears.
(Not that she cared or anything.)
Relations with other characters:
Not yet applicable
Extra:
-VA: Kakazu Yumi (JP)
-Cirsium is the genus of the spear thistle, the national flower of Scotland
-As a workaholic, my semblance would likely give me the ability to ignore sleep. |
55,974 | 1,533 | 34 | 1,288 | 1,334 | Kawaguchi Umeko
,
"Well, guess time's up. C'mon, Teàr. We'll see you two later!" The Atlesian native stated cheerfully, squeezing the other member of TSUN's shoulder while she circled around the bench to start walking, hinting at her that it was time to leave. She gave the competition a quick, friendly wave before she turned her back, heading towards the arena. They were going to start picking the matches, now, and she planned to put some names to faces real damn quick. Her smile faded only slightly once she was out of Echo's sight, though it seemed a little more predatory now. She shifted her bag to her other hip casually, brushing a finger over its release mechanism.
Her hand slipped up to the edge of her 'headband', fingering the power switch and uttering a name softly under her breath. The helpful ringing in her ear signaled the call's start, and the click heralded either her target, or an answering machine. Either one would do. "Nura, I've got the boss. Find Silver, would you? I haven't seen her anywhere, and it's pretty irritating. She needs to get her ass to the stadium."
"Met a few competitors, too. If you see a guy in the gaudiest rainbow glitter you've ever seen with a girl that has hair visible from orbit, you've seen them too." | Name: 川口 梅子 (Kawaguchi Umeko)
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Age: 18
Nationality: Atlesian Origin, Vacuuan Affiliation
Team: TSUN (Tsunami)
Designation: Huntress
Appearance: Standing slightly taller than average, albeit not by much, Umeko clearly cares about her appearance. Her clothes are, without exception, kept immaculately clean and worn in specific combinations planned out long in advance. She wears them quite well, too; Umeko is unquestionably a striking individual. She's built like a fighter, with a solid stance and toned limbs, but her choice of style usually makes her seem much more lithe than she is. Her brown hair is straight and shoulder length, worn differently depending on what she thinks will look best. Umeko is almost always grinning a wide, amiable grin like she wants the entire world to be her friend and invites them to be so. The deep blue eyes set above that grin are highly expressive, and very much the gateway to whatever Umeko is thinking.
Her clothes tend towards the blue end of the spectrum, but their style is incredibly variable. On a daily basis, when attending classes, she generally wears something close to the traditional Atlesian student uniform, in spite of her actual affiliation. She bends this habit for formal events, during which she does don the official Shade uniform. Casually, on the other hand, her wardrobe is nearly infinite; clothes for every occasion, every type of weather, and every temperature. Light jackets are quite common, as is the occasional sweater. Most casual settings will see her in jeans, but the odd semi-formal will prompt the use of a skirt. Wherever she goes, Umeko wants to be the best dressed in the room.
She does have an outfit that could be considered something of a signature, however. A pair of dark blue jeans paired with classy (but intentionally durable) shoes paired with a deep blue top. Over that she adds a waist-length white jacket, with the emblem of Shade stitched in black over what appear to be devil horns on either shoulder. She's never seen, regardless of her attire, without her headband and rarely without her white messenger bag,
Personality: Umeko is friendly, oblivious, and a little too eager to show off. She thrives on being the center of attention, having the most friends, and standing in the shining spotlight. At least that's the disposition she likes to show to the world. The truth is much, much more layered. The hordes of acquaintances and casual friends are kept at arms length, prevented from seeing past the veneer they're supposed to see. Beneath the mask is a much more contemplative young woman, someone much more sensible than her almost arrogant public persona implies. Umeko realized, quite a long time ago, that her peers (and elders) tended to underestimate her due to her bubbly nature and fashion-oriented interests. So why not use that to her advantage?
The real Kawaguchi Umeko is highly driven, and paradoxically, infinitely more willing to criticize someone the more she cares about them. Such criticisms, truth be told, are often emphatic, occasionally angry, and very impassioned. But on the other side of the same coin, those she cares about can be subject to displays of loyalty or affection that would seldom be extended to one of her superficial 'friends'. The truest sign of her friendship is being permitted to see underneath the public facade.
Fighting Style: Despite the attitude she projects, Umeko is a devastating all-range fighter. Lacking in raw power, she instead focuses on technique and battlefield control. The White Devil's forms give her both offensive and defensive capabilities at all ranges, and her Semblance gives her the ability to alter her environment a little as needed. Her preference, most of the time, is to act as a mid-to-close range combatant. Her rifle, and its sword form, give her the precision she needs to land dangerously precise strikes while her shield ensures she can take hits just as well as give them. But given the nature of her team, she is not the only (or necessarily the best) suited for this role. When the situation requires she transitions smoothly into acting as mid-to-long range fire support, using her remote shield bits to harass the enemy from any angle, and her rifle to hit where it hurts. Her Semblance is no slouch in this role, either, as it allows her to redirect shrapnel and detritus in creative ways.
Simply put, Umeko will adapt to any scenario one attempts to force her in as best she can. And much of the time, that is quite well. After a bout with her in the arena, few ever quite buy into her seemingly oblivious nature ever again.
Weapons/Equipment: Remnant Expansion (Prototype) #78 Unit 2 Grimm-Use Non-Demanding Armament Machine ver. White Devil: The White Devil started life as a project for the Atlesian military. Atlas has long believed in recruiting their Hunters into service as Atlesian Specialists, but the common Atlesian soldier has never been able to go toe-to-toe with the foes that Hunters handled. They had to rely on strength of numbers, not individual capabilities. The Grimm-Use series was intended to permit the common soldier the adaptability to handle as many foes as a Hunter, if not with quite as much skill. In fact that was the purpose; a set of equipment that could be used for maximum effect, with minimum skill. The project showed promise, but ultimately was a casualty of Atlas’ changing goals. They no longer wanted to increase a soldier’s effectiveness, they wanted to take the soldier off the battlefield entirely.
So Sunrise Industries, the contractor for its development, mothballed the project. The five units that had been produced were put into storage and forgotten. Sunrise Industries itself, unable to keep up with the changing mindset, declared bankruptcy a few short years later and its assets were liquidated. The five prototypes were sent to auction, while the Atlesian military’s active contracts were subsumed by other contractors. And that was when they fell into Umeko’s hands.
The White Devil consists of two primary parts; a handheld semiautomatic railgun rifle, and a large quadrilateral shield. The railgun operates by using lightning Dust to generate the magnetic field necessary to launch a projectile along two rails at exceptionally high velocities, making the weapon highly destructive to compensate for its low rate of fire. Using a trigger mechanism in the handle the railgun converts to a long, slim sword. This sword uses the same lightning Dust to superheat the blade’s edge, drastically increasing its penetrating power.
The shield, in its base configuration, is just that; a shield. It secures itself parallel Umeko’s forearm, with a handle gripped in her left hand, and can be easily used to defend against attacks. Its secondary uses, on the other hand, are much less obvious. The handle is connected to the rest of the shield by two long cords, and the handle contains a small motor to retract or release those cables with the press of a button. The shield itself splits in half, both halves folding to create a rail-based firing aperture similar to that of her rifle. These halves fire a laser based on technology being developed for a separate Atlesian project. In this form the halves of the shield use Gravity Dust to become weightless. Like the cables that connect them to their handle, the firing mechanisms are controlled by an adjacent button.
Both halves of the White Devil have storage forms for noncombat situations. The rifle folds to stow away inside the shield, which uses the seams for its transformation to become a rigid messenger bag.
The final piece of Umeko’s equipment, developed independently of the rest,is a visor and earpiece that contains the functionality of a Scroll while providing eye protection from both shrapnel and blinding light. Outside of combat the device looks very much like an unusual headband. Upon activation it flips down and the v-shaped antennae deploy above her forehead.
Semblance: Center of Attention: Umeko can control the relative gravitational attractions generated by an object. All objects, however small, exert some degree of gravitational pull on all the other objects around them. Umeko can affect the intensity of these pulls, allowing her to manipulate the gravity generated. Most commonly this is used to cause objects to fall into a stable orbit around her, or another object, mistakenly leading many to believe she controls the orbit of objects. The reality is much more nuanced in its potential applications.
History: In Atlas, name and standing is everything. The Schnees are but the most well-known example. What matters is what you have, who you know, and how you got there. If you weren't born with a silver spoon in your mouth you'll spend your entire life kicking and punching to claim one. Everyone knows the names of each industry's titans, but few will remember the small families you meet on the street. In that way, Kawaguchi Umeko is of little note. A deep search of her history will find a modest career in modeling for different magazines, fashion in particular, and her transcripts from Atlas' academy for young hunters and huntresses. A deeper search will find little more about the Kawaguchi family. Simply another foot note in Atlesian history.
Unless one happened to find her birth certificate, and discover that she was born Umeko Huntian, not Kawaguchi. Unlike Kawaguchi, the name 'Huntian' is known to many. The Huntians have been joined at the hip with Atlas' military-industrial complex for generations, supporting, funding, or running dozens of different weapon manufacturers over the years. They made themselves rich off of Atlas' military generations ago, and kept the family interests in good shape through every highpoint and recession since. After all, with the Grimm out there, there'll always be a need for weapons. The Huntians rubbed shoulders with the elite, and were quite content to stay within their echelon. Until, that is, one of the family's minor heirs fell in love with a young worker at the head office.
Robert Huntian's, in his family's eyes, ill-planned love resulted in Umeko's birth. Though he had every intention of sticking with the family he had created, the mastermind of the Huntian empire were less than pleased by the idea. Robert eventually succumbed to the pressures of his more business-minded relations, and returned to the family's good graces. He made sure Umeko and her mother were very well cared for, with as much money as they needed to live comfortably. A share of this money, every month, went into an account in Umeko's name for her to use when she was old enough. Umeko herself grew up attending the kingdom's best academies, with few illusions over the circumstances of her birth. Even fewer about her standing compared to her peers.
Some combination of these truths lead her, at the age of eleven, to discard the Huntian name. From that point on every document was handled using her mother's name, and Umeko Huntian vanished from the paper trails of the Atlesian government. When one of the Huntian empire's investments, Sunrise Industries, went belly-up a year later she found herself drawn towards the liquidation auction and from there to her calling.
While the next generation of Huntians were groomed for business, Umeko entered into Atlas' school for hunters. Her own funds, carefully tucked away until she was old enough, were in good standing when she became a teenager. They were soon supplemented by work done on the side, showcasing fashion and gear in magazines geared towards hunters and huntresses, and invested carefully according to advice and careful consideration. When Kawaguchi Umeko entered Atlas' answer to Signal, no one knew who she was. By the time she left she had made herself known as a highly capable fighter, and a charismatic individual.
It was her success that lead her to leave Atlas. It is no secret, in any of the kingdoms, that the Atlesian specialists were usually recruited from the best of Atlas' training facilities. If she carried on into the next school, she might face the same recruitment efforts. So she packed her bags, gathered what resources were hers, and moved to Vacuo to attend Shade.
Relations with other characters: N/A
Extra: My semblance... Probably something to do with tech, honestly |
55,975 | 1,533 | 35 | 843 | 1,812 | Silme & Mikoto
An amused smile appeared on Mikoto's face. "DO you really think that someone from law enforcement would let you goad them into an assault charge and being disqualified out of the tournament where they're the first non-hunter permitted to attend? Tsk. I knew you're, you know-" she made a gesture around her head, "-not all there, but my you really are rather special!" Despite the guy being someone she would gladly made into dust and he seemed to have a bit of a neutral zone in his head, Mikoto found herself rather enjoying the situation. It was certainly the most exciting thing to happen today.
"But I would certainly like to crush your stereotypical beliefs. So If you really think you have more bite than bark, I'll be staying at Beacon for the duration of the tournament. I'm sure we can go 'training'." she suggested, her voice doing the air quotes perfectly. "I'll be attached to team..." she fiddled with her scroll to find the file with her instructions, "MASK, that's it. Do come find me." She finished with a challenging grin.
"Assault Charge?!?! What kind in the name of all hell makes you think I'm gonn- wait a minute, did you say your an actual cop."Silme's anger fueled response died off ever so slightly as he realized how close he could've been to gettin' put ih the jail for assaulting an officer. Thanks to her being a little smartass bitch, I just dodged a bullet. *Tch* I'll have to find this bitch later later on when I don't have such a recognizable mug ready to get put on some wanted posters.//i] "Huh, no wonder you got you panties in such a twist. The police due tend to be like any other gang when it comes their members getting disrespected. Makes your comments even more laughably deplorable and biased then before. As for seeing you in the tournanment, well, . . . . did you say your on Team MASK?"
When the gears finally started moving in the guy's head, Mikoto gave him the slow clap. "Well duh, bias is the condition for argues like these. If the Faunus didn't care for themselves there would have been no war." Shithead. she added in her mind. This guy lived in his own world that shared no laws of logic with the rest of them. "Now, what was it about you knowing gangs? Should I put a surveillance detail on you?" she grinned. No sense telling the guy that she couldn't do much more than call her teacher and ask him to look into it.
Mikoto was certain however that they would meet again. This guy seemed to be shaping up like everything she decided to fight against. It starts with big ego, ends with a house burning and a child orphaned. Unforgivable. "Yeah, that's what my invite said. I take it you know them? I'm not sure how it's supposed to work, don't they already have four people? If your headmaster thinks I will sit this out on the bench he has a scrollcall coming." Frankly, if all hunters had superiority complex like this man, Mikoto would be happy to show them wrong.
"And there you go compaeing the two again like the brain-dead bitch that you are. And go ahead and do it, bitch, I've got nothing to hide from you or your friends down town. Might even give them a few pointers on how to actually be, I don't know, useful." Silme responded, and waited for her to answer his question. Once she did, he found himself stuck between breaking something(like her face) or laughing at the absurdity of the situation, and decided to go with both, .etting out short barks of laughter, before turning around and launching anearby dumpster across the way with an aura-powred kick, causing a bunch of trash to get tossed along the ground. His tail was flicking about in a highly agotated manner as he turned around, his face form a cheeky smirk as he began to walk away, hands in his pockets. "You could say that, and I wouldn't worry about the spot, I heard one of their guys dropped out of Beacon like a little bitch. Patnetic, really, if he could handle what this school got to offer, he really wasn't cut out to be a Hunter. And I guess we'll see if who ever trained your ass was worth whatever sexual favor your flat-ass paid him with."
There was a twitch in Mikoto's eye. Faster than a human should, she had her weapons in her hands. Pointing the wand at the flying trash bin, she played a couple of tunes on her dagger-flute. The container stopped mid-flight and with a swing of Mikoto's arm returned promptly to its place with a metal thud. While she was preventing the littering, she also sneaked in a few notes that flash-froze the ground under this asshole's feet. Spirits, she wanted to deck this guy so badly. But she would settle on making every second of his life an annoyance for now.
Hearing the summons over the loudspeaker, Mikoto sighed. "Looks like we'll have to see whether you're all talk or actually have something to back it up on the field. And puh-lease-" she said, giving her - perfectly shaped, mind you - bum a playful slap, "-You're just jealous because you can't have any." | Mikoto Kage
“Who am I? Let’s see. If you’re a hunter, I guess that makes me... a Hunterkiller?”
-Mikoto
Race: Faunus (Mute Swan)
Gender: Female
Age: 17
Nationality: Vale
Designation: Police academy cadet
Mikoto is part of a forming special unit. The hunterkillers are, as the name suggests, specially trained to take on hunters, who are the most respected fighters. Every time a hunter went rogue in the past has been a big problem, and unit like this is meant to contain the problem quickly.
Team: N/A
Appearance:
Mikoto stands circa 178 centimeters tall, with her platform boots giving her what she needs to 180. She is quite strong for her age, being participating in several combat competitions and police training. She weighs about 63 kilos. Her most prominent faunus feature are the two swan wings on her back that have the span of about 200 cm.
Mikoto’s face is dominated by her piercing, bright red eyes. She has an eastern complexion, the slightly yellow skin tone contrasting with her anthracite hair that she usually keeps at shoulder length and well kempt. Her body build is focused more on strength rather than stamina, packing up quite some muscle mass and low fat percentage.
Her battledress consists of a pair of knee high, gray platform boots, black pants and blouse and a gray armored jacket. Coming from rich background, her battledress is trimmed in dark red and gold. She wears red padded gloves to battle. The jacket is modified to allow her wings to unfold and they can be held concealed by a special harness. The jacket comes equipped with magnetic holsters on the lower back for her weapons and several pockets.
When in need of more formal wear, she likes a red trench coat with matching high heels. She modified it to be able to conceal her wings and weapons underneath without looking out of place.
History:
Mikoto was born into the relatively average Kage family living in Mountain Glenn. A mixed family of Vacuo immigrants, her faunus side wasn’t obvious to anyone else in the first two years of her age, before her wings hit a growth spurt. Still, it was another year before she came to the usual faunus problems, having to attend mixed kindergarten.
She managed to bear with it for a year, but when she was four, she finally snapped and beat up one boy that made a comment, sending him to a doctor with a broken nose. She spent her days mostly alone since then as many of the children were afraid of her.
Just as she was about to go to the school for the first time, a rogue hunter on the run from the police destroyed several houses to hinder his pursuers, and Mikoto’s family perished in the attack. Her semblance awoke for the first time, which is what saved her as she extinguished the dust caused fires around her and was able to run through walls to safety. She was then sent to an orphanage in the main city of Vale, but spent her days mostly alone.
When she reached the age of ten, she was adopted by a wealthy family. While initially believing herself to be lucky, she quickly found out her adoptive ‘father’ only wanted her as a Faunus poster child to improve PR, having to adopt a new name against her wishes. While she was given anything money could buy, they didn’t give her the loving family she wanted the most. Her two stepsisters ignored and hated her respectively, but later she formed a love-hate relationship with the younger sister, sharing an interest in fighting and being grateful for the sister at least being honest about hating what she is.
At the age of twelve, Mikoto started attending one of the local combat schools, flat out rejecting being home schooled despite her stepfather’s insistence.
A few years later, her skill grown very good, and she started placing high in competitions. That lead to some media attention to the happiness of her stepfather. However, her story was soon brought to light, making her start withdrawing from people again. She turned to homeschooling and made an uneasy alliance with her younger step sister who was growing tired of her family as well.
After two years of working for the company to fund her plan, she set off to attend Beacon, severing all ties with her adoptive ‘family’ and intending to start again, on her own. Unfortunately, the Initiation proven once and for all that her combat skills were much more suited to fighting a human opponent rather than the Grimm. It had an unforeseen consequence for her though - the police department contacted her with an offer to join a newly formed unit where her skills would be of great use once she graduated from the police academy.
Personality:
Mikoto doesn't actively seek out conversation but she will not shy away from one. The girl is patient and overlooking many things addressed to her faunus side, but she has her limits.
Whereas normally she is well mannered and will go out of her way not to offend people no matter what she may think of them, in a fight or when angered, she is dominated by her emotions, not her reason.
While her anger is cold and calculated, you do not wish to enrage her, as if you push her that far, she will lose all sense and just go berserk on you.
She hates those unlawful with a fiery passion, although rich people and racists are pretty high on the list as well. Despite how she was treated, she is trying to be forgiving, believing it's the only way to achieve some degree of peace in the world.
The girl battles many internal demons and even though she portrays herself as a strong person with a healthy dose of disdain, she can be fragile on the inside. What disturbs her more than most is the thought of losing someone close to her again. She also isn’t too fond of spiders and tight spaces. Her main motivation to keep on living is getting others to accept her because of who she is, not what she is.
In her downtime, she likes to power down and relax, whether that means sleeping all day, stuffing herself with bacon and coffee or reading tales of ancient mythologies with a glass (or a bottle) of rum on hand. If others have to be involved, she wouldn’t say no to a fantasy movie or (window) shopping. Mikoto has a weakness for sporty personal shuttles.
Being a choleric faunus comes with it’s own list of hatreds, like water (which make her wings heavy and useless) or cold (which she feels more due to her higher body temperature). For some reason, the taste of potatoes makes her want to hurl, much like the cheesy romance movies or the boring historical novels. She gets violent on trolls and hates criminals above all else for taking her family and normal life from her, putting them in the same sack with the Grimm.
Skills:
Being adopted by a wealthy family, she was taught self defense and took liking to combat. Trained in a universal style, she can make use of nearly every weapon, although she prefers light, more nimble instruments like her swordwand or a dagger. Her technique focuses on precise, quick and powerful attacks while conserving energy between them. As she knew she had a semblance from long before, she pushed to get herself a full combat education to perfect her aura mastery. Later in her years her fighting style developed into something brutal, intending to not only just destroy the enemy, but make them suffer. It is even reflected in the modifications she made to her weapons, like using serrated blades, or ditching a shield for a secondary dagger.
Life in the high class however also lead to some duties. As an adoptive member of a family owning the Remnant’s leading company producing musical instruments, she can play nearly anything. Being cast as a PR figure, she is used to appearing in front of masses and can be politically correct in most situations.
From her life in the orphanage, she picked up some minor survival skills, although she lived in luxury for so long it would take her time to adjust back to it.
While her weapons might give the impression that Mikoto is a swordswoman, she is in fact a dust caster, capable of weaving the Nature’s Wrath into nearly anything she needs given enough time. She uses three categories of moves - First are those she practices often enough to be able to perform them with thought alone. The second less frequent she needs a focusing agent, such as a phrase or a sequence of tones to help her summon the attack. Last but not least, Mikoto can achieve anything she has enough aura, dust and time for through drawing magic circles.
Powers:
Her faunus heritage gives Mikoto several capabilities she can use for great effect. First and foremost, she can use her wings to heighten and extend her jumps to about twice that of a human, or to glide and soften her fall. They are, however, too small for her to fly. The lack of tail used to be a problem, but she smartly modified her battledress with a half-cape that is attachable to her boots that can substitute well enough.
Her bones are less dense than that of a usual human, contributing to her overall low weight, which unfortunately break more easily if her aura is brought down. Her metabolism is faster, making the girl quite a glutton and yet unable to gain any weight and moving her average body temperature to about 40°C.
Having both large reserve and skill to wield it efficiently, Mikoto’s aura is on the more impressive side of the scale. Its color is pure white, and it manifests as quills falling around her.
Semblance - Arcane destroyer: Mikoto's body becomes an intangible spectre and her voice gains a creepy reverb to it. Her weapon is also surrounded in the same substance of white color. In this state, Mikoto can not be physically harmed, however she still hurts the same if her aura fails to block an attack, and she loses the ability to parry with her weapons. If the 'damage' is sufficient, she will forcibly revert back to normal, more often than not incapacitated by hurting as much as if she was actually dealt the blows. In this state, dust based spells tend to break up on contact with her, hence the name.
Equipment:
Collapsible Swordwand Dust Carrier - Swan Song: A swordwand that can be converted from one to the other simply by sliding the guard down the grip. This action retracts or extends the blade into the blunt part of the weapon. As such, the weapon is primarily designed for stabbing attacks rather than slashing, although it is capable of both. The counterweight can hold dust crystals, and Mikoto is particularly fond of the fire ones. The blade is made from dust-enhanced black metal that seems to be reflecting shadows rather than light.
Tactical Dust Carrier - Quilltact: A dagger with perforated blade holding three dust capsules, usually the remaining types to complement the Swansong’s fire crystals. Mikoto built a flute into the hilt which she uses as a focus help to cast some of her more demanding spells.
Extra:
Voice: Anna Hutchison
Theme: Gåte - Sjå Attende
Mikoto is ambidextrous.
She is bi, leaning towards girls. |
55,976 | 1,533 | 36 | 1,918 | 8,262 | Amari looked at her scrolls map briefly, memorizing the spot that she wanted the team to meet at, as well as the name and face of their newest teammate, one Mikoto by name. She then opens the texting app on her scroll, first texting Silme, "Sil, its time to meet at the coliseum and meet our new teammate. Meet me in X prep room." And then texting Mikoto, saying "Mikoto,it's time for the team to meet up. Come to X prep room. that's where we are meeting." She sent those two messages within moments of each other, and they would likely arrive at about the same time, barring any interference. The subject line says, "Team MASK Meeting Location"
After she finishes sending the messages, she quickly gathers the rest of her gear into a duffle bag, which she slings across her shoulder and skates off, her shoes becoming her skates as the dust in them activates. She revels in the wind rushing through her hair, and across her face, as she speeds over to the meeting location, arriving first. "Now to wait for my teammates. I hope that Sil and Mikoto don't end up at each other's throats... that's how we lost our previous member..." she says to herself, sitting down to wait, making herself comfortable in the prep room. | C H A R A C T E R S H E E T
Silme Raana
“You keep staring and you're going to lose an eye."
-Silme Raana, Age 10
T H E B A S I C S
|Name|
Silme Raana
|Team|
MASK
|Birth Date|
|Age|
17
|Race|
Timber Wolf Faunus
|Gender|
Male
|Designation|
reluctant Student, Secret Criminal
A P P E A R A N C E
|In Depth Appearance|
Silme is on the taller side, being around 6ft tall with room to grow, his silver hair cut short in a wild, unkempt style to keep it from getting in the way of his fighting. His eyes are a fierce amber color, closer in appearance to that of his animal lineage, especially when his instincts start to take over. He has a lean muscled figure covered with scars from his numerous criminal escapades, as well as a tattoo on his arm of a snarling wolf. As for his Faunus features, he has an easily noticeable pair of wolf ears on his head, as well as a tail, claws, and sharp canines that he's all to ready to use if needed.
G E T T I N G T O K N O W M E
|Likes & Dislikes|
✔ fighting, other Faunus, Scarlet Ravagers, taking humans down a pegor six,
✘ being alone, people in general, Faunus who try and 'fit in'Domesticated fuckwads, Humans, hyper people, being touched, being told what to do, authority, Carver, Carver's weird habits, Hunters
Weapon: The Scarlet Ravagers: He uses a pair of Specialized Customizable Clawed Gauntlets that he can alter for various combat and utility functions, as well as changing into either a pair of Customized SMGs, with rapid- and burst-fire modes, for him to dual wield, or into two double-sided short swords. All variations of weapons can be augmented with Dust cartridges for various effects and attacks.
He can also use them as a means of traversal by firing out the claws as a form of grappling hook attached to a good amount of strong, lightweight metal cable.
Fighting Style: Hit them faster and hit them hard, he is a Striker type fighter, extremely good at offense even against superior numbers. However, his defensive capabilities aren't the greatest, but they aren't the worst either. To help with this style, he's actually augmented his Aura so that it gives more of a physical power boost at the cost of it's defensive capabilities, making him a good deal stronger and a great deal faster than most, but taking hits is something he tries to avoid.
Sembalance: Corrosion, It is a very offensive Sembalance that allows Silme to imbue his attacks with a reddish-silver aura. This Aura is extremely effective at dealing damage, but it's usefulness truly shines when it comes with dealing with heavily armored enemies. With this ability, he can easily weaken most types of armor so and items, making him very effective at damaging and even destroying the weapons of others to lessen their combat effciency.He can even apply his ability against the defensive aura of others, though it isn't as effective, it still allows him to do more damage then normal.
D E L V I N G D E E P E R
|Personality|
♦ Aggresive ♦ Rebellious ♦ Somewhat Clueless ♦ Short-Temper♦
Silme is a loner by trade, and while he'll deny it vehemently, he really wishes he wasn't. He wants to connect with people, have real friends and family again, but he's afraid that he'll just get left behind again, abandoned by those he loved the most. Outwardly and in public, however, he's very abrasive, blunt, and vulgar, ready to speak his mind and pounce on anyone who tries to stop him(sometimes literally). The surest way to get on his shit list is to tell him what to do, as he hates that more than anything, especially if it's a human.
As far as fighting goes, he'll use evey advantage to win and will fight to the ducking end with all the feral energy of a wild beast. Now a trained killer, he'll have no problem ending his foes of the need arises, though not a second before. He has some sense of honor in that he won't fight a helpless opponent or murder innocents, but other than that, he can head cold and heartless as Carver himself.
|Place of Origin|
Vale
|History|
Silme is the son of two well-respected hunters, who were also terrible parents. While they did love their son, they were always out on the job, protecting others from danger while neglecting the one who needed them most. Then, they simply never came back, having gone MIA in the line of duty. Silme spent a few weeks devesatated by the loss, but that sadness soon turned to anger, distrust, and deep seated hatred against Hunter society as a whole.
Silme has since then gotten involved with some unsavory types, getting himself stuck in the criminal underground and making a name for himself for his impressive fighting skills. When he was in trouble with some gangs looking to put him in his place, Carver showed up to save his hide and forcibly employ him into his service. Silme hates this arrangement, but he can't get out if it since Carber has him by the throat in more ways then one. His time as Carver's protege hasn't been all bad, however, as the former hunter has taught him many thinks in the time they've been together that, when combined with his own natural skill and garnered combat experience, makes him a force to be reckoned with in battle.
|Relations with other characters|
|Extra|
Hates to be mothered or otherwise taken care of
Tail and Ears give away his feelings, especially when he try's to hide them
Wolf blood gives him increased endurance, Stamina, strength, and senses, though the most enhanced are his stamina and senses. He also has a very strong bite, capable of breaking bones if he bites down hard enough.
He has a helmet styled in the fashion of a Beowulf mask that he wears for intimidation purpoaes and to hide his identity while doing criminal activity. The eyes glow silver and red, and his voice becomes heavily distorted, adding to the monstrous appearance
Has a tough time controlling his more animalistic side
C H A R A C T E R S H E E T
Carver Aureus
“Life's much too short to worry about petty things like laws or decency. Have an affair, punch a hobo, stab somebody, do whatever the hell you want, cause everything's permitted as long as you don't get caught.”
-Carver Aureus
T H E B A S I C S
|Name|
Carver Aureus
|Team|
|Birth Date|
Wouldn't you like to know
|Age|
32
|Race|
Human
|Gender|
Male
|Designation|
Crime Boss, Father figure(?) for Silmefor better or for worse
A P P E A R A N C E
|In Depth Appearance|
Carver is a man blessed with saintly good looks, with sparkling green eyes and straight blonde hair that reach to his shoulders. His figure is what you'd expect of a Hunter, lean and toned, plenty muscular physique and covered with a variety of scars, most of them being old wounds from his hunting days. When it comes to his clothing, he usually wears high-quality dress clothes that have been modified for use in combat while still remaining rather stylish, usually in the forms of jackets, slacks, and dress shoes.
|Scars, Tattoos, Other Markings|
He has a large tattoo that spans the whole of his back and spills over on to his arms, a veritable tapestry of colors that seems to span the rainbow. They shimmer with iridescent colors when shown to the light, and seem to glow when in the dark. Despite their beauty, Carver is very adverse o discussing them and will either dodge the questions or, if people still try to pry, get violent.
G E T T I N G T O K N O W M E
|Likes & Dislikes|
✔ Women(Especially Faunus women), money, Freedom, Silme when he isn't being a little brat, Luxury, messing with the police and Hunters
✘ People mentioning tattoos, people who go back on deals, traitors, mindless violence, self-righteous types, hero types, Uppity rats that don't know their place
Weapon: Never being one to play by the rules, Carver bears two weapons, A mechanized long-sword that can turn into a form of chainsaw by splitting in half, edge-wise, and ejecting a number of inch long serrated blades. His other weapon is a powerful revolver that bears a Dust Applicator, as well as a varied internal barrel. By pressing a button, he can change how the dust effects the bullet, from either simply affecting the bullet, to drawing a line of elemental energy as it travels, to even apply an effect to the target on hit. Not only that, but the bullets it fires have a very high impact, meaning they can do quite a lot of damage if they hit, though consecutive firing is near impossible due to the extreme recoil the weapon has. He can also out fit it with specially designed Aura-piercing rounds, but these are incredible expensive black market items, so he only uses them when faced with no other option.
Semblance: Live Fast, Die Hard; these are the words that he lives by and his his ability reflects that. When active, he gains a slight golden glow, as well as an impressive boost to his speed, but the thing that makes this Semblance dangerous is that when he gets into a fight that stacked against him, he gets even stronger. The more damage he takes and the less Aura he has, the stronger his Semblance becomes, enabling him to move faster and hit harder then he normally be able to. He can also apply his Semblance to a single limb, doubling the boost to speed but only to that limb, making it most useful when he's trying to get a shot on an unsuspecting foe or trying to overwhelm his opponent with a furious flurry of attacks.
Aside from that, Carver is very skilled in the ways of manipulating dust, having had to deal with it being engrained to his skin since birth and being forced to train with his father for experiments. While he may not like it using it, the dust in his skin is something he's very use to using, as he can now launch attacks using it without even a second thought. It's draining, however, to use it too much, hence why he tends to rely on his other skills first, only resorting to dust when he needs to make sure a foe is finished. He can use all forms of elements, as well as mixing them together to form new effects, and the results can be as devastating as they are tiring.
D E L V I N G D E E P E R
|Personality|
♦ Ruthless ♦ Laid back ♦ Care-free ♦ Flirtatious ♦
Carver is a Free spirit, both a lover and a fighter who doesn't care about societal taboos and has a love for the strange and unnatural. This is why he doesn't mind the Faunus like some other humans might, and even prefers them to humans since they seem to be clearly superior. He bears a somewhat odd fixation on women of the Faunus variety(any species of Faunus), and tends to treat them with all kinds of flattery, flirtation, and seduction, though he does this to all women, in truth. Faunus just get special attention.
With men, he tends to be sarcastic jackass with a superiority complex, not really treating themas if they're on the same level as he is. He also tends to demean them heavily and may have played a part in Silme's tendency to insult someone as soon as he sees them, as that's what he tends to do, often with a nickname of sorts. However, don't let his odd behaviors fool you, the man is as heartless and ruthless as they come, if not more so, dealing with everything in his way in a calculated and cool manner. He's broken his share knees and necks to get to where he is today, and will never lose any sleep over it. He beleives in survival of the fittest, and anyone who falls to him deserved to get crushed by his presence.
|Place of Origin|
Vale
|History|
Carver's childhood was a miserable one, as he had the misfortune of having a mad man as his father. Obsessed with discovering the secrets of dust, aura, semblances, and even further along, attempting to replicate the tale of the 4 maidens. To that end, he experimented on a number of hapless people in the shadows of Vale, learning much about the nature of Aura and Semblances that others couldn't even begin to comprehend, but through methods that few others would pursue in order to get the same result. Carver was not born naturally, but was created using the life force of many, meant to be a perfect being in every way. As Carver grew up, however, he began to notice something.
