+ Basic grammar and spelling, comprehensible level.
+ No god-modding - if unsure, run your ideas by me.
+ Approved profiles will be given a reaction by me, as well as a place on the roster.
+ Feel free to ask questions in OOC or in my PMs.
+ Profiles-in-absent will be de-canonized.
+ Limit of one character slot. A tight band keeps the story going.
+ Anime-styled FCs only.
[column=span5][tabs][tab=I. General Info]
[b]Alias:[/b] (given monikers or identities)
[b]Title / Profession:[/b] (current job or office they're holding)
[b]Race:[/b] (Astrian / Solarian - add sub-race if necessary i.e. draconian, lupo, etc.)
[b]Nationality:[/b] (insert region here), Groznyan
[b]Allegiance:[/b] (Iris / Harbingers)
[tab=II. Personal Profile]
(written or bullet points)
(1 paragraph minimum)
[tab=III. AMS & Proficiencies]
[b]Class:[/b] (name of class)
(brief summary of class role)
(2max for solarians)
(4max abilities for astrians)
(primary weapon type or N/A)
(anything important of note that they wear or equip)
(youtube/soundcloud links here)
(Anything else of note.)
Title / Profession:
Commander of Iris Company (Disavowed)
Joint-Expeditionary Field Commander of Operation Aquila (prior)
Height: 5 ft. 7 in. (170 cm)
Nationality: Dominion of Venelia / Groznyan
Allegiance: Iris Company, Imperial Army (prior)
Sylvia is a relatively modest and generous person of interest. She is focused and lends an ear where needed, never shying away from problems that arises. She is usually reserved and well-spoken in her ways, engaging others in a calm, and determined demeanor. Even in battle, she tends to keep a cool head and orchestrates her plans properly. While stern, and often times nonchalant to a certain extent, Sylvia is quite friendly towards her peers - evident in her leadership abilities.
Where she is receptive of strangers and friends alike, Sylvia tries her best to keep her Companions and soldiers in the light - by empathy and personal insights. Accompanied by her intrigues to engage herself in community services, Sylvia does not stray far from one's perception of an idealized hero. However, behind her nonchalant smiles and soft voice, there resides a certain reservation of unspoken gloom and self-deprecating thoughts. At times, she can be seen in her self-endowed melancholy when alone. While disciplinary when it comes to dire situations, Sylvia is generally well-respected for her past deeds.
An enigmatic young girl, with no memories prior to her awakening on the streets of Verdan, where it came under siege by the Daemon Lord's Shadow Legion, Sylvia was only given a name after the ordeal by Laure, her mentor. It was here, among the chaos and bloodshed that she inadvertently picked up a certain lance and hurled herself at the hordes of undead, driven by a certain sensation that she could not make sense of, even to this day. She quickly came to realize her innate abilities of unknown origins, accompanied by the mysterious weapon that she had gotten her hands on, and put them to good use. Before she knew it, Sylvia had managed to hold out long enough for the town to evacuate. While the rest of the folks had made it out, Sylvia continued to fight until she finally collapsed from exhaustion just in time for her to be taken to a medical tent by Laure.
Laure called her Sylvia, due to her misty silver-ashened hair. The young fourteen years old girl would come to be heralded as the 'Angel of Verdan' by her deeds there. She would later go on to serve in the army as a knight, slowly rising up in the ranks for the next six years. Picking up a diverse cast along the way, Sylvia eventually formed the Iris Company, composing of unique individuals that have fought by her since her prophesied awakening in Verdan. Following the decisive battle in Onyx Valley and then onto the Invasion of Saarema a year later, codenamed Operation Aquila, Sylvia managed to defeat the Daemon Lord. She eventually returned home to Dragonsreach shortly after the end of the campaign alongside her Iris Companions. After a few encounters with a certain individual when she first returned, Sylvia and the man eventually got married. Unbeknownst to her, the person she married was the very individual she had cast off Mount Hornet a year prior.
A long-reaching weapon specialist that forms the backbone of most vanguard elements. Lancers tend to take the fight to the enemy, driven by their offensive doctrines to cause a gap in the enemy lines for a breakthrough, as opposed to spearmen's defensive drills.
