Tabby
Derpsichord
Name: Arturia Pendragon
Aliases: Silver Guardian, Queen's Blade
Concept: Holy blademaster, competent tactician, knight.
Caste: Dawn
Quote: "Your actions have meaning only if they hold true to your ideals."
Motivation: Serve the Luminous Church and protect those close to her.
Intimacies:
- Luminous Church - Ironically, she pays the religion and its so-called god little more than lip service, but serves the Church itself with her life. They gave her back her life, provided her with purpose, and saved her best friend from every bit as vile a fate. To offer anything less would be to betray everything that she is.
- Lance - Lance has been her closest friend for longer than anyone else, by far, and is one of the very few people Arturia really relaxes around, or is willing to show any degree of weakness to. They have a friendly rivalry of sorts going on.
- Cyrille - I BET YOU WEREN'T EXPECTING THAT
PERSONALITY
Arturia has been through a great many things and forced to mature long before she came of age, and it shows; there are still remnants of the girl the Luminous Church rescued, but much of that persona has been drowned by what she has learned to become. Gone is her previous carefree nature and lack of worry; instead, both as the de facto commander of the Runeguard and as their companion, she has to constantly take into account their status as well. She compensates by constantly projecting an image of strength, doing her best to never show weakness or indecision and to protect those in her charge as thoroughly as possible; she long since swore to herself to not lose anyone else close to her, and while she has since realized the unrealistic nature of that decision, Arturia still sees it as an ideal to live by.
While she does need to take a damn chill pill occasionally, Arturia's sense of humor is still somewhat intact - and one of the easier ways to deal with stress - so she still uses it occasionally, though neither commonly nor proficiently. She is generally fairly serious, however, by nature as well as a side effect of her attempts to be her idealized concept of a knight. While she is ambivalent at best about the existence and nature of the god of the Luminous Church, and indeed the religion in general, Arturia Pendragon still serves the Church body and soul - she isn't likely to start spouting off sermons to anyone who'll listen, but at the same time, she sees the eradication of heretics and evil as very serious business, and if the Church wants her to do something, she doesn't hesitate to do it. Needless to say, she honestly believes that the world needs the Church's benefaction, and takes pride in her role.
On the other hand, Arturia's view of her role is less than heroic; she sees it as a necessary evil in a broken world, not as that of a conquering hero - something that must be done, but that deserves no thanks nor reward. Fame and rewards are completely lost on her, and while Arturia doesn't specifically mind attention, she sees it as wasted gratefulness that should be directed at the ones who gave her the ability to help - the Luminous Church, with all that that entails. She is ambitious, but for the Church's benefit, not her own - she truly wishes to see it unite the world under a peaceful banner, and doesn't much give a damn what happens to her in the process. So long as her precious people are safe.
In a twisted mockery of her own personal justice, she secretly - but deeply, so secretly that even she barely realizes it - feels that she should have joined those under her charge who died, the orphans she couldn't protect. While Arturia doesn't exactly plan to off herself at her earliest convenience, she looks forwards with a certain grim satisfaction to when the Luminous Church no longer has need for her, so that she can join those lost souls in penitence for her failure; a final act of atonement.
Less than positively, her past as an orphan has tinged certain aspects of Arturia's personality; while she'd never admit to the correlation and is about equally likely to freely discuss her past, starvation and loneliness have led her to waste as little as possible, in either resources or effort, and surround herself with people, fellow orphans at first, into a small band to survive, and now at the forefront of the Runeguard. She has spent enough time alone - truly alone - to know that the feeling is not something that she wants to ever experience again, and while her generally reserved demeanor does prohibit her from making lots of friends, Arturia is satisfied with just knowing that her squadmates trust her; perhaps only to try to protect them, perhaps as a friend, perhaps as a comrade, but that she is of some worth to them, no matter how much - or little. It is, perhaps, an immature view of things, but she clings to it for all it's worth.
Personalitywise, she is generally curt and straightfoward. While she can be brusque at times, it not so much a lack of caring for others as simply not realizing that not only can she at times be intimidating, but that even the slightest hint of subtlety can go a long way in making one appear reasonable and approachable. Arturia does make a significant effort to be more pleasant to those she particularly cares about, however, and while it may manifest in eccentric ways or be approached poorly, her poor understanding of her own emotions partially to blame for this, she does generally mean well and her sincerity is hard to miss.