He was better than his father, which was inevitably followed by the fact that he was better than everyone else as well.
This didn't give him an arrogant attitude or excessive pride, just a simple realization that he shouldn't have to listen to those who are inferior to him. So, once he learned everything there was to know from his father, he left the man to stare at his burning hime, all of his discoveries set to torch to prevent another him form being made. The last he saw of his father was the man trying to rush into the building and reclaim his research. After that day, Carver was taken in by a nice family at the age of 14 and soon became known as a prodigy among prodigies. It was here that he learned all their was to know about Hunting Grimm, about the world at large, and many, many more things. He eventually became a hunter and had a grand life, but he felt . . . constrained by the laws set in place by those who couldn't understand his superiority. It ate at him, killing his desire to do anything day by day until, finally, he had enough. Tired of it all, he faked his own death at the hands of a Grimm, then went off to pursue a career that fit more with his beliefs. Apparently, that career was being a crime boss
|Relations with other characters|
Silme's father figure
|Extra| |
55,977 | 1,533 | 37 | 1,826 | 1,165 | "M o r g a n !"
The iron tones of the Atlesian captain must have carried somewhat harshly over his Scroll, because Brennan was trying his hardest to speak in as clear and unaccented a voice as he had ever been heard to command. Thumb, index, and middle fingers on one hand gripped the Scroll steadily, while his other hand was crammed into his pocket. Brennan himself had lifted his head to the sky wolfishly and was watching it, beholden, for any signs of astrological activity. He loved the first sight of the moon in the late afternoon - loved seeing it in all its shattered glory earlier than anyone else, trying to piece it back together the way that you imagined rearranging broken glass. Ever since he was a boy, he had dreamed of being the man strong enough to reforge the moon.
Even though he was supposed to know better by the age of nineteen, the quest for that strength had been part of the reason he'd enrolled in Atlas late rather than never.
It was one of those perfect late afternoons that Brennan loved to watch from the aluminum crust of Atlas, and the fact that Vale so easily replicated it meant that maybe the podunk little kingdom had more natural beauty than he gave it credit for.
Brennan would have enjoyed it a lot more if he wasn't agitatedly watching the skyline for the other half of his team.
"I won't call you a fourth time. If you don't get here where I can see you in the next ten minutes, I'm going to put a Dust crystal in a train whistle and have Tarik ram it up your arse and blo--" Brennan trailed off and directed his gaze down from the sky, to the realm of the mortals he walked with. He blinked a couple times, almost bewildered, and turned to Noel behind him. His other hand cupped over the Scroll's speakers, insulating Morgan from hearing any further.
"Noel, lass, where's Tarik?"
"He took the locomotive!" his teammate said cheerfully.
Brennan's eyes opened fully, and slowly his strong jaw went a little slack.
"He took the lo--we're--the matches are--!" he sputtered, before gesturing angrily at the Amity Coliseum and the ground it was built on with his Scroll. "This stadium fucking flies!" The Atlesian visibly collected himself and uncovered his Scroll.
"You there, Morgan? Rescind that threat. If you're not here in ten minutes, I'm going to hogtie your ankle to Veblen Good and go fly fishing for Tarik using your fookin' body!"
"Yeah, Morgan!" Noel echoed. "You better get here on the fly!"
"Shut up, Noel."
"O-kay." | Name: Brennan Ailill Griese, the Captain of Industry
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 19
Nationality: Atlesian
Team: BANK
Designation: Subject 0081: Highly Ravenous, Do Not Unleash Huntsman
Appearance:
Several inches over the average height and athletically broad, Brennan only tends to look somewhat leaner in comparison to his teammate. In reality, though perhaps not a powerhouse on Kek’s level, it’s clear he doesn’t take many cheat days. Brennan himself is very handsome, with a strong jaw, bright red-gold eyes, and a perpetual hysterical laugh never far from his lips. Ever professional, he tends to wear black pants or jeans with white dress shirt, sleeves rolled up. He will always either wear suspenders or a slim-fitting black vest. His coal-black hair is long, but not unruly – half the time it tends to be pomaded backwards lustrously, and half the time he lets it hang free over his eyes. Surprisingly, he’s not one for much gaudy orientation. The only concession to jewelry he wears is a slender silver chain on his neck, from which hangs two Claddagh rings barely visible through an unbuttoned collar.
History:
Brennan’s father was only one generation removed from their fortune, but it was clear he had forgotten where it came from. Brennan’s grandfather had initially gone into business as a founding partner of the Schnee Dust Company, but foresaw a coming monopoly on the Dust market and the coming problems with the use of Faunus labor. Therefore, he sold every last share at top dollar and came out with enough money to float him through the rest of his life; a series of sensible investments in property and budding tech firms with interests in Aura and Dust only compounded the fortune, until it was clear no Griese would ever have to worry again.
As you can imagine, this had made Brennan’s father complacent, a trait not shared by his rowdy, implacable only son. A talented little scrapper (to his father’s chagrin) from an early age, Brennan seemed to have determined his path even before he quite knew what the Huntsman path was, and went away to Sanctum Academy in Mistral for combat training at the age of 12. When he returned to Atlas after four years, though, he took a couple drop years to begin taking a hands on role in some investments of his own. Finally, at the age of 19, he enrolled in Atlas Academy to seek out a career as a Huntsman and engage himself in higher study.
Pleasantly, he found himself on a team with three other members of the Atlesian business elite, and though at first their squabbles over leadership and natural competitive edges had led them to all eschew each other, once the question of leadership was truly decided and began to work as a unit, BANK (as they had been first colloquially, then officially known) became an inseparable juggernaut, often able to discern strategies and fight alongside or independent of each other with mere near-telekinetic glances. At the head of this specialized team is Brennan Griese himself – and though his father insists he’s going through a phase, Brennan finds the thrill of being a Huntsman and the challenge of impossible odds far more satisfying a life than a sterile boardroom, where he had no chance of anything but even greater success.
Not the most heady of futures to a young man such as him.
Personality:
Despite what his teammates like to mutter to themselves, there’s really no one but Brennan who could lead BANK with any efficiency. He balances the three proper attitudes for business on the tip of his finger – cold and pragmatic on the battlefield, when his team is most in need of direction; open-hearted, jovial, and irreverent at a public setting or presentation; and funny, fluent and respectful in a one on one setting. While not an out and out asshole, years of relative dominance amongst his peers and the restlessness of being born into wealth and lacking things to do with it has completely coated Brennan in bulletproof confidence. This sense of self-assurance can often cross the line to out and out conceit.
Even if Brennan isn’t the most talented fighter on the team (an honor that goes to Kek) he’s easily the psychological warrior of BANK. A born performer, hyping up the crowd comes as easily as breath to Brennan – the sheer act of pumping his arms to raise a mob’s volume seems to feed him with a psychotic, insatiable energy. Though he’s cunning enough to guess at many a psychological weakness, public displays of disrespect towards the other three Huntsmen academies are more his speed. Brennan is a madman. He will raise chants amongst students. He will spout disrespectful limericks towards upcoming competitors. He will buy other students dinner and a Scroll because “those on death row have rights in Atlas. We love the damned! We love them so much that we give them last meals and phone calls home.” He is not above buying out a Mistralian merch stand and tying shirts to banners in a sick mockery of a funeral procession.
Despite this, surprisingly, the charismatic, quasi-psychotic Atlesian is not inglorious in victory or defeat. Often he will seek out as many opponents as possible after the post-fight bloodlust has worn off and his throat requires a brief rest and congratulate them on their performance. It would appear that this frenzied, hypercompetitive jock state ebbs away as soon as the bellows in the arena die down, giving way to a civil, if overbearing, young man who fights every duel like it’s the time of his life. In addition, though he will never advertise this fact – going so far as to pin all credit/blame on Noel – he tends towards charity, or taking his excess money and scattering it through the immediate area.
“Tears, laughter, pleasure and pain! I bring the fire, THEN I MAKE IT RAIN!”
Skills:
A skilled orator and hand-to-hand combatant, Brennan is most skilled in a fight when he’s able to manipulate Dust to full effect. Both of his weapons – as well as his fortune – rely upon the propellant, and he’s learned to use them appreciatively. He’s also the leader of BANK for a reason – a smart tactician, gauging his team’s strengths and weaknesses, he can coordinate group attacks with relative ease and very rarely has to deal with someone falling out of formation or losing their head in the fight. Ironically, not even he is exempt from this sense of focus.
Semblance:
Slick as a Whistle: Brennan’s Semblance is friction manipulation. Simply put, he is able to generate, remove, or control friction in order to propel himself forward, stop something in its tracks by sending it slipping and sliding, or maneuver up solid surfaces more fluidly.
Weapon:
Veblen Good: An energy whip of Brennan’s own design, Veblen Good is a potent weapon even without a power source, able to open up stinging cuts on an opponent with ease or ensnare itself around a body part with a flick of Brennan’s wrist. Its real power, though, comes from the holster built into the handle of the whip, complete with small trigger. When loaded with a Dust crystal or cartridge, the trigger can be pressed in, energizing the whip with Dust for several minutes and imbuing it with whatever particular type Brennan loaded it with. In a pinch, in case of a lack of crystals, the whip can also be powered for a limited time with the Trustbusters.
In its coiled form, Veblen Good can still be loaded with a Dust cartridge and powered up. In this state, Brennan can utilize the weapon as an energy targe, also imbued with whatever element the Dust was and combining with his aura to form a large protective shield.
Trustbusters: A pair of Dust-knitted gloves that operate independently of Veblen Good, the Trustbusters would ostensibly not have much power on their own. Thus, Brennan has done some modification, turning what was once a pair of glorified hand protection into augmented weapons all their own. When a Dust crystal or cartridge is crushed inside one of the Trustbusters, the specialized fabrics and the Dust already latent inside will absorb the Dust Brennan wants to utilize. This surcharge allows him to power up something he chooses with Dust, whether it be Veblen Good or something inanimate…or just hit someone with a burning fist.
Relationships:
Albert Morgan: To put it frankly, Brennan and Morgan aren’t friends – but they should be. Both tend to speak fast and take shots at the things around them, and while they often fall into a rapport and coordinate alongside each other well in combat, they don’t hang out on a personal level very often unless someone else is the bridge between them. Despite their aloofness from each other, Brennan enjoys the other heir’s company, and can even be heard to openly laugh at some of Albert’s ideas and jokes. The team leader has decided to try and attempt to forge a real bond with his partner as time goes on.
Noël Du Acier: Perhaps the only member of BANK Brennan can truly said to be close to, Noel is the target of more of his mocking barbs than any other – as well as the target of slightly more extolled pride. Though he is first in the chorus of telling the talkative blacksmith to just shut the hell up, he tends to treat her as something of a precocious younger sister, and knows how to play to her strengths in the field. They will sometimes hang out without the company of anyone else, though usually only for a quick meal. Though he talks a big game about letting her reap her just desserts for running her mouth so often, Noel’s charitable heart is a quiet soft spot for the braggadocio-fueled Atlesian, and slights on her person or (undue) beatings that he thinks she can’t handle will be handled with hot fury.
Kek Tarik: Another team member who, like Morgan, Brennan doesn’t have much of a personal relationship with. Kek, however, has Brennan’s quiet respect if nothing else – as team leader, it’s his job to acknowledge to himself when he’s outmatched, and Kek is pound for pound a better fighter than Brennan himself. As such, he will often just point him in a vague direction and let the big guy go off on his own, only falling in with the rest of the team when it’s time for a complete formation. Outside of the field or classes, Kek will sometimes find himself called on as the deciding vote in an argument with Brennan and Morgan, but otherwise he’s left to his own devices – or to Noel, whom the big guy seems to get on well with.
Trivia:
Theme
Based loosely upon the personality and life of John D. Rockefeller
My Semblance would be telepathy. |
55,978 | 1,533 | 38 | 1,449 | 5,931 | Echo Marine, Tawne Adagio
Through with his spinning and intent on seeing the results of his very intentional powder shower on the new girls, Tawne paid special attention to both Teàrlag and Umeko when his multicolored haze wafted their way. Immense gratification tickled him into snickering when it not only splashed against the purple-haired chick, making her into a stunning example of abstract expressionism, but got into her mouth at the same time and prevented any immediate rebuke. A good prankster, Tawne mused, always seizes the moment.
Eager to continue the art show, he turned a keen eye to Umeko, but found to his complete consternation that every grain of vibrant powder to drift her way coalesced into a clump that somehow went around her, saving her admittedly stylish clothes from even a single stain. Tawne made no comment, instead shifting his eyes to the nearest speaker as Professor Oobleck’s announcement came through, but in his mind he thought, I wasn’t looking for anything but a little mischief, but it looks like I might have found something. There’s no way that all that powder could have just revolved around her like that—it must have been her semblance, or maybe even dust in her clothes. She’s nothing like me, though, so it can’t be spinning. He glanced at the huntress in question when she introduced herself following the summons. “’I don’t I met you’? I think you mighta forgotten a word or two in there, Kawa. Can I call you Kawa? Thanks.” The next moment, Tawne’s gaze returned instinctively to her rainbow-colored teammate, for the realization that she would be fighting looking like that gave him a sneering grin.
The next moment, the four acquaintances split off to find their respective teams. Tawne returned Umeko’s wave, albeit in the rigid fashion of only turning his wrist slightly. ”Adieu, adieu!” He turned to Echo, regarding him with the same unpleasant smile inspired by the sight of Teàrlag. Acting in subconscious unison, the two most aggressive members of BEAT began toward the floating coliseum, trusting there to be a convenient airship dock in their path to ferry them up, up, and away. ”Havin’ fun getting’ all chummy with the competition, Ech?” With crossed arms, he wondered whether or not his companion’s aim had been pleasantry or espionage.
Echo shrugged, reeking of nonchalance. For the past half minute she’d been manufacturing a message to her absent allies Burgundy and Albus:
Subject Line: Ready for a BEATdown?
Body: Tawne and I are going up to the arena. We’ll stick around the main entrance. Meet you there.
Pressing send, she replied, “Kawaguchi’s kinda full of herself. Seriously, she thinks she’s gonna get merchandise? Pah. The other one, Teàr I think I heard, is the quiet type. They’re like polar opposites. Not bad for only a minute or two of time with ‘em, but it ain’t enough to keep us from smashin’ ‘em flat if we fight ‘em.” Just then, she caught sight of an airship dock taking up civilians and challengers alike to the arena above. Directing Tawne toward it, the two set off. | Name: Tawne Adagio
Team: BEAT
Birth Date: August 31st
Age: 18
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Designation: Sophomore Student at Atlas Academy
-=-=-
In Depth Appearance: Tawne is of slighty above average height and physical condition, giving him a wiry frame. Long, nimble fingers give him admirable dexterity. His face sports a cleft chin, green eyes, and a rounded nose. Tawne's hair is nearly platinum blonde, practically sun-colored, and very bright. It falls to about his chin, but is commonly kept brushed back. His green eyes match the green-tinted panes of his black glasses.
Tawne's favorite clothes for times of action are loosely ceremonial, and vividly colored except for a loose black undershirt. A yellow-range mantle hangs down his front and back, kept in place by a wrap around his neck. A gray scarf with an intricate, white, curvy design serves him as a belt. On his arms and feet are leather vambraces and boots of the same style. Deep red pants complete the ensemble.
Weapon: Sticky Keys is a weapon both comically brutal and gloriously inelegant. This bizarre armament combines a keyboard with a butcher's cleaver, its single huge blade jutting out from the instrument's forward side. Handles exist at both the top and bottom of the weapon for strategic gripping, though the top one hides a special feature: a trigger for the double-barreled shotgun embedded in the weapon's top. Never meant for accuracy or delicacy, this shotgun serves as a powerful deterrent to anyone believing the cleaver blade to be easy to get around.
Semblance: Tawne's semblance, Spinout, comes into effect with anything in his vicinity that starts to spin, be it a ball, a weapon, or himself. Spinout enhances the spin, increasing speed and force while stabilizing trajectory, all of which ramp up over time. For instance, Tawne can throw a ball and have it fly perfectly straight, then grind into a target. He can perform enhanced lariats, rolls, tornado throws, and even hurricane kicks. Spinout derives from his tendency to be either brash or crazy in trying times, and to put a unique spin on whatever comes his way.
-=-=-
Personality: In essence, Tawne tends to play by his own somewhat loony rules. He's intelligent and quick-witted but with a snarky and sarcastic bent, quick to make jokes about and trivialize things that might matter to others. He views taking things too seriously as 'tryharding', and anathema to fun--which is what truly matters to him. Tawne loves a good time, whether playing games, making music, or fighting. Despite his general acidity and brashness, he actually does really enjoy hanging out with others, and will work tirelessly to return kindness to those who show it to him. To those close to him, he is equal parts irritating and inseparable. When things get tough, Tawne tends to go nuts, acting with a rather manic vigor. While possessed of a decent self-esteem, Tawne is intensely self-depreciating, though whether this is a joke at his expense or at egotists' few can rightly say. Despite his cynicism and slight kookiness, Tawne is kept firmly on the side of justice and goodness by his spirituality.
Place of Origin: Canopy, Atlas
History: In the city of Canopy in Atlas, a couple with no desire or need to marry became a family. From an early age it was evident that Tawne took after both the keen intelligence of his mother, the banker Saffron, and the creative wisdom of his father, the pianist Gormon. He also displayed an inability to mesh with other children, often driving them away with his sharp sense of humor and sometimes hurtful bluntness. Nevertheless, he exhibited an endearing kind of annoying, and his parents loved him. Other adults often felt surprised to see the compassionate and helpful side of the boy who often needled their children in school. Tawne, meanwhile found the fulfillment in religion that he did not get from other kids; it was spirituality that inspired him to do the best he could in life.
During his education, it became clear that Tawne delighted in music as much as his father, but rather than take an interest in finance he found satisfaction and creative potential in combat. As such, the government moved him into Atlas Academy when the time came, and there he found both a blend of his two passions and a few individuals who really understood him: his teammates. Tawne continued to devote himself to the rigors of education, though never abandoning his cuttingly jovial nature.
Relations with other Players: Tawne is fast friends with his teammate Albus. Though the two are vastly disparate in a variety of ways, they have formed a powerful bond of friendship, pretty much brothers in arms. Working together remarkably well, they are ideal partners both in music and in battle, able to coordinate attacks for maximum effectiveness and humiliation. If some sort of prank is going down, you can be sure that these two aren't far from it.
Extra: My semblance would be sneezing at gale force winds. |
55,979 | 1,533 | 39 | 1,894 | 5,788 | Up to the.... Up? Burgundy looked at her scroll in confusion, reading the single message from her teammates over and over again to make sure that it wasn't a typo of any sort. Due to the lack of asterisk followed by a word or set of words, Burgundy could only assume that Echo did, in fact mean, up.
When the announcement about the tournament happening soon rung aloud, Burgundy wondered where the arena was and how she was going to get there. Like the pristine Atlas, she assumed that there would be some sort of metro or immediate transport system that would allow her to get there in an instant. Like Atlas, she assumed that it also would have been a closed circuit, staying away from the walls of the city, but still reach out far enough to get where one needed to quickly. However, she should have known better. Vale was obviously much more in touch with its natural side than Atlas was, and she shouldn't have expected such an advanced travel system to be fully implemented into the city. Especially with the failure of Mountain Glenn, she shouldn't have even thought about that being a possibility for Vale.
Burgundy wandered around, looking about for the stadium. Soon enough, right there in the sky, was a flying fortress similar to Atlas' own airships, hovering in the sky.
"Up."
She found a means to get there soon enough, taking one of the public bullheads with the festival-goers to get there. | Name: Echo Marine?
Team: BEAT
Birth Date: May 2nd
Age: 18
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Designation: Sophomore Student at Atlas Academy
In Depth Appearance: Echo is a tall, strongly-built girl, with long legs, wide shoulders, and wide hips. Her skin is approximately mocha in tone, and contrasts extravagently with her poofy blue hair, which is tied back in a bush except for jagged bangs. Fairly thick eyebrows, full lips, and a near-permanent smirk distinguish her face.
On the battlefield or the stage, Echo's attire of choice is a gray crop-sleeved sweaterskirt, yellow bows as her hairtie and her belt, streamlined cotton pants, and white tennis shoes with yellow soles. Black elastic wraps adorn her arms, extending into fingerless gloves. This garb overall displays a simple functionality, though not without its own assertive style.
Weapon: The simple title of Echo's weapon, the Boomstick, masks a great degree of sophistication and flexibility seemingly unfit for a brutish hammer. To begin, the Boomstick is an immense mallet, meant to be swung with both hands. The force of a proper swing is capable of making dents in Grimm armor plates and metal alike. Though slower and not as adaptable as a blade or even a mace, this huge weapon nevertheless boasts a highly effective inelegance masked beneath a hip exterior.
More interesting than the Boomstick's raw pummeling capabilities, however, are the two sound-based devices built into it. Lying well-sheltered in the hammerhead, an extremely potent boombox creates forceful reverberations in the vicinity of the weapon when swung, giving the Boomstick an area-of-effect capable of launching things it isn't even touching. Additionally, a microphone exists in the bottom of the Boomstick's handle, though this serves more of an entertainment purpose than a tactical one.
Semblance: Stemming from Echo's unwillingness to back down even when greatly challenged, her semblance Run it Back restores her own aura to its level a few moments ago, making her resistent to burst damage and even able to stay in a fight when she might otherwise be taken down. This talent's nature as a sort of 'second wind' however, prevents her using her ability more than once or twice per fight, leading her to save it for big moments. The ability is extremely taxing on her body, and even two uses has great effects on her soon after, requiring her to finish a fight quickly after using her semblance.
Personality: In a word, adamant. Echo is proud, resolute in what she believes in, and strong-willed to the point of obnoxiousness. Despite being overly inclined to prefer everything being done her way, she will relent if sufficiently convinced—a quality she shamelessly touts as being representative of her consideration for others' thoughts, which she lacks. Though of average intelligence, she is less proficient than most in picking up on the feelings of others. She doesn't ever let her opponents get through to her, thinking this to be an act of submission; for instance, if slandered for her weight, Echo might turn it around to point out that she's not trying to pretend she's something she's not. Echo also tends to hold grudges. Despite being self-centered and somewhat arrogant, she is not in the least bit mean-spirited and will not actively seek to hurt the feelings or attack the beliefs of others, and if she discovers she has done so, she will apologize.
On the flipside, Echo exhibits a loyalty and reliability that make her a steadfast ally, if not a steadfast friend. The military tradition of her family perseveres in her, and Echo remains optimistic despite the tragedies and struggles of the world to inspire confidence and toughness in others. All in all, she is an indomitable spirit, for better or worse, whose confidence can be both self-destructive and self-preservative.
Place of Origin: Atlas
Relations with other Players:
Burgundy - Echo holds a certain level of respect for Burgundy. Not only because she is the leader of the team, but also due to the fact that she always appears to be on the top of her game. she seems to view Burgundy in the same prodigal light that many of the faculty in the academy do, but her respect is not to be mistaken for idolism. The two tend to make jokes about one another, Echo's favorite one being a half true statement in how she believes that men should be throwing themselves at her feet and forming a reverse harem for her. It usaully gets a good laugh out of the both of them. Despite how close the two are, she is still unaware of the rigorous training that Burgundy sneaks off to to maintain her status as a pending specialist.
Albus -The two are quite the odd pair. They speak like a couple and are more open with eachother than they actually know. Their relationship can be described as 'Tough Love'. They share insults together without even knowing that they are both actually giving eachother a piece of themselves. But in combat Albus and Echo do not work well together like Albus does with Tawne.
Tawne - Echo and Tawne represent a compromising clash. More than anyone else on the team, and often more than anyone else they know, Echo and Tawne butt heads on the smallest of issues, seemingly just for the sake of it. Since day one, each has treated one another like a sibling, with a great deal of understanding and care veiled behind an equal but much more visible quantity of teasing, calling out, and competition. Both strive to be the 'big brother' of the relationship.
This get's the Pyro Seal of approval, and is automatically accepted. |
55,980 | 1,533 | 40 | 1,918 | 8,262 | Silme Raana
The moment she had pulled out her weapon, Silme had a shortsword in hand, his body tensed at the possibility of combat, only to just as quickly sheate it when he realized what she was doing. At her comment, he simply scoffed in response.
"Hardly, I don't deal in used go-AAAGGHHH!" Silmr retort was cut short due to him findingly his footing compromised by a thin sheet of ice that had defineteky not been there before. The fall brought with it a barrage of graphic curses pointed Mikoto's way, all of which involved violence, insertion of sharp, barbed, and/or spiky objects into unmentionable, and ocer all announcung just how badly he was going to kick her washboard chest, cop or no cop. By the time he had finished his rant, he was getting and preparing to give her a very in-depth demonstration of his skills on her, when there scrolls suddenly began ringing.
Giving the cadet a single glare filled with all of his rafe and contempt for her, he turned his attention to the text, gritting his teeth as he felt his anger reach it's boiling point. Once he was done reading, he slipped it back into his pocket before walking off, making a motion for her to follow.
"Come on and hurry your slow ass up. I know where we're going, and I want to get there sooner rather than later. I'm pissed off to hell, and since I can't take it out on you yet, then whoever ends up facing me in the ring is going to get the ass kicking of a lifetime."
With that said, he made his way forward, sending a small, nearly unoticeable amount of his Semblance into his feet, just incase she tried to pull the same trick twice. Eventually they'd reach one of the airships up to the Arena, where Silme would nearly get into fights with no less than 10 people, his mood soured by Mikoto's presence and his inability to break that smug face of her's. They'd eventually meet up with Amari in prep room X, Silme annoucing his displeasure and arrival by kicking the door open so hard, it nearly flew off it's hinges.
"Why didn't you tell me we'd already got a replacement for our previous waste of space, or that she was such a goddamn annoyance."
Despite his voice not lowering at all and his demeanor not getting any better, Mikoto would probably notice that Silme had said only a single vulgarity in that whole sentence, and had denied to call her any of the various other obscenities he'd had no problem screaming at her before. | C H A R A C T E R S H E E T
Silme Raana
“You keep staring and you're going to lose an eye."
-Silme Raana, Age 10
T H E B A S I C S
|Name|
Silme Raana
|Team|
MASK
|Birth Date|
|Age|
17
|Race|
Timber Wolf Faunus
|Gender|
Male
|Designation|
reluctant Student, Secret Criminal
A P P E A R A N C E
|In Depth Appearance|
Silme is on the taller side, being around 6ft tall with room to grow, his silver hair cut short in a wild, unkempt style to keep it from getting in the way of his fighting. His eyes are a fierce amber color, closer in appearance to that of his animal lineage, especially when his instincts start to take over. He has a lean muscled figure covered with scars from his numerous criminal escapades, as well as a tattoo on his arm of a snarling wolf. As for his Faunus features, he has an easily noticeable pair of wolf ears on his head, as well as a tail, claws, and sharp canines that he's all to ready to use if needed.
G E T T I N G T O K N O W M E
|Likes & Dislikes|
✔ fighting, other Faunus, Scarlet Ravagers, taking humans down a pegor six,
✘ being alone, people in general, Faunus who try and 'fit in'Domesticated fuckwads, Humans, hyper people, being touched, being told what to do, authority, Carver, Carver's weird habits, Hunters
Weapon: The Scarlet Ravagers: He uses a pair of Specialized Customizable Clawed Gauntlets that he can alter for various combat and utility functions, as well as changing into either a pair of Customized SMGs, with rapid- and burst-fire modes, for him to dual wield, or into two double-sided short swords. All variations of weapons can be augmented with Dust cartridges for various effects and attacks.
He can also use them as a means of traversal by firing out the claws as a form of grappling hook attached to a good amount of strong, lightweight metal cable.
Fighting Style: Hit them faster and hit them hard, he is a Striker type fighter, extremely good at offense even against superior numbers. However, his defensive capabilities aren't the greatest, but they aren't the worst either. To help with this style, he's actually augmented his Aura so that it gives more of a physical power boost at the cost of it's defensive capabilities, making him a good deal stronger and a great deal faster than most, but taking hits is something he tries to avoid.
Sembalance: Corrosion, It is a very offensive Sembalance that allows Silme to imbue his attacks with a reddish-silver aura. This Aura is extremely effective at dealing damage, but it's usefulness truly shines when it comes with dealing with heavily armored enemies. With this ability, he can easily weaken most types of armor so and items, making him very effective at damaging and even destroying the weapons of others to lessen their combat effciency.He can even apply his ability against the defensive aura of others, though it isn't as effective, it still allows him to do more damage then normal.
D E L V I N G D E E P E R
|Personality|
♦ Aggresive ♦ Rebellious ♦ Somewhat Clueless ♦ Short-Temper♦
Silme is a loner by trade, and while he'll deny it vehemently, he really wishes he wasn't. He wants to connect with people, have real friends and family again, but he's afraid that he'll just get left behind again, abandoned by those he loved the most. Outwardly and in public, however, he's very abrasive, blunt, and vulgar, ready to speak his mind and pounce on anyone who tries to stop him(sometimes literally). The surest way to get on his shit list is to tell him what to do, as he hates that more than anything, especially if it's a human.
As far as fighting goes, he'll use evey advantage to win and will fight to the ducking end with all the feral energy of a wild beast. Now a trained killer, he'll have no problem ending his foes of the need arises, though not a second before. He has some sense of honor in that he won't fight a helpless opponent or murder innocents, but other than that, he can head cold and heartless as Carver himself.
|Place of Origin|
Vale
|History|
Silme is the son of two well-respected hunters, who were also terrible parents. While they did love their son, they were always out on the job, protecting others from danger while neglecting the one who needed them most. Then, they simply never came back, having gone MIA in the line of duty. Silme spent a few weeks devesatated by the loss, but that sadness soon turned to anger, distrust, and deep seated hatred against Hunter society as a whole.
Silme has since then gotten involved with some unsavory types, getting himself stuck in the criminal underground and making a name for himself for his impressive fighting skills. When he was in trouble with some gangs looking to put him in his place, Carver showed up to save his hide and forcibly employ him into his service. Silme hates this arrangement, but he can't get out if it since Carber has him by the throat in more ways then one. His time as Carver's protege hasn't been all bad, however, as the former hunter has taught him many thinks in the time they've been together that, when combined with his own natural skill and garnered combat experience, makes him a force to be reckoned with in battle.
|Relations with other characters|
|Extra|
Hates to be mothered or otherwise taken care of
Tail and Ears give away his feelings, especially when he try's to hide them
Wolf blood gives him increased endurance, Stamina, strength, and senses, though the most enhanced are his stamina and senses. He also has a very strong bite, capable of breaking bones if he bites down hard enough.
He has a helmet styled in the fashion of a Beowulf mask that he wears for intimidation purpoaes and to hide his identity while doing criminal activity. The eyes glow silver and red, and his voice becomes heavily distorted, adding to the monstrous appearance
Has a tough time controlling his more animalistic side
C H A R A C T E R S H E E T
Carver Aureus
“Life's much too short to worry about petty things like laws or decency. Have an affair, punch a hobo, stab somebody, do whatever the hell you want, cause everything's permitted as long as you don't get caught.”
-Carver Aureus
T H E B A S I C S
|Name|
Carver Aureus
|Team|
|Birth Date|
Wouldn't you like to know
|Age|
32
|Race|
Human
|Gender|
Male
|Designation|
Crime Boss, Father figure(?) for Silmefor better or for worse
A P P E A R A N C E
|In Depth Appearance|
Carver is a man blessed with saintly good looks, with sparkling green eyes and straight blonde hair that reach to his shoulders. His figure is what you'd expect of a Hunter, lean and toned, plenty muscular physique and covered with a variety of scars, most of them being old wounds from his hunting days. When it comes to his clothing, he usually wears high-quality dress clothes that have been modified for use in combat while still remaining rather stylish, usually in the forms of jackets, slacks, and dress shoes.
|Scars, Tattoos, Other Markings|
He has a large tattoo that spans the whole of his back and spills over on to his arms, a veritable tapestry of colors that seems to span the rainbow. They shimmer with iridescent colors when shown to the light, and seem to glow when in the dark. Despite their beauty, Carver is very adverse o discussing them and will either dodge the questions or, if people still try to pry, get violent.
G E T T I N G T O K N O W M E
|Likes & Dislikes|
✔ Women(Especially Faunus women), money, Freedom, Silme when he isn't being a little brat, Luxury, messing with the police and Hunters
✘ People mentioning tattoos, people who go back on deals, traitors, mindless violence, self-righteous types, hero types, Uppity rats that don't know their place
Weapon: Never being one to play by the rules, Carver bears two weapons, A mechanized long-sword that can turn into a form of chainsaw by splitting in half, edge-wise, and ejecting a number of inch long serrated blades. His other weapon is a powerful revolver that bears a Dust Applicator, as well as a varied internal barrel. By pressing a button, he can change how the dust effects the bullet, from either simply affecting the bullet, to drawing a line of elemental energy as it travels, to even apply an effect to the target on hit. Not only that, but the bullets it fires have a very high impact, meaning they can do quite a lot of damage if they hit, though consecutive firing is near impossible due to the extreme recoil the weapon has. He can also out fit it with specially designed Aura-piercing rounds, but these are incredible expensive black market items, so he only uses them when faced with no other option.
Semblance: Live Fast, Die Hard; these are the words that he lives by and his his ability reflects that. When active, he gains a slight golden glow, as well as an impressive boost to his speed, but the thing that makes this Semblance dangerous is that when he gets into a fight that stacked against him, he gets even stronger. The more damage he takes and the less Aura he has, the stronger his Semblance becomes, enabling him to move faster and hit harder then he normally be able to. He can also apply his Semblance to a single limb, doubling the boost to speed but only to that limb, making it most useful when he's trying to get a shot on an unsuspecting foe or trying to overwhelm his opponent with a furious flurry of attacks.