Abilities: [Azure Gospel]
Sylvia is able to cast light-spells via her lance, burning through anything unholy by nature. In addition, Sylvia's spells are blue in hue, in contrast with most golden light spells. This ability also causes burn-over-time effect upon undead and opponents with darkness affinities.
Sylvia imbues her weapons with light magic, before letting loose a volley of concentrated rays that pierce through her opponents. Especially lethal against undead and any creatures of darkness. This ability is generally used to break through a phalanx of mass infantry or crowd.
Weapons Proficiency: Lance / Spear
Equipment: [Solomon's Edge]
A legendary lance shaped like that of a cross. Solomon's Edge is a sacred weapon portrayed by a high-relief work in the Basilica de Verdan. Based on the Verdanian Fables, it is a piece of Sola's mythic blade Griswald. Solomon's Edge does not accept any additional grozites. The lance itself can be stowed away in a magic pocket, as it is soul-bound to Sylvia.
+ Sylvia loves apples and mushroom soup.
+ Loves anything her husband makes for her.
- Has an unhealthy habit of consuming military-issued hardtacks over a squared meal.
- Tendency to be passive-aggressive with her husband when envious.
Once viewed as a relentless and devious plague of Grozny, the current Sertek is a wide-eyed, optimistic and caring man. His soft-spoken, but firm voice in most matters make him a man with a stout heart. Sertek often emulate his wife's peripheral insights, but restrains himself from making false promises. Unlike his past self, the current Sertek can come off as a lax and easy-going personnel. While this is the case, he disguises his strategic utilization of personnel behind his nonchalant and cool demeanor. A man of many faces, Sertek's integral character resides in his stubborn ways, as well as his tactful resolve. Rather than conducting himself as he is expected to be perceived, the man prefers to find the right time to broker the truth of how he receives others. Following his escape from Dragonsreach, Sertek is currently going through an identity-crisis. His only anchor point of acceptance is that of Sylvia's existence.
A timeless name that is as old as the world of Grozny itself, Sertek's true history remains a mystery, even among the brightest of modern scholars. Conferred upon his existence is that of the term "Seratekae", which roughly translated to "The One Beyond The Stars" in Old Groznic. Throughout history, Sertek is a figure with a controversial image. Most denounced him for causing wars and bringing suffering to the people, while others viewed him as the Creator's instrument to balance the world. Ultimately, Sertek would forever be immortalized as the Dark Lord that changed Grozny's fate forever. What is known about his role during the Mythic Age is forever inscribed upon the Annals of Dawn and Dusk. Although most recorded depiction of Sertek usually portrays his deeds as malicious and destructive. Those that revered and worshipped him were often shunned for their beliefs in a malevolent being.
In recent year, following his amnesiac awakening upon the shores of Venelia, the Daemon Lord inadvertently encountered the Hero Sylvia under the alias "Rael". At the time, the two had spent much time together as conversationalists, offering talks among each other instead of therapy. In a way, they became each other's curative partners. One small drink and the need for late-night dinner let to another. By the end of the year, they were happily married. Out of their matrimonial bond, Sertek became well-versed in the arts of budget-culinary, hygiene duties, and the ability to breakthrough Sylvia's impenetrable barrier of bottled emotions. Following the events that came about of the Nova Heights Incident, Sertek is now intertwined in an arduous road to reclaim his powers, all the while trying to save his broken marriage.
Daemons are classified as powerful beings that are able to manipulate or modify their own flesh for offensive and defensive capabilities. This makes them a versatile arsenal at any give time and terrain. The process to this method is currently unknown to Grozny's brightest minds. A distinct and perhaps the only known Daemon, Sertek dictates his own application of aetherium - unbound by the laws of the AMS. Due to his currently limited body, however, he is likely to experience corruption should he excessively expends his aetherium.
Sertek is able to absorb an extreme amount of corruption and redistributes it to his allies, effectively recycling detrimental radiations into a constant flow of aether. Due to his current state, this ability is limited within a limited radius.
[Mnemonic of Kaen]
Drawing power from his old armor's shard that is now embedded within his flesh, Sertek is able augment his flesh with the shard's metallic texture as a natural set of armor. The shard itself acts as a catalyst to project its properties as a part of his body. This ranges from a daemonshard blade to that of a shield.