HISTORY
"Arturia Pendragon, first-born daughter of King Uther Pendragon the First and her Lady Lelina Pendragon. May the gods watch over you and keep you safe in this troubled world, that you may in turn do great deeds in their name."
It was the first memory that she could fully remember, and one of the most vivid. She had been barely three at the time, Arturia vaguely remembered, and more interested in the lighting of the grand hall than in what was going on around her. Amusing, in a way, that now that she was old enough to realize the significance of it all, it didn't matter.
Magvel lay in ruins.
The capital city had been through a number of invasions in the last few years. Ever since the one that had first crushed the country, butchering the king, his queen, and nearly everyone else in the castle at the time, the crumbling country had been besieged and generally captured by one foe after another, like carrion crows fighting over who could finally annihilate what remained of the once-proud kingdom. The ones who had first conquered it were driven out with little warning by a barbarian invasion, and no sooner had that receded than another neighboring country swept in and planted their flag on the smoldering ruins of the castle. Seven years of it, a ceaseless struggle for dominance while the citizens of the fallen kingdom simply struggled to stay alive in the wake of the destruction.
Arturia Pendragon usually counted herself lucky that she had been lucky enough to escape with her life simply by the vagaries of fate, but now it all seemed like little more than a cruel joke. The woman who had found the squalling toddler had died not a year later, crushed under the armored boot of the soldier she had refused to give bread from her bakery to, leaving her charge alone on the streets. Most of the orphans she had met were now dead, whether from starvation or simply the ill fortune to not have as strong a constitution as the survivors. Every one of the children from the first small group they had cobbled together was now dead, save her, and while a few of the group still remained, none would survive much longer. The destruction wrought in the last battle two days before had been catastrophic, thanks in no small part to the mages who had taken part, and what little was left of the city was no longer hospitable to human habitation - the army had put most of the citizens to the sword, and taken anyone else they had found with them as slaves.
No, Magvel was little more than a ghost of its former self. No bakeries lined its streets. No odd jobs to be done for precious yen, no kindly homeowners to provide them with dinner when all else failed. Even if there was life to be found, what would they do? Her little group had been decimated, the vast majority lucky enough to be simply killed while an unknown number had been separated from the group, fated to inevitably starve to death or be enslaved. Even the few who she had been able to save were in poor shape; half were nursing wounds, one was missing an army and another an eye, and with her limited medical ability, there was little she could do for any of them. Even the three she relied on most were gone; the miller's son had been stupid enough to try to stop the invaders on his own in some idiotic vendetta, and had been rewarded with a pike through the skull for his efforts. The baker's sun - bizarrely, she could remember the look of pain in his eyes just before he died but not his name - had been cut to ribbons by a swarm of glass butterflies, along with the vast majority of the group; unintended casualties, she hoped, unable to believe that the mage could have actually been aiming at them.
And Cyrille...
Arturia looked down at the pike impaling her body to the wooden wall behind her, trying to remember exactly what had happened. It was more difficult than it should have been, thanks to the blood loss, she was sure, but there had been some sort of fight...? Ah, yes, that was it. While trying to escape, Arturia had tripped, and Cyrille, bless her, had tried to put herself between the rest of the group and their pursuers. She had been knocked aside by a mailed fist, and Arturia, desperate enough to throw caution to the wind, had grabbed a sword from a fallen defender and ran the man through. A noble gesture and remarkably cathartic, but not taken nearly as well by the man's companions, who were - surprisingly - more than enough to overcome a half-starved, disoriented eleven year old with a sword nearly too big for her to even lift, much less use. She had been left like this to die, and for all her pointless efforts, she had no idea if Cyrille, or for that matter any of the rest of the group, had survived. Arturia had blacked out, and only now, now that the sounds of fighting had vanished and left the city a hellish cacophony of crackling flame and the moans of the dying, had her treacherous body returned to her control.
And yet, even conscious, she couldn't move, thanks to that bloody pike. Pun fully intended. Arturia managed to eke out a grating laugh from her dust-filled lungs at the sheer ludicrousness of trying to make light of the situation, but the sound came to an abrupt halt no sooner than it had started when the movement tore open more flesh and redoubled the bleeding. The noise gathered some attention, she vaguely noticed as the sound of footsteps from the nearby street picked up, heading towards her location, but it all seemed to be so distant; she felt detached from the situation, realizing on a purely intellectual level that the sounds were probably those of soldiers, but unable to bring herself to care. If anything, perhaps they would put her out of her misery, let her join those of her countrymen who she had failed time and time again, and now even outlived in a blasphemous mockery of anything she had ever stood for.