Aside from that, Carver is very skilled in the ways of manipulating dust, having had to deal with it being engrained to his skin since birth and being forced to train with his father for experiments. While he may not like it using it, the dust in his skin is something he's very use to using, as he can now launch attacks using it without even a second thought. It's draining, however, to use it too much, hence why he tends to rely on his other skills first, only resorting to dust when he needs to make sure a foe is finished. He can use all forms of elements, as well as mixing them together to form new effects, and the results can be as devastating as they are tiring.
D E L V I N G D E E P E R
|Personality|
♦ Ruthless ♦ Laid back ♦ Care-free ♦ Flirtatious ♦
Carver is a Free spirit, both a lover and a fighter who doesn't care about societal taboos and has a love for the strange and unnatural. This is why he doesn't mind the Faunus like some other humans might, and even prefers them to humans since they seem to be clearly superior. He bears a somewhat odd fixation on women of the Faunus variety(any species of Faunus), and tends to treat them with all kinds of flattery, flirtation, and seduction, though he does this to all women, in truth. Faunus just get special attention.
With men, he tends to be sarcastic jackass with a superiority complex, not really treating themas if they're on the same level as he is. He also tends to demean them heavily and may have played a part in Silme's tendency to insult someone as soon as he sees them, as that's what he tends to do, often with a nickname of sorts. However, don't let his odd behaviors fool you, the man is as heartless and ruthless as they come, if not more so, dealing with everything in his way in a calculated and cool manner. He's broken his share knees and necks to get to where he is today, and will never lose any sleep over it. He beleives in survival of the fittest, and anyone who falls to him deserved to get crushed by his presence.
|Place of Origin|
Vale
|History|
Carver's childhood was a miserable one, as he had the misfortune of having a mad man as his father. Obsessed with discovering the secrets of dust, aura, semblances, and even further along, attempting to replicate the tale of the 4 maidens. To that end, he experimented on a number of hapless people in the shadows of Vale, learning much about the nature of Aura and Semblances that others couldn't even begin to comprehend, but through methods that few others would pursue in order to get the same result. Carver was not born naturally, but was created using the life force of many, meant to be a perfect being in every way. As Carver grew up, however, he began to notice something.
He was better than his father, which was inevitably followed by the fact that he was better than everyone else as well.
This didn't give him an arrogant attitude or excessive pride, just a simple realization that he shouldn't have to listen to those who are inferior to him. So, once he learned everything there was to know from his father, he left the man to stare at his burning hime, all of his discoveries set to torch to prevent another him form being made. The last he saw of his father was the man trying to rush into the building and reclaim his research. After that day, Carver was taken in by a nice family at the age of 14 and soon became known as a prodigy among prodigies. It was here that he learned all their was to know about Hunting Grimm, about the world at large, and many, many more things. He eventually became a hunter and had a grand life, but he felt . . . constrained by the laws set in place by those who couldn't understand his superiority. It ate at him, killing his desire to do anything day by day until, finally, he had enough. Tired of it all, he faked his own death at the hands of a Grimm, then went off to pursue a career that fit more with his beliefs. Apparently, that career was being a crime boss
|Relations with other characters|
Silme's father figure
|Extra| |
55,981 | 1,533 | 41 | 843 | 1,812 | Smug face it was indeed. With every swearword, every curse Mikoto's grin grew wider and more amused. It vanished though when her scroll announced a message. Unknown number, but it appeared it was somebody from 'her team'. What? Where did they even get my number? She did not appreciate the headmaster giving out her number to strangers without her knowing. Well, at least the stranger was actually helpful unlike her present company.
She had a sickening pit in her stomach when Silme motioned for her to follow. "Who's we?" she asked worriedly. Both of them getting the message at the same time on top? Ancestors, have mercy. You mean to tell me we are on the same team? I want a refund! she made a disgusted gesture, pulling away from Silme.
To say the mood on the airship was gloomy would be a monumental understatement. If she didn't sheath her weapons, her aura might have spontaneously set the dust off to create a personal rain cloud above her head. Airships were her personal hell. With wings that large, she had to keep them in the harness as not to take five spaces, or she had to stand the whole way. Hoping the trip would be short, she quickly visited the bathroom on the airport and swapped her coat for the battledress.
With her extra appendages finally free of abuse, she stood near one of the panoramic windows on the airship, at the very least enjoying the scenery outside, seemingly content with her and Silme leaving each other to their misery for the moment.
Her mood hit the rock bottom when Silme headed to the same prep room as herself, but skyrocketed shortly after the door opened. It took a moment to realize why that face and blue mane looked familiar. She was worried that the rest of the team would be similar to the git who brought her here, but alas, not the case. "Amari Cross? What are the odds!" | Mikoto Kage
“Who am I? Let’s see. If you’re a hunter, I guess that makes me... a Hunterkiller?”
-Mikoto
Race: Faunus (Mute Swan)
Gender: Female
Age: 17
Nationality: Vale
Designation: Police academy cadet
Mikoto is part of a forming special unit. The hunterkillers are, as the name suggests, specially trained to take on hunters, who are the most respected fighters. Every time a hunter went rogue in the past has been a big problem, and unit like this is meant to contain the problem quickly.
Team: N/A
Appearance:
Mikoto stands circa 178 centimeters tall, with her platform boots giving her what she needs to 180. She is quite strong for her age, being participating in several combat competitions and police training. She weighs about 63 kilos. Her most prominent faunus feature are the two swan wings on her back that have the span of about 200 cm.
Mikoto’s face is dominated by her piercing, bright red eyes. She has an eastern complexion, the slightly yellow skin tone contrasting with her anthracite hair that she usually keeps at shoulder length and well kempt. Her body build is focused more on strength rather than stamina, packing up quite some muscle mass and low fat percentage.
Her battledress consists of a pair of knee high, gray platform boots, black pants and blouse and a gray armored jacket. Coming from rich background, her battledress is trimmed in dark red and gold. She wears red padded gloves to battle. The jacket is modified to allow her wings to unfold and they can be held concealed by a special harness. The jacket comes equipped with magnetic holsters on the lower back for her weapons and several pockets.
When in need of more formal wear, she likes a red trench coat with matching high heels. She modified it to be able to conceal her wings and weapons underneath without looking out of place.
History:
Mikoto was born into the relatively average Kage family living in Mountain Glenn. A mixed family of Vacuo immigrants, her faunus side wasn’t obvious to anyone else in the first two years of her age, before her wings hit a growth spurt. Still, it was another year before she came to the usual faunus problems, having to attend mixed kindergarten.
She managed to bear with it for a year, but when she was four, she finally snapped and beat up one boy that made a comment, sending him to a doctor with a broken nose. She spent her days mostly alone since then as many of the children were afraid of her.
Just as she was about to go to the school for the first time, a rogue hunter on the run from the police destroyed several houses to hinder his pursuers, and Mikoto’s family perished in the attack. Her semblance awoke for the first time, which is what saved her as she extinguished the dust caused fires around her and was able to run through walls to safety. She was then sent to an orphanage in the main city of Vale, but spent her days mostly alone.
When she reached the age of ten, she was adopted by a wealthy family. While initially believing herself to be lucky, she quickly found out her adoptive ‘father’ only wanted her as a Faunus poster child to improve PR, having to adopt a new name against her wishes. While she was given anything money could buy, they didn’t give her the loving family she wanted the most. Her two stepsisters ignored and hated her respectively, but later she formed a love-hate relationship with the younger sister, sharing an interest in fighting and being grateful for the sister at least being honest about hating what she is.
At the age of twelve, Mikoto started attending one of the local combat schools, flat out rejecting being home schooled despite her stepfather’s insistence.
A few years later, her skill grown very good, and she started placing high in competitions. That lead to some media attention to the happiness of her stepfather. However, her story was soon brought to light, making her start withdrawing from people again. She turned to homeschooling and made an uneasy alliance with her younger step sister who was growing tired of her family as well.
After two years of working for the company to fund her plan, she set off to attend Beacon, severing all ties with her adoptive ‘family’ and intending to start again, on her own. Unfortunately, the Initiation proven once and for all that her combat skills were much more suited to fighting a human opponent rather than the Grimm. It had an unforeseen consequence for her though - the police department contacted her with an offer to join a newly formed unit where her skills would be of great use once she graduated from the police academy.
Personality:
Mikoto doesn't actively seek out conversation but she will not shy away from one. The girl is patient and overlooking many things addressed to her faunus side, but she has her limits.
Whereas normally she is well mannered and will go out of her way not to offend people no matter what she may think of them, in a fight or when angered, she is dominated by her emotions, not her reason.
While her anger is cold and calculated, you do not wish to enrage her, as if you push her that far, she will lose all sense and just go berserk on you.
She hates those unlawful with a fiery passion, although rich people and racists are pretty high on the list as well. Despite how she was treated, she is trying to be forgiving, believing it's the only way to achieve some degree of peace in the world.
The girl battles many internal demons and even though she portrays herself as a strong person with a healthy dose of disdain, she can be fragile on the inside. What disturbs her more than most is the thought of losing someone close to her again. She also isn’t too fond of spiders and tight spaces. Her main motivation to keep on living is getting others to accept her because of who she is, not what she is.
In her downtime, she likes to power down and relax, whether that means sleeping all day, stuffing herself with bacon and coffee or reading tales of ancient mythologies with a glass (or a bottle) of rum on hand. If others have to be involved, she wouldn’t say no to a fantasy movie or (window) shopping. Mikoto has a weakness for sporty personal shuttles.
Being a choleric faunus comes with it’s own list of hatreds, like water (which make her wings heavy and useless) or cold (which she feels more due to her higher body temperature). For some reason, the taste of potatoes makes her want to hurl, much like the cheesy romance movies or the boring historical novels. She gets violent on trolls and hates criminals above all else for taking her family and normal life from her, putting them in the same sack with the Grimm.
Skills:
Being adopted by a wealthy family, she was taught self defense and took liking to combat. Trained in a universal style, she can make use of nearly every weapon, although she prefers light, more nimble instruments like her swordwand or a dagger. Her technique focuses on precise, quick and powerful attacks while conserving energy between them. As she knew she had a semblance from long before, she pushed to get herself a full combat education to perfect her aura mastery. Later in her years her fighting style developed into something brutal, intending to not only just destroy the enemy, but make them suffer. It is even reflected in the modifications she made to her weapons, like using serrated blades, or ditching a shield for a secondary dagger.
Life in the high class however also lead to some duties. As an adoptive member of a family owning the Remnant’s leading company producing musical instruments, she can play nearly anything. Being cast as a PR figure, she is used to appearing in front of masses and can be politically correct in most situations.
From her life in the orphanage, she picked up some minor survival skills, although she lived in luxury for so long it would take her time to adjust back to it.
While her weapons might give the impression that Mikoto is a swordswoman, she is in fact a dust caster, capable of weaving the Nature’s Wrath into nearly anything she needs given enough time. She uses three categories of moves - First are those she practices often enough to be able to perform them with thought alone. The second less frequent she needs a focusing agent, such as a phrase or a sequence of tones to help her summon the attack. Last but not least, Mikoto can achieve anything she has enough aura, dust and time for through drawing magic circles.
Powers:
Her faunus heritage gives Mikoto several capabilities she can use for great effect. First and foremost, she can use her wings to heighten and extend her jumps to about twice that of a human, or to glide and soften her fall. They are, however, too small for her to fly. The lack of tail used to be a problem, but she smartly modified her battledress with a half-cape that is attachable to her boots that can substitute well enough.
Her bones are less dense than that of a usual human, contributing to her overall low weight, which unfortunately break more easily if her aura is brought down. Her metabolism is faster, making the girl quite a glutton and yet unable to gain any weight and moving her average body temperature to about 40°C.
Having both large reserve and skill to wield it efficiently, Mikoto’s aura is on the more impressive side of the scale. Its color is pure white, and it manifests as quills falling around her.
Semblance - Arcane destroyer: Mikoto's body becomes an intangible spectre and her voice gains a creepy reverb to it. Her weapon is also surrounded in the same substance of white color. In this state, Mikoto can not be physically harmed, however she still hurts the same if her aura fails to block an attack, and she loses the ability to parry with her weapons. If the 'damage' is sufficient, she will forcibly revert back to normal, more often than not incapacitated by hurting as much as if she was actually dealt the blows. In this state, dust based spells tend to break up on contact with her, hence the name.
Equipment:
Collapsible Swordwand Dust Carrier - Swan Song: A swordwand that can be converted from one to the other simply by sliding the guard down the grip. This action retracts or extends the blade into the blunt part of the weapon. As such, the weapon is primarily designed for stabbing attacks rather than slashing, although it is capable of both. The counterweight can hold dust crystals, and Mikoto is particularly fond of the fire ones. The blade is made from dust-enhanced black metal that seems to be reflecting shadows rather than light.
Tactical Dust Carrier - Quilltact: A dagger with perforated blade holding three dust capsules, usually the remaining types to complement the Swansong’s fire crystals. Mikoto built a flute into the hilt which she uses as a focus help to cast some of her more demanding spells.
Extra:
Voice: Anna Hutchison
Theme: Gåte - Sjå Attende
Mikoto is ambidextrous.
She is bi, leaning towards girls. |
55,982 | 1,533 | 42 | 511 | 3,294 | Teàrlag Cirsium
I've been completely engulfed by some powder. It's everywhere. It's in my eyes. It's in my hair. It's in my nose. It's in my mouth. It's all over my clothes. It's eeeurrggh. Thanks to that git I've turned into some rainbow monstrosity. I knew I shouldn't have come here, but nooo, it's for the good of the school, they said. Have gun, will travel, they said. Meet new friends and create new, powerful bonds with foreign huntsmen and huntresses to promote international goodwill, they said.
Idealistic crock.
Look at me now, headmistress. Look at me. Look at how the world's still against me.
All people want to do is to make themselves happy, even if it involves ruining the day of others. Like me.
I sneeze. The powder irritates my eyes. Some of it splatters around my cheeks. I let down my guard too much. I really shouldn't have expected this entire useless festival to be anything different. Mecha lass wants to sell her soul to capitalism, I've met up with a ghost from the 80s, I need a change of clothes, and I still don't have some bloody noodles.
The world's out to get me.
It's ... it's not like I'm bothered geez but this is too much. | Name: Teàrlag Cirsium
Age: 17
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Nationality: Vacuuan
Designation: Huntress
Team: TSUN (Tsunami)
Appearance: A pale youth whose features clearly paint her as a native to the metropolitan city-state of Vale, Teàrlag is almost delicate in her appearance, false advertisement for those who know of her personality. Indeed, with her height of a metre sixty, slightly shorter than most girls her age, as well as her soft and gentle looks, she could almost be considered cute or waifish, but the cynical and dead gaze present in her otherwise beautiful purple eyes tell a different story. The twin-tailed girl is definitely pretty, but like the black-and-red and discs clipped to her violet hair, her soul is hellish, an bottomless pit of self-loathing and cynicism that contrasts immensely with her looks.
Her outfit consists of a black, hooded jacket (lined with red in certain areas), which is haphazardly thrown over a short minidress that shares a colour with her hair, albeit a slightly lighter shade. It extends down beyond her waist by only several centimetres, leaving a small gap of pale, almost-white skin visible before it meets her woollen, overknee thigh-high socks, which are also a purplish colour (violet of course, pretty much being her favourite colour in that she has absolutely no real negative opinion of it). Indeed, it could be said, in the tongue of Internet-going cartoon fanatics, that she possesses "Rank A" zettai ryouiki, though whether or not this has ascended to "Rank S" is dependent on one's judgement of her personality. Digressions on forbidden territory aside, the purple-haired girl also wears simple but tough black boots.
Colour: Thistle Purple
Personality: A cynic down to her very bones (or so she thinks), Teàrlag Cirsium is not a girl with an overly favourable view of the world. To her, life is harsh, uncaring and utterly meaningless, an endless cycle of drudgery that seeks to wear away at one's self until death finally comes. It's a rather dreary and morbid opinion, but she's embraced it, and with racial tensions between human and Faunus, the constant fight for survival against the hordes of monstrous Grimm, and the knowledge that each day people you've met will find themselves at risk of dying, she feels like the world itself supports her beliefs. Not to mention the utter lack of mercy society holds for its own citizens, the vapid nature of the cliques and ingroups that promotes the concept of an "us and them", or even the innate selfishness of the common person. She hates it, and her grumpy, sour attitude to things is emblematic of that antipathy towards everything in the world. This makes her out to be somewhat of a rebellious loner, raging against the world and all its injustices.
The fact of the matter is, however, that she's resigned herself to it all. She sees the world in a pessimistic light and she knows she can't change it.
Deep down however, she still possesses an incredible resolve, and the courage to fight for those in need of being defended. She hates to see people cry, and will do anything to wipe those tears away, even if it's at great cost to herself. Her self-worth is utterly lacking; she doesn't believe herself to be worthy of care (though she can still be hurt, no matter how many excuses she makes or how much she tries to deny it), and it is for the sake of others that she fights. Teàrlag doesn't like to admit it, but underneath that grumpy, cynical exterior lies a girl who's really just like any other average teenager, a girl with self-doubts and flaws and precious people, even if she thinks she isn't. She can't accept praise or gratitude that easily, and frequently denies doing anything out of a sense of philanthropy. Because she doesn't believe she can, because she doesn't believe she could be that much of a help.
It gets her flustered, really.
She's not a particularly motivated person either, content with being another average student in Vacuo. It's strange then, to know that this girl is the leader of her team of huntresses, when she seems so lacking in any positive leadership qualities. But she cares for people (even if she does her best to avoid establishing strong relationships), has strong tactical sensibilities, and from time to time can muster up something surprisingly inspirational. Otherwise however, she prefers to take things easy and avoid the struggle. Teàrlag is also a gigantic nerd, and one would be surprised to note that she possesses an incredible singing voice honed from an almost fanatical devotion to karaoke. She also likes deep-fried foodstuffs.
Teàrlag Cirsium is a complicated girl with a complicated sense of self.
She might seem like she's just another cynic, but there's more to her than that.
Equipment:
Her primary piece of hunting equipment is called Lonnbeimnech Taranaich, which is split into a number of parts. The first is a six foot long lochaber axe (Lonnbeimnech) made from a dense and highly durable metallic substance. It possesses an incredibly low resistance, a physical property that is quite conducive (pun intended) towards the use of Teàrlag's semblance. Indeed, it serves as a lightning rod, providing a path of least resistance and absorbing electricity into its body, as well as the reverse (which provides her foes quite the shocking experience). With its high heat capacity and low coefficient of thermal expansion, the blade of the weapon can be superheated to over three thousand five hundred degrees celsius, enabling it to slice apart foes with greater ease. Said blade can also be launched as a rocket, trailing long, fine copper wires behind it as it flies into the distance. This essentially leaves the weapon as a staff until the head makes it return (as it contains its own propellant).
The second part of the Lonnbeimnech Taranaich, on the other hand, consists of two electrical amplifiers (Taranaich) bound to her wrists that can launch bolts of electricity at her foes, but when combined with the lochaber axe, form what can be best described as a electromagnetic slingshot. Utilising lightning dust and her semblance in tandem, she can propel anything placed within the sling at speeds far greater than what is provided by a standard slingshot. Her projectiles for this tend to vary, but she does possess a stock of tungsten rounds to be used specifically for such purposes.
Beyond her main weapon, however, Teàrlag also makes use of a set of ten sgian-dubh knives, which are safely sheathed and hung from garters near the top of her thigh-high socks (with five knives on each leg). They serve as her backup tools, cooking utensils and et cetera, placed in a less obvious location in order to keep a sense of surprise. They are not particularly special, but have also been balanced so that she can throw them at enemies, usually with strings upon strings of copper wire (rolls of which she keeps pocketed) in order to further assist the usage of her semblance if necessary.
Fighting Style:
Despite her apathy towards achieving anything beyond average in her studies as a Huntress, Teàrlag Cirsium is actually surprisingly skilled as a fighter (honed by the desire to actually remain alive, because no matter how much she dislikes the world, she isn't yet suicidal), and knows both her weapons and powers and weaknesses and strengths inside-out. She mainly serves as a sharpshooter, firing off highly accurate shots from her long-ranged weapons to neutralise her enemies and provide openings for the rest of her team. However, she is also decently capable in melee, especially with her electrically-infused strikes adding an extra dimension of pain to her blows. The techniques she uses are not particularly polished or well-thought-out, but her skill is respectable enough, and her willingness to make use of any resources available and her desperation if thrown into a corner is what makes her truly dangerous there.
Semblance:
Marchysgallen - the power provided to Teàrlag by her semblance essentially transforms her (pun very much intended) into a dynamo, a walking producer of electrical energy that can be utilised in a number of different ways. When active, she is constantly converting her aura into electricity stored within her body, which she can expel from her body, though not in a particularly fine manner. She possesses zero fine control over her lightning (which takes upon a purple colour), with most of her tool-less skills with it boiling down to, with only one exception, essentially pointing and firing off bolts of electricity that end up dissipating after a short range due to the resistance of the air. As such, she tends to rely on the assistance of her weapons to best make use of her powers, though when she's dealing with her mundane, day-to-day life she doesn't need them; charging her phone or game consoles simply by touching them is incredibly useful, after all.
Her ability to channel electricity is heavily dependent on the presence of conductors, but there is one technique she has refined that serves as the one exception. With great concentration, she can envelop her entire body in a field of electrons, repelling outwards as a burst or wave of electricity that is both offensive and defensively orientated. Her most common use of this ability however, is to simply cover herself in lightning and run into people, which can essentially be considered an electrifying tackle. It is incredibly dangerous, especially taking into account the amplitude and voltage of the electricity she produces, but requires her to focus quite a bit on keeping the field stable.
When not active, her semblance can still be noticeable, thanks to the smell of ozone that permeates the air around her, and the infrequent sparks of electricity that leap off her skin.
History:
The third of five daughters born to a family of Vacuuan hunters residing in Vale, nobody really expected much of Teàrlag Cirsium, the ignored middle child who really had nothing going for her. She was just another kid, another average little girl who was outshone by her more exciting and colourful family members. Not that she really minded. She was fine (or at least she claimed she was) with being just another number for the census, another statistic that went through school, where the drudgery and repetitivity of the world, where the knowledge that they could die at any moment, slowly but surely eroded away at whatever hope and optimism she had for becoming anything more. She became a loner, a pessimistic girl who spent her days sitting in the corner of the classroom, doing the bare minimum required for her to pass her classes.
When she was thirteen, her parents moved them back to Vacuo.
It was difficult, adjusting to both a new country and a new environment. But she managed (for a given value of the term), settling back into the endless drudgery as another average student once more. She woke up, went to school, did her work, went home, played video games, practiced fighting, went to sleep, repeat. It was an endless cycle, and it didn't endear her to the world at all. It was as if she was going through the motions, training to become a hunter simply because her parents and some of her siblings were.
Teàrlag barely made it into Shade Academy.
She would have left as well, would have given up on the career of a huntress, of a career that could easily end in her death, but something stopped her. She found people who she ... wasn't averse to, people whose presence she probably would have somewhat missed. And Teàrlag realised that she didn't want to see them hurt and crying. So she stayed. Even though she doubted her own skills, even though she found it all so utterly lacking and useless, she didn't want to see people hurt.
Being a huntress meant that she could wipe away some of those tears.
(Not that she cared or anything.)
Relations with other characters:
Not yet applicable
Extra:
-VA: Kakazu Yumi (JP)
-Cirsium is the genus of the spear thistle, the national flower of Scotland
-As a workaholic, my semblance would likely give me the ability to ignore sleep. |
55,983 | 1,533 | 43 | 1,288 | 1,334 | Kawaguchi Umeko
The U in TSUN hung up on the N's phone, given that she'd gotten an answering machine. No point in keeping it going. She spied her leader out of the corner of her eye and, after a moment's pause, flicked open the clasp on her messenger bag and started rummaging through it. She still didn't look over at her boss, but after a few moments of aggravated searching, she yanked out a long, soft white scarf and shoved it into her leader's hand forcefully. "Clean yourself up, boss, best you can. You look like a fucking rainbow, and your sneezes look like they got out of a Skittles factory."
"Toss the damn scarf when you're done. Was last season, anyway." The bag clicked closed and she kept walking towards the airships, with a certain undercurrent of energy to her pace. "I'm gonna fucking kill that guy, Cirsium. The Kawa one. He's fucking dead. Beat the other one, too, just to feel better."
"If we fight them, they go down. Hard." | Name: 川口 梅子 (Kawaguchi Umeko)
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Age: 18
Nationality: Atlesian Origin, Vacuuan Affiliation
Team: TSUN (Tsunami)
Designation: Huntress
Appearance: Standing slightly taller than average, albeit not by much, Umeko clearly cares about her appearance. Her clothes are, without exception, kept immaculately clean and worn in specific combinations planned out long in advance. She wears them quite well, too; Umeko is unquestionably a striking individual. She's built like a fighter, with a solid stance and toned limbs, but her choice of style usually makes her seem much more lithe than she is. Her brown hair is straight and shoulder length, worn differently depending on what she thinks will look best. Umeko is almost always grinning a wide, amiable grin like she wants the entire world to be her friend and invites them to be so. The deep blue eyes set above that grin are highly expressive, and very much the gateway to whatever Umeko is thinking.
Her clothes tend towards the blue end of the spectrum, but their style is incredibly variable. On a daily basis, when attending classes, she generally wears something close to the traditional Atlesian student uniform, in spite of her actual affiliation. She bends this habit for formal events, during which she does don the official Shade uniform. Casually, on the other hand, her wardrobe is nearly infinite; clothes for every occasion, every type of weather, and every temperature. Light jackets are quite common, as is the occasional sweater. Most casual settings will see her in jeans, but the odd semi-formal will prompt the use of a skirt. Wherever she goes, Umeko wants to be the best dressed in the room.
She does have an outfit that could be considered something of a signature, however. A pair of dark blue jeans paired with classy (but intentionally durable) shoes paired with a deep blue top. Over that she adds a waist-length white jacket, with the emblem of Shade stitched in black over what appear to be devil horns on either shoulder. She's never seen, regardless of her attire, without her headband and rarely without her white messenger bag,
Personality: Umeko is friendly, oblivious, and a little too eager to show off. She thrives on being the center of attention, having the most friends, and standing in the shining spotlight. At least that's the disposition she likes to show to the world. The truth is much, much more layered. The hordes of acquaintances and casual friends are kept at arms length, prevented from seeing past the veneer they're supposed to see. Beneath the mask is a much more contemplative young woman, someone much more sensible than her almost arrogant public persona implies. Umeko realized, quite a long time ago, that her peers (and elders) tended to underestimate her due to her bubbly nature and fashion-oriented interests. So why not use that to her advantage?
The real Kawaguchi Umeko is highly driven, and paradoxically, infinitely more willing to criticize someone the more she cares about them. Such criticisms, truth be told, are often emphatic, occasionally angry, and very impassioned. But on the other side of the same coin, those she cares about can be subject to displays of loyalty or affection that would seldom be extended to one of her superficial 'friends'. The truest sign of her friendship is being permitted to see underneath the public facade.
Fighting Style: Despite the attitude she projects, Umeko is a devastating all-range fighter. Lacking in raw power, she instead focuses on technique and battlefield control. The White Devil's forms give her both offensive and defensive capabilities at all ranges, and her Semblance gives her the ability to alter her environment a little as needed. Her preference, most of the time, is to act as a mid-to-close range combatant. Her rifle, and its sword form, give her the precision she needs to land dangerously precise strikes while her shield ensures she can take hits just as well as give them. But given the nature of her team, she is not the only (or necessarily the best) suited for this role. When the situation requires she transitions smoothly into acting as mid-to-long range fire support, using her remote shield bits to harass the enemy from any angle, and her rifle to hit where it hurts. Her Semblance is no slouch in this role, either, as it allows her to redirect shrapnel and detritus in creative ways.
Simply put, Umeko will adapt to any scenario one attempts to force her in as best she can. And much of the time, that is quite well. After a bout with her in the arena, few ever quite buy into her seemingly oblivious nature ever again.
Weapons/Equipment: Remnant Expansion (Prototype) #78 Unit 2 Grimm-Use Non-Demanding Armament Machine ver. White Devil: The White Devil started life as a project for the Atlesian military. Atlas has long believed in recruiting their Hunters into service as Atlesian Specialists, but the common Atlesian soldier has never been able to go toe-to-toe with the foes that Hunters handled. They had to rely on strength of numbers, not individual capabilities. The Grimm-Use series was intended to permit the common soldier the adaptability to handle as many foes as a Hunter, if not with quite as much skill. In fact that was the purpose; a set of equipment that could be used for maximum effect, with minimum skill. The project showed promise, but ultimately was a casualty of Atlas’ changing goals. They no longer wanted to increase a soldier’s effectiveness, they wanted to take the soldier off the battlefield entirely.
So Sunrise Industries, the contractor for its development, mothballed the project. The five units that had been produced were put into storage and forgotten. Sunrise Industries itself, unable to keep up with the changing mindset, declared bankruptcy a few short years later and its assets were liquidated. The five prototypes were sent to auction, while the Atlesian military’s active contracts were subsumed by other contractors. And that was when they fell into Umeko’s hands.
The White Devil consists of two primary parts; a handheld semiautomatic railgun rifle, and a large quadrilateral shield. The railgun operates by using lightning Dust to generate the magnetic field necessary to launch a projectile along two rails at exceptionally high velocities, making the weapon highly destructive to compensate for its low rate of fire. Using a trigger mechanism in the handle the railgun converts to a long, slim sword. This sword uses the same lightning Dust to superheat the blade’s edge, drastically increasing its penetrating power.
The shield, in its base configuration, is just that; a shield. It secures itself parallel Umeko’s forearm, with a handle gripped in her left hand, and can be easily used to defend against attacks. Its secondary uses, on the other hand, are much less obvious. The handle is connected to the rest of the shield by two long cords, and the handle contains a small motor to retract or release those cables with the press of a button. The shield itself splits in half, both halves folding to create a rail-based firing aperture similar to that of her rifle. These halves fire a laser based on technology being developed for a separate Atlesian project. In this form the halves of the shield use Gravity Dust to become weightless. Like the cables that connect them to their handle, the firing mechanisms are controlled by an adjacent button.
Both halves of the White Devil have storage forms for noncombat situations. The rifle folds to stow away inside the shield, which uses the seams for its transformation to become a rigid messenger bag.
The final piece of Umeko’s equipment, developed independently of the rest,is a visor and earpiece that contains the functionality of a Scroll while providing eye protection from both shrapnel and blinding light. Outside of combat the device looks very much like an unusual headband. Upon activation it flips down and the v-shaped antennae deploy above her forehead.
Semblance: Center of Attention: Umeko can control the relative gravitational attractions generated by an object. All objects, however small, exert some degree of gravitational pull on all the other objects around them. Umeko can affect the intensity of these pulls, allowing her to manipulate the gravity generated. Most commonly this is used to cause objects to fall into a stable orbit around her, or another object, mistakenly leading many to believe she controls the orbit of objects. The reality is much more nuanced in its potential applications.
History: In Atlas, name and standing is everything. The Schnees are but the most well-known example. What matters is what you have, who you know, and how you got there. If you weren't born with a silver spoon in your mouth you'll spend your entire life kicking and punching to claim one. Everyone knows the names of each industry's titans, but few will remember the small families you meet on the street. In that way, Kawaguchi Umeko is of little note. A deep search of her history will find a modest career in modeling for different magazines, fashion in particular, and her transcripts from Atlas' academy for young hunters and huntresses. A deeper search will find little more about the Kawaguchi family. Simply another foot note in Atlesian history.
Unless one happened to find her birth certificate, and discover that she was born Umeko Huntian, not Kawaguchi. Unlike Kawaguchi, the name 'Huntian' is known to many. The Huntians have been joined at the hip with Atlas' military-industrial complex for generations, supporting, funding, or running dozens of different weapon manufacturers over the years. They made themselves rich off of Atlas' military generations ago, and kept the family interests in good shape through every highpoint and recession since. After all, with the Grimm out there, there'll always be a need for weapons. The Huntians rubbed shoulders with the elite, and were quite content to stay within their echelon. Until, that is, one of the family's minor heirs fell in love with a young worker at the head office.
Robert Huntian's, in his family's eyes, ill-planned love resulted in Umeko's birth. Though he had every intention of sticking with the family he had created, the mastermind of the Huntian empire were less than pleased by the idea. Robert eventually succumbed to the pressures of his more business-minded relations, and returned to the family's good graces. He made sure Umeko and her mother were very well cared for, with as much money as they needed to live comfortably. A share of this money, every month, went into an account in Umeko's name for her to use when she was old enough. Umeko herself grew up attending the kingdom's best academies, with few illusions over the circumstances of her birth. Even fewer about her standing compared to her peers.
Some combination of these truths lead her, at the age of eleven, to discard the Huntian name. From that point on every document was handled using her mother's name, and Umeko Huntian vanished from the paper trails of the Atlesian government. When one of the Huntian empire's investments, Sunrise Industries, went belly-up a year later she found herself drawn towards the liquidation auction and from there to her calling.
While the next generation of Huntians were groomed for business, Umeko entered into Atlas' school for hunters. Her own funds, carefully tucked away until she was old enough, were in good standing when she became a teenager. They were soon supplemented by work done on the side, showcasing fashion and gear in magazines geared towards hunters and huntresses, and invested carefully according to advice and careful consideration. When Kawaguchi Umeko entered Atlas' answer to Signal, no one knew who she was. By the time she left she had made herself known as a highly capable fighter, and a charismatic individual.
It was her success that lead her to leave Atlas. It is no secret, in any of the kingdoms, that the Atlesian specialists were usually recruited from the best of Atlas' training facilities. If she carried on into the next school, she might face the same recruitment efforts. So she packed her bags, gathered what resources were hers, and moved to Vacuo to attend Shade.
Relations with other characters: N/A
Extra: My semblance... Probably something to do with tech, honestly |
55,984 | 1,533 | 44 | 511 | 3,294 | Teàrlag Cirsium
Kawaguchi Umeko (folks from where she's from do their clan names first) looks like a helpful and kind lass. She acts like a helpful and kind lass. The popular gal, the fashionista, the bubbly bonnie with an ego who couldn't possibly be so rude and malicious to people she's just met. She's a nice person, you might think. She wouldn't purposely seek to crush people under her nine-inch robot heels before skewering them like a sausage on a stick, would she? You must be crazy, Teàrlag!