[Mnemonic of Kaen]
A piece of his old armor that was retrieved from Kaen during the Fourth Daemonic War. The piece was entrusted upon Ostrogoth the Dracomancer. The piece was knocked out of the Dracomancer's hand at over a thousand yard by Sylvia's Solomon Edge. It was placed under the protection of the Starline Magecraft Institution until the Harbingers raided and retrieved it. The shard is now embedded within Sertek's body, giving him a small dose of his old powers.
+ Has this big urge to keep Sylvia from consuming unhealthy food.
+ reserved (generally has little words to spare)
+ loyal (dedicated to a cause and tactful with her words)
+ multi-facade (often times hard to decipher what Hershey meant beneath her nonchalant tone)
- shy / sheepish (has difficulty engaging in a conversation with strangers)
- fanatically devoted (has undying loyalty to the Daemon Lord, and will not restrict herself to moral or ethic to complete her task)
- selfish (has a set of principles stemmed into her mindset, and is less likely to relinquish those views)
A striving writer since a young age, Hersa wanted to pursue a literary career. She joined the Grozette news as a reporter, but struck out due to her sheepish personality. Since then, she took on different odd jobs and subsequently grew fond of psychology - particularly a profession that dealt with therapy in hopes of doing good for others and herself. It did not take long for her to be swallowed up by gloom, as her colleagues often belittled her unorthodox methods and direct tampering with her patient's brain via magic. At the time, aetherial therapies were uncommon and dangerous in practice. Despite this, Hersa practiced without much progress. Inevitably, a certain incident impeded and ultimately destroyed her career. Her colleagues, threatened and envious of her capabilities, plotted against Hersa. One that she would remember to this day.
She was eventually approached by the Daemon Lord Sertek when she was shipwrecked on an island at the World's Edge. Charmed by promises to pursue her dreams, and a taste of revenge, the forlorn aries swore her allegiance to Sertek and would pit her years of being bereaved of her potentials onto Grozny's inhabitants. She eventually developed a liking to being taken seriously and fought under the Daemon Lord without remorse, deeming it as her endowed rights to be recognized. When Mount Hornet fell, Hershey barely escaped capture, and resolved to sought after the Daemon Lord, in hopes of helping the latter reclaim Saarema and return to power once again. But Hershey was not alone in her personal quest.
Dreamweavers are talented illusion magic users. Their abilities range from psychological warfare to cortex manipulation. Dreamweavers oftentimes make up most of Grozny's array of psychiatrist practitioners. While others are employed in the military to safeguard against or attack morale via their broad use of area-of-effect psychological manipulations.
Lightning-based area-of-effect surge of aetherial energy that renders most magitech equipment useless temporarily. LAMP (Light Anti-Magitech Pulse), in essence, is an overcharged ability that either fries grozium-embedded equipment like a grozite barrier or independent automatons. LAMP also disables grozium booby traps or anpracs within its field of effect.
Hallucigen agent deployed over an area that pollutes natural enkephalins with aetherial energy, causing the afflicted to display erratic emotions or go into a frenzy - turning Hershey's opponents on themselves. As a gaseous agent, it is often countered at the near end of the war by the advent of gas mask. The miasma produced by this ability is often in the shape of a white gas like that of a sheep's wool.
[Nightmare of the Bleeding Lamb]
Utilizing blood rituals, Hershey brings out an individual's deepest fears and materializing it in form of a vortex of blood. The pool of blood constricts her opponents, warping their minds with terrors, causing them to go insane or completely broken to do her bidding.
Hershey summons apparitions of fluffy lambs that tackles and tears apart her enemies with great speed, in addition to their small-profile. Similar to the advent of trained war dogs.
Equipment: [Lantern of the Unholy Sepulcher]
A cursed accessory that collects aetherium from slain enemies. The lantern acts as a power bank for Hershey to conjure wide area-of-effect abilities without tapping into her innate aetherian wellspring. It also looks like an ordinary lantern.