Arturia Pendragon managed to incline her sinking head up just far enough to get a hazy image of the man towering over and reaching towards her, but his face was obscured by the sun directly behind his head, a corona of light around him. It seemed almost ethereal, like a holy angel come to administer divine judgement, but as her perception faded, Arturia decided that it didn't matter. Nothing did any more.
Her head fell as consciousness deserted her once more, and after a moment of twilight, she knew nothing more.
----------------------------
"The Luminous Church?"
The man nodded genially in response to her question, a small smile never leaving his face as he urged their ride onwards. "Yes, that is what it is called. You are a very lucky young woman; we were looking for survivors, of which there were damn few. Even fewer who lived long enough to tell me what happened. What do you know, miss? What is your name?"
Arturia tentatively poked the jagged gash on her side, wincing slightly as pain flooded the area. They were riding east - she knew; she'd made a point of asking not long after waking up - towards the Luminous Church, whatever that was. The man had said so, and since he was the one who had apparently saved her life, she didn't think he was lying. Even if he looked scarier than anyone else she had ever seen, a wall of rippling muscles and an immense sword that could probably double as a goremaul, battered and worn, but still unbelievably sturdy. According to him, he'd found her due to the coughing and wheezing, patched her up, and taken her with him after he had failed to find anyone else alive. He had been very kind so far, not asking her questions for the first few days while she mostly slept and tried to come to terms with what happened, but he must have noticed her gradual recovery and felt that she was in good enough shape to answer now. And so what? She owed him that much, and everything more besides.
"Arturia."
Something flashed over his face, a look she couldn't quite place, but it disappeared a moment later. "And your last name, if you remember it, young lady?"
"...Oaks," she returned after a pause. "Did you find anyone else? Children?"
Another curious look flickered over her savior's face at her words, but it too vanished before she could identify it. Arturia decided that she must be going crazy and imagining it.
"Not a one. They may have escaped, or..." The man trailed off, trying to avoid stating the obvious, and more likely, possibility. She filed his reluctance to speak of death away for future reference, but said nothing. "You were lucky that the polearm didn't hit a few inches higher, and that it was twisted just the way it was, or one of the blades would have gone clean through your heart. I may be decent enough as an impromptu surgeon to fix most lesser problems, but..."
He trailed off again, and Arturia returned to occasionally poking her stomach. Much of her torso was covered in bandages, but she could already see the scars forming. Doubtless it was worse under the bandages. "But, as I was saying, miss Arturia, we're heading back to the Church. I patched you up the best I could, but they probably have some better surgeons, they definitely have better medical facilities, they might know of some kinda magic that could help - and let me tell you, I don't know the first damn thing about magic so I'm not about to start casting healing spells on you - and more importantly, it'll give you somewhere to stay if you want to stick around."
She tilted her head curiously, her torso forgotten for the moment. "Err, yeah. Well, since your city was, uh... well, look. I figure you probably don't have a place to stay, and you don't HAVE to or anything, but if you want to, you're welcome to stay with the Church. We're not super huge yet, but we, well, the Church kinda goes around trying to fix the world, stop fights and clean up the wounded, protect people from demons and Fair Folk, and I guess each other too when people are being retards, and... I mean, it doesn't always work, but I like to think that at least we're doing something. And it usually helps, we're still new and kind of learning and we don't have a lot of fighters just yet, but we're getting better at this whole 'trying to save the world' thing. And I mean, hell, you're a survivor. Was it you who killed that poor sod back there? The soldier lyin' there with a damn sword stickin' out of his gut? I figure that's probably why they left you there like that, but..."
A grimace passed his face, disappearing shortly afterwards, but impossible to miss. "That just aint right, leaving a little girl to die like that. But I better shut up before I get on another damn tirade, so let's just cut this short. I think you could really be a big help if you stuck around, little lady. It's up to you what you want to do if you do choose to stick around, but-"
"I want to... protect. People."
The sudden interruption took the man off guard, but he recovered a moment later, realizing what she had said, and a grin spread across his face like as wildfire. "And here I was worrying that you didn't have any fight left in you. Not often I'm glad to be wrong, but this sure as hell qualifies, little lady. Call me Sol. Sol Invictus. I uh," he lowered his voice conspiratorially, "I don't think I'm allowed to give you my sword, but I know a guy in the Church who can give you basic training, and if you do a good job and train hard, they might give you the Investiture of Celestial Glory, or whatever the hell they're calling it these days, - though I don't think I'm supposed to be talkin' about it, much less explaining it... not that I could even if I knew how it worked - and then we can work together. Don't disappoint me, a'right?"