I don't blame you. In fact, even I was caught up in the lie, even when I should have really known better.
You see, everybody in this world is pretty superficial, myself and Umeko included. We only show people what we want them to see, hiding up every other piece o' nasty bizzo behind some façade. People are natural liars. They're always lying. I think it's called a persona, a "social mask" that's been designed to make an impression on others and to hide our true natures. You can't tell what somebody's really like from their face. You only get the cover, the mask. Everyone's just playing charades, pretending to be something so that we're not to get ahead.
We all want the truth, the genuine article, but it's a worldwide hypocrisy. There's never going to be a truth.
They're always lying to you, even when they don't think they are.
Shame.
I think this world would be better if people admitted they were lying.
But really ... it's not a completely bad thing. It's how you survive in society, how you manoeuvre around all these tribes and in-groups and out-groups without making a bugger outta yourself. It's a cutthroat world of animals and sweet talk and whatever. You have to master being shallow, brittle and conformist to get ahead.
That's what people do.
Even me, no matter how much I want to undergo individuation.
Anyway, Kawaguchi Umeko.
She's an angry lass.
I grip onto her scarf tightly, moving it up to wipe as much of the rainbow powder off my face. As if I'm removing a mask like she's just done. That happy go-lucky, shallow popular gal vibe she's got? A lot of that's a lie. You don't see the real her. Maybe that might be nicer for you, because the real her's pretty angry. She's some sorta ... weird tsundere or something.
Not that I know what a tsundere is or anything. It's not like I watch anime.
Even annoying her just a tad is a bad idea, mate.
I don't like that colourful bloke either but it's like the guy's run over her pet Faunus or something. Do Atlesians have pet Faunuses? The Schnees probably do. A few words exchanged, and I think she's already on a rampage. I guess that's how it works. Look weirdly at the wrong person and even they'll crush you no matter how vapid the offense seems. Supersize that, and you get society.
"Wooh." | Name: Teàrlag Cirsium
Age: 17
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Nationality: Vacuuan
Designation: Huntress
Team: TSUN (Tsunami)
Appearance: A pale youth whose features clearly paint her as a native to the metropolitan city-state of Vale, Teàrlag is almost delicate in her appearance, false advertisement for those who know of her personality. Indeed, with her height of a metre sixty, slightly shorter than most girls her age, as well as her soft and gentle looks, she could almost be considered cute or waifish, but the cynical and dead gaze present in her otherwise beautiful purple eyes tell a different story. The twin-tailed girl is definitely pretty, but like the black-and-red and discs clipped to her violet hair, her soul is hellish, an bottomless pit of self-loathing and cynicism that contrasts immensely with her looks.
Her outfit consists of a black, hooded jacket (lined with red in certain areas), which is haphazardly thrown over a short minidress that shares a colour with her hair, albeit a slightly lighter shade. It extends down beyond her waist by only several centimetres, leaving a small gap of pale, almost-white skin visible before it meets her woollen, overknee thigh-high socks, which are also a purplish colour (violet of course, pretty much being her favourite colour in that she has absolutely no real negative opinion of it). Indeed, it could be said, in the tongue of Internet-going cartoon fanatics, that she possesses "Rank A" zettai ryouiki, though whether or not this has ascended to "Rank S" is dependent on one's judgement of her personality. Digressions on forbidden territory aside, the purple-haired girl also wears simple but tough black boots.
Colour: Thistle Purple
Personality: A cynic down to her very bones (or so she thinks), Teàrlag Cirsium is not a girl with an overly favourable view of the world. To her, life is harsh, uncaring and utterly meaningless, an endless cycle of drudgery that seeks to wear away at one's self until death finally comes. It's a rather dreary and morbid opinion, but she's embraced it, and with racial tensions between human and Faunus, the constant fight for survival against the hordes of monstrous Grimm, and the knowledge that each day people you've met will find themselves at risk of dying, she feels like the world itself supports her beliefs. Not to mention the utter lack of mercy society holds for its own citizens, the vapid nature of the cliques and ingroups that promotes the concept of an "us and them", or even the innate selfishness of the common person. She hates it, and her grumpy, sour attitude to things is emblematic of that antipathy towards everything in the world. This makes her out to be somewhat of a rebellious loner, raging against the world and all its injustices.
The fact of the matter is, however, that she's resigned herself to it all. She sees the world in a pessimistic light and she knows she can't change it.
Deep down however, she still possesses an incredible resolve, and the courage to fight for those in need of being defended. She hates to see people cry, and will do anything to wipe those tears away, even if it's at great cost to herself. Her self-worth is utterly lacking; she doesn't believe herself to be worthy of care (though she can still be hurt, no matter how many excuses she makes or how much she tries to deny it), and it is for the sake of others that she fights. Teàrlag doesn't like to admit it, but underneath that grumpy, cynical exterior lies a girl who's really just like any other average teenager, a girl with self-doubts and flaws and precious people, even if she thinks she isn't. She can't accept praise or gratitude that easily, and frequently denies doing anything out of a sense of philanthropy. Because she doesn't believe she can, because she doesn't believe she could be that much of a help.
It gets her flustered, really.
She's not a particularly motivated person either, content with being another average student in Vacuo. It's strange then, to know that this girl is the leader of her team of huntresses, when she seems so lacking in any positive leadership qualities. But she cares for people (even if she does her best to avoid establishing strong relationships), has strong tactical sensibilities, and from time to time can muster up something surprisingly inspirational. Otherwise however, she prefers to take things easy and avoid the struggle. Teàrlag is also a gigantic nerd, and one would be surprised to note that she possesses an incredible singing voice honed from an almost fanatical devotion to karaoke. She also likes deep-fried foodstuffs.
Teàrlag Cirsium is a complicated girl with a complicated sense of self.
She might seem like she's just another cynic, but there's more to her than that.
Equipment:
Her primary piece of hunting equipment is called Lonnbeimnech Taranaich, which is split into a number of parts. The first is a six foot long lochaber axe (Lonnbeimnech) made from a dense and highly durable metallic substance. It possesses an incredibly low resistance, a physical property that is quite conducive (pun intended) towards the use of Teàrlag's semblance. Indeed, it serves as a lightning rod, providing a path of least resistance and absorbing electricity into its body, as well as the reverse (which provides her foes quite the shocking experience). With its high heat capacity and low coefficient of thermal expansion, the blade of the weapon can be superheated to over three thousand five hundred degrees celsius, enabling it to slice apart foes with greater ease. Said blade can also be launched as a rocket, trailing long, fine copper wires behind it as it flies into the distance. This essentially leaves the weapon as a staff until the head makes it return (as it contains its own propellant).
The second part of the Lonnbeimnech Taranaich, on the other hand, consists of two electrical amplifiers (Taranaich) bound to her wrists that can launch bolts of electricity at her foes, but when combined with the lochaber axe, form what can be best described as a electromagnetic slingshot. Utilising lightning dust and her semblance in tandem, she can propel anything placed within the sling at speeds far greater than what is provided by a standard slingshot. Her projectiles for this tend to vary, but she does possess a stock of tungsten rounds to be used specifically for such purposes.
Beyond her main weapon, however, Teàrlag also makes use of a set of ten sgian-dubh knives, which are safely sheathed and hung from garters near the top of her thigh-high socks (with five knives on each leg). They serve as her backup tools, cooking utensils and et cetera, placed in a less obvious location in order to keep a sense of surprise. They are not particularly special, but have also been balanced so that she can throw them at enemies, usually with strings upon strings of copper wire (rolls of which she keeps pocketed) in order to further assist the usage of her semblance if necessary.
Fighting Style:
Despite her apathy towards achieving anything beyond average in her studies as a Huntress, Teàrlag Cirsium is actually surprisingly skilled as a fighter (honed by the desire to actually remain alive, because no matter how much she dislikes the world, she isn't yet suicidal), and knows both her weapons and powers and weaknesses and strengths inside-out. She mainly serves as a sharpshooter, firing off highly accurate shots from her long-ranged weapons to neutralise her enemies and provide openings for the rest of her team. However, she is also decently capable in melee, especially with her electrically-infused strikes adding an extra dimension of pain to her blows. The techniques she uses are not particularly polished or well-thought-out, but her skill is respectable enough, and her willingness to make use of any resources available and her desperation if thrown into a corner is what makes her truly dangerous there.
Semblance:
Marchysgallen - the power provided to Teàrlag by her semblance essentially transforms her (pun very much intended) into a dynamo, a walking producer of electrical energy that can be utilised in a number of different ways. When active, she is constantly converting her aura into electricity stored within her body, which she can expel from her body, though not in a particularly fine manner. She possesses zero fine control over her lightning (which takes upon a purple colour), with most of her tool-less skills with it boiling down to, with only one exception, essentially pointing and firing off bolts of electricity that end up dissipating after a short range due to the resistance of the air. As such, she tends to rely on the assistance of her weapons to best make use of her powers, though when she's dealing with her mundane, day-to-day life she doesn't need them; charging her phone or game consoles simply by touching them is incredibly useful, after all.
Her ability to channel electricity is heavily dependent on the presence of conductors, but there is one technique she has refined that serves as the one exception. With great concentration, she can envelop her entire body in a field of electrons, repelling outwards as a burst or wave of electricity that is both offensive and defensively orientated. Her most common use of this ability however, is to simply cover herself in lightning and run into people, which can essentially be considered an electrifying tackle. It is incredibly dangerous, especially taking into account the amplitude and voltage of the electricity she produces, but requires her to focus quite a bit on keeping the field stable.
When not active, her semblance can still be noticeable, thanks to the smell of ozone that permeates the air around her, and the infrequent sparks of electricity that leap off her skin.
History:
The third of five daughters born to a family of Vacuuan hunters residing in Vale, nobody really expected much of Teàrlag Cirsium, the ignored middle child who really had nothing going for her. She was just another kid, another average little girl who was outshone by her more exciting and colourful family members. Not that she really minded. She was fine (or at least she claimed she was) with being just another number for the census, another statistic that went through school, where the drudgery and repetitivity of the world, where the knowledge that they could die at any moment, slowly but surely eroded away at whatever hope and optimism she had for becoming anything more. She became a loner, a pessimistic girl who spent her days sitting in the corner of the classroom, doing the bare minimum required for her to pass her classes.
When she was thirteen, her parents moved them back to Vacuo.
It was difficult, adjusting to both a new country and a new environment. But she managed (for a given value of the term), settling back into the endless drudgery as another average student once more. She woke up, went to school, did her work, went home, played video games, practiced fighting, went to sleep, repeat. It was an endless cycle, and it didn't endear her to the world at all. It was as if she was going through the motions, training to become a hunter simply because her parents and some of her siblings were.
Teàrlag barely made it into Shade Academy.
She would have left as well, would have given up on the career of a huntress, of a career that could easily end in her death, but something stopped her. She found people who she ... wasn't averse to, people whose presence she probably would have somewhat missed. And Teàrlag realised that she didn't want to see them hurt and crying. So she stayed. Even though she doubted her own skills, even though she found it all so utterly lacking and useless, she didn't want to see people hurt.
Being a huntress meant that she could wipe away some of those tears.
(Not that she cared or anything.)
Relations with other characters:
Not yet applicable
Extra:
-VA: Kakazu Yumi (JP)
-Cirsium is the genus of the spear thistle, the national flower of Scotland
-As a workaholic, my semblance would likely give me the ability to ignore sleep. |
55,985 | 1,533 | 45 | 1,007 | 2,849 | Albert Morgan
"I appreciate the sentiment," came the even-keeled voice from the other end of the line, "but I just got up here. Going back down in so ignoble a fashion would, in frank terms, be absolutely unacceptable even for a loyal manservant, much less myself."
The line was rudely clicked shut, but the words continued, this time much less distorted by frequency limitations that not even the gaudiest scroll could avoid. The door, for it's part, found itself once more ceremoniously opened, revealing a tall, strong man with a mostly-clean and kempt head of blonde hair, and eyes reminiscent of the sea they'd crossed to get here.
Resting his cane upon wall adjacent to the door, he slid the scroll in a specialized pocket before seating himself.
"I do look forward to seeing how the locomotive flies, though. Tarik will have absolutely outdone himself this time." | Name: Albert Jonathan Price Morgan
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 19
Nationality: Atlesian
Team: BANK
Designation: Blueblood
Appearance:
They do not breed weak men in Atlas, and certainly not in their elite. Albert Morgan, like any good fellow, follows the trend: At an athletic six-foot-three, he looms over all but the largest of Hunters and Huntresses (read: Kek fucking Tarik), and would look equally at home on a rugby team as he does one full of hunters. His hair, cut just a smidgen long and always kept in order, has a distinctively golden blonde sheen. His eyes are a rich, marine-reminiscent blue, calm as the rolling waves of the Atlesian coast on a warm summer day. His jaw is strong and his face statuesque as the rest of him, and seems to commonly carry an expression like he knows something the rest of you don’t. Hasn’t quite yet learned to part from the more traditionally upper-class in terms of clothing, lots of nice suits and the like have seen much more than they were ever made to outside of a spy flick. Likes his blues, owing to a maritime heritage the family has never forgotten.
History:
The firstborn son of a long, long line of bankers and financiers’ latest generation, Albert Jonathan Price Morgan has been, from birth, set up for success. Surrounded by opulence and the very highest standards of living in the world, Albert was one of those kids whose backyard was really more of a small forest and field, enjoying a privileged life to the fullest. Surrounded by the very best tutors money could buy, he quickly proved to be a bright young man with an exceptionally positive future ahead of him as he grew, in whatever field he was to pursue. Of course, as everyone knows but few care to recall, a sturdy foundation alone does not a building make. His aptitude for success and excellency was not purely due to the world around him, for the Morgan dynasty didn’t tolerate a lazy child in any respect.
“Work hard, think big, and never give up.” These were the words that Albus Morgan, Albert’s father, always repeated to him from the first time the young man could begin to form words. A family hailing from humble beginnings as sailors perhaps a dozen generations or more back, the Morgans never succumbed to the fate of “forgetting what got you here”, like so many other rich families do. They understood that it took dedication and know-how to get the job done, which meant you needed to put in the work.
And work Albert did, consuming all sorts of knowledge and experience wherever he could find it, be it physical, mental, or spiritual. Blessed with the strong constitution from his sea-worthy ancestry, he could often be found exploring outside, even at times venturing beyond the estate and into the town below, where he discovered the world outside his bubble. And while he was never gone for too long and absolutely NEVER out of someone’s sight, he did learn a thing or two about the world and himself out there with the rabble. Perhaps his father, the head of the business during a time where it was an achievement to not buckle under the expanding pressures of the SDC, let alone grow in one’s own right, recognized it as a good thing for his son, and continued to allow the field trips long after he’d been made aware of them.
Albus was always proud of Albert’s dedication to being the best young man he could possibly be. What he saw growing before him was a fine heir to the company that he could one day hand the reigns to, and soon to be a skilled executive beneath him until that time would come. He couldn’t ask for anything more out of his son, truly. But Morgans were always overachievers by nature, and to Albus’s shock, at the tender age of fourteen, the already cultured, prim, and proper young man asked to enroll for proper combat training, because he intended to spend his years not sitting around waiting for some friend of the family to kick the bucket and open up a cushy starting job for him.
Why would he, he reasoned, when he could spend his youth serving as one of Atlas’s finest, to fight for the country they called home and held so dear?
It only took one phone call, and he was already off to Signal Academy, to spend 3 and a half years preparing for Atlas itself.
Personality: The essence of tranquil, Albert has a self-assured air about him that practically screams his own confidence in his skills, even where he himself may abstain save for a few cheeky insinuations, and commands attention. Seemingly unfazed by any sort of stipulations, even those placed upon the team by the leader himself, his focus will entirely fall upon getting the job at hand done, and done smartly. His wit tends, ironically, towards the dry, and while unflappable to what may sometimes seem to the point of breeziness, he is not without a generous helping of smugness lingering below the surface. If he finds something funny, you’ll get the message, just perhaps through a beautifully penned letter as opposed to an open, raucous point-and-laugh.
Skills: Adaptable and calm under pressure, Albert is proficient in many fields, as someone with a lifetime of high standards placed upon them would be expected to be. A slick boxer, with very good defensive skills made only more effective by his semblance, a skilled marksman, and an all around crafty improviser. Has refined tastes and an eloquent speaking pattern, perhaps not as openly brazen and chutzpah-filled an orator as Brennan, for example, but all the same is well-spoken.
Semblance:
Silvertongue: Definitely on the odder side as far as semblances go, Albert’s allows him to convert his body, in part, to metal, effectively donning a lustrous second skin. However, there is a caveat to this power: the metals with which he imbues himself must have been ingested by him, and preferably recently, as the amount he can work with seems to diminish over time as well as with decreasing capacity. In a queer, yet entirely fitting twist of fate, he seems to have a particular affinity with precious metals—Gold, Silver, Platinum, and so forth.
Weapon: There are plenty of perks to being a rich kid. Quality of life those below hardly dare dream of from birth. Tutoring by the best in whatever field or education being pursued. And lest we forget, that which is chief amongst them, standing head and shoulders above the rest:
Rich kids get the best toys.
In Albert’s case, he wields the General Electric, an elegant cane that just happens to be an effective stun baton, being gilded, heavy, and a natural conductor of electricity that’s in constant supply thanks to dust infused metal. Very high class stuff.
Keeping with the theme of “have I mentioned I’m a plutocrat yet?”, the Electric is a trick weapon, capable of splitting apart with a quick twist into a beautiful combination of rifle and rapier, allowing for combat capability at effectively all ranges.
Relationships:
Brennan Griese: In surface-level terms, the relationship between Griese and Morgan is purely professional. Griese is the leader, Albert defers to him, and that’s that. When one looks a touch closer, they’ll notice two young men who by all means should and probably are going to be friends— but not yet, it would seem. They trust eachother in combat, and have a certain camaraderie on the front lines, but in terms of personal lives they mostly keep to themselves and deign not to delve into the other’s business too terribly much. Even so, Morgan can often be smirking in the presence of his leader’s antics, and is equally full of pride in his Atlesian pedigree. As a fellow young man with a biting tongue and more wealth to throw at something than most small nations, there is undeniable kinship there—but it would not seem to have been properly fostered.
Noël Du Acier: Noel is thankfully much more straightforward to deal with. In essence, she is the precocious little sister who just so happens to be his age. To wit, he will playfully make jabs at her expense and be the second to tell her to shut up in the group (he would be first, but Brennan would drown him out), and generally tease her whenever he feels it’d be funny. This hazing aside, however, he holds a good deal of respect for her kind heart, infallible work ethic, and unhesitant generosity where he would often have second and third thoughts. As with the others, only he is allowed to bully her.
Kek Tarik: The undoubtedly largest man on the team, Kek is still something of an enigma to Morgan, being a man of fewer words than most everyone he has ever had the pleasure to meet. Be that as it may, he does not in the slightest deny that his hulking teammate is an invaluable asset to the team, and whatever he’s busy holding off while being more lead than man, he will often find the giant set loose upon. It’s a good business partnership.
Trivia:
Based loosely upon JP Morgan.
I’d go with some sort of neural synapse speed-up deal. Precision and timing. |
55,986 | 1,533 | 46 | 1,894 | 5,788 | It was rather fortunate that Burgundy and Albus had boarded the same bullhead for the stadium. Two two had their calm conversations about how the tournament was going to go down and who was going to go with who when they advanced, but it was all cut too short when they arrived to the stadium they had both been waiting for.
Burgundy didn't mind their heights too much, and pulled Albus along a safe distance away so that they could both wait for the other half of their team. | Name: Echo Marine?
Team: BEAT
Birth Date: May 2nd
Age: 18
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Designation: Sophomore Student at Atlas Academy
In Depth Appearance: Echo is a tall, strongly-built girl, with long legs, wide shoulders, and wide hips. Her skin is approximately mocha in tone, and contrasts extravagently with her poofy blue hair, which is tied back in a bush except for jagged bangs. Fairly thick eyebrows, full lips, and a near-permanent smirk distinguish her face.
On the battlefield or the stage, Echo's attire of choice is a gray crop-sleeved sweaterskirt, yellow bows as her hairtie and her belt, streamlined cotton pants, and white tennis shoes with yellow soles. Black elastic wraps adorn her arms, extending into fingerless gloves. This garb overall displays a simple functionality, though not without its own assertive style.
Weapon: The simple title of Echo's weapon, the Boomstick, masks a great degree of sophistication and flexibility seemingly unfit for a brutish hammer. To begin, the Boomstick is an immense mallet, meant to be swung with both hands. The force of a proper swing is capable of making dents in Grimm armor plates and metal alike. Though slower and not as adaptable as a blade or even a mace, this huge weapon nevertheless boasts a highly effective inelegance masked beneath a hip exterior.
More interesting than the Boomstick's raw pummeling capabilities, however, are the two sound-based devices built into it. Lying well-sheltered in the hammerhead, an extremely potent boombox creates forceful reverberations in the vicinity of the weapon when swung, giving the Boomstick an area-of-effect capable of launching things it isn't even touching. Additionally, a microphone exists in the bottom of the Boomstick's handle, though this serves more of an entertainment purpose than a tactical one.
Semblance: Stemming from Echo's unwillingness to back down even when greatly challenged, her semblance Run it Back restores her own aura to its level a few moments ago, making her resistent to burst damage and even able to stay in a fight when she might otherwise be taken down. This talent's nature as a sort of 'second wind' however, prevents her using her ability more than once or twice per fight, leading her to save it for big moments. The ability is extremely taxing on her body, and even two uses has great effects on her soon after, requiring her to finish a fight quickly after using her semblance.
Personality: In a word, adamant. Echo is proud, resolute in what she believes in, and strong-willed to the point of obnoxiousness. Despite being overly inclined to prefer everything being done her way, she will relent if sufficiently convinced—a quality she shamelessly touts as being representative of her consideration for others' thoughts, which she lacks. Though of average intelligence, she is less proficient than most in picking up on the feelings of others. She doesn't ever let her opponents get through to her, thinking this to be an act of submission; for instance, if slandered for her weight, Echo might turn it around to point out that she's not trying to pretend she's something she's not. Echo also tends to hold grudges. Despite being self-centered and somewhat arrogant, she is not in the least bit mean-spirited and will not actively seek to hurt the feelings or attack the beliefs of others, and if she discovers she has done so, she will apologize.
On the flipside, Echo exhibits a loyalty and reliability that make her a steadfast ally, if not a steadfast friend. The military tradition of her family perseveres in her, and Echo remains optimistic despite the tragedies and struggles of the world to inspire confidence and toughness in others. All in all, she is an indomitable spirit, for better or worse, whose confidence can be both self-destructive and self-preservative.
Place of Origin: Atlas
Relations with other Players:
Burgundy - Echo holds a certain level of respect for Burgundy. Not only because she is the leader of the team, but also due to the fact that she always appears to be on the top of her game. she seems to view Burgundy in the same prodigal light that many of the faculty in the academy do, but her respect is not to be mistaken for idolism. The two tend to make jokes about one another, Echo's favorite one being a half true statement in how she believes that men should be throwing themselves at her feet and forming a reverse harem for her. It usaully gets a good laugh out of the both of them. Despite how close the two are, she is still unaware of the rigorous training that Burgundy sneaks off to to maintain her status as a pending specialist.
Albus -The two are quite the odd pair. They speak like a couple and are more open with eachother than they actually know. Their relationship can be described as 'Tough Love'. They share insults together without even knowing that they are both actually giving eachother a piece of themselves. But in combat Albus and Echo do not work well together like Albus does with Tawne.
Tawne - Echo and Tawne represent a compromising clash. More than anyone else on the team, and often more than anyone else they know, Echo and Tawne butt heads on the smallest of issues, seemingly just for the sake of it. Since day one, each has treated one another like a sibling, with a great deal of understanding and care veiled behind an equal but much more visible quantity of teasing, calling out, and competition. Both strive to be the 'big brother' of the relationship.
This get's the Pyro Seal of approval, and is automatically accepted. |
55,987 | 1,533 | 47 | 1,449 | 5,931 | Echo Marine, Albus Aliquam, Tawne Adagio
While in truth the length of time between the arrival of Tawne and Echo, and the arrival of Albus and Burgundy might not have been so great, neither of the first pair were blessed with patience. Therefore, when confronted by their remaining teammates after a painfully boring wait and not in the least bit consoled by a flashy entrance, tasty snack, or festival prize, neither Echo nor Tawne appeared particularly thrilled. The latter, naturally, spoke first. ”Jeez! Did you not get the memo? Or the announcement? Can you even hear me right now? If not, say nothing.”
He stroked his chin and waited, pensive. Albus rolled his eyes. “Get off it, Tawne. It took a minute to find an airship. And this…this thing happened.” Discretely he looked left and right, as if a single soul in the landing bay of Amity Colosseum might be even the slightest bit interested in what he had to say. “I’ll tell you later.”
Shrugging, Tawne turned to Burgundy. “You didn’t lead my buddy astray, didja, miss mouth? Whatever, you can say sorry later. Right now we have a coupla things to attend to before we go to the arena. First: weapons. Second: there is no second. All of our weapons arrived here like an hour ago.” He indicated the direction that BEAT should go, haven painstakingly extracted the information from a passerby quite possibly as obnoxious as he.
”No, pinhead. Our weapons are in these flyin’ lockers we can call when it’s our turn to kick ass. Jus’ use your scroll.” A withering yet amazed glance flew her way. Had he only been told, the entire conversation with the random dipstick could have been avoided—a fact Tawne knew Echo knew, yet she made no attempt to step in. ”Thank. You. Echo.” The bespectacled keyboarder glanced at the other members of BEAT. ”Anything else I should know?”
Albus raised a hand, student-like. “I’m hungry, actually. Never got any noodles.” Seeing Burgundy walking, he followed suit, and the entire team left the landing bay in single file.
On the way to the arena, they halted in a short hallway full of vendors. Tawne, in fact, nearly crashed into Albus when his friend stopped abruptly. Navigating carefully around him, he beheld what astonished Albus so and let his jaw drop. ”Oh, my my...”
Without taking his eyes off the prize, Albus nodded. “I know, right. You thinking what I’m thinking?”
Singularly focused, Tawne returned the gesture. “Boy am I. But it’s so…massive. And thick. How could you get it all inside you? No, wait, I got it. I’ve still got some room in me. We can tag-team it. You can go first. If there’s any left, make sure you get me a part your mouth hasn’t touched. Don’t think of the consequences, man! Together, we can swallow the whole wiener, no matter how big!”
Echo and Burgundy looked back. For some reason, the boys had stopped completely at some guy’s shop and appeared to be intently focused on something behind the counter. As she watched, the shopkeeper lugged the great, brown shape up and slapped it on the countertop, before grabbing his buns and laying them out beside. Despite her initial shock and disbelief, Echo shrugged. ”They’re just getting’ a novelty-size hot dog. I bet the bozos are gonna use it for some crappy joke.” Shaking her head, she continued with her partner toward the arena to find a seat, with her teammates not far behind. | Name: Tawne Adagio
Team: BEAT
Birth Date: August 31st
Age: 18
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Designation: Sophomore Student at Atlas Academy
-=-=-
In Depth Appearance: Tawne is of slighty above average height and physical condition, giving him a wiry frame. Long, nimble fingers give him admirable dexterity. His face sports a cleft chin, green eyes, and a rounded nose. Tawne's hair is nearly platinum blonde, practically sun-colored, and very bright. It falls to about his chin, but is commonly kept brushed back. His green eyes match the green-tinted panes of his black glasses.
Tawne's favorite clothes for times of action are loosely ceremonial, and vividly colored except for a loose black undershirt. A yellow-range mantle hangs down his front and back, kept in place by a wrap around his neck. A gray scarf with an intricate, white, curvy design serves him as a belt. On his arms and feet are leather vambraces and boots of the same style. Deep red pants complete the ensemble.
Weapon: Sticky Keys is a weapon both comically brutal and gloriously inelegant. This bizarre armament combines a keyboard with a butcher's cleaver, its single huge blade jutting out from the instrument's forward side. Handles exist at both the top and bottom of the weapon for strategic gripping, though the top one hides a special feature: a trigger for the double-barreled shotgun embedded in the weapon's top. Never meant for accuracy or delicacy, this shotgun serves as a powerful deterrent to anyone believing the cleaver blade to be easy to get around.
Semblance: Tawne's semblance, Spinout, comes into effect with anything in his vicinity that starts to spin, be it a ball, a weapon, or himself. Spinout enhances the spin, increasing speed and force while stabilizing trajectory, all of which ramp up over time. For instance, Tawne can throw a ball and have it fly perfectly straight, then grind into a target. He can perform enhanced lariats, rolls, tornado throws, and even hurricane kicks. Spinout derives from his tendency to be either brash or crazy in trying times, and to put a unique spin on whatever comes his way.
-=-=-
Personality: In essence, Tawne tends to play by his own somewhat loony rules. He's intelligent and quick-witted but with a snarky and sarcastic bent, quick to make jokes about and trivialize things that might matter to others. He views taking things too seriously as 'tryharding', and anathema to fun--which is what truly matters to him. Tawne loves a good time, whether playing games, making music, or fighting. Despite his general acidity and brashness, he actually does really enjoy hanging out with others, and will work tirelessly to return kindness to those who show it to him. To those close to him, he is equal parts irritating and inseparable. When things get tough, Tawne tends to go nuts, acting with a rather manic vigor. While possessed of a decent self-esteem, Tawne is intensely self-depreciating, though whether this is a joke at his expense or at egotists' few can rightly say. Despite his cynicism and slight kookiness, Tawne is kept firmly on the side of justice and goodness by his spirituality.
Place of Origin: Canopy, Atlas
History: In the city of Canopy in Atlas, a couple with no desire or need to marry became a family. From an early age it was evident that Tawne took after both the keen intelligence of his mother, the banker Saffron, and the creative wisdom of his father, the pianist Gormon. He also displayed an inability to mesh with other children, often driving them away with his sharp sense of humor and sometimes hurtful bluntness. Nevertheless, he exhibited an endearing kind of annoying, and his parents loved him. Other adults often felt surprised to see the compassionate and helpful side of the boy who often needled their children in school. Tawne, meanwhile found the fulfillment in religion that he did not get from other kids; it was spirituality that inspired him to do the best he could in life.
During his education, it became clear that Tawne delighted in music as much as his father, but rather than take an interest in finance he found satisfaction and creative potential in combat. As such, the government moved him into Atlas Academy when the time came, and there he found both a blend of his two passions and a few individuals who really understood him: his teammates. Tawne continued to devote himself to the rigors of education, though never abandoning his cuttingly jovial nature.
Relations with other Players: Tawne is fast friends with his teammate Albus. Though the two are vastly disparate in a variety of ways, they have formed a powerful bond of friendship, pretty much brothers in arms. Working together remarkably well, they are ideal partners both in music and in battle, able to coordinate attacks for maximum effectiveness and humiliation. If some sort of prank is going down, you can be sure that these two aren't far from it.
Extra: My semblance would be sneezing at gale force winds. |
55,988 | 1,533 | 48 | 1,894 | 5,788 | Miss mouth? Burgundy echoed angrily. She had half a mind to use her semblance and vibrate the air right next to his ears at a drum-shattering pace. Tawne didn't know how much she struggled to stay on top of everything. She already had her weapon with her, so there was no use for her to pull her scroll out and call her locker. Her weapon was just a sword, but it was how she used it that made her a tough opponent.
Then it was with the innuendos and jokes. She should have known that it was just a matter of time before Tawne started making his special batch of jokes, but it was already too late for her to do anything. Burgundy looked to Echo and sighed.
"I'm thankful that Albus isn't too impressionable. Tawne would have a little mini-Tawne if he was, and I'm not sure even you would be able to handle all of that." | Name: Echo Marine?
Team: BEAT
Birth Date: May 2nd
Age: 18
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Designation: Sophomore Student at Atlas Academy
In Depth Appearance: Echo is a tall, strongly-built girl, with long legs, wide shoulders, and wide hips. Her skin is approximately mocha in tone, and contrasts extravagently with her poofy blue hair, which is tied back in a bush except for jagged bangs. Fairly thick eyebrows, full lips, and a near-permanent smirk distinguish her face.
On the battlefield or the stage, Echo's attire of choice is a gray crop-sleeved sweaterskirt, yellow bows as her hairtie and her belt, streamlined cotton pants, and white tennis shoes with yellow soles. Black elastic wraps adorn her arms, extending into fingerless gloves. This garb overall displays a simple functionality, though not without its own assertive style.
Weapon: The simple title of Echo's weapon, the Boomstick, masks a great degree of sophistication and flexibility seemingly unfit for a brutish hammer. To begin, the Boomstick is an immense mallet, meant to be swung with both hands. The force of a proper swing is capable of making dents in Grimm armor plates and metal alike. Though slower and not as adaptable as a blade or even a mace, this huge weapon nevertheless boasts a highly effective inelegance masked beneath a hip exterior.
More interesting than the Boomstick's raw pummeling capabilities, however, are the two sound-based devices built into it. Lying well-sheltered in the hammerhead, an extremely potent boombox creates forceful reverberations in the vicinity of the weapon when swung, giving the Boomstick an area-of-effect capable of launching things it isn't even touching. Additionally, a microphone exists in the bottom of the Boomstick's handle, though this serves more of an entertainment purpose than a tactical one.
Semblance: Stemming from Echo's unwillingness to back down even when greatly challenged, her semblance Run it Back restores her own aura to its level a few moments ago, making her resistent to burst damage and even able to stay in a fight when she might otherwise be taken down. This talent's nature as a sort of 'second wind' however, prevents her using her ability more than once or twice per fight, leading her to save it for big moments. The ability is extremely taxing on her body, and even two uses has great effects on her soon after, requiring her to finish a fight quickly after using her semblance.