A reverse-engineered grimoire that was meant to replicate spell templates. Instead, the tome is corrupted by Hershey's emotions, causing it to produce only templates of destructive spells. The grimoire is now utilized by Hershey to reduce her abilities' casting speed.
+ affectionately called "Hershey" by the Daemon Lord. 'Til this day, no one knows where the name Hershey originated. Only the fact that Hershey loves chocolate bars.
+ taken a liking to Bresta's Number 2 Combo. With extra barbeque sauce.
+ thin-crust pizzas with skullmelon toppings.
- dislikes magitech.
+/- gets flustered when someone give her headpats or caresses her horns.
Red-Eyed Fiend (by the Varangians)
Father Eliam (by most who know him)
Title / Profession:
All-Maker Missionary (prior)
Varangian Mercenary (prior)
Reisdorf Church Patriarch (current)
Race: Astrian / Reptilian
Nationality: Albian, Groznyan
Allegiance: The Church of the All-Maker
Eliam is a conflicted man. Once being a missionary for his faith, he betrayed everything he held dearest to him and turned away from his belief in service of a mercenary group. He became caught up in the monotony and maintenance of a brutal, nomadic tribe that sowed destruction wherever they went. As they traveled, Eliam slowly became a monster. Small compromises turned increasingly sinister and cruel, with the priest rationalizing them as making the best of a bad situation and doing what was required to prosper. In the end, however, he had built a monopoly out of fear and brutality, with Eliam turned a monster by those years of warfare and gray morality. He had almost finally believed his own lies and rationalizations but when the group suffered a terrible defeat, he lost all momentum. Abandoned and scarred by his people, the fallen mercenary was forced to reflect on his life and face the monster that he became. In the end, he had chosen not to blame Fealca, but instead himself, going out on a pilgrimage to seek forgiveness for his crimes. Keeping with the idea that one hates the sin, but loves the sinner.
His faith was rekindled following the ending of his pilgrimage, resulting in the creation of a devoted militant plagued by the uncertainty of the nature of the flame that was burning within him, whether it was for illumination or destruction. His time out of war has helped him control his drive to aggression but Eliam is not yet purged of his inner wrath. His thirst for vengeance and extermination puts him at odds with his beliefs, he fears that the long-term consequences of stoking this kind of flame could be cataclysmic. Eliam's fury oftentimes clouds his judgment but it does not come unprovoked. His ire is set not when he himself is put in harm's way but when someone he dearly knows is.
Eliam's past is a bit fuzzy, even for him. Most of what he can remember or is willing to discuss can be found in public records.
The priest served as a Varangian mercenary, it was said that he had co-founded the group with one Fealca Isern. With Eliam's teachings and Isern's tactile skills, the Varangians were marked in history as a legendary group. Eliam became a commander of sorts, training the mercenaries and leading them into battle. His position in the leadership soon entailed retaliatory attacks and the terrorization of locals to bring an end to their assigned task. Though he was neither a particularly brilliant strategist nor tactically flexible, his brutality and ferocity were infamous. The atrocities Eliam committed made him feared by friends and foes alike. Both dangerous and unpredictable, he was notoriously known for being impossible to kill on account of his first-learned ability.
In one major fight, Eliam had lost everything he had built. He underestimated the enemy while overestimating his own skill as a commander. In one fell swoop, he and his men had to retreat from their posts and forfeit the battle. Eliam returned to his supervisor in shame. In a demonstration that failure could not be tolerated, even at the highest of ranks, Fealca ordered Eliam to be branded a failure of a commander and his arms to be sliced off. The former commander had his face tarnished with a branding iron, his arms cut clean at the elbow, and tossed into a river in Ries. Left to die for leading the Varangians into its worst defeat.
Eliam survived. Waking up the following morning, branded, scarred, but alive. He walked without balance out of the river in southern Ries and began his journey to a chapel. It took him two years to return to a place familiar to him. Two years of suffering for him. His immunity to herbal remedies and other medicines made it impossible for him to dull the pain he would experience when even moving his face slightly. Replacing his bandages daily to prevent infection. His perseverance could either be seen as pure luck or pure willpower. Upon his return, he welcomed like a prodigal son returning home. Their acceptance rekindled his faith and removed the pride and vanity that had plagued him over his time with the Varangians. Even after some time, Eliam decided to forgive Fealca.