Arturia broke into a half-smile, something about her new friend's irresistibly disarming manner making her want to share in his happiness even with what had happened still on her mind. She had no idea what the Investiture of Celestial Glory was, or why it was important enough for him to mention specifically as a prerequisite to helping him. But... if it was important to him, it would be important to her too.
Because now, she had something to live for.
----------------------------
"Investiture of Celestial Glory, huh?"
Sitting on the grassy plain, silently watching the field of waving green that stretched out to the horizon, Arturia pondered the events of the last few days. This was the first uninterrupted block of time that she had actually had to herself since accepting the Church's offer to undergo the Rites, and she found herself with more mixed feelings than she had hoped. Lifting her shirt halfway up her chest again, Arturia quietly marveled at her new body; nearly every scratch and scar had disappeared, damage to her body undone absolutely save for the jagged scar that marked where the lance had gone through her. Not even in a fitting shape, much less a cross or a badge of honor - just a grisly mass of scar tissue to forever mar her body. And yet, after all that had happened, and especially the gift of her new body, it seemed... petty, trite even, to have any problems with the results. Most of the process had been a vague blur, though she hazily remembered an eruption of crystal surrounding her before darkness overcame her, but somehow, she had been reborn; her frail body had been bulwarked by divine power, repaired and granted power beyond any she had had.
And yet it was not just her body. Somehow, she could manipulate Essence now, tear through space and causality at a whim. Arturia Pendragon silently sat, watching the sunset in her God-given new body, and marveled at the power of the Luminous Church. She had seen no God, and the cleric who had done the ritual - what she could remember of it - had been human, or at least appeared so, but... perhaps there was something to the sermons. Or not. She hadn't paid much attention to the religion itself, more the work the Church did for Creation, and in the end, what did it matter? The Luminous Church had saved her twice now, given her back the light she had lost so long ago. Whether it was divinely ordained or simply intelligent clergymen using the lie of an omnipotent deity as a consolidating force was entirely irrelevant. She would serve the Church with her new power, and atone for her past failures until she ceased to draw breath.
...But it still irked somewhat that Lance had beaten her to accepting the offer, while she had been stupefied for a moment too long. It was just like him, too, always level-minded and pragmatic. Never surprised by anything, just quietly working like an emotionless robot.
Of course, she knew that he wasn't. Arturia had spent enough time with him to get to know him a bit, and while she wasn't particularly enthusiastic in admitting it, he had seen her at... less than her best, to put it nicely. He had disappeared after the ritual was over, mumbling something about somewhere he needed to visit, and she hadn't followed him. Frankly, Arturia had wanted to visit Magvel, but... she knew that she couldn't handle it. At least not yet. Not after how horrendously she had failed it, not after all the lives she had been unable to protect. Not while it still lay a broken ruin, a city of corpses. That was why she was out here alone, after all; too cowardly to visit Magvel, too stubborn to admit it to anyone, and too damn dense to come to terms with it. So here she was, back up against a rock, absentmindedly running a finger over the scar that marked so much. Doing nothing. Accomplishing nothing. Not using her newfound gifts to help people, not saving the world, not protecting people. Moping uselessly.
And this, after she had shared an oath with Lancelot, both sworn to finish whatever they started. Well, they had certainly started something; started to become something new, started to learn how to harness their power to do some good for the world. Started the process to atone for her many failures.
And yet, even as she told herself that, she could still see the flicker of the fire that had consumed her city in the vivid hues of the sunset, hear the screams of the dying, feel the ash wash over her as stone crumbled and wood burned under sorcerous power. Even with the power of the Church, she could not change the past. Even with all the good intentions in the world, even with all the power of the God of the Luminous Church, those she had lost would never be returned to her.
The unfairness of it burned her, but even as it devoured her weakness, it tempered what remained with iron resolve. Even if the gods could not - or would not - help her. Even if the god of the Church could do nothing to change what had happened, she would atone for them. She would do the Church's work, and she would protect those who could not protect themselves. She would save those who could not save themselves, fight for those who could not fight. ...Live, for those who... could not live. She would not shirk her duty. She would avenge their loss, do her part to shape a world where perhaps another city would be spared that fate.