Personality: In a word, adamant. Echo is proud, resolute in what she believes in, and strong-willed to the point of obnoxiousness. Despite being overly inclined to prefer everything being done her way, she will relent if sufficiently convinced—a quality she shamelessly touts as being representative of her consideration for others' thoughts, which she lacks. Though of average intelligence, she is less proficient than most in picking up on the feelings of others. She doesn't ever let her opponents get through to her, thinking this to be an act of submission; for instance, if slandered for her weight, Echo might turn it around to point out that she's not trying to pretend she's something she's not. Echo also tends to hold grudges. Despite being self-centered and somewhat arrogant, she is not in the least bit mean-spirited and will not actively seek to hurt the feelings or attack the beliefs of others, and if she discovers she has done so, she will apologize.
On the flipside, Echo exhibits a loyalty and reliability that make her a steadfast ally, if not a steadfast friend. The military tradition of her family perseveres in her, and Echo remains optimistic despite the tragedies and struggles of the world to inspire confidence and toughness in others. All in all, she is an indomitable spirit, for better or worse, whose confidence can be both self-destructive and self-preservative.
Place of Origin: Atlas
Relations with other Players:
Burgundy - Echo holds a certain level of respect for Burgundy. Not only because she is the leader of the team, but also due to the fact that she always appears to be on the top of her game. she seems to view Burgundy in the same prodigal light that many of the faculty in the academy do, but her respect is not to be mistaken for idolism. The two tend to make jokes about one another, Echo's favorite one being a half true statement in how she believes that men should be throwing themselves at her feet and forming a reverse harem for her. It usaully gets a good laugh out of the both of them. Despite how close the two are, she is still unaware of the rigorous training that Burgundy sneaks off to to maintain her status as a pending specialist.
Albus -The two are quite the odd pair. They speak like a couple and are more open with eachother than they actually know. Their relationship can be described as 'Tough Love'. They share insults together without even knowing that they are both actually giving eachother a piece of themselves. But in combat Albus and Echo do not work well together like Albus does with Tawne.
Tawne - Echo and Tawne represent a compromising clash. More than anyone else on the team, and often more than anyone else they know, Echo and Tawne butt heads on the smallest of issues, seemingly just for the sake of it. Since day one, each has treated one another like a sibling, with a great deal of understanding and care veiled behind an equal but much more visible quantity of teasing, calling out, and competition. Both strive to be the 'big brother' of the relationship.
This get's the Pyro Seal of approval, and is automatically accepted. |
55,989 | 1,533 | 49 | 1,288 | 1,334 | Kawaguchi Umeko
"Very eloquent." The Atlesian Huntress-in-training commented dryly at her team leader, though without quite the same irritation as before. A few minutes distance from the event had mellowed her mood a little. Less so with the target of her anger, but more so with the people caught in the crossfire of her intended vendetta. Besmirching her given name was one thing. Irritating, but anyone who wanted to mess about with it was little more than a minor annoyance. Mucking with her family's name? No. She would not permit any further damage to the name that she would force the world to remember than had already been done. He nearly cost Umeko her favorite outfit with that rainbow powder, too.
And he did cost her a four hundred lien cashmere scarf. On top of ruining her leader's appearance. Teàrlag would have to go into battle colored like she'd been tasting the rainbow, and that was unacceptable. For Umeko's pride. For Teàrlag's pride. And for TSUN's pride. And that meant that this practical jokester, this hooligan, this asshole had earned what was coming to him. A personal, thorough dismantling in combat of every bit of pride he held dear.
She took a deep breath, running her fingers back and forth over the release for her weapons. She might not fight their team in the first round. Indeed, she might not fight them at all. But one way or another they would lose.
Perhaps they would be eliminated by another team before facing TSUN. She wouldn't mind that outcome; her need for retribution would be satisfied. If they were not eliminated by another team, however, Umeko would see them on the field of battle. She would not permit TSUN to be eliminated by anyone. No matter the competition, they would make it through every round until the final fight. And then they would win that, too.
She would accept nothing less.
Not from Teàrlag. Not from Nura. Not from Silver.
Not from herself. | Name: 川口 梅子 (Kawaguchi Umeko)
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Age: 18
Nationality: Atlesian Origin, Vacuuan Affiliation
Team: TSUN (Tsunami)
Designation: Huntress
Appearance: Standing slightly taller than average, albeit not by much, Umeko clearly cares about her appearance. Her clothes are, without exception, kept immaculately clean and worn in specific combinations planned out long in advance. She wears them quite well, too; Umeko is unquestionably a striking individual. She's built like a fighter, with a solid stance and toned limbs, but her choice of style usually makes her seem much more lithe than she is. Her brown hair is straight and shoulder length, worn differently depending on what she thinks will look best. Umeko is almost always grinning a wide, amiable grin like she wants the entire world to be her friend and invites them to be so. The deep blue eyes set above that grin are highly expressive, and very much the gateway to whatever Umeko is thinking.
Her clothes tend towards the blue end of the spectrum, but their style is incredibly variable. On a daily basis, when attending classes, she generally wears something close to the traditional Atlesian student uniform, in spite of her actual affiliation. She bends this habit for formal events, during which she does don the official Shade uniform. Casually, on the other hand, her wardrobe is nearly infinite; clothes for every occasion, every type of weather, and every temperature. Light jackets are quite common, as is the occasional sweater. Most casual settings will see her in jeans, but the odd semi-formal will prompt the use of a skirt. Wherever she goes, Umeko wants to be the best dressed in the room.
She does have an outfit that could be considered something of a signature, however. A pair of dark blue jeans paired with classy (but intentionally durable) shoes paired with a deep blue top. Over that she adds a waist-length white jacket, with the emblem of Shade stitched in black over what appear to be devil horns on either shoulder. She's never seen, regardless of her attire, without her headband and rarely without her white messenger bag,
Personality: Umeko is friendly, oblivious, and a little too eager to show off. She thrives on being the center of attention, having the most friends, and standing in the shining spotlight. At least that's the disposition she likes to show to the world. The truth is much, much more layered. The hordes of acquaintances and casual friends are kept at arms length, prevented from seeing past the veneer they're supposed to see. Beneath the mask is a much more contemplative young woman, someone much more sensible than her almost arrogant public persona implies. Umeko realized, quite a long time ago, that her peers (and elders) tended to underestimate her due to her bubbly nature and fashion-oriented interests. So why not use that to her advantage?
The real Kawaguchi Umeko is highly driven, and paradoxically, infinitely more willing to criticize someone the more she cares about them. Such criticisms, truth be told, are often emphatic, occasionally angry, and very impassioned. But on the other side of the same coin, those she cares about can be subject to displays of loyalty or affection that would seldom be extended to one of her superficial 'friends'. The truest sign of her friendship is being permitted to see underneath the public facade.
Fighting Style: Despite the attitude she projects, Umeko is a devastating all-range fighter. Lacking in raw power, she instead focuses on technique and battlefield control. The White Devil's forms give her both offensive and defensive capabilities at all ranges, and her Semblance gives her the ability to alter her environment a little as needed. Her preference, most of the time, is to act as a mid-to-close range combatant. Her rifle, and its sword form, give her the precision she needs to land dangerously precise strikes while her shield ensures she can take hits just as well as give them. But given the nature of her team, she is not the only (or necessarily the best) suited for this role. When the situation requires she transitions smoothly into acting as mid-to-long range fire support, using her remote shield bits to harass the enemy from any angle, and her rifle to hit where it hurts. Her Semblance is no slouch in this role, either, as it allows her to redirect shrapnel and detritus in creative ways.
Simply put, Umeko will adapt to any scenario one attempts to force her in as best she can. And much of the time, that is quite well. After a bout with her in the arena, few ever quite buy into her seemingly oblivious nature ever again.
Weapons/Equipment: Remnant Expansion (Prototype) #78 Unit 2 Grimm-Use Non-Demanding Armament Machine ver. White Devil: The White Devil started life as a project for the Atlesian military. Atlas has long believed in recruiting their Hunters into service as Atlesian Specialists, but the common Atlesian soldier has never been able to go toe-to-toe with the foes that Hunters handled. They had to rely on strength of numbers, not individual capabilities. The Grimm-Use series was intended to permit the common soldier the adaptability to handle as many foes as a Hunter, if not with quite as much skill. In fact that was the purpose; a set of equipment that could be used for maximum effect, with minimum skill. The project showed promise, but ultimately was a casualty of Atlas’ changing goals. They no longer wanted to increase a soldier’s effectiveness, they wanted to take the soldier off the battlefield entirely.
So Sunrise Industries, the contractor for its development, mothballed the project. The five units that had been produced were put into storage and forgotten. Sunrise Industries itself, unable to keep up with the changing mindset, declared bankruptcy a few short years later and its assets were liquidated. The five prototypes were sent to auction, while the Atlesian military’s active contracts were subsumed by other contractors. And that was when they fell into Umeko’s hands.
The White Devil consists of two primary parts; a handheld semiautomatic railgun rifle, and a large quadrilateral shield. The railgun operates by using lightning Dust to generate the magnetic field necessary to launch a projectile along two rails at exceptionally high velocities, making the weapon highly destructive to compensate for its low rate of fire. Using a trigger mechanism in the handle the railgun converts to a long, slim sword. This sword uses the same lightning Dust to superheat the blade’s edge, drastically increasing its penetrating power.
The shield, in its base configuration, is just that; a shield. It secures itself parallel Umeko’s forearm, with a handle gripped in her left hand, and can be easily used to defend against attacks. Its secondary uses, on the other hand, are much less obvious. The handle is connected to the rest of the shield by two long cords, and the handle contains a small motor to retract or release those cables with the press of a button. The shield itself splits in half, both halves folding to create a rail-based firing aperture similar to that of her rifle. These halves fire a laser based on technology being developed for a separate Atlesian project. In this form the halves of the shield use Gravity Dust to become weightless. Like the cables that connect them to their handle, the firing mechanisms are controlled by an adjacent button.
Both halves of the White Devil have storage forms for noncombat situations. The rifle folds to stow away inside the shield, which uses the seams for its transformation to become a rigid messenger bag.
The final piece of Umeko’s equipment, developed independently of the rest,is a visor and earpiece that contains the functionality of a Scroll while providing eye protection from both shrapnel and blinding light. Outside of combat the device looks very much like an unusual headband. Upon activation it flips down and the v-shaped antennae deploy above her forehead.
Semblance: Center of Attention: Umeko can control the relative gravitational attractions generated by an object. All objects, however small, exert some degree of gravitational pull on all the other objects around them. Umeko can affect the intensity of these pulls, allowing her to manipulate the gravity generated. Most commonly this is used to cause objects to fall into a stable orbit around her, or another object, mistakenly leading many to believe she controls the orbit of objects. The reality is much more nuanced in its potential applications.
History: In Atlas, name and standing is everything. The Schnees are but the most well-known example. What matters is what you have, who you know, and how you got there. If you weren't born with a silver spoon in your mouth you'll spend your entire life kicking and punching to claim one. Everyone knows the names of each industry's titans, but few will remember the small families you meet on the street. In that way, Kawaguchi Umeko is of little note. A deep search of her history will find a modest career in modeling for different magazines, fashion in particular, and her transcripts from Atlas' academy for young hunters and huntresses. A deeper search will find little more about the Kawaguchi family. Simply another foot note in Atlesian history.
Unless one happened to find her birth certificate, and discover that she was born Umeko Huntian, not Kawaguchi. Unlike Kawaguchi, the name 'Huntian' is known to many. The Huntians have been joined at the hip with Atlas' military-industrial complex for generations, supporting, funding, or running dozens of different weapon manufacturers over the years. They made themselves rich off of Atlas' military generations ago, and kept the family interests in good shape through every highpoint and recession since. After all, with the Grimm out there, there'll always be a need for weapons. The Huntians rubbed shoulders with the elite, and were quite content to stay within their echelon. Until, that is, one of the family's minor heirs fell in love with a young worker at the head office.
Robert Huntian's, in his family's eyes, ill-planned love resulted in Umeko's birth. Though he had every intention of sticking with the family he had created, the mastermind of the Huntian empire were less than pleased by the idea. Robert eventually succumbed to the pressures of his more business-minded relations, and returned to the family's good graces. He made sure Umeko and her mother were very well cared for, with as much money as they needed to live comfortably. A share of this money, every month, went into an account in Umeko's name for her to use when she was old enough. Umeko herself grew up attending the kingdom's best academies, with few illusions over the circumstances of her birth. Even fewer about her standing compared to her peers.
Some combination of these truths lead her, at the age of eleven, to discard the Huntian name. From that point on every document was handled using her mother's name, and Umeko Huntian vanished from the paper trails of the Atlesian government. When one of the Huntian empire's investments, Sunrise Industries, went belly-up a year later she found herself drawn towards the liquidation auction and from there to her calling.
While the next generation of Huntians were groomed for business, Umeko entered into Atlas' school for hunters. Her own funds, carefully tucked away until she was old enough, were in good standing when she became a teenager. They were soon supplemented by work done on the side, showcasing fashion and gear in magazines geared towards hunters and huntresses, and invested carefully according to advice and careful consideration. When Kawaguchi Umeko entered Atlas' answer to Signal, no one knew who she was. By the time she left she had made herself known as a highly capable fighter, and a charismatic individual.
It was her success that lead her to leave Atlas. It is no secret, in any of the kingdoms, that the Atlesian specialists were usually recruited from the best of Atlas' training facilities. If she carried on into the next school, she might face the same recruitment efforts. So she packed her bags, gathered what resources were hers, and moved to Vacuo to attend Shade.
Relations with other characters: N/A
Extra: My semblance... Probably something to do with tech, honestly |
55,990 | 1,533 | 50 | 1,826 | 1,165 | "Too little, too late, Morgan. The first fights are being announced. Noel and I are gonna go scoop out this competition of ours. You can be come with us, but just know that we already voted you our stay-at-home-dad for this whole vacation." Brennan grinned impishly at the banker and finished his glass of milk with a flourish and a thunk."I wanted to leave a maid's apron on your bed, but Noel informed me that could be considered politically incorrect for a male homemaker. Sorry Supernanny."
His dark eyes locked onto the slowly milling crowd of students entering the Coliseum and narrowed; with his dark t-shirt, clothing, and restless gaze (sleep on the airship, as if) he looked like a particularly wary Nevermore from the balcony of BANK's suites. There was little he wanted more than to know which of them were fighters and which of them he would convince to cheer for him. He would give every one of them the time of their lives - but there was an important distinction between fondly picturing someone when you were with your lover and waking up in the middle of the night with no breath in your lungs and sweat beading on your skin at the thought of someone's laugh.
Brennan might have been born in Atlas and taught in Mistral, but where he really lived was with one foot in each extreme.
"If you're coming with us, make sure your fookin' toortle is locked up. Don't need that li'l bastard makin' hisself a nest outta my shirts - again. If you're stayin', tell Tarik to come and meet us when you see him." Brennan vaulted over one of the couches that bordered the suite's dining room and maneuvered around the coffee table on his way to the door. "Noel's too short to see over half the seats. Last thing I need is her bony arse diggin' into my back through the prelims just so she can watch the lightweights dig into each other." | Name: Brennan Ailill Griese, the Captain of Industry
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 19
Nationality: Atlesian
Team: BANK
Designation: Subject 0081: Highly Ravenous, Do Not Unleash Huntsman
Appearance:
Several inches over the average height and athletically broad, Brennan only tends to look somewhat leaner in comparison to his teammate. In reality, though perhaps not a powerhouse on Kek’s level, it’s clear he doesn’t take many cheat days. Brennan himself is very handsome, with a strong jaw, bright red-gold eyes, and a perpetual hysterical laugh never far from his lips. Ever professional, he tends to wear black pants or jeans with white dress shirt, sleeves rolled up. He will always either wear suspenders or a slim-fitting black vest. His coal-black hair is long, but not unruly – half the time it tends to be pomaded backwards lustrously, and half the time he lets it hang free over his eyes. Surprisingly, he’s not one for much gaudy orientation. The only concession to jewelry he wears is a slender silver chain on his neck, from which hangs two Claddagh rings barely visible through an unbuttoned collar.
History:
Brennan’s father was only one generation removed from their fortune, but it was clear he had forgotten where it came from. Brennan’s grandfather had initially gone into business as a founding partner of the Schnee Dust Company, but foresaw a coming monopoly on the Dust market and the coming problems with the use of Faunus labor. Therefore, he sold every last share at top dollar and came out with enough money to float him through the rest of his life; a series of sensible investments in property and budding tech firms with interests in Aura and Dust only compounded the fortune, until it was clear no Griese would ever have to worry again.
As you can imagine, this had made Brennan’s father complacent, a trait not shared by his rowdy, implacable only son. A talented little scrapper (to his father’s chagrin) from an early age, Brennan seemed to have determined his path even before he quite knew what the Huntsman path was, and went away to Sanctum Academy in Mistral for combat training at the age of 12. When he returned to Atlas after four years, though, he took a couple drop years to begin taking a hands on role in some investments of his own. Finally, at the age of 19, he enrolled in Atlas Academy to seek out a career as a Huntsman and engage himself in higher study.
Pleasantly, he found himself on a team with three other members of the Atlesian business elite, and though at first their squabbles over leadership and natural competitive edges had led them to all eschew each other, once the question of leadership was truly decided and began to work as a unit, BANK (as they had been first colloquially, then officially known) became an inseparable juggernaut, often able to discern strategies and fight alongside or independent of each other with mere near-telekinetic glances. At the head of this specialized team is Brennan Griese himself – and though his father insists he’s going through a phase, Brennan finds the thrill of being a Huntsman and the challenge of impossible odds far more satisfying a life than a sterile boardroom, where he had no chance of anything but even greater success.
Not the most heady of futures to a young man such as him.
Personality:
Despite what his teammates like to mutter to themselves, there’s really no one but Brennan who could lead BANK with any efficiency. He balances the three proper attitudes for business on the tip of his finger – cold and pragmatic on the battlefield, when his team is most in need of direction; open-hearted, jovial, and irreverent at a public setting or presentation; and funny, fluent and respectful in a one on one setting. While not an out and out asshole, years of relative dominance amongst his peers and the restlessness of being born into wealth and lacking things to do with it has completely coated Brennan in bulletproof confidence. This sense of self-assurance can often cross the line to out and out conceit.
Even if Brennan isn’t the most talented fighter on the team (an honor that goes to Kek) he’s easily the psychological warrior of BANK. A born performer, hyping up the crowd comes as easily as breath to Brennan – the sheer act of pumping his arms to raise a mob’s volume seems to feed him with a psychotic, insatiable energy. Though he’s cunning enough to guess at many a psychological weakness, public displays of disrespect towards the other three Huntsmen academies are more his speed. Brennan is a madman. He will raise chants amongst students. He will spout disrespectful limericks towards upcoming competitors. He will buy other students dinner and a Scroll because “those on death row have rights in Atlas. We love the damned! We love them so much that we give them last meals and phone calls home.” He is not above buying out a Mistralian merch stand and tying shirts to banners in a sick mockery of a funeral procession.
Despite this, surprisingly, the charismatic, quasi-psychotic Atlesian is not inglorious in victory or defeat. Often he will seek out as many opponents as possible after the post-fight bloodlust has worn off and his throat requires a brief rest and congratulate them on their performance. It would appear that this frenzied, hypercompetitive jock state ebbs away as soon as the bellows in the arena die down, giving way to a civil, if overbearing, young man who fights every duel like it’s the time of his life. In addition, though he will never advertise this fact – going so far as to pin all credit/blame on Noel – he tends towards charity, or taking his excess money and scattering it through the immediate area.
“Tears, laughter, pleasure and pain! I bring the fire, THEN I MAKE IT RAIN!”
Skills:
A skilled orator and hand-to-hand combatant, Brennan is most skilled in a fight when he’s able to manipulate Dust to full effect. Both of his weapons – as well as his fortune – rely upon the propellant, and he’s learned to use them appreciatively. He’s also the leader of BANK for a reason – a smart tactician, gauging his team’s strengths and weaknesses, he can coordinate group attacks with relative ease and very rarely has to deal with someone falling out of formation or losing their head in the fight. Ironically, not even he is exempt from this sense of focus.
Semblance:
Slick as a Whistle: Brennan’s Semblance is friction manipulation. Simply put, he is able to generate, remove, or control friction in order to propel himself forward, stop something in its tracks by sending it slipping and sliding, or maneuver up solid surfaces more fluidly.
Weapon:
Veblen Good: An energy whip of Brennan’s own design, Veblen Good is a potent weapon even without a power source, able to open up stinging cuts on an opponent with ease or ensnare itself around a body part with a flick of Brennan’s wrist. Its real power, though, comes from the holster built into the handle of the whip, complete with small trigger. When loaded with a Dust crystal or cartridge, the trigger can be pressed in, energizing the whip with Dust for several minutes and imbuing it with whatever particular type Brennan loaded it with. In a pinch, in case of a lack of crystals, the whip can also be powered for a limited time with the Trustbusters.
In its coiled form, Veblen Good can still be loaded with a Dust cartridge and powered up. In this state, Brennan can utilize the weapon as an energy targe, also imbued with whatever element the Dust was and combining with his aura to form a large protective shield.
Trustbusters: A pair of Dust-knitted gloves that operate independently of Veblen Good, the Trustbusters would ostensibly not have much power on their own. Thus, Brennan has done some modification, turning what was once a pair of glorified hand protection into augmented weapons all their own. When a Dust crystal or cartridge is crushed inside one of the Trustbusters, the specialized fabrics and the Dust already latent inside will absorb the Dust Brennan wants to utilize. This surcharge allows him to power up something he chooses with Dust, whether it be Veblen Good or something inanimate…or just hit someone with a burning fist.
Relationships:
Albert Morgan: To put it frankly, Brennan and Morgan aren’t friends – but they should be. Both tend to speak fast and take shots at the things around them, and while they often fall into a rapport and coordinate alongside each other well in combat, they don’t hang out on a personal level very often unless someone else is the bridge between them. Despite their aloofness from each other, Brennan enjoys the other heir’s company, and can even be heard to openly laugh at some of Albert’s ideas and jokes. The team leader has decided to try and attempt to forge a real bond with his partner as time goes on.
Noël Du Acier: Perhaps the only member of BANK Brennan can truly said to be close to, Noel is the target of more of his mocking barbs than any other – as well as the target of slightly more extolled pride. Though he is first in the chorus of telling the talkative blacksmith to just shut the hell up, he tends to treat her as something of a precocious younger sister, and knows how to play to her strengths in the field. They will sometimes hang out without the company of anyone else, though usually only for a quick meal. Though he talks a big game about letting her reap her just desserts for running her mouth so often, Noel’s charitable heart is a quiet soft spot for the braggadocio-fueled Atlesian, and slights on her person or (undue) beatings that he thinks she can’t handle will be handled with hot fury.
Kek Tarik: Another team member who, like Morgan, Brennan doesn’t have much of a personal relationship with. Kek, however, has Brennan’s quiet respect if nothing else – as team leader, it’s his job to acknowledge to himself when he’s outmatched, and Kek is pound for pound a better fighter than Brennan himself. As such, he will often just point him in a vague direction and let the big guy go off on his own, only falling in with the rest of the team when it’s time for a complete formation. Outside of the field or classes, Kek will sometimes find himself called on as the deciding vote in an argument with Brennan and Morgan, but otherwise he’s left to his own devices – or to Noel, whom the big guy seems to get on well with.
Trivia:
Theme
Based loosely upon the personality and life of John D. Rockefeller
My Semblance would be telepathy. |
55,991 | 1,533 | 51 | 2,699 | 1,255 | du Acier &
Brennan Griese - Outside the Coliseum
“You say that and yet…” Noël said putting her hands on Brennan’s shoulders. “You always let me ride on your shoulders.” She said giddily quickly picking up her nicer pair of shoes from her suitcase. She turned to Albert and pointed at the plate beside the one he sat in front of. “Sweetie, do me a favour and remind Kek about the meal I made him, and make sure you eat your own I don’t need you falling asleep in the middle of the fight.” The young woman snatched her pea coat and through it around her, giving Albert a small nod and began walking out of the apartment.
As the two members of BANK walked across the street from the hotel chatting about a couple of different topics, future licensing of Noel’s fashion line, some business potential for plans back in Atlas. But the insatiable Atlesians were truly only looking forward to one thing. The lack of merchandise present at the coliseum. She turned to her leader and while making sure not to visibly salivate spoke to him. “Y’know, if we set up some stands – sell some T-shirts, pump up the crowd during our outings, maybe we’d be able to set up a truly lucrative opportunity.” Noël was telling this to Brennan more or less to vocalize the thoughts, she knew he’d been thinking the exact same things. When they approached the coliseum Noël noticed a shorter woman staring at her, she turned to face her placing a hand on Brennan’s abdomen to stop him as well.
“Is there something I can help you with dear?” Noël asked with an impatient kindness that she had seemingly perfected.
“I recognize you, you’re both from Atlas, and you’re those rich kids aren’t you?” She asked approaching Noël.
“I am Noël Du Acier, my father and I run Du Acier steel, I see the sword you’re holding is of my own creation – you must be happy.”
“Oh right that’s that family that lost all of their money, right?” the girl asked indifferently.
Noël didn’t bother to respond, instead simply taking a coin out of her pocket. “I could quite easily be richer than your very dreams, I could make you that rich as well.” She said twirling the coin through her fingers and snapping directly onto the coin. As she did the coin flipped upwards, and duplicated itself creating two coins. She tossed both of the coins to the girl before walking away. Giving her own last vicious glance up and down, her razor sharp gaze attuning itself to the girl's blade.“Next time you purchase a sword from our company do be sure to double check your bank account, we no longer support a bargain bin in our stores.” She grabbed Brennan’s hand and walked away, taking her time showing her indifference to the girl through her stride, a modest grin on her visage.
“Brennan would you buy me a candy apple when we get there, I’ve been craving something sweet.” | Name:
Noël Du Acier
Race:
Human
Gender:
Female
Age:
19
Nationality:
Atlesian
Team:
BANK
Designation:
Assassin/Brawler
Appearance:
Personality:
Noël is one of the kinder members of Bank. She is best described through her hard-working demeanor, her greed for money and her absolute devotion to her team. Her hard-working attitude comes from when she was just seven years old. Eleven years ago her parents lost nearly everything they had. She was put to work, trained by the best blacksmiths Atlas and two lives worth of favors could afford her. While she is no master blacksmith herself. She is a woman who was raised by a forge. She knows the ins and outs of smithing like a second language. She has worked tooth and nail to help her parents regain both the finances and the status they once held so dearly, while they aren’t truly there – they’re one their way.
Noël’s greed for money while incessant isn’t born purely out of sin and fear of poverty. Instead it has a slightly more noble birth. When her father first lost all of his money Noël has fond memories of their long days in the forge. One of those days he picked her up with his mighty log-like arms and heaved her onto his shoulder. He didn’t meet her wondering gaze, instead the fire was reflected deep in his iris. “Only the fools die rich Noël.” He said to her. “Get as much capital as you can in your life, spend what you must, what you’d like to, and then give it all away.” She has held that mantra very close to her heart ever since.
Noël’s team means quite a bit to her, though for her sake and their own she doesn’t make it known all too often. They got together only eight months ago, but even in that short amount of time they are a highly cohesive unit. She, Brennan, Albert, and Kek all spent the first few months dictating ways in which they’d rather be spending for time. But as push came to shove and the team couldn’t find words that sounded better than Bank – Brennan became the team leader. As soon as that decision passed over an air of ease settled over the team. It only took them three months as well.
Skills:
Noël has been taught since a young age to wield her two weapons a bow and arrow and a staff. Some of the best trainers Atlesian money can afford.
An incredible blacksmith for her age.
She utilizes a bow primarily for the stigma levied commonly against archers – primarily that they are weak in close range combat. Surprising them with her talent in utilizing her staff in close range combat attributing to many of her victories.
Financially stable, but in comparison to her teammates rather poor.
Weapons/Equipment:
Evangile de la Richesse (as pictured in her appearance): Noël’s weapon of choice is deceiving on many fronts. She typically carries it on her back, it appears to be a wooden stick. However it is actually made of steel. She typically utilizes it as a staff but is able to fire arrows from it using her dust strings. These strings form as Noël performs the motion of drawing a bow, otherwise they do not form. This works via a connection to Noël’s glove that forms the string between the tips of the staff. She uses dust arrows as well in order to create multiple effects. She has these tied so they hand around her lower back. The effects that an individual arrow can produce are: a stream of water along the trail of the arrow (moving at the same speed and direction as the arrow), a gust of wind following the arrow and spiraling outwards from its landing position, a constant stream of fire produced from the shaft of the arrow, and using earth dust, the ability to shatter ground that it comes into contact with as long as it is in the form of some dirt/mineral compound.
Semblance:
(Working title) Problèmes D’aujourd’hui: Noël once fully enveloping an object in her aura is able to make replications and considerable amounts of them at that. However, she may also utilize dust in place of her aura to replicate objects. Most commonly she uses her dust arrows, mid-flight or otherwise.
History:
Working on it
Relations with other characters:
Brennan: The leader of her team – Brennan and Noël have an odd relationship. It could be defined as a rivalry, but that suggests and animosity that is simply no longer present for these two. They work well in combat with one another and Noël trusts his orders in a fight completely. He guides where her arrows will fall and where her staff will strike, and she wouldn’t have it any other way. Casually, he sometimes tells her to shut up – as do the rest of her team, but she doesn’t really mind as she talks a lot and tends to speak her mind too frequently. She also tends to find herself cooking for her team whenever she can, she worries they don’t eat very well let alone regularly.
(Subject to change) Albert: To Noël, Al is sort of like combining the financial sense of a business mogul with the tact and care of a surgeon. He tends to know exactly what the team needs and in turn Noël. Whether he decides to actually give Noël or the team what it needs is a case by case study. She finds that Albert is another strong tactician on the team and when Brennan is either too preoccupied or some form of improvisation is required she knows that Albert is well aware of the situation. Something Noël found confusing at first but later one nice about her teammate was that while he was quick to tell her to shut up like the rest of her team, he was very quick to defend her.
Kek: Noël knows the Tarik family well due to their owning of the major railroad systems in Atlas. Their reaches extend greatly across Remnant and that feeling extends to Kek. Always the quieter member of BANK at first Noël feared what he may be thinking, scheming. One spring eve Kek and Noël were walking home from a training session, they lived about the same way from the academy. A young man approached Noël scoffing to himself at her family’s misfortune, Kek perked up and shot the offender a look that could kill. “Shut the fuck up.” He said, and the boy did. Immediately after he turned back to Noël and grimaced at her. “I really think that I should be the leader, how are any of us going to get around without railroads?” That time, Noël didn’t remind him that there was transportation by air.
Extra:
Bakes a mean butterscotch cinnamon pie.
Will roast you with the intensity of a thousand suns.
Resident hype man of team BANK.
Refuses to wear plaid on plaid. |
55,992 | 1,533 | 52 | 1,007 | 2,849 | Albert Morgan
"I'll have you know Bowser is incredibly well-behaved. He knows better now." he returned. "And shut up, Noel. I can deal with our leader leaving his clothes around perfectly well myself."
Seating himself, he deftly placed a napkin in his lap, took up knife and fork in hand, and made an elegantly precise first cut of juicy, flavorful steak in the span of one and a half seconds. It was the kind of time only practiced ease could beget, and as he speared the meat with his fork, he began once more to their retreating forms, his voice easily carrying despite not even facing them.
"Not to worry, I'll have Tarik taken care of. You two go socialize, Noel could use the practice."
Casual potshots at the team's designated tease-victim aside, he nonethless raised the arm and waved.
"Oh, and the steak is perfect, as always."
The door finally shut behind him, leaving the young man alone with his meal in the room.
Now then, onto business.
His scroll emerged from the pocket once more, speed-dialing Kek's number with a press of "5".
As it rang, he held it to his ear even as another cut of meat slid down his throat.
You're a bit past "fashionably late", Tarik. | Name: Albert Jonathan Price Morgan
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 19
Nationality: Atlesian
Team: BANK
Designation: Blueblood
Appearance:
They do not breed weak men in Atlas, and certainly not in their elite. Albert Morgan, like any good fellow, follows the trend: At an athletic six-foot-three, he looms over all but the largest of Hunters and Huntresses (read: Kek fucking Tarik), and would look equally at home on a rugby team as he does one full of hunters. His hair, cut just a smidgen long and always kept in order, has a distinctively golden blonde sheen. His eyes are a rich, marine-reminiscent blue, calm as the rolling waves of the Atlesian coast on a warm summer day. His jaw is strong and his face statuesque as the rest of him, and seems to commonly carry an expression like he knows something the rest of you don’t. Hasn’t quite yet learned to part from the more traditionally upper-class in terms of clothing, lots of nice suits and the like have seen much more than they were ever made to outside of a spy flick. Likes his blues, owing to a maritime heritage the family has never forgotten.
History:
The firstborn son of a long, long line of bankers and financiers’ latest generation, Albert Jonathan Price Morgan has been, from birth, set up for success. Surrounded by opulence and the very highest standards of living in the world, Albert was one of those kids whose backyard was really more of a small forest and field, enjoying a privileged life to the fullest. Surrounded by the very best tutors money could buy, he quickly proved to be a bright young man with an exceptionally positive future ahead of him as he grew, in whatever field he was to pursue. Of course, as everyone knows but few care to recall, a sturdy foundation alone does not a building make. His aptitude for success and excellency was not purely due to the world around him, for the Morgan dynasty didn’t tolerate a lazy child in any respect.
“Work hard, think big, and never give up.” These were the words that Albus Morgan, Albert’s father, always repeated to him from the first time the young man could begin to form words. A family hailing from humble beginnings as sailors perhaps a dozen generations or more back, the Morgans never succumbed to the fate of “forgetting what got you here”, like so many other rich families do. They understood that it took dedication and know-how to get the job done, which meant you needed to put in the work.
And work Albert did, consuming all sorts of knowledge and experience wherever he could find it, be it physical, mental, or spiritual. Blessed with the strong constitution from his sea-worthy ancestry, he could often be found exploring outside, even at times venturing beyond the estate and into the town below, where he discovered the world outside his bubble. And while he was never gone for too long and absolutely NEVER out of someone’s sight, he did learn a thing or two about the world and himself out there with the rabble. Perhaps his father, the head of the business during a time where it was an achievement to not buckle under the expanding pressures of the SDC, let alone grow in one’s own right, recognized it as a good thing for his son, and continued to allow the field trips long after he’d been made aware of them.