- - -
Forgiven by the church and its many associates, Eliam was appointed as a patriarch of a church in Reisdorf. He was grateful for the position but it came with a grave downside. The church was abandoned, forgotten due to its affiliation with a religion soon extinct. Eliam was in charge of ensuring the faith of the town wasn't lost. A fine duty for him.
Class: Warrior Priest
From restoring faith within their comrades to keeping the enemy at bay, a Warrior Priest is both a man of worship and a man of destruction. They lead their troops into battle not with fear but with faith and tireless inspiration. It is not only their duty to motivate but be courageous in the heat of battle. From curing ailments to taking down heretics, Warrior Priests are quintessential in any party build.
Integration - Eliam is able to assimilate his body into any non-living material for as long as he retains physical contact with it. He is able to mold and shape it for whatever function he desires but for continued control, he needs to have complete contact with it. Eliam can only integrate and shape materials that come from within the earth such as minerals or stone. The less-dense a material is, the more concentration and focus are required to keep it in a cohesive state and vice versa. Associated in part with the All-Maker and the pilgrimage He took. Eliam took this to heart and developed a form of magic that resembles a line in the All-Maker's pilgrimage: 'From the earth, He made His weapons'.
XI Strength - Born from his need to harness Integration properly, Eliam channels aether through his muscles and body to strengthen them beyond compare. This is rather hazardous in the long-term as continued use can leave strain and tears among other problems. The dangers don't end with only muscle tears, due to aether being highly radioactive in high quantities, long periods of use, and continued use is dangerous to Eliam's overall well-being.
Cleansing Fire - By channeling residual aether in the air, Eliam is able to expel an iridescent blue flame. Taught by one of Eliam's past mentors, this ability was mainly in the use of vampire hunters and those in the service of the church. The church developed this ability by deriving it from a line within the All-Maker's Journey: 'From the fire, He marched, from thenceforth He was reborn.' In that same vein, it harms creatures with a dark affinity with increased potency and slows their regeneration drastically. Cleansing fire can also be used as a means of healing by channeling the aether into a form that heals instead of burns while still retaining its fiery appearance.
Heat Scent - A racial ability on account of his Reptilian lineage; he can feel if one's body signature is close. Depending on how close or active their body is, Eliam can also feel how healthy they are though this aspect of the ability has been up for debate as to whether or not it is entirely factual.
Pistols and Fists
Imperial Officer's Hat - He's forgotten the origins of where he got it from but he's placed it around the time he was a mercenary. Religious Accessories - From necklaces to anklets, they hold no personal significance given his following to the All-Maker and most are simply pendants that denote his status in the hierarchy of the church. Pistols of Saint Yeon - Descended upon certain patriarchs are a pair of shotgun pistols said to have been wielded by a holy man named Saint Yeon. A revolver, they hold six shells with the pistol itself being rather bulky. It's dated to around 777 and was made with the express purpose of hunting and destroying the followers of Risa Aurelian and by extension the followers of the Adversary. It can fire magic shells and primarily shot Cura Ballista though it can fire any magic shell that fits.
The religion and belief centered around the All-Maker run parallel with our idea of Christianity in real life. The All-Maker is the center of all life, He has made it and it is Him who will see it all when it is done. Much like the Devil, the All-Maker has an opponent. The Adversary. A trickster of sorts who enjoys playing with the lives of people to win a sick game. It is rumored that he created Risa Aurelian and vampires to stir trouble while he plotted something even more devious. Like all beings larger than us, it is unknown if they really do exist or are the collective imaginings of people who have little hope and if they do exist, it is unknown what their intentions truly are.
The Thousand Armed Swordsman, Uncuttable Oak, The First Harbinger, Sertek's Right Hand
Title / Profession:
Kingdom of Seoju, Jianki.
A man who at first glance and with a shallow look can be seen as perhaps the standing example of what a Harbinger is and should be. Loyal, driven, and quick to the job, Hassan is both famous and infamous due to his nature as Sertek's first chosen and closest during the war. A true monster, one would say- capable of cutting down men and women alike in raids against his own homeland and the West, fighting with a sick optimism that truly shows how far his loyalty to Sertek's cause took him as a person. However, Hassan is still a mortal unlike his Dark Master, who even then, is still capable of feeling things. Grief, worry, confusion, despair, anger- such things were naturally hidden away due to his fame during the war, but now, as he stands side to side to his companions once more, returns to him once more.