And then, she would join them.
Rising slowly, Arturia Pendragon closed her eyes and stood still, offering a moment of silence to the lost and the damned. When she spoke, her voice was quiet, subdued, but raw with emotion and resolve.
"I... failed you. Time after time. I was weak, unable to protect those close to me. All of you. All of Magvel. I know not which of you still lives, or which died, cursing me with their last breath. I... guess I wasn't much of a princess, or even a countryman. I know that none of you can hear me now, even if you are alive, even if you don't hate me. But.. I found my light. It's a little late, but... I'll atone for your deaths. All of them. I'll fight to protect those who need it, and I will honor your memory with my life. And... when I manage to finally give something back, to bring back light to this world, I'll join you. All of you. In life, I might not have been worth much, but... in the next life, I will protect you. This I swear upon the Pendragon name."[/b]
Arturia lowered her head once more, absorbing the solemn oath and engraving it in her mind, before turning her back to the setting sun. Lancelot would be back tomorrow, and Sol had offered to help them get used to their new powers. He'd been all excited about some secret that he'd be allowed to tell them tomorrow, something about a new group, and the way he'd went on about how proud he was of her and how excited he was about what they'd be doing, it was bound to be something good. She needed to get in some practice to try to get used to the weight of a sword again - she'd snapped her old one by accident while training that morning, having completely underestimated her newfound strength - and dinner was only an hour and a half away.
It would be a busy day, and she had a lot of work ahead of her, but... that was alright. Lance would be beside her, Sol would be there for her, and she was more ready than ever before. This gift had been given to her for a reason, and she would not fail the Church or those whom she had once failed.
ATTRIBUTES
Strength 5
Dexterity 5
Stamina 7
Charisma 3
Manipulation 1
Appearance 3
Perception 4
Intelligence 3
Wits 3
ABILITIES
Caste:
- Melee 5 (Swords +3)
- War 5 (Squad Tactics +3)
- Martial Arts 1
Favored:
- Resistance 5 (Resist Pain +3)
- Medicine 3
- Occult 3
- Integrity 3 (Runeguard +3)
- Presence 3
Other:
- Athletics 3
- Awareness 3
CHARMS
Second Melee Excellency
Second War Excellency
Dipping Swallow Defense
Bulwark Stance
Five-fold Bulwark Stance
Durability of Oak Meditation
Iron Skin Concentration
Adamant Skin Technique
Scar-Writ Saga Shield x2 - [stamina] Lethal soak + [essence] B/L soak
BACKGROUNDS
- Arondight, the Holy Blade.
- Artifact 5, Orihalcum Uber-Dailkave - Spd 5, Acc +4, Dmg 12L/4, Def +3, Rate 2, Tags: O, P, R. Attune: 10 motes
Almace, the Will of Iron
- Artifact 3, Orihalcum Gauntlet - Def +6, can reflexively spend 5 motes to boost Parry DV by 2 against a single attack. Attune: 6
Avalon, the Aegis of Faith
- Artifact 3 breastplate+heavy leather armor combination - 14L/10B Soak, 4L/4B Hardness, 0 fatigue, 0 mobility, 8 attune
Cyrille, Twilight Sorceress. Cyrille is not only one of Arturia's two closest friends, but a chance to try again, to be able to actually protect her friend this time. While she might not share the same nigh-obsessive dynamic with Arturia, she still cares deeply for her old friend.
- Ally 2
Kaien, Chosen of Mars.
- Ally 2
Sol Invictus, Archangel. The man who saved her life and taught her more than anyone else, Arturia nigh-reveres him, and he likes her quite well.
- Ally 2
FLAWS
5pt - Major Oath - Arturia swore to protect Cyrille with her life, no matter the consequences, and she does not intend to fail this time.
3pt - Oath - She shares many traits with Lance, from ideals to the tendency to protect those who cannot protect themselves. Few of those are nearly as strongly felt as their trust and respect for the other, and some time ago, in both celebration of the creation of the Runeguard and to forever cement the bond between them, they swore an oath to each other - to always finish what they started, with the power they now had.
VIRTUES
Conviction: 4
Valor: 4
Temperance: 3
Compassion: 2
Willpower: 8
Essence: 3
Personal Pool: 17
Peripheral Pool: 42
STATISTICS
DDV: 3
PDV: 11
ACC: 17
DMG: 17
Soak: 24L/20B
Hardness: 4L/4B