Albus was always proud of Albert’s dedication to being the best young man he could possibly be. What he saw growing before him was a fine heir to the company that he could one day hand the reigns to, and soon to be a skilled executive beneath him until that time would come. He couldn’t ask for anything more out of his son, truly. But Morgans were always overachievers by nature, and to Albus’s shock, at the tender age of fourteen, the already cultured, prim, and proper young man asked to enroll for proper combat training, because he intended to spend his years not sitting around waiting for some friend of the family to kick the bucket and open up a cushy starting job for him.
Why would he, he reasoned, when he could spend his youth serving as one of Atlas’s finest, to fight for the country they called home and held so dear?
It only took one phone call, and he was already off to Signal Academy, to spend 3 and a half years preparing for Atlas itself.
Personality: The essence of tranquil, Albert has a self-assured air about him that practically screams his own confidence in his skills, even where he himself may abstain save for a few cheeky insinuations, and commands attention. Seemingly unfazed by any sort of stipulations, even those placed upon the team by the leader himself, his focus will entirely fall upon getting the job at hand done, and done smartly. His wit tends, ironically, towards the dry, and while unflappable to what may sometimes seem to the point of breeziness, he is not without a generous helping of smugness lingering below the surface. If he finds something funny, you’ll get the message, just perhaps through a beautifully penned letter as opposed to an open, raucous point-and-laugh.
Skills: Adaptable and calm under pressure, Albert is proficient in many fields, as someone with a lifetime of high standards placed upon them would be expected to be. A slick boxer, with very good defensive skills made only more effective by his semblance, a skilled marksman, and an all around crafty improviser. Has refined tastes and an eloquent speaking pattern, perhaps not as openly brazen and chutzpah-filled an orator as Brennan, for example, but all the same is well-spoken.
Semblance:
Silvertongue: Definitely on the odder side as far as semblances go, Albert’s allows him to convert his body, in part, to metal, effectively donning a lustrous second skin. However, there is a caveat to this power: the metals with which he imbues himself must have been ingested by him, and preferably recently, as the amount he can work with seems to diminish over time as well as with decreasing capacity. In a queer, yet entirely fitting twist of fate, he seems to have a particular affinity with precious metals—Gold, Silver, Platinum, and so forth.
Weapon: There are plenty of perks to being a rich kid. Quality of life those below hardly dare dream of from birth. Tutoring by the best in whatever field or education being pursued. And lest we forget, that which is chief amongst them, standing head and shoulders above the rest:
Rich kids get the best toys.
In Albert’s case, he wields the General Electric, an elegant cane that just happens to be an effective stun baton, being gilded, heavy, and a natural conductor of electricity that’s in constant supply thanks to dust infused metal. Very high class stuff.
Keeping with the theme of “have I mentioned I’m a plutocrat yet?”, the Electric is a trick weapon, capable of splitting apart with a quick twist into a beautiful combination of rifle and rapier, allowing for combat capability at effectively all ranges.
Relationships:
Brennan Griese: In surface-level terms, the relationship between Griese and Morgan is purely professional. Griese is the leader, Albert defers to him, and that’s that. When one looks a touch closer, they’ll notice two young men who by all means should and probably are going to be friends— but not yet, it would seem. They trust eachother in combat, and have a certain camaraderie on the front lines, but in terms of personal lives they mostly keep to themselves and deign not to delve into the other’s business too terribly much. Even so, Morgan can often be smirking in the presence of his leader’s antics, and is equally full of pride in his Atlesian pedigree. As a fellow young man with a biting tongue and more wealth to throw at something than most small nations, there is undeniable kinship there—but it would not seem to have been properly fostered.
Noël Du Acier: Noel is thankfully much more straightforward to deal with. In essence, she is the precocious little sister who just so happens to be his age. To wit, he will playfully make jabs at her expense and be the second to tell her to shut up in the group (he would be first, but Brennan would drown him out), and generally tease her whenever he feels it’d be funny. This hazing aside, however, he holds a good deal of respect for her kind heart, infallible work ethic, and unhesitant generosity where he would often have second and third thoughts. As with the others, only he is allowed to bully her.
Kek Tarik: The undoubtedly largest man on the team, Kek is still something of an enigma to Morgan, being a man of fewer words than most everyone he has ever had the pleasure to meet. Be that as it may, he does not in the slightest deny that his hulking teammate is an invaluable asset to the team, and whatever he’s busy holding off while being more lead than man, he will often find the giant set loose upon. It’s a good business partnership.
Trivia:
Based loosely upon JP Morgan.
I’d go with some sort of neural synapse speed-up deal. Precision and timing. |
55,993 | 1,533 | 53 | 511 | 3,294 | Teàrlag Cirsium
She's definitely on the warpath. After you spend a wee bit of time with other folk, you tend to really start picking up on all the cues and unconscious actions they do, and with a bit of trial and error you'll start associating those things with their feelings and whatnot. That's how I know Umeko's very, very keen on fighting those two we met earlier; the way her pale white fingers are running across the hilt of her weapons is a real clear sign. Sure, she might look pretty casual, but that's just the persona, remember?
Just gearing up for battle underneath that façade. Ready to deliver payback.
That motivation she's got is why she's near the top of the class and I'm in the middle. It's actually a pretty comfortable spot, free of any real stress, and because there's bugger-all reason for me to try work harder, it's a position I'm perfectly content with. We're all going to be sent into the meat grinder of Grimm-fighting in the end, anyway. As long as we can take a few hits, they'll be fine with turning me into just another two-bit C-list hero sent to die protecting the world.
It's not terribly wizard, but hey, that's life for you.
Just the bad atop of bad.
Anyway, so Umeko wants to beat those folks down hard. Poor buggers. Though I would be a bit more sympathetic if not for the entire dust in nose thing. I mean it's not like it matters to me that much or anything but I might ... try a bit harder and help out Ms. U over here?
I watch sparks dance across my arms, filling the air with the smell of ozone.
I guess I'll be. | Name: Teàrlag Cirsium
Age: 17
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Nationality: Vacuuan
Designation: Huntress
Team: TSUN (Tsunami)
Appearance: A pale youth whose features clearly paint her as a native to the metropolitan city-state of Vale, Teàrlag is almost delicate in her appearance, false advertisement for those who know of her personality. Indeed, with her height of a metre sixty, slightly shorter than most girls her age, as well as her soft and gentle looks, she could almost be considered cute or waifish, but the cynical and dead gaze present in her otherwise beautiful purple eyes tell a different story. The twin-tailed girl is definitely pretty, but like the black-and-red and discs clipped to her violet hair, her soul is hellish, an bottomless pit of self-loathing and cynicism that contrasts immensely with her looks.
Her outfit consists of a black, hooded jacket (lined with red in certain areas), which is haphazardly thrown over a short minidress that shares a colour with her hair, albeit a slightly lighter shade. It extends down beyond her waist by only several centimetres, leaving a small gap of pale, almost-white skin visible before it meets her woollen, overknee thigh-high socks, which are also a purplish colour (violet of course, pretty much being her favourite colour in that she has absolutely no real negative opinion of it). Indeed, it could be said, in the tongue of Internet-going cartoon fanatics, that she possesses "Rank A" zettai ryouiki, though whether or not this has ascended to "Rank S" is dependent on one's judgement of her personality. Digressions on forbidden territory aside, the purple-haired girl also wears simple but tough black boots.
Colour: Thistle Purple
Personality: A cynic down to her very bones (or so she thinks), Teàrlag Cirsium is not a girl with an overly favourable view of the world. To her, life is harsh, uncaring and utterly meaningless, an endless cycle of drudgery that seeks to wear away at one's self until death finally comes. It's a rather dreary and morbid opinion, but she's embraced it, and with racial tensions between human and Faunus, the constant fight for survival against the hordes of monstrous Grimm, and the knowledge that each day people you've met will find themselves at risk of dying, she feels like the world itself supports her beliefs. Not to mention the utter lack of mercy society holds for its own citizens, the vapid nature of the cliques and ingroups that promotes the concept of an "us and them", or even the innate selfishness of the common person. She hates it, and her grumpy, sour attitude to things is emblematic of that antipathy towards everything in the world. This makes her out to be somewhat of a rebellious loner, raging against the world and all its injustices.
The fact of the matter is, however, that she's resigned herself to it all. She sees the world in a pessimistic light and she knows she can't change it.
Deep down however, she still possesses an incredible resolve, and the courage to fight for those in need of being defended. She hates to see people cry, and will do anything to wipe those tears away, even if it's at great cost to herself. Her self-worth is utterly lacking; she doesn't believe herself to be worthy of care (though she can still be hurt, no matter how many excuses she makes or how much she tries to deny it), and it is for the sake of others that she fights. Teàrlag doesn't like to admit it, but underneath that grumpy, cynical exterior lies a girl who's really just like any other average teenager, a girl with self-doubts and flaws and precious people, even if she thinks she isn't. She can't accept praise or gratitude that easily, and frequently denies doing anything out of a sense of philanthropy. Because she doesn't believe she can, because she doesn't believe she could be that much of a help.
It gets her flustered, really.
She's not a particularly motivated person either, content with being another average student in Vacuo. It's strange then, to know that this girl is the leader of her team of huntresses, when she seems so lacking in any positive leadership qualities. But she cares for people (even if she does her best to avoid establishing strong relationships), has strong tactical sensibilities, and from time to time can muster up something surprisingly inspirational. Otherwise however, she prefers to take things easy and avoid the struggle. Teàrlag is also a gigantic nerd, and one would be surprised to note that she possesses an incredible singing voice honed from an almost fanatical devotion to karaoke. She also likes deep-fried foodstuffs.
Teàrlag Cirsium is a complicated girl with a complicated sense of self.
She might seem like she's just another cynic, but there's more to her than that.
Equipment:
Her primary piece of hunting equipment is called Lonnbeimnech Taranaich, which is split into a number of parts. The first is a six foot long lochaber axe (Lonnbeimnech) made from a dense and highly durable metallic substance. It possesses an incredibly low resistance, a physical property that is quite conducive (pun intended) towards the use of Teàrlag's semblance. Indeed, it serves as a lightning rod, providing a path of least resistance and absorbing electricity into its body, as well as the reverse (which provides her foes quite the shocking experience). With its high heat capacity and low coefficient of thermal expansion, the blade of the weapon can be superheated to over three thousand five hundred degrees celsius, enabling it to slice apart foes with greater ease. Said blade can also be launched as a rocket, trailing long, fine copper wires behind it as it flies into the distance. This essentially leaves the weapon as a staff until the head makes it return (as it contains its own propellant).
The second part of the Lonnbeimnech Taranaich, on the other hand, consists of two electrical amplifiers (Taranaich) bound to her wrists that can launch bolts of electricity at her foes, but when combined with the lochaber axe, form what can be best described as a electromagnetic slingshot. Utilising lightning dust and her semblance in tandem, she can propel anything placed within the sling at speeds far greater than what is provided by a standard slingshot. Her projectiles for this tend to vary, but she does possess a stock of tungsten rounds to be used specifically for such purposes.
Beyond her main weapon, however, Teàrlag also makes use of a set of ten sgian-dubh knives, which are safely sheathed and hung from garters near the top of her thigh-high socks (with five knives on each leg). They serve as her backup tools, cooking utensils and et cetera, placed in a less obvious location in order to keep a sense of surprise. They are not particularly special, but have also been balanced so that she can throw them at enemies, usually with strings upon strings of copper wire (rolls of which she keeps pocketed) in order to further assist the usage of her semblance if necessary.
Fighting Style:
Despite her apathy towards achieving anything beyond average in her studies as a Huntress, Teàrlag Cirsium is actually surprisingly skilled as a fighter (honed by the desire to actually remain alive, because no matter how much she dislikes the world, she isn't yet suicidal), and knows both her weapons and powers and weaknesses and strengths inside-out. She mainly serves as a sharpshooter, firing off highly accurate shots from her long-ranged weapons to neutralise her enemies and provide openings for the rest of her team. However, she is also decently capable in melee, especially with her electrically-infused strikes adding an extra dimension of pain to her blows. The techniques she uses are not particularly polished or well-thought-out, but her skill is respectable enough, and her willingness to make use of any resources available and her desperation if thrown into a corner is what makes her truly dangerous there.
Semblance:
Marchysgallen - the power provided to Teàrlag by her semblance essentially transforms her (pun very much intended) into a dynamo, a walking producer of electrical energy that can be utilised in a number of different ways. When active, she is constantly converting her aura into electricity stored within her body, which she can expel from her body, though not in a particularly fine manner. She possesses zero fine control over her lightning (which takes upon a purple colour), with most of her tool-less skills with it boiling down to, with only one exception, essentially pointing and firing off bolts of electricity that end up dissipating after a short range due to the resistance of the air. As such, she tends to rely on the assistance of her weapons to best make use of her powers, though when she's dealing with her mundane, day-to-day life she doesn't need them; charging her phone or game consoles simply by touching them is incredibly useful, after all.
Her ability to channel electricity is heavily dependent on the presence of conductors, but there is one technique she has refined that serves as the one exception. With great concentration, she can envelop her entire body in a field of electrons, repelling outwards as a burst or wave of electricity that is both offensive and defensively orientated. Her most common use of this ability however, is to simply cover herself in lightning and run into people, which can essentially be considered an electrifying tackle. It is incredibly dangerous, especially taking into account the amplitude and voltage of the electricity she produces, but requires her to focus quite a bit on keeping the field stable.
When not active, her semblance can still be noticeable, thanks to the smell of ozone that permeates the air around her, and the infrequent sparks of electricity that leap off her skin.
History:
The third of five daughters born to a family of Vacuuan hunters residing in Vale, nobody really expected much of Teàrlag Cirsium, the ignored middle child who really had nothing going for her. She was just another kid, another average little girl who was outshone by her more exciting and colourful family members. Not that she really minded. She was fine (or at least she claimed she was) with being just another number for the census, another statistic that went through school, where the drudgery and repetitivity of the world, where the knowledge that they could die at any moment, slowly but surely eroded away at whatever hope and optimism she had for becoming anything more. She became a loner, a pessimistic girl who spent her days sitting in the corner of the classroom, doing the bare minimum required for her to pass her classes.
When she was thirteen, her parents moved them back to Vacuo.
It was difficult, adjusting to both a new country and a new environment. But she managed (for a given value of the term), settling back into the endless drudgery as another average student once more. She woke up, went to school, did her work, went home, played video games, practiced fighting, went to sleep, repeat. It was an endless cycle, and it didn't endear her to the world at all. It was as if she was going through the motions, training to become a hunter simply because her parents and some of her siblings were.
Teàrlag barely made it into Shade Academy.
She would have left as well, would have given up on the career of a huntress, of a career that could easily end in her death, but something stopped her. She found people who she ... wasn't averse to, people whose presence she probably would have somewhat missed. And Teàrlag realised that she didn't want to see them hurt and crying. So she stayed. Even though she doubted her own skills, even though she found it all so utterly lacking and useless, she didn't want to see people hurt.
Being a huntress meant that she could wipe away some of those tears.
(Not that she cared or anything.)
Relations with other characters:
Not yet applicable
Extra:
-VA: Kakazu Yumi (JP)
-Cirsium is the genus of the spear thistle, the national flower of Scotland
-As a workaholic, my semblance would likely give me the ability to ignore sleep. |
55,994 | 1,533 | 54 | 1,894 | 5,788 | Burgundy guided her group to the center of the platform, standing ready for all to see her. Her weapon was easier to have casually than others, but not the easiest one to conceal. She felt pride, standing among her friends and opponents. They were the best that their respective schools, but Burgundy believed she and her team would stand out on top.
But she also felt something else. It wasn't something the could describe as she fidgeted, but a feeling that she just had to endure.
"Are you ready?" She asked her teammates.
"Are you ready to win?"
Burgundy stood by, waiting for the random numbers to generate to decide who would be fighting who.
Meanwhile, Ophelia Cross sat in the box with her fellow teachers, playing on her scroll and whistling a jaunty tune to herself. | Name: Echo Marine?
Team: BEAT
Birth Date: May 2nd
Age: 18
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Designation: Sophomore Student at Atlas Academy
In Depth Appearance: Echo is a tall, strongly-built girl, with long legs, wide shoulders, and wide hips. Her skin is approximately mocha in tone, and contrasts extravagently with her poofy blue hair, which is tied back in a bush except for jagged bangs. Fairly thick eyebrows, full lips, and a near-permanent smirk distinguish her face.
On the battlefield or the stage, Echo's attire of choice is a gray crop-sleeved sweaterskirt, yellow bows as her hairtie and her belt, streamlined cotton pants, and white tennis shoes with yellow soles. Black elastic wraps adorn her arms, extending into fingerless gloves. This garb overall displays a simple functionality, though not without its own assertive style.
Weapon: The simple title of Echo's weapon, the Boomstick, masks a great degree of sophistication and flexibility seemingly unfit for a brutish hammer. To begin, the Boomstick is an immense mallet, meant to be swung with both hands. The force of a proper swing is capable of making dents in Grimm armor plates and metal alike. Though slower and not as adaptable as a blade or even a mace, this huge weapon nevertheless boasts a highly effective inelegance masked beneath a hip exterior.
More interesting than the Boomstick's raw pummeling capabilities, however, are the two sound-based devices built into it. Lying well-sheltered in the hammerhead, an extremely potent boombox creates forceful reverberations in the vicinity of the weapon when swung, giving the Boomstick an area-of-effect capable of launching things it isn't even touching. Additionally, a microphone exists in the bottom of the Boomstick's handle, though this serves more of an entertainment purpose than a tactical one.
Semblance: Stemming from Echo's unwillingness to back down even when greatly challenged, her semblance Run it Back restores her own aura to its level a few moments ago, making her resistent to burst damage and even able to stay in a fight when she might otherwise be taken down. This talent's nature as a sort of 'second wind' however, prevents her using her ability more than once or twice per fight, leading her to save it for big moments. The ability is extremely taxing on her body, and even two uses has great effects on her soon after, requiring her to finish a fight quickly after using her semblance.
Personality: In a word, adamant. Echo is proud, resolute in what she believes in, and strong-willed to the point of obnoxiousness. Despite being overly inclined to prefer everything being done her way, she will relent if sufficiently convinced—a quality she shamelessly touts as being representative of her consideration for others' thoughts, which she lacks. Though of average intelligence, she is less proficient than most in picking up on the feelings of others. She doesn't ever let her opponents get through to her, thinking this to be an act of submission; for instance, if slandered for her weight, Echo might turn it around to point out that she's not trying to pretend she's something she's not. Echo also tends to hold grudges. Despite being self-centered and somewhat arrogant, she is not in the least bit mean-spirited and will not actively seek to hurt the feelings or attack the beliefs of others, and if she discovers she has done so, she will apologize.
On the flipside, Echo exhibits a loyalty and reliability that make her a steadfast ally, if not a steadfast friend. The military tradition of her family perseveres in her, and Echo remains optimistic despite the tragedies and struggles of the world to inspire confidence and toughness in others. All in all, she is an indomitable spirit, for better or worse, whose confidence can be both self-destructive and self-preservative.
Place of Origin: Atlas
Relations with other Players:
Burgundy - Echo holds a certain level of respect for Burgundy. Not only because she is the leader of the team, but also due to the fact that she always appears to be on the top of her game. she seems to view Burgundy in the same prodigal light that many of the faculty in the academy do, but her respect is not to be mistaken for idolism. The two tend to make jokes about one another, Echo's favorite one being a half true statement in how she believes that men should be throwing themselves at her feet and forming a reverse harem for her. It usaully gets a good laugh out of the both of them. Despite how close the two are, she is still unaware of the rigorous training that Burgundy sneaks off to to maintain her status as a pending specialist.
Albus -The two are quite the odd pair. They speak like a couple and are more open with eachother than they actually know. Their relationship can be described as 'Tough Love'. They share insults together without even knowing that they are both actually giving eachother a piece of themselves. But in combat Albus and Echo do not work well together like Albus does with Tawne.
Tawne - Echo and Tawne represent a compromising clash. More than anyone else on the team, and often more than anyone else they know, Echo and Tawne butt heads on the smallest of issues, seemingly just for the sake of it. Since day one, each has treated one another like a sibling, with a great deal of understanding and care veiled behind an equal but much more visible quantity of teasing, calling out, and competition. Both strive to be the 'big brother' of the relationship.
This get's the Pyro Seal of approval, and is automatically accepted. |
55,995 | 1,533 | 55 | 843 | 1,812 | Glad to see that you still know how to make a girl feel welcome, Silme. A mocking laugh chimed from above, followed soon by a lithe figure leaping down onto the Faunus' back from above. The two went down in a bit of a tumble, sending Silme staggering to the ground while the girl simply smiled as she just as deftly leaped off her victim, doing a little flip in the air before landing next to Mikoto. She was an average sized girl of a very lithe and petite frame, wearing little more than a bikini top and a pair of black short-shorts, showing off a lot of skin, lean muscle, and a scar or two along her tone stomach. Her long hair was worn in a loose, wild fashion, reaching down to her to the middle of her back like a dark cascading waterfall. Her face, holding a mischievous face and delighted light blue eyes, was framed by two bangs that were held in place by a pair of plain white hair-clips.
Turning away from a grumbling Silme, who was struggling to keep his temper under control at the moment, the girl gave the new member a small smile as she decided to greet her.
"Sup, name's Keppel, part-time rocker, full-time Huntress, and plausible a master of meaningful graffiti art, depending on who's asking." She reached into the nearly non-existent pockets of her shorts to summon up her locker, which soon flew in to land with a fairly loud thud, nearly crushing Silme in the process as he scurried to avoid getting crushed by the damn thing. Walking up to it, it quickly opened and she pulled out her weapons, a choker and a pair of white gauntlets, as well as a knee length black and blue jacket that she put on to cover up ever so slightly. "Glad to know we won't have to go in there down a man, and don't let lil' Silme's temper scare you off, he's really just a big softie."
"I'll show you soft, loud-ass, crazy bitch." Silme muttered under his breath, only for Keppel to turn around and smirk at him as she brought her hands up to her face in a mockingly appalled manner.
"Come now, Silme, wait until we're alone first before suggesting things like that, unless . . . you're suggesting we have a little group exercise. Down boy, let's win the matches first before finding a way to celebrate." The smile on her face only grew as Silme's face grew extremely red, and he suddenly let out a frustrated shout before he walked away, announcing that he "needed some fucking air, away from annoying bitches that always got to say something." She chuckled a little bit before turning her attention back to Mikoto, putting an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close in order to whisper conspiratorially in her ear. "See, in order to handle Silme, you just need to bring up Sex and Amari in the same sentence. Shuts him down nearly every time, dirty little horn dog I sw- SHIT!"
The laughter would turn into a quick yelp as she pulled the swan Faunus down with her to avoid a hurtling bench that Silme had picked up and launched at the two. He gave Keppel a death stare before continuing on his way to an outdoor balcony.
"I did say it was 'nearly' every time." The girl said with a bit of a cheeky grin as she rose back up, putting her hands in her jacket pockets, rocking back and forth in place as she looked over to Amari, wondering who she should team up for the match.
Mikoto, of all people, shouldn't have been surprised at people dropping in from above considering how many times she did just that, but still it made her eyebrows rise. There were comfortable looking chairs right there, why would anyone choose to hang on the ceiling, and how did they for that matter? Still, they decided it was a good thing to take down that obnoxious mutt, so they had to be a wonderful person. Before their attention could be on her, Mikoto gave the girl a once over. To say that her appearance was unusual would be an understatement.
To describe the introduction as hasty wouldn't be telling the truth - Mikoto didn't even manage to draw a breath to respond before Keppel's attention was gone. The swan faunus was growing more and more amused though as Keppel fed her nightmare fuel for Silme by the shovels. She made a mental note to seek this girl out later to talk about that.
So, the loudmouth fancies Amari, eh? Now there's something to ruin for him. I'd be delighted to! her inner sadist thought, but before it could elaborate on how it intended to ruin anything between them before it even began, Mikoto found herself pulled to the ground. Something heavy flown by, but she paid it no attention since Keppel's face was now barely an inch away from hers, allowing her to soak in the details. Then again... those are quite exquisite eyes!
Once she got up, the mutt was gone from public view to her unending happiness. Dusting off her jacket, Mikoto cleared her throat. "Hello. My name is Mikoto Kage. I am pleased to see the rest of the company is not composed of uncivilized barbarians."
Upon Silme executing his... energetic entrance, followed by an initially grumpy-as-hell Mikoto, Amari gathered that the two had already met, and had gotten off to a rocky start. She does, however quickly realize who Mikoto was, having thought that the scroll address looked familiar. "So, Sil, I take it that you have already met our newest partner? And Schwarz, it is great to see you again, its been a while, hasn't it?" She says, saying the last part with a grin. "Now, we're almost all here, just waiting for Kep-" She says, just as Keppel herself leapt down from the ceiling, startling Amari slightly.
Upon hearing Keppel's remarks about celebration, Amari laughs a bit, covering it up with a cough
Silme leaned against the railing of the balcony, ignoring Mikoto's annoying bitchin' as he sighed, wishing he could staple Keppel's damn lips shut. Mikoto was the absolute last person he wanted to know something like that, but what had been done had been done. He sure as hell was going to treat the bitch any better if she tried to use it against him, even if it might kill his chances. Fuckin' hell, why do I have to deal with this crap? I just wanted to hit things, live life, and die a fast death at a young age, not get wrapped up in a damn relationship! Yet I can't seem to help how I feel . . . goddamn hormones.
After having cleared his head of any . . . unsavory thoughts that may have lingered after Keppel's teasing, he felt his scroll buzz in his pockets. A slight wave of apprehension, coursed through him as he brought it up, a grimace cutting a cross his face as he saw the familiar face of Carver flash across the screen. He thought about just ignoring the fucker, but knew that would only lead to more annoyance, and possibly a beating, later on. With a reluctant sigh, he pressed the answer button before bringing the device up to his ear.
"Oh, you actually answered this time, how wonderful! It usually takes a good round of good ol' fashion punishment before you learn to answer my calls on a constant basis. But moving on from that, how are you feeling about the tournament?" Carver spoke in a jolly, yet sharp tone, seeming like he was currently reclined on something. Some noises could be heard from the background, but they were incoherent and faint. "I bet you're all puffed, thinking you'e going to sweep the competition just because you've won a few real fights, but I'll tell you that while it's true that you've got a lot of skill, don't think that'll get you anywhere in the ring."
"I beg to differ on that front, but I'm not a fuckin' idiot, Carver, I know how to handle myself in a fight and definitely know not to underestimate an opponent. Now tell me what you want, because I know you didn't just call to check in."
"Heh, right you are, Wolf-boy, you're such a smart little mutt, aren't ya?" Carver replied, only to be met by a deep, rumbling growl in return, which only amused the man further if his chuckle was anything to go by. "Anyway, i want you to pay particular attention to an Atlesian team that's come to the games, Team BANK, if I'm remembering correctly. I want to know what they can do and how they do it, because I might have to kidnap one or two of them. Atlesian money is always good and plentiful, but them being Hunters in training complicates matters a bit. Regular goons won't be enough, and if I pay for professionals, it'll likely lead to me getting very little profit from the venture. So, I've decided to go with both and hire a single pro of very high regard and efficiency. Only problem will be hoping he doesn't take a bite out of the cargo or make off with them himself. But anyway, can I trust you to get me as much information as you can?"
"Tch, I hate these kind of jobs and you know that. . . but yes, I've got it handled. Now are we fuckin' done with this conversation, because I feel like your voice is giving me an ear infection from all of the shit you're spewing."
"For now, Silme, for now, but do make sure to put in some real effort on this mission. I'll be keeping an eye on them to, and for every bit of info I can get from watching the games that you don't provide, that'll be a sparring session you'll owe me. You remember what happened last time, don't you? Wouldn't want for there to be a repeat of that, now would we?"
". . . no." Silme muttered, one hand unconsciously reaching to his side where, underneath his clothes, lay a rather nasty looking strip of scar tissue, all red, jagged, and angry in it's appearance. Carver had broken his aura in a fight and given him a bad cut to his side, and then had proceed to worsen it a bit as punishment for allowing it to happen before sending him off to get patched up by one of his cronies, who had a healing semblance and was Carver's main woman, one of them at least. It never seemed to have healed properly, always causing a dull throbbing from time to time, like now. But to Silme, it was more than a scar, it was a reminder that Carver was far, far above him, and possibly always would be. It was a reminder that, no matter how badly he wanted to, or how hard he tried, he'd never be able to escape from this man's heel, and he'd be serving him for the rest of his life, which may not be that long in all honesty.
"Good, now if you'll excuse me, there are some ladies in need of my attention and a shopkeeper in the basement who needs to be reminded that my protection isn't a charity, and that we don't take well to people who think they can skip out on paying. Have a nice day, and remember, keep an eye out." With that, the scroll went dead, the number instantly wiping itself from his phone as it had been programmed to do whenever it intercepted a call from Carver's encrypted and hacked hotline into the CCT system. Silme let his arm drop, letting out a hollow sigh as he looked over the edge of the balcony into the city below, pocketing the scroll. His eyes were rather down-hearted, and his hands were curled into such tight fists that his knuckles were turning white from the pressure and his claw-like nails were digging into his palms, his aura being the only thing keeping him from drawing blood at the moment.
Keppel turned to Mikoto, giving the new girl a smile as she gave a small salute, ceasing her rocking for the moment as she addressed the girl.
"Nice to meet you as well, Mikoto, and don't be so hard on lil' Silme. He's an ass, I'll fully admit, but considering a few things, he could've turned out much, much worse. I've known the fucker for a while, and he's not so bad a guy when you give him a chance. Still pretty bad, of course, but he's got a few points worthy of respect." Keppel said, before pulling Mikoto in close, keeping an eye on Amari as she once again whispered into the swan faunus' ear. Oh, and please keep what I said early between us, yeah? I know you probably have every, and I mean every, intention and right to use it against him, but let me tell you that this whole thing is really a step up for him. Gives him something other than beating up random thugs to look forward to, and a reason to be a better human being as well. If that's going to get thrown out the window, I want it to be Amari's decision after Silme's deemed himself ready to open up. I know it's an odd thing to ask, but I'm, like, the big sister of the group, and I got to look out for these two knuckle heads. She then proceeds to give Mikoto a quick peck on the cheek, an unreadable smile on her face, as she pulls away. A single finger would trail along the fauns' shoulders, up her neck to caress her cheek, before lightly flicking her on the nose. With a soft chuckle, Keppel would turn over to talk to Amari, skipping over to her tomboyish teammate with a bit of whistle as she did an about face an put her arm around the blue haired girl's neck, attempting giving her a bit of a noogie as she spoke.
"So, what's the plan for the fight? Any strategies, or do we need to wing it, oh, and Mikoto, what do you bring to the table? Can;t really devise any battle plans without knowing what we're working with? And Amari, would you be a dear and get Silme for me, I'm afraid he's still a bit cross with me, and I wouldn't be able to resist poking at his ego a little more than is possibly reasonable."
"A while, yes..." Mikoto said, wincing a little at Amari using her adoptive name, "But that's not my name. Not anymore. I left all that behind me two years ago." she explained. "Well, we have other things to discuss than old times. I am holding you to a catch-up talk later though!" the swan pointed at her with a grin.
Listening to Keppel's description of Silme, Mikoto remained unimpressed. That guy belonged behind bars, he just had that smell around him. And one day she would put him there, along with all of his buddies. Or maybe them first. Whichever slipped up first and left enough evidence behind to nail them.
She decided to address the hush-hush part of what Keppel told her later, for now focusing on the upcoming matches. "As you have no doubt been told I mam a PD cadet. I've been training for two years to take the most dangerous people off of the streets, under the supervision of a hunter so don't worry about my odds. In fact put me up against the worst of them, as long as you have my back I should be able to take down most of them one on one." she gave the brief summary.
"If you want more details, than I use blades for close combat-" she said, reaching behind her back and unholstering the Swansong and Quilltact, setting them on the table, "-but as you can see on a closer look, my true strength is spellwork. I don't know what gods you believe in, but I am a shaman, and I can weave Nature's Wrath accordingly. All I need are the base four kinds, and I can cast anything. That said if you would want me to set the whole arena ablaze you'd need to buy me some five minutes of uninterrupted casting, but I could do it."
"Last, my semblance." she said as she picked up the Quilltact and walked closer to Keppel. "Not only am I immune to dust spells when it's active, but it also allows me to do this." she said and with a barely audible growl, the faunus activated her semblance. Keppel would have gotten a second flash of her swirling black form with prominent white eyes before Mikoto would phase straight through the girl and turn solid on the other side, the blunt hilt of her dagger slightly tapping over Keppel's kidney. "Dead." she simply whispered into her ear, curious for a reaction.
Mikoto would find herself staring down at a black, strangely technological barrel, a small chuckle coming from the anarchist as she leaned back against her would-be assailant.
"If I hadn't been trained as a Huntress, then yes, I would be dead. However, with my aura up, I think you just gave me a bit of bruise at most. Plus, you're in the danger close range of my Rock Fists. You'd be at my mercy as I disoriented you, caused you to lose your hearing in the most likely scenario, and threw off your sense of balance. But I must say that you're cute when you're confident." She'd press a button to shut down her weapon and give Mikoto a pat on her head, before turning to see that Amari had yet to do what she said. So she decided to kick the girl's butt into gear. Pushing her self off of the cadet, she took a few steps behind the girl, raised her foot up high in front of her, and gave a solid kick to her lazy bum.
"Go get Silme's salty ass over here, dammit. I'm not paying you to stand around."
"As If I was serious. Or did you already forget what I said was my strength?" Mikoto smirked and tapped one of the keys on the hilt of Quilltact, popping the channel leading to the lightning dust capsule open. A white and blue bolt momentarily connected with the metal table in a bright flash, causing the piece of furniture to fly away with a new scorch mark. "And please, I am cute, period." she said with an exasperated hair toss. "Although I do feel a bit challenged in that area standing in this room. Absent quarter excluded." the cadet smiled.
She giggled at their antics, making a note to steal a moment with each of them later during the tournament. After all, she was partially on a recruitment mission, she just needed to find a way to sell it, and it would be easier doing so if she managed to befriend them first. | Mikoto Kage
“Who am I? Let’s see. If you’re a hunter, I guess that makes me... a Hunterkiller?”
-Mikoto
Race: Faunus (Mute Swan)
Gender: Female
Age: 17
Nationality: Vale
Designation: Police academy cadet
Mikoto is part of a forming special unit. The hunterkillers are, as the name suggests, specially trained to take on hunters, who are the most respected fighters. Every time a hunter went rogue in the past has been a big problem, and unit like this is meant to contain the problem quickly.
Team: N/A
Appearance:
Mikoto stands circa 178 centimeters tall, with her platform boots giving her what she needs to 180. She is quite strong for her age, being participating in several combat competitions and police training. She weighs about 63 kilos. Her most prominent faunus feature are the two swan wings on her back that have the span of about 200 cm.
Mikoto’s face is dominated by her piercing, bright red eyes. She has an eastern complexion, the slightly yellow skin tone contrasting with her anthracite hair that she usually keeps at shoulder length and well kempt. Her body build is focused more on strength rather than stamina, packing up quite some muscle mass and low fat percentage.
Her battledress consists of a pair of knee high, gray platform boots, black pants and blouse and a gray armored jacket. Coming from rich background, her battledress is trimmed in dark red and gold. She wears red padded gloves to battle. The jacket is modified to allow her wings to unfold and they can be held concealed by a special harness. The jacket comes equipped with magnetic holsters on the lower back for her weapons and several pockets.
When in need of more formal wear, she likes a red trench coat with matching high heels. She modified it to be able to conceal her wings and weapons underneath without looking out of place.
History:
Mikoto was born into the relatively average Kage family living in Mountain Glenn. A mixed family of Vacuo immigrants, her faunus side wasn’t obvious to anyone else in the first two years of her age, before her wings hit a growth spurt. Still, it was another year before she came to the usual faunus problems, having to attend mixed kindergarten.
She managed to bear with it for a year, but when she was four, she finally snapped and beat up one boy that made a comment, sending him to a doctor with a broken nose. She spent her days mostly alone since then as many of the children were afraid of her.
Just as she was about to go to the school for the first time, a rogue hunter on the run from the police destroyed several houses to hinder his pursuers, and Mikoto’s family perished in the attack. Her semblance awoke for the first time, which is what saved her as she extinguished the dust caused fires around her and was able to run through walls to safety. She was then sent to an orphanage in the main city of Vale, but spent her days mostly alone.
When she reached the age of ten, she was adopted by a wealthy family. While initially believing herself to be lucky, she quickly found out her adoptive ‘father’ only wanted her as a Faunus poster child to improve PR, having to adopt a new name against her wishes. While she was given anything money could buy, they didn’t give her the loving family she wanted the most. Her two stepsisters ignored and hated her respectively, but later she formed a love-hate relationship with the younger sister, sharing an interest in fighting and being grateful for the sister at least being honest about hating what she is.
At the age of twelve, Mikoto started attending one of the local combat schools, flat out rejecting being home schooled despite her stepfather’s insistence.
A few years later, her skill grown very good, and she started placing high in competitions. That lead to some media attention to the happiness of her stepfather. However, her story was soon brought to light, making her start withdrawing from people again. She turned to homeschooling and made an uneasy alliance with her younger step sister who was growing tired of her family as well.
After two years of working for the company to fund her plan, she set off to attend Beacon, severing all ties with her adoptive ‘family’ and intending to start again, on her own. Unfortunately, the Initiation proven once and for all that her combat skills were much more suited to fighting a human opponent rather than the Grimm. It had an unforeseen consequence for her though - the police department contacted her with an offer to join a newly formed unit where her skills would be of great use once she graduated from the police academy.
Personality:
Mikoto doesn't actively seek out conversation but she will not shy away from one. The girl is patient and overlooking many things addressed to her faunus side, but she has her limits.
Whereas normally she is well mannered and will go out of her way not to offend people no matter what she may think of them, in a fight or when angered, she is dominated by her emotions, not her reason.
While her anger is cold and calculated, you do not wish to enrage her, as if you push her that far, she will lose all sense and just go berserk on you.
She hates those unlawful with a fiery passion, although rich people and racists are pretty high on the list as well. Despite how she was treated, she is trying to be forgiving, believing it's the only way to achieve some degree of peace in the world.
The girl battles many internal demons and even though she portrays herself as a strong person with a healthy dose of disdain, she can be fragile on the inside. What disturbs her more than most is the thought of losing someone close to her again. She also isn’t too fond of spiders and tight spaces. Her main motivation to keep on living is getting others to accept her because of who she is, not what she is.
In her downtime, she likes to power down and relax, whether that means sleeping all day, stuffing herself with bacon and coffee or reading tales of ancient mythologies with a glass (or a bottle) of rum on hand. If others have to be involved, she wouldn’t say no to a fantasy movie or (window) shopping. Mikoto has a weakness for sporty personal shuttles.
Being a choleric faunus comes with it’s own list of hatreds, like water (which make her wings heavy and useless) or cold (which she feels more due to her higher body temperature). For some reason, the taste of potatoes makes her want to hurl, much like the cheesy romance movies or the boring historical novels. She gets violent on trolls and hates criminals above all else for taking her family and normal life from her, putting them in the same sack with the Grimm.
Skills:
Being adopted by a wealthy family, she was taught self defense and took liking to combat. Trained in a universal style, she can make use of nearly every weapon, although she prefers light, more nimble instruments like her swordwand or a dagger. Her technique focuses on precise, quick and powerful attacks while conserving energy between them. As she knew she had a semblance from long before, she pushed to get herself a full combat education to perfect her aura mastery. Later in her years her fighting style developed into something brutal, intending to not only just destroy the enemy, but make them suffer. It is even reflected in the modifications she made to her weapons, like using serrated blades, or ditching a shield for a secondary dagger.
Life in the high class however also lead to some duties. As an adoptive member of a family owning the Remnant’s leading company producing musical instruments, she can play nearly anything. Being cast as a PR figure, she is used to appearing in front of masses and can be politically correct in most situations.
From her life in the orphanage, she picked up some minor survival skills, although she lived in luxury for so long it would take her time to adjust back to it.
While her weapons might give the impression that Mikoto is a swordswoman, she is in fact a dust caster, capable of weaving the Nature’s Wrath into nearly anything she needs given enough time. She uses three categories of moves - First are those she practices often enough to be able to perform them with thought alone. The second less frequent she needs a focusing agent, such as a phrase or a sequence of tones to help her summon the attack. Last but not least, Mikoto can achieve anything she has enough aura, dust and time for through drawing magic circles.
Powers:
Her faunus heritage gives Mikoto several capabilities she can use for great effect. First and foremost, she can use her wings to heighten and extend her jumps to about twice that of a human, or to glide and soften her fall. They are, however, too small for her to fly. The lack of tail used to be a problem, but she smartly modified her battledress with a half-cape that is attachable to her boots that can substitute well enough.
Her bones are less dense than that of a usual human, contributing to her overall low weight, which unfortunately break more easily if her aura is brought down. Her metabolism is faster, making the girl quite a glutton and yet unable to gain any weight and moving her average body temperature to about 40°C.
Having both large reserve and skill to wield it efficiently, Mikoto’s aura is on the more impressive side of the scale. Its color is pure white, and it manifests as quills falling around her.
Semblance - Arcane destroyer: Mikoto's body becomes an intangible spectre and her voice gains a creepy reverb to it. Her weapon is also surrounded in the same substance of white color. In this state, Mikoto can not be physically harmed, however she still hurts the same if her aura fails to block an attack, and she loses the ability to parry with her weapons. If the 'damage' is sufficient, she will forcibly revert back to normal, more often than not incapacitated by hurting as much as if she was actually dealt the blows. In this state, dust based spells tend to break up on contact with her, hence the name.
Equipment:
Collapsible Swordwand Dust Carrier - Swan Song: A swordwand that can be converted from one to the other simply by sliding the guard down the grip. This action retracts or extends the blade into the blunt part of the weapon. As such, the weapon is primarily designed for stabbing attacks rather than slashing, although it is capable of both. The counterweight can hold dust crystals, and Mikoto is particularly fond of the fire ones. The blade is made from dust-enhanced black metal that seems to be reflecting shadows rather than light.
Tactical Dust Carrier - Quilltact: A dagger with perforated blade holding three dust capsules, usually the remaining types to complement the Swansong’s fire crystals. Mikoto built a flute into the hilt which she uses as a focus help to cast some of her more demanding spells.
Extra:
Voice: Anna Hutchison
Theme: Gåte - Sjå Attende
Mikoto is ambidextrous.
She is bi, leaning towards girls. |
55,996 | 1,533 | 56 | 1,826 | 1,165 | "'Ell no, I'm not gettin' you anyting with sugar in it. You can have a big toob of popcorn and you can appreciate that shit."
Noel gave him such a quivering look that he felt the muscles in his hand clench. The Atlesian returned it with the only thing the blacksmith was born to understand - tempered steel.
"As if you won't be up past your bedtoim enough to begin with. You want me to give you sometin' to make you hyper now too?"
"...Yes?"
...
"Dammit, Noel."
Figured that she'd know how to work a piece of steel.
"Ye, ye, fine," the accented Atlesian grumbled. His hand wriggled out of hers and grabbed her left hand as she lifted it triumphantly. He pinned it down at her side, with the intended consequence of wrapping his arm protectively around his teammate's shoulder to begin with and putting her in a would-be chokehold. "But you're going to make yourself useful to the cause if I do. I want you to find ten little midgets from Vale. Pop leaks in their fookin' sodas with the stick when you're done. Spread fear and dissent in your wake, du Acier. Big Brudda has spoken." | Name: Brennan Ailill Griese, the Captain of Industry
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 19
Nationality: Atlesian
Team: BANK
Designation: Subject 0081: Highly Ravenous, Do Not Unleash Huntsman
Appearance:
Several inches over the average height and athletically broad, Brennan only tends to look somewhat leaner in comparison to his teammate. In reality, though perhaps not a powerhouse on Kek’s level, it’s clear he doesn’t take many cheat days. Brennan himself is very handsome, with a strong jaw, bright red-gold eyes, and a perpetual hysterical laugh never far from his lips. Ever professional, he tends to wear black pants or jeans with white dress shirt, sleeves rolled up. He will always either wear suspenders or a slim-fitting black vest. His coal-black hair is long, but not unruly – half the time it tends to be pomaded backwards lustrously, and half the time he lets it hang free over his eyes. Surprisingly, he’s not one for much gaudy orientation. The only concession to jewelry he wears is a slender silver chain on his neck, from which hangs two Claddagh rings barely visible through an unbuttoned collar.
History:
Brennan’s father was only one generation removed from their fortune, but it was clear he had forgotten where it came from. Brennan’s grandfather had initially gone into business as a founding partner of the Schnee Dust Company, but foresaw a coming monopoly on the Dust market and the coming problems with the use of Faunus labor. Therefore, he sold every last share at top dollar and came out with enough money to float him through the rest of his life; a series of sensible investments in property and budding tech firms with interests in Aura and Dust only compounded the fortune, until it was clear no Griese would ever have to worry again.
As you can imagine, this had made Brennan’s father complacent, a trait not shared by his rowdy, implacable only son. A talented little scrapper (to his father’s chagrin) from an early age, Brennan seemed to have determined his path even before he quite knew what the Huntsman path was, and went away to Sanctum Academy in Mistral for combat training at the age of 12. When he returned to Atlas after four years, though, he took a couple drop years to begin taking a hands on role in some investments of his own. Finally, at the age of 19, he enrolled in Atlas Academy to seek out a career as a Huntsman and engage himself in higher study.
Pleasantly, he found himself on a team with three other members of the Atlesian business elite, and though at first their squabbles over leadership and natural competitive edges had led them to all eschew each other, once the question of leadership was truly decided and began to work as a unit, BANK (as they had been first colloquially, then officially known) became an inseparable juggernaut, often able to discern strategies and fight alongside or independent of each other with mere near-telekinetic glances. At the head of this specialized team is Brennan Griese himself – and though his father insists he’s going through a phase, Brennan finds the thrill of being a Huntsman and the challenge of impossible odds far more satisfying a life than a sterile boardroom, where he had no chance of anything but even greater success.
Not the most heady of futures to a young man such as him.
Personality:
Despite what his teammates like to mutter to themselves, there’s really no one but Brennan who could lead BANK with any efficiency. He balances the three proper attitudes for business on the tip of his finger – cold and pragmatic on the battlefield, when his team is most in need of direction; open-hearted, jovial, and irreverent at a public setting or presentation; and funny, fluent and respectful in a one on one setting. While not an out and out asshole, years of relative dominance amongst his peers and the restlessness of being born into wealth and lacking things to do with it has completely coated Brennan in bulletproof confidence. This sense of self-assurance can often cross the line to out and out conceit.
Even if Brennan isn’t the most talented fighter on the team (an honor that goes to Kek) he’s easily the psychological warrior of BANK. A born performer, hyping up the crowd comes as easily as breath to Brennan – the sheer act of pumping his arms to raise a mob’s volume seems to feed him with a psychotic, insatiable energy. Though he’s cunning enough to guess at many a psychological weakness, public displays of disrespect towards the other three Huntsmen academies are more his speed. Brennan is a madman. He will raise chants amongst students. He will spout disrespectful limericks towards upcoming competitors. He will buy other students dinner and a Scroll because “those on death row have rights in Atlas. We love the damned! We love them so much that we give them last meals and phone calls home.” He is not above buying out a Mistralian merch stand and tying shirts to banners in a sick mockery of a funeral procession.
Despite this, surprisingly, the charismatic, quasi-psychotic Atlesian is not inglorious in victory or defeat. Often he will seek out as many opponents as possible after the post-fight bloodlust has worn off and his throat requires a brief rest and congratulate them on their performance. It would appear that this frenzied, hypercompetitive jock state ebbs away as soon as the bellows in the arena die down, giving way to a civil, if overbearing, young man who fights every duel like it’s the time of his life. In addition, though he will never advertise this fact – going so far as to pin all credit/blame on Noel – he tends towards charity, or taking his excess money and scattering it through the immediate area.
“Tears, laughter, pleasure and pain! I bring the fire, THEN I MAKE IT RAIN!”
Skills:
A skilled orator and hand-to-hand combatant, Brennan is most skilled in a fight when he’s able to manipulate Dust to full effect. Both of his weapons – as well as his fortune – rely upon the propellant, and he’s learned to use them appreciatively. He’s also the leader of BANK for a reason – a smart tactician, gauging his team’s strengths and weaknesses, he can coordinate group attacks with relative ease and very rarely has to deal with someone falling out of formation or losing their head in the fight. Ironically, not even he is exempt from this sense of focus.
Semblance:
Slick as a Whistle: Brennan’s Semblance is friction manipulation. Simply put, he is able to generate, remove, or control friction in order to propel himself forward, stop something in its tracks by sending it slipping and sliding, or maneuver up solid surfaces more fluidly.
Weapon:
Veblen Good: An energy whip of Brennan’s own design, Veblen Good is a potent weapon even without a power source, able to open up stinging cuts on an opponent with ease or ensnare itself around a body part with a flick of Brennan’s wrist. Its real power, though, comes from the holster built into the handle of the whip, complete with small trigger. When loaded with a Dust crystal or cartridge, the trigger can be pressed in, energizing the whip with Dust for several minutes and imbuing it with whatever particular type Brennan loaded it with. In a pinch, in case of a lack of crystals, the whip can also be powered for a limited time with the Trustbusters.
In its coiled form, Veblen Good can still be loaded with a Dust cartridge and powered up. In this state, Brennan can utilize the weapon as an energy targe, also imbued with whatever element the Dust was and combining with his aura to form a large protective shield.
Trustbusters: A pair of Dust-knitted gloves that operate independently of Veblen Good, the Trustbusters would ostensibly not have much power on their own. Thus, Brennan has done some modification, turning what was once a pair of glorified hand protection into augmented weapons all their own. When a Dust crystal or cartridge is crushed inside one of the Trustbusters, the specialized fabrics and the Dust already latent inside will absorb the Dust Brennan wants to utilize. This surcharge allows him to power up something he chooses with Dust, whether it be Veblen Good or something inanimate…or just hit someone with a burning fist.
Relationships:
Albert Morgan: To put it frankly, Brennan and Morgan aren’t friends – but they should be. Both tend to speak fast and take shots at the things around them, and while they often fall into a rapport and coordinate alongside each other well in combat, they don’t hang out on a personal level very often unless someone else is the bridge between them. Despite their aloofness from each other, Brennan enjoys the other heir’s company, and can even be heard to openly laugh at some of Albert’s ideas and jokes. The team leader has decided to try and attempt to forge a real bond with his partner as time goes on.
Noël Du Acier: Perhaps the only member of BANK Brennan can truly said to be close to, Noel is the target of more of his mocking barbs than any other – as well as the target of slightly more extolled pride. Though he is first in the chorus of telling the talkative blacksmith to just shut the hell up, he tends to treat her as something of a precocious younger sister, and knows how to play to her strengths in the field. They will sometimes hang out without the company of anyone else, though usually only for a quick meal. Though he talks a big game about letting her reap her just desserts for running her mouth so often, Noel’s charitable heart is a quiet soft spot for the braggadocio-fueled Atlesian, and slights on her person or (undue) beatings that he thinks she can’t handle will be handled with hot fury.
Kek Tarik: Another team member who, like Morgan, Brennan doesn’t have much of a personal relationship with. Kek, however, has Brennan’s quiet respect if nothing else – as team leader, it’s his job to acknowledge to himself when he’s outmatched, and Kek is pound for pound a better fighter than Brennan himself. As such, he will often just point him in a vague direction and let the big guy go off on his own, only falling in with the rest of the team when it’s time for a complete formation. Outside of the field or classes, Kek will sometimes find himself called on as the deciding vote in an argument with Brennan and Morgan, but otherwise he’s left to his own devices – or to Noel, whom the big guy seems to get on well with.
Trivia:
Theme
Based loosely upon the personality and life of John D. Rockefeller
My Semblance would be telepathy. |
55,997 | 1,534 | 0 | 763 | 2,065 | “Guten morgen, everybody, and welcome to Channel 5 Billion Smash, MMO News at 6 with your host....Rebecca White!”
“Hey there, all you hyperactive, super hyped early birds! As you can see behind me, this is the queue for just one of the five hundred thousand stores world wide, possessing twenty copies each of the greatly anticipated virtual reality massive multiplayer online game, Threshold of Kakophonia. Here I am with Software Developer Gary Yu of Blackbird, the Canadian company responsible for bringing you all this game. Gary, what are your thoughts on this unprecedented worldwide popularity?”
“Well, Rebecca, I can hardly call this success unprecedented. Us at Blackbird simply decided to do something that other gaming companies have yet to attempt, and with our entrepreneural drive, we just made it happen. Kickstarter was a great help in funding, and our partnerships with Lenovo and Sega-Atlas was great when it came to creating a new game console specifically for the usage of ToK. But what I think touched players the most was our decision to set this VRMMO in a fantasy, medieval-esque setting with steampunk touches. In our current world, experiencing nature at its finest is a privilege that none of us have, and our terrain artists worked with that in mind. I must say, the finished product is something that we are all very proud of, and we hope that all players will appreciate the amount of time dedicated towards it.”
“Very insightful, Gary. Now, I'm sure many players are curious, so how exactly would things such as travel time work for ToK? There have been quite a few concerns on Blackbird's community forums regarding whether travelling would be a chore for players.”
“That's a good point. We've been working on many different ways to make transportation between towns fun, but one of the major changes is that, ingame, time will be moving five times faster than it is in reality. This way, players would just have that much more time to play, and thus, would be able to take their time when enjoying the game. The ten hour grinds would only be two hours in reality. With this surplus time, it's our wish that players will enjoy the travelling. However, we're also aware that sometimes, they'll be in a rush. Thus, not only are there mounts that can be rented or purchased, ranging from clockwork cars to six-legged horses, but, as the game progresses, there will also be hidden teleport gates that players may chance upon, which will become invaluable. You can say that it's those who take it slow in the beginning who will be able to travel faster later.”
“And, a final question, Gary, how exactly are the NPCs developed? From what Blackbird has revealed in its publicity events, NPCs seem to have almost no limit to what they respond to. Is there a secret to that?”
“Well, I can't go into detail, but basically, our NPCs are based off a 'bottom-up' variation, that is, they have the capacity to learn, and then we went out of our way to teach them, instead of doing the norm and just adding a very large variety of possible responses. After the first batch of NPCs were made, Blackbird simply continued to 'farm' them. The closed beta tests were especially helpful in further developing the personalities of the NPCs, and, as you can see, they have now thrived, creating their own civilizations. While I'm in no way pressuring players into acting a certain way, I do recommend bringing in a bit of roleplaying when you play Threshold of Kakophonia. It'd help you get the best experience out of it, after all~”
“Thank you for all your answers, Gary. This is Rebecca White, and it is now thirty minutes before 7AM, in which Threshold of Kakophonia will have their servers online. You all truly do not understand how much I'm getting paid to do this, when I could be queuing up at the neighboring Gamestop~”
Forty minutes later, a girl with pale hair looked into her wallet and sighed. Nothing remained. Not even a single penny, and those were existent since the early 21st century. Her experience at the shop was really an awkward, shameful one, in which she found out at the last possible moment that she was three loonies and six cents short of buying the game and its complimentary console. On her bed in the naturally lit bedroom, she shuddered at the thought of it.
Of how much she faked her tears in order to get a kind nerd to donate $3.06 in order for her to get that game.
Her face was still grimacing from that uncomfortable, icky sensation of doing something out of sheer desperation, but she sighed. Whatever. What was done was done. She had slept at 8PM yesterday to wake up and queue in the cool, fall rain at 3AM in the morning, sipping on a thermos of hot black tea. And even then, she barely managed to get a copy of that coveted game. Spreading out on her fluffy bed, the pale-skinned tomboy lifted that game upwards, the design of a clockwork dragon and a winged knight locked in aerial combat staring back at her. Exciting. To think that another world could exist in something as small as this.
She tightened her lips into a flat line, trying, but failing to restrain her excitement as her hands trembled. Perhaps it was originally her goal to get closer to Ren via video games, but as she did more research into Threshold of Kakophonia, she was falling in love with the world itself. A world that never existed in her generation, but now could exist.
Unable to contain that girlish squeal of excitement as she thought of that again, she turned around and smothered herself with the pillow, letting out her voice become muffled by it. Ah, so exciting, so hyped up, she hasn't felt this excited for a long time! Her head popping out as she took a breath that tasted sweet as honey, cool as milk, the girl, her face flushed, smiled in a carefree manner long forgotten.
Suddenly, the sound of a chiming bell notified her that her console had finished synchronizing with the game server, and with that, the girl spun off her bed to the electrical socket. Attaching the plug of the MAELSTROM to it, and then popping on the headset-visor with unrestrained, uncharacteristic glee, she closed her eyes, and then, took in a deep, calming breath.
“Let's play.”
And then, the dull, gray world was surrounded by light.
<<WELCOME TO THE THRESHOLD OF KAKOPHONIA>>
<<STATE YOUR USERNAME AND RACE>> | Nickname – Lily
Age - 15
Gender - Female
Description – Liliz was not someone who originally played MMOs. Even with all those exciting gaming developments stretching around her, she was the type of person who just couldn't see the point in it. Virtual reality may be realistic, but in the end, it wasn't a 'real' world. Honestly, she couldn't find any interest in doing such things, and that girl has a muted interested in game related things. A loud-mouthed individual who's full of criticism, Liliz enjoys sports and camping, even when the only forests left on Earth were government-protected national parks. She likes challenges, and is obssessed with the world that once was, the world where there were still hidden things. Now, the only place left in the world is space, and space didn't have new species of animals or plants. A barbarian of an adventurer with no sense of etiquette, Liliz is a girl born in the wrong era, someone who, despite her best efforts, is slowly getting crushed by reality.
Her family was filled with intellectuals, and her oddity simply caused her to become isolated from them. Though her father supported her, Liliz could tell that he was displeased with his daughter being a tomboy. Those days, tomboys were simply delinquents, for the more adventurous things, such as climbing old buildings and diving in shallow coves was no longer possible. She occupied herself with physical activity, yet could not find any true, lasting happiness. It was a tiresome, suppressing life.
That was the fate that he saved her from. Not directly, but indirectly. In her eighth grade, she had a crush on a boy, an exciting prospect. She fell in love more for the sake of doing so, so she could experience something she hadn't done before. It was fun, heart-pounding, watching him from afar with rose-tinted glasses, and as she continued to watch him, never able to get the courage to actually say 'hi', she learned of his interests. A fascination? An obssession? Liliz knew nothing about this Threshold of Kakophonia, but she did know that she liked the way he looked when he spoke of the thing that interested him so much. Apparently, he was one of the few beta testers, and his IGN was Kikusa. That was nice to know.
And when that game was released, Liliz used her New Year's money and some connections to get a copy of the game. Maybe she wouldn't be able to speak to him in real life, but perhaps in a virtual world, she can slowly get closer to him? With those thoughts in mind, she logged in.
The first love of her life was a boy with messy, dark hair.
The second love of her life was a world that could no longer exist on Earth.
Race – Human
Class - Warrior
Profession – N/A
Base Passive - Iron Spirit
A percentage of the warrior's maximum ki pool value is converted into defense, lowering ki pool in exchange for higher defense.
1/5 6% of Ki Pool is converted into +6% base defense
2/5 12% of Ki Pool is converted into +12% base defense
3/5 18% of Ki Pool is converted into +18% base defense
4/5 24% of Ki Pool is converted into +24% base defense
5/5 30% of Ki Pool is converted into +30% base defense.
Lvl 1 Active - Crater Dive
The Warrior leaps into the air, before crashing towards the targetted location, causing moderate physical damage to the target and a small shockwave AOE to nearby enemies. Has a fast casting time and low cooldown.
1/5 Leap distance maxes at 10ft, and shockwave radius is 5ft.
2/5 Leap distance maxes at 20ft, and shockwave radius is 7ft.
3/5 Leap distance maxes at 30ft, and shockwave radius is 10ft.
4/5 Leap distance maxes at 30ft, and shockwave radius is 10ft. Shockwave has a 20% chance of a 2s stun.
5/5 Leap distance maxes at 30ft, and shockwave radius is 10ft. Shockwave has a 40% chance of a 2s stun.
Lvl 5 Active - Zero Impact
The Warrior strikes the target with the flat of their blade. Does no damage, but causes a knockback of 10ft and aggros the target. Single-mob skill, but the effect of the taunt can be passed on if that monster hits another monster.
1/5 Ki cost decreases by 20%.
2/5 Ki cost decreases by 30%.
3/5 Ki cost decreases by 50%.
4/5 Has 30% chance of creating a 5ft shockwave acting as a taunt.
5/5 Has 50% chance of creating a 7ft shockwave acting as a taunt.
Lvl 10 Active - Wheel of Pain
The Warrior spins to win, dealing AOE damage to all around them for five seconds, being stationary while doing so. There is a minor suction effect while the spell is being cast, drawing in nearby mobs, and the damage of Wheel of Pain is dependent on the number of monsters being attacked.
1/5 Damage increases by 5% per monster.
2/5 Damage increases by 10% per monster.
3/5 Damage increases by 15% per monster. 2% of the total damage dealt is lifeleeched.
4/5 Damage increases by 20% per monster. 4% of the total damage dealt is lifeleeched.
5/5 Damage increases by 25% per monster. 5% of total damage dealt is lifeleeched.
Lvl 15 Passive - Knight's Unity
The Warrior gains more physical attack damage and speed in accordance to the number of people there are in the party, with a maximum number of 20 other people.
1/5 - 1% increase in speed and damage per person.
2/5 - 2% increase in speed and damage per person.
3/5 - 3% increase in speed and damage per person.
4/5 - 4% increase in speed and damage per person.
5/5 - 5% increase in speed and damage per person.
Lvl 20 Active - King Slayer
King Slayer is an active that has two different effects, dependent on the amount of HP the enemy has left. In the 'Battle' phase, King Slayer is a high cooldown, low Ki cost spell that strikes the target's leg, severely decreasing their movement speed for a short amount of time. In the 'Execute' phase, King Slayer becomes a low cooldown, high Ki cost spell in which the Warrior swings at the target's neck, causing extremely high physical damage to the target.
1/5 - 30% movement speed decrease for 3s.
2/5 - 40% movement speed decrease for 3s.
3/5 - 50% movement speed decrease for 3s. 30% chance of inflicting Panic on all nearby targets if it Executes.
4/5 - 60% movement speed decrease for 3s. 40% chance of inflicting Panic on all nearby targets if it Executes.
5/5 - 70% movement speed decrease for 3s. 50% chance of inflicting Panic on all nearby targets if it Executes. |
55,998 | 1,534 | 1 | 130 | 423 | The day had come, one that would end in sheer catastrophe, or begin a new chapter of amazement in her life. It wasn’t sentimental like a holiday, nor personal like a birthday, it was life changing- a step towards the future for herself and the MMO community she was a part of. Yes ladies and gentleman, today is release day, for none other than Threshold of Kakophonia. Emi stood behind a sweaty six-foot man as she waited to move forward within the infinite line that trailed from the door of Bestbuy around the sidewalks of the shopping mall, well continuing into the streets. The unfortunate sat upon street curbs, while she stood terrified nearing the doors of paradise. She was lucky enough to steal a spot in the middle unnoticed, or as she believed to be ‘unnoticed’ the truth being the fact that the closest people in front, and behind her were too ‘nice’ to tell the small girl to return to the back of the line. Still though, she wasn’t very comfortable with her position. The red-shirt before her had a dark moist stain on the back of his shirt, he had clearly been there for hours, that was the conclusion Emi came to at the least ‘he reeked, though the old spice bodyspray in his back pocket showed evidence that he was aware and trying to hide it’. Moving on, she was now third in the remaining line- the tension was building up, like being at the highest point of a rollercoaster, waiting in suspense for the drop. The next person went inside, Emi was now second and the sense of vertigo was kicking in. Why was buying a video game so nerve wracking?
Red-shirt entered the sliding doors, two employees in their blue collared shirt uniform stood parallel from each other at the entrance, further investigation brought to light the fact that a cop car was parked near the entrance. It wasn’t unusual though, people often try to steal games or start fights on release days due to things like limited availability or pricing. Overthinking the situation, red-shirt exited and it was now her turn. Pink bangs continued to fall over her eyes, it wasn’t annoying, she was just too nervous to shake them from her face and to be honest, the blocking of eye contact they offered calmed her down quite a bit. Though she continued to the uniform system they had set up, a man gave her the copy of the game, the system, and the promotional poster that came with it- then gave her information to confirm the validation of her preorder- and the finalization was a tall, blonde, handsome employee who grabbed the bag for her, as she began to sway as the stress was about to make her faint. As the two exited the BestBuy she continued to her mother’s car which had been parked quite far from the entrance itself as she didn’t want to deal with pedestrian traffic. The employee opened the car door, which upon grabbing the bags from him, she fell forward into the backseat, the man shutting the door behind her and waving at the mother- apparently they had been acquainted.
The drive home was quick, seeing as she slept through most of it. But the stress has passed on, and the excitement came next- she grabbed the bags speedily running to the front door.. waiting.. waiting for mother to unlock.. Which upon a exhaustingly long two minutes, she finally did, rushing upstairs to her room Emi finally unveiled the holy-grail. The box didn’t stand a chance, the girl who could not find something to open the fragile tape seals with resorted to prying through its essential packaging. Emi’s mother who came to spy on the ecstatic girl saw her within this process, reminding her of an otter attempting to open a clam against a rock. Though eventually, her attempts were fruitful opening the Maelstrom’s box. It was cool to just look at. It was set aside, as the console needed to synchronize with the game before it could be used, the excitement wasn’t bearable- a distraction was needed. Emi stood clumsily, her soft socks not gripping the floor well enough and nearly slipping as she started to sprint towards her door and down the stairs. “No running in the house!” Her mother announced as Emi sped towards the kitchen, sliding across the tile towards a drawer. She wasn’t a very social girl, but her passion for gaming was there since an early age, time was of the essence, none to be wasted on needless things. She grabbed a box of tacks, quietly walking to the stairs this time, watching her mother with fox-like eyes. But it was futile, once she reached the stairs once again, the race began until she reached her room. Falling towards her bed, she grabbed the ToK poster, unwrapping it’s cylindrical shape into the large rectangle that it was. She shuffled towards her wall, closest to her TV and PC, she stood upon her tippy-toes and spread the poster along the wall, unsuccessfully holding it with one hand as she reached for the tacks with the other. She put one in, that was good enough for now as it rewrapped itself to the corner that was stuck into the wall. The bell tone was heard from the Maelstrom, the sync was done with the server. Quickly, she put the headset on- setting it comfortable against her face and adjusting it accordingly. Emi felt light-headed again, but it wasn’t from fear, it was excitement and anxiousness reaching the depths of her and taking control, her green eyes turned glossy just before her eyes finally shut. The ambiance sank in, it was starting…
<<WELCOME TO THE THRESHOLD OF KAKOPHONIA>>
<<STATE YOUR USERNAME AND RACE>>
Emi felt ethereal for a moment, like she had no substance- it was strange, but at the same time peaceful, it was a cool experience.
“Username: A, M, A, I. Race, which one should I pick?”
She browsed the three races, reading the lore and trait descriptions of each one thoroughly. Emi was the type of girl who identified herself with the story of the game, it was one of her favorite aspects. The Veni Yan were too primitive for her, though they were peaceful which fit her personality.
Humans?...
“Boring…”
She continued until she reached the Nobelle, a small race of intellectuals who had a darker history and a unique playing style that lacked a resource and resided solely on cooldowns. It stuck out to her, or she just thought they were adorable, but who cares?
“Race: Nobelle.” She stated, as the game identified Emi’s character and began to load her into the game.
The ethereal feelings began to fade, she began to feel tangible once again, the white surroundings were beginning to have color and shape, sound and scent. It was arrival, she was now in Kakophonia. She sat in a small patch of grass near a wooden fence and across from a cobblestone road. It took a few moments for the girl to actual comprehend what was going on, she was dumbfounded and awestruck, and by a large understatement impressed by this so-realistic feeling world. Though, Amai finally decided to stand up and gather herself, or rather, her new self and get things moving along.
In the distance she saw a nearby village already beginning to be populated with lively people, the lake next to it was quite pretty. But the girl’s nature had already began to sink in, coming to her senses she slowly began to approach the village in the ragged armor she had been spawned in. On the way she tried to familiarize herself with UI, it was better getting to know this stuff in the peace and quiet, away from the masses of loud excited gamers. The hologram of a menu screen appeared first as she waved her hand to the right while pointing it outwards; there was an empty inbox bearing a mailbox icon with a small ‘0’ count above it, a small silhouette of a person, a gear, and an arrow pointing to the left. Discovering that selecting the arrow caused the menu to collapse into only an inbox she finally made it into town. And the absolute terror Amai felt when reaching this place could not be described by words, it was loud, bustling with excitement, and chaotic. Staying away from the massive crowds of people, she found a small alleyway where she could stand until the area calmed down enough for her to slip through, so there she waited, shaking and nervous. | IGN(In-Game Name) – Amai
Nickname – Emi
Age – 17
Gender – Female
Persona – Amai is a very shy girl, her preferred form of communication with people is without physical contact. Often staying away from things like voice or video chat, preferring text communication more than anything. Though in retrospect, when she does communicate with people indirectly she seems like a cheerful girl, sounding upbeat and completely different. What would draw such a girl towards the VRMMO you might ask, well the answer is simple, peer pressure. With a girl who is shy within the common world, friends are indeed hard to make, so as they progressed she would need to keep up. And as they saw this rising star of a game arise, they believed it was time to move on from their old dreary mmo onto something new. The transition would be hard, and Amai is nervous- but we’ll just have to see how it turns out.
Brief Background – At the age of seven, Amai was first introduced to online gaming as her mother screamed into her headset playing the popular MMO of her time Underworld Online at her work desk. As the little girl tugged at her mother’s sleeve for attention, the woman was too entranced by the battle she had been facing to noticed. Rather than get upset or cry, the young Amai was awed of the determined expression on her mother’s face. The following year, Amai asked for her own computer as a birthday present and in that year she played the same game as her mother, learning the basics and striving for greatness. She played the game religiously throughout her younger years, and by her last year of middle school she was in a top tier raiding guild. But the game she had gotten so good at was now many years old, even her mother had quit it to focus more on work. Though her guild lived on, flocking from one game to another until they found one they liked. They settled on Seven Blades, an action-combat mmo for a couple years, but then ToK was released. It was a VRMMO, something Amai had never tried before, it was scary but all of her friends were moving on. She didn’t want to be left behind, so along with the many who lifted anchor for this game- she started anew to defeat this games challenges like the rest.
---
Race – Nobelle
Class – Alchemist
Profession – Will be added when chosen through RP.
Alchemist Skills
Anima – Stone
The circle Anima is created giving life to that which the transmutation circle is written upon. Stone allows the Alchemist to summon force a stone golem that will serve the alchemist as a protector. Anima lingers until the transmutation circle is destroyed or the Alchemist is defeated in battle.
1/5 - Stone
2/5 - Granite
3/5 - Obsidian
4/5 - Mechanical
5/5 - Archon
- Lvl *Scales with Caster*
The stone golem's benefit to the party is off-tank capabilities and additional melee damage. They have above average health for a level 20 monster and are surprising tanky to support this. Stone Golems are silent and emotionless and obey only the alchemist's commands, though it is unknown what happens if the alchemist is defeated while a golem is still active.
*will do others as they come to play*
Aquas - Shower
The transmutation circle Aquas is created, causing the ally it is cast upon to regain health per second as rain pours from the sky above them. The regenerative waters will continue to fall upon the targeted ally until 10% of their health has been regained from this ability, furthermore a puddle will be created under the allies' feet and will be left behind for 15 seconds, allies that pass through this puddle will be granted a small magic resistance increase for 5 seconds.
1/5 - 10% of Health cap to healing 2% every second for 5 seconds.
2/5 - 15% of Health cap to healing 3% every second for 5 seconds.
3/5 - 20% of Health cap to healing 4% every second for 5 seconds.
4/5 - 20% of Health cap to healing 5% every second for 4 seconds.
5/5 - Puddles created by Aquas now grant increased magic resistance for 10 seconds.
Overclock* Increases all healing done by 10% for ten seconds, if a spell is not cast within the duration the Alchemist will be able to recast this spell again without triggering it's cooldown.
Overclock* Deals increased damage inevitably.
Frigoris – Glaciate
The transmutation circle Frigoris is created, causing the surface it is written upon to slowly begin to freeze. Glaciate deals even damage regardless of the transmutation circle's time being created, though will do increased damage if another circle takes it's place causing an effect called Ice Rupture. Ice Rupture removes all freezing effects from enemies though dealing high damage beforehand. Frigoris will stay on it's destinaton until the transmutation circle is changed.
1/5 - Slow reduction of 2% Movement Speed to Freeze Effect.
2/5 - Slow reduction of 4% Movement Speed to Freeze Effect.
3/5 - Slow reduction of 5% Movement Speed to Freeze Effect.
4/5 - Ice Rupture no longer removes Freeze Effect.
5/5 - Increase damage to Ice Rupture.
Overclock * Roots opponent to ground in ice for 2 seconds. Can only occur once.
Tempesta – Tranquility
The transmutation circle Tempesta is created, causing the surface it is written upon to grant all nearby allies a strengthening boon increasing movement speed and healing five health points every three seconds for thirty seconds. Upon it's completion the transmutation circle will vanish, Tempesta does not linger.
1/5 - Movement speed increased by 5% healing of 5% health per 3 seconds.
2/5 - Movement speed increased by 7% healing of 7% health per 3 seconds.
3/5 - Movement speed increased by 10% healing of 12% health per 3 seconds.
4/5 - Tranquility heals all party members for 10% of health on activation.
5/5 - Movement speed increased by 20% healing of 30% health per 3 seconds.
Overclock* Refreshes cooldowns of nearby allies.
Ignem – Smolder
The transmutation circle Ignem is created causing the surface it is written upon to heat up quickly and weaken it's physical defenses by 10%. Additionally, if another Ignem spell is used in succession to Smolder the effects will last for 5 seconds afterwards. Ignem lingers on it's destination until the transmutation circle is changed.
1/5 - Duration 3 Seconds
2/5 - Duration 4 Seconds
3/5 - Duration 5 Seconds
4/5 - Additional 5% Physical defence reduction.
5/5 - Additional 5% Physical defence reduction.
Overclock* Decreases enemy fire resistance.
Philosopher's Stone: Active
Philosopher's Stone allows the Alchemist to create 'huzzah' a Philosopher's Stone. It is an on use consumed item that stores a transmutation circle allowing one to be summoned quickly and without triggering any cooldowns. Once the item is consumed another can be created in twenty-four hours, and only a single Philosopher's Stone may be in the player's possession at a time.
1/5 - 24 Hour Cooldown + 30 Second Cast Time
2/5 - 12 Hour Cooldown + 15 Second Cast Time
3/5 - 6 Hour Cooldown + 7.5 Second Cast Time
4/5 - 3 Hour Cooldown + 3.75 Second Cast Time
5/5 - 1 Hour Cooldown + Instant Cast Time. |
55,999 | 1,534 | 2 | 709 | 241 | People. Lots, and lots of people. That was simply the sensation Sarah felt while waiting in the enormous line at her local GameStop. Were there even this many people in town? She shook her head. This was insane. So much hype, over one video game...though she couldn't blame them. Sarah herself was probably a bit too excited. In her black leggings, light gray boots, and an oversized gray hoodie to keep her warm, the girl with a brown ponytail waited in a line of at least 100. No, way more than that. Yet here she was, nearly at the front. Anticipation danced across her skin, sashaying down her spine. It teased her. A brand new world was only minutes away.
A news report came over someone's radio, one who had been camping all night, reinforcing this fact. Just a bit longer... Sarah told herself. The line moved, a young man racing out of the store practically making out with the MAELSTROM box. How...nice. Focusing on the hot coffee in her hands, courtesy of her boss who was also in line behind her, Sarah moved another inch, taking time to reflect. Three paychecks. She'd used three paychecks to pay for ToK. That was college money, money for a new car, moving out. And she spent it on a video game. Though, she couldn't find the kernel of regret she was looking for. In fact, it only made her more excited.
Lost in her thought, it was her turn. Stepping into the cool store, the familiar beep sounding as she walked in, Sarah stepped up to the counter to hand the employee her card, validating her preorder. The skinny young man, with long brown hair, handed her the box with a smile. "Careful. They say it's like heroin." Sarah laughed, and put the box under her arm. "I'll be sure to remember that." She said with mock concern. Leaving and placing the box in the back of her rather junked-up car, Sarah managed to putter on home, burst through the door, and run up to her room before her mother could ask "How was the wait, dear?"
It was time. She ravenously ripped at the packaging, removing the sleek cylinder inside. "Beautiful." The young woman breathed, before hooking it up. It had to synchronize, so...what now? Sarah paced her room in her socks, layed on the bed, and groaned into the pillows. Her suffering was only relieved when the chime signaled the coming of the end for this world, and heralded the coming of another. Sarah raced to the console, turned it on, and grabbed the headset, slipping it on and flying onto her bed. Her chocolate eyes felt heavy, and soon she was filled with a state of calm.
<<WELCOME TO THE THRESHOLD OF KAKOPHONIA>>
<<STATE YOUR USERNAME AND RACE>>
Oh ho ho, yes. Here it was. After thinking about it for a second, Sarah replied, "Username: E,L,I,Z,E,A, space, R,O,R,I,A". There. That sounded pretty. Now it was time to choose a race. She was already a Human, so no need to go there again. Nobelle seemed cool, but she wasn't a fan of the look or the play-style. Veni Yan...now, there was something she could get behind. A race in tune with the world around them, enough to channel spirits? Definitely cool. Sarah stated clearly, "Race: Veni Yan". The feeling of weightlessness turned into one of substance, and the feelings of a fresh new world greeted the newly deemed Elizea. She sat under a shade tree, near a cobble road leading to a town not too far off. The sun shined beautifully, and the breeze carried with it the scent of possibilities. Which was reminiscent of grass and flowers. Who would have thought?
Standing, Elizea began walking to the town, already hearing the shouts and hollers of excited players. A smile broke out on her face, and she couldn't stop herself from jogging to the area. So many people...well, why hold back? Figuring out how to open the menu with frantic gestures, Elizea turned on her mic, and let out a resounding, "Hell yeah!" | Appearance -
IGN(In-Game Name) – Elizea Roria
Nickname – Elly
Age - 19
Gender - Female
Persona – A peppy, bright girl, Elizea is an optimist through and through. Never one to back down from a challenge, she tends to get herself into rather tight situations, a problem both in-game and out. Failures cause her spirits to sink for quite a while, often blaming the problems of others on herself. In order to prevent this, Elizea goes out of her way to make sure everyone stays in tip-top shape, and out of trouble. Some see this as nagging, but it's a necessary precaution for her to take, to ensure success in all ventures.
Brief Background – Outside of the game, Elizea, or Sarah Willows, was an intelligent student, with her head often in the clouds. Daydreaming as she did, she didn't do as well in school as she should have. How could she, when there were entire lands to visit in her mind? Needless to say, her parents nor her teachers didn't approve of such behavior, and she was prescribed medication to help her attention. Sarah hated the medicine, as most children do. It dulled her. During one visit with a friend, Sarah skipped taking her medicine. They were going to have a bonfire, and she wanted to be alert for it.
As the fire went on, Sarah was off staring into space once more. During this, one of her friends tripped right in front of her, into the fire. The girl suffered horrible burns, scarring practically everything on her body. Sarah knew that if she were paying attention, she could have caught her. While the girl was able to get reconstruction surgery to repair the damage, it didn't mean that she had experienced serious pain. This developed into a guilt so strong, any failure she witnessed, be it her's or another's, reminded her that she was flawed. Out of high school, she took a waitress job at a local restaurant, to try and take her mind off things. Long story short, it didn't work.
Then she discovered Threshold of Kakophonia. It looked so incredible...and it was exactly what she had dreamed of. A world to escape into. Sarah saved money as fast as she could, and made sure to secure a set for herself. On the day of the launch, she giddily strapped on the gear and entered the game. She took the name Elizea Roria, something much more exciting than her boring old name.
Race – Veni Yan
Class - Acolyte
Profession – N/A
Skills -
Acolyte Skills
Honed Spirit (Passive)
1/5: Spell Effectiveness increased by 5%
2/5: Spell Effectiveness increased by 10%
3/5: Spell Effectiveness increased by 15%
4/5: Spell Effectiveness increased by 20%
5/5: Spell Effectiveness is incresed by 30%
Mending Pulse (Active)
The Acolyte summons a spirit which releases a pulse of healing energy in a 10 ft around the caster. Allies caught in it recover 10% of HP.
1/5: Range of pulse becomes 12 ft. Amount of HP healed increased by 2%(12%)
2/5: Range becomes 14 ft. Amount of HP healed increased by 8%(18%)
3/5: Range becomes 16 ft. Amount of Hp healed increased by 11%(21%)
4/5: Range becomes 18 ft. Amount of HP healed increased by 15%(25%)
5/5: Range becomes 20 ft. Amount of HP healed increased by 20%(30%)
Burning Synergy (Active)(Toggle)
Add fire damage to current weapon. Reserves 10% of the Acolyte's mana.
1/5: Adds 5% of a weapon's base damage in fire damage. Reserve increases to 12%
2/5: Adds 9% of a weapon's base damage in fire damage. Reserve increases to 15%
3/5: Adds 13% of a weapon's base damage in fire damage. Reserve increases to 18%
4/5: Adds 17% of a weapon's base damage in fire damage. Reserve increases to 21%
5/5: Adds 21% of a weapon's base damage in fire damage. Reserve increases to 24%
Frigid Spike (Active)
The Acolyte summons an ice fairy that launches a spear of ice at the target, dealing ice damage, as well as ignoring 5% armor.
1/5: Damage increases by 6%. Ignores 7% of armor. MP Cost increased by 9%
2/5: Damage increases by 10%. Ignores 9% of armor. MP Cost increased by 12%. Target has a 15% chance of being slowed.
3/5:Damage increases by 14%. Ignores 11% of armor. MP Cost increased by 15%. Target has a 20% chance of being slowed.
4/5: Damage increases by 18%. Ignores 14% of armor. MP Cost increased by 18%. Target has a 25% chance of being slowed.
5/5: Damage increases by 22%. Ignores 17% of armor. MP Cost increased by 21%. Target has a 30% chance of being slowed.
Divine Gift (Active)
The caster summons a fairy to come and revive fallen allies at 50% HP.
1/5: HP restored increased to 60%.
2/5: HP restored increased to 70%.
3/5: HP restored increased to 80%. Rezzed players receive a brief 10% boost in physical damage for 30 seconds
4/5: HP Restored increased to 90%. Rezzed players reveive a 10% boost in Phys. Damage, as well as a 10% Phys. Defense resist for 30 seconds
5/5: Boosts in Phys. Damage and Defense increased to 20%.
Channeled Thunder (Active)
The Acolyte charges the air around them with electric energy, sending crackling arcs of lightning out around them. Arcs a bolt of powerful lightining between foes.
1/5: Damage increased by 10%.Inflicts 2 second stun
2/5: damage increased by 15%. Enemies wearing metallic armor receive increased damage.
3/5: Damage increased by 20%.
4/5: Damage increased by 25%. Stun increases to 3 seconds
5/5: Damage increased by 30%. |
56,000 | 1,534 | 3 | 2,272 | 383 | Amy stood in line with about a hundred other people, at the nearest Wal-mart, for about the last thing anyone would ever expect to find the local trackstar in line for. Threshold of Kakophonia, a VRMMO, and the thing that Amy had looked forward to for a long time. Mack, the young boy who was new to the team, was one of the betas for this game. He, of course, sang it's praises, which is why the Captain of her school's Girls Cross Country Team, and Track Team, found herself 2 towns over in line with more than a few 30 year old virgins without a life.
Whenever Amy did anything, she did it to the max, and she did it to win. Which is why she'd been here for two days, having borrowed some camping supplies and getting a ride from her uncle, who lived in town. Thankfully, he was a very avid gamer, which is why he was behind her in line and had served as her tent mate. Amy had found this funny at first, considering he was another part of her family's military tradition, particularly he'd served in the Army for 8 years. He insisted, however, that being in the military didn't mean one couldn't enjoy a good game.
Amy was snapped from her thoughts when at last, the line began to move. This meant the game had just officially released, and the line moved at the speed of light. Thankfully, the tents had all been packed up long age and stowed in her Uncle's pickup, so Amy had nothing to worry about as she moved. She was dressed in a set of running clothes, and she was aware that after these two days she smelled just as bad, if not worse than, she did after a race. However, it was all worth it when her turn finally came.
Taking out her wallet, she reached in and fished out the appropriate amount, handing it to the clerk. Of course, first she had to confirm her pre-order, which she did with a small card that accompanied the dollar bills. She was given her bags, and escorted out by her uncle who got his gear shortly after. Walking out to her Uncle's truck, she climbed in with her bag carried near her chest as though it were a newborn baby.
Arriving back at her house, Amy rushed a thank you to her uncle and lept from the truck. Rushing into her room, without stopping to say "Hello" or "Hey mom, Hey dad, I'm back!", she was in her room before anyone could really react. "One of the benefits of being a sprinter" She thought mischeviously as she withdrew the precious cylinder that had cost the entirety of the money she'd gotten from her birthday. Plugging it in, it revealed that it needed to sync up. Agitated, Amy came to the decision to go for a quick run while she waited, since it always calmed her down.
She stretched in her room until she was ready and then bolted from the house again. Her family was used to this of course, Amy was hyperactive and was always running somewhere, whether it be school or to meet with friends. She smiled the whole time as she ran a 4 mile run within 30 minutes. When she arrived home again, she was breathing heavily and mildly tired. Her parents, of course, were able to catch her before she reached her room this time. She was allowed to go play her game, but of course, she was first forced to shower.
Another 10 minutes of, at least according to Amy, pointless time wasting later, Amy was in her room. She was ready to get into this game and get good at it, that way she could hunt down Mack no matter where he was. He would, obviously, be higher levelled than her so it'd take some time and effort to reach his level. It was funny to Amy, though, since he was doing the same thing with her in real life, trying to catch up to her.
Amy read the manual, the cautious side of her, as small as it is, demanded this much at least. Then, she lay on her bed and slid the visor over her eyes and gave a slight, placid smile as she also pulled some blankets over her body. She was struck by a slight feeling of vertigo, and then suddenly it was if her room didn't exist. Of course, according to the signals currently being sent to Amy's mind, it didn't. Then, she heard the words she'd waited two long days to hear.
<<WELCOME TO THE THRESHOLD OF KAKOPHONIA>>
<<STATE YOUR USERNAME AND RACE>>
"Hmm, what is a good username? Hmm...I want something that sounds pretty, but not something as bland as my real name. OOOH, I know!" These thoughts raced through Amy's mind at the speed of light, and soon she was saying "Username S,E,R,I,N,A" Then came Race, of course, but Amy already knew what she was going for. She'd read about the various races in the manual, and she'd already decided to pick good ol' Humanity, since she liked the almost "Middle-Ground" It provided. "Race, Human." Almost as soon as these words left her mouth, Amy was struck by the same vertigo, and soon she felt the world building itself around her.
She was standing near a town, and looking down she found herself wearing a ragged set of what could be called armor. Looking back up, she noticed the HUD that sat comfortably in her vision. Examining the various icons, she surmised that they must be things like your Character, Inventory, Options/settings and other such Video-game features. Amy, or rather, Serina was eager to explore this new world. So, with Amy's trademark grin adorning Serina's face, she dashed into town, and soon was surrounded by people who were in a smiliar state of awe. Serina noted one important thing, however, in this world, she was actually taller than 5 foot. In fact, she could almost be called tall, or at least for a girl, and that made her very happy. So, with a grin, Serina began to talk to others, and learn about this world, the Threshold of Kakophonia. | Appearance -
IGN(In-Game Name) – Serina
Nickname – Shortie
Age - 15
Gender - Female
Persona – Fiery and energetic, there is never a shortage of energy with Amy, and the same is true of Serina. She's always ready to jump in and do things, no matter what those things may be, so long as they don't conflict with her morals. She is a very fun girl who always has her mind firmly rooted in the present, not giving the future much thought. She is quick to anger, but just as quick to forgive unless it's really serious. Her height is a particularly sore spot for her, as she has been made fun of for it for a long time. She acts very tough, but on the inside she's actually rather emotionally fragile, but she's afraid to let others know that.
Brief Background – Serina, or real name Amy Burnette, grew up in the stereotypical small town USA, Westboro, Kentucky. A small town with one stoplight, a Food Giant and little else, except for the people living in it. Amy was always a short girl, and she got picked on a lot when she was younger. Her father was the manager of the local bank, so the family always had plenty of money. However, Amy's mother was a U.S Marine, one of the first women to become a combat Marine in fact. Amy's mother, Ann-Marie Burnette, always taught her daughter not to let others bug her, and to always make sure to act strong. Growing up, Amy took this to heart and began to participate in any sport she could to prove to others that height wasn't everything.
Of course, the only sport she truly excelled at was running, since most of what height she had was leg. She was an excellent sprinter, but also an excellent distance runner as well. So, she stuck with running and ran both Track and Cross Country, however in Middle School she discovered another sport. She was an excellent shot, as it turned out, so she joined the school's Shooting Team. Balancing three sports teams and her grades would've swamped many people, but not Amy. She was able to keep up with all three, getting better and better at running on her own, and shooting with aid from her mother. However, like most young girls, Amy was sure she fell in love when she was in highschool, her freshman year to be exact. This boy was 16, and his name Mack Wilks, a boy on her Cross Country team. However, unlike her, he didn't have much else in his life, so he was a gamer. When she found this out, she tried to pick up gaming in her off-time, which she had plenty of since none of her three sports were ever in season at the same time. She found that she enjoyed gaming, though she still loved her sports dearly and had absolutely no intention of being a gamer. However, when she found out that Mack was playing Threshold under the IGN of "RJ", she found herself buying VR gear and Threshold of Kakophonia. She came to the game for Mack, but she stays in it because it's fun.
Race – Human
Class - Gunslinger
Profession – To be filled out as the RP Progresses
Firearms Expertise - Passive
Lv 1: Reduce Weapon Cooldown time by 2%
Lv 5: Reduce cooldown by 8%
Lv 10: Reduce cooldown by 16%
Lv 15: Reduce cooldown by 35%
Lv 20: Reduce cooldown by 45%
Precise Shot - Active
Take 2.5 seconds to aim your shot in exchange for increased Critical chance and damage, 15 second cooldown
1/5 10% increased critical chance, 10% increased Crit Damage
2/5: 20% increased critical chance, 25% increased crit damage
3/5 30% increased critical chance, 40% increased crit damage
4/5 40% increased crit chance, 65% Increased crit damage
5/5 50% increased crit chance, 80% Increased crit damage
Fast Mover - Passive
Lv 1: 4% Increased movement speed
Lv 5: 10% Increased movement speed
Lv 10: 15% Increased movement speed
Lv 15: 25% Increased movement speed
Lv 20: 40% Increased movement speed
Guns of the Eastwood - Active
When dual wielding, the gunslinger can activate this ability to increase base damage for 10 seconds, with a percentage multiplier governing damage. The skill can be deactivated early to decrease the cooldown by 25%.
1/5: Base damage increased by 10%, cooldown of 10 seconds
2/5: Base damage increased by 20%, Cooldown of 15 Seconds
3/5: Base damage increased by 30%, cooldown of 20 seconds
4/5: Base damage increased by 40%, cooldown of 20 seconds
5/5: Base damage increased by 50%, cooldown of 20 seconds
Bullettime - Active
The Gunslinger's immense reflexes and speed kick in, causing time to appear to slow down by the gunner's perception. This enables the gunner to dodge some basic attacks as well as Skill-shot style abilities. Cooldown of 2 minutes.
1/5: Effect lasts 15 seconds
2/5: Effect lasts 20 seconds
3/5 Effect lasts 25 seconds
4/5: Effect lasts 30 seconds
5/5: Effect lasts 35 seconds
Disabling Shot - Passive
A passive whose proc is based on level, it's goal is to debuff the enemy. It confers a negative to accuracy and movement speed, with the size of the negative depending on level and enemy's armor value. No armor/Light armor negates none of the debuff, Medium reduces it by 10% and Heavy Armor by 20%
Lvl 1: Procs every 5th shot, Confers a 15% accuracy negative and 15% Movement negative
Lvl 5: Procs every 5th shot, confers a 20% accuracy negative and 20% movement negative
Lvl 10: Procs every 4th shot, confers a 25% accuracy negative and 25% movement negative
Lvl 15: Procs every 3rd shot, confers a 30% Accuracy negative and 30% movement negative
Lvl 20: Procs every other shot, Confers a 35% accuracy negative and 30% movement negative |
56,001 | 1,534 | 4 | 1,962 | 149 | Oh look at all these giddy fellows murmured the college student as he approached the enormous human snake that stretched far beyond the interior of the humble games store. No one nearby was supposed to hear that, he had simply been adding a statement to the anxious atmosphere. Unlike some of the more enthusiastic gamer, whom he had hoped weren't still standing here, Nathan hadn't camped out by the nearest store, coped up on caffeine to stave off sleep while quivering for the release of a "world shaking phenomenon", instead he opted for complying with normality and hobbling into college for a few hours of education. It was a half day anyway, not that his decision would be any different. One way or another he was going to nab a copy today missing on a few day 1 deals meant little to him and he was certain stores were over stocked from fear of angry nerd backlash.
And so at 2 in the afternoon, Nathan stood with the line shuffling a few feet every few minutes, thankfully having the foresight to eat something before turning up. There was a strange serenity to the centre, the few passerby that were glanced in their general direction, probably because it was the largest gathering of humans any shop within 10 miles had seen, in fact probably much further than that. Nathan wasn't one for over exaggerating, but he'd have to agree with anyone that figured the town's entire collection of gamers had turned up for the occasion. Naturally the reason for the gather went without question, ToK had taken the net by storm, absorbing an unfathomable amount of money during it's development stage, and producing an unreal level of "hype" following it's successful birth. Now that mere mortals were being granted the opportunity to be graced by a real dream-come-true, Nathan was more surprised that society hadn't been scarred by flocks of men and woman abandoning their jobs for this day.
An hour and a half later, mercifully earlier than he had expected, Nathan strolled homewards swinging a rather large plastic bag back and forth. He was ever grateful for the student "funding" that had partially went in to the greatest time black hole he had ever purchased, grinning to himself over the irony of the purchase. Perhaps the dull minutes spent walking were the calm before the storm, it was at least a fitting way of putting things. Home was quite, as usual, despite living with his parents, it was more accurate to say that he lodged in their home, the house would be empty for at least another two hours. He listened to the kettle bubbling he waited for the obligatory Malestrom synch process, he imagined it was a rather torturous time for some, but a necessary evil to open Paradise's doors.
The Maelstrom was finally done by the time his mug was half empty, Nathan immediately snatched the headgear he had kept within arm's length, quickly checking the fitting before slipping it onto his head, he would have let out a small whistle is amazement as super advanced technology sprang to life infront of his eyes, but his lips had already spread to a massive grin "Afternoon, Paradise" He said, leaning back into the single padded chair in his room.
<<WELCOME TO THE THRESHOLD OF KAKOPHONIA>>
<<STATE YOUR USERNAME AND RACE>>
"Ah, voice only?" He asked the air, half expecting an answer. Immediately characters flew onto the space before him, followed by a harsh error sound. "Oops, urrm...B-I-S-H-O-P no error this time, it was more sensitive than he'd realized. He was nowed faced with a choice, fully pretend to be a different character and forget his humanity for his time in game, or go with a bog standard human. He'd already decided this one before his purchase though "Race: Human, can't ditch my little fighter now" He then immediately released a "Whoa" as he felt the hold of reality's laws become overwritten by new artificial ones, the screen briefly faded to white forcing his eyes closed from the harsh glare.
When he reopened them he was greeted by a pleasant mix of light green and deep blue, a lazy afternoon sun cast a peaceful light over the new land in stark contrast to the white from before, fields of green swayed slowly in a gentle breeze, and a select few windmills dotted the distant view. Though that wasn't all that was visible in the distance, easily nabbing his attention was large(ish) village, fairly closeby though he assumed stamina from walking with a non-issue. A cobblestone path lay before him, clearly leading him towards the village, he sighed happily as he took his first few virtual steps, a reliably generated beginners zone, he had seen it countless times, but it had been a long time since such a sight had actually pierced him with a sense of anticipation, that silly grin from before was still plastered on his face as he made his way towards the hearty cheers that floated out from the village. | Nickname – Bishie
Age - 21
Gender - Male
Persona – "Eccentric" would be a fitting word to describe Bishop's personality, even if a awfully sharp looking monster is bearing down upon him, he always wears a somewhat goofy looking grin. His presence is in stark contrast with the typical flow of battle, while most players likely find them self caught up in battle rage bishop will be nonchalantly weaving in and out of attacks. At a glance he would appear to be indifferent to any level of danger, and being in a game doesn't help this persona, but when it comes down to the line he is known to display a surprisingly sharp mind, stepping into the fray if a fellow player is being overwhelmed without much of a second thought.
Brief Background – Bishop is a long standing MMO player who's pulled more than his fair share of overnight raids, while not quite a shut in he spends the majority of his free time engrossed in a piece of technology of some description despite the potential negative stigma that hovers around such a lifestyle. His appearance isn't helped by the fact that he is typically a loner in reality, though this is mostly his choice. He was always a difficult person to mesh with, despite his outwardly friendly persona his underlying indifference made him difficult to befriend, as such he was generally popular during his middle and high school years, but only properly spoke to a very select group of people.
Bishop is currently taking college classes, studying towards the development of his greatest hobby, computer programming a pursuit which partially lends itself to the long hours spent watching countless avatars follow his inputs on a screen. Despite this he had been feeling a sense of burn out with the MMO scene, how many times had he hit 1 for a sword slash? how many fetch quests had he done watching the hundreds of pixels animate his avatar running after ore X, because of this he became delighted upon hearing of ToK, something that had once been a distant nerd's dream had been fully realized, and a long lost desire actively filled each passing day tentatively awaiting this dreamy VRMMO. It had been too long since he had experienced something worthy of sinking uncountable volumes of time into, the money to cover it was a far, far secondary concern.
Race – Human
Class - Martial Artist
ProfSkills – TBA
Base Active: Flash Step (Active)
Not quite a teleport, flash step moves the martial artist a short distance in a blink of an eye, however as it is only a superspeed movement, the move lacks any I frames, but is an excellent spacing tool for the class. Flash steps can only be activated on the ground (very low ki consumption)
1/5 Able to chain a second, free step
2/5 Able to chain a third, free step
3/5 Boosts distance of each flash step, MP cost increased by 1%
4/5 Delays chain activation by 2 seconds, allowing for the use a skill in between chains.
5/5 Further boosts distance of each flash step, MP cost increased by 1%
Level 1 Skill Pulse Wave (Active)
Range: 15 meters
A mid ranged magic attack that sends out a sphere of ki that expands on contact. Hits for little damage but causes knockback of 4 meters(base). (low ki consumption)
1/5 Increases Impact force by 3%, Increases MP cost by 1%
2/5 Increases Impact force by 5%, Increases MP cost by 2%
3/5 Expands radius of sphere by 4%
4/5 Reduces casting time by 1 second
5/5 Further expands radius of sphere by 5%
Level 5 Skill Serenity (Passive)
The martial artist hones his senses, becoming more sensitive to the flow of Ki, improving his ability to aquire and discharge Ki
1/5 2% boost to ki regen rate, 3% boost to spell damage
2/5 4% boost to ki regen rate, 3% boost to spell damage
3/5 3% boost to ki regen rate, 5% boost to spell damage
4/5 6% boost to ki regen rate, 6% boost to spell damage
5/5 10% boost to ki regen rate, 10% boost to spell damage, 2% Increase in MP for all spells
Level 10 Skill Arc Blitz (Active)
Range: 10 meters
The martial artist releases an arc of ki that surges forwards dealing equal damage to all caught within. Furthermore, if the target still stands, a residual ki sliver debuff lingers on the target that will explode if any magical energy touches it, dealing 50% of the skill's damage
1/5 4% Damage boost
2/5 8% Damage boost
3/5 Increases arc radius by 4%
4/5 11% Damage boost
5/5 15% Damage boost, Arc radius increased by 6%
Level 15 Sanguine (Passive)
Converts a portion of damage recieved into ki, with the ability to temporarily store ki gained through this passive beyond natural ki reserve for 1 minutes
1/5 3% damage recieved converted to ki, 10% bonus ki reserve
2/5 5% damage recieved converted to ki, 15% bonus ki reserve
3/5 8% damage recieved converted to ki, 20% bonus ki reserve
4/5 12% damage recieved converted to ki, 25% bonus ki reserve
5/5 15% damage recieved converted to ki, extends time bonus ki reserve held by 3 minute
Level 20 Skill Ethereal Drive (Active)
Range: 15 meters
A high DPS Skill The martial artist channels an intense amount of ki into a violent beam of energy that continuously assaults targets unfortunate enough to be standing in front of the MA, can move freely while the skill is active to change targets, however it rapidly drains Ki reserves for every second active.
1/5 Damage boost by 5%
2/5 Damage boost by 10%
3/5 Applies Ki Sliver debuff per hit at 30% skill damage, cannot be detonated by the etheral drive itself
4/5 Damage boost by 20%
5/5 Damage boost by 20%, reduces MP cost per second by 15% |
Subsets and Splits