In truth, Hassan can be described as a man who is unsure of 'things' in his life, often causing him to remember the past too often despite carrying himself with pride and focus to his companions. Yet not too deep inside his mind, doubt lingers and confusion over his own self grows. His solitary year in Dragonsreach changed him, in a way, for the worse or the better. Bitterness and a feeling of immense grief striking against his heart for failing to save Sertek on a specific day, in a war that ended not too long ago. Yet at the same time, it allowed him to see 'the other side of the world.' A side he forgot about; a side that while seemingly ignores the terrors and pain caused by the war upon its soldiers and people, still carried to themselves a certain purity despite the corruption that only a Harbinger could see.
The line between 'enemy' and 'innocent' became muddied, his own beliefs over one's natural ends changed and twisted to further confuse him: If a man's objective is to shape life for other men, does that mean they must give up their own happiness, or can they find a manner of peace alongside their loyalty? A thought that confuses Hassan, often leading him to waste precious, good moments if he isn't absolutely sure what the line between innocent and the enemy is. Alongside his own beliefs on who should die and who shouldn't alongside his discovery of Sertek being a married man, it leads to a certain developing change of character to Hassan shaped by both loyalties to his old friend as well as his year in Dragonsreach.
Despite this, he still is very much a Harbinger. Bitterness and a feeling of revenge and hatred for the Iris Company still wage its war against the logical part of his mind saying that this is necessary. Bitterness for Sylvia, Sertek's wife killing him in front of him, bitterness for a swordmaiden who ended up shaping his current self by choosing to spare him at her moment of revenge, bitterness for people, for ignoring their soldier's blood still runs on the land. Yet Hassan uses that bitterness to currently move himself forward, used to lead the Harbingers, and in turn, seek revenge for those who dare speak of False Gods and Kings while laying their hands on his companions.
"I want to be the strongest swordsman!"
The others laughed at the boy's dream. They saw it as merely a child wanting to achieve the impossible with a dream that would soon be replaced by something more realistic as he grew- yet that never came. The boy looked at others with anger and envy- his background was like many others. He wasn't born under a special moon, he wasn't born with some sort of destined fate, he was, by all means, an orphan like many others in the world. A face in a sea of children who didn't have a future, who relied on others to be able to give them one. To this day, even he isn't sure why he chose such a dream. Perhaps it was simply out of a simple frustration, for him to yell out to the world he exists, perhaps he simply wanted to try to gain more power and not be helpless, or perhaps it was a misguided dream, born from a child wanting to achieve an impossible dream.
When he picked up his blades, he swung them with all the ability and power he could muster through the years. To defend himself from others, to simply grow stronger, to become stronger with every passing breath. He swung and he trained alone until his lungs collapsed, until he wanted to cry, until his muscles tore themselves apart. There was an innate talent- whenever he picked up the blade at his peak, others saw him more akin to a great, uncuttable oak tree than any mortal race. Yet, at first, his skill and potential only took him so far- he was able to take on more skilled adults, defeat his peers with enough training and ability, and he felt some sort of pride swell inside of him- a pride that hid away a deeper, realistic wish that any man or woman had. Yet, he was so blinded in his quest to become someone known in the world, to not become a faceless figure, that he gave up his own happiness for a dream that didn't matter in the long river that is history.
One day, however, he met a man.
The wind was cold that day. It was raining, and he had finally decided to move beyond his village after gaining enough power and money. The man exuberated some incredible aura only another warrior could sense- he was akin to a great storm, whose thunder was capable of destroying anything in its wake. The silence between the two was unimaginably massive, the power from the other, unlike anything he's ever sensed before. His face didn't change, his body was standing still as it always did- he didn't look scared, but for the first time in his life, Hassan felt a chill go down his spine.
Perhaps it was destined, perhaps it was a coincidence, or maybe the Demon Lord heard of the man with a lifelong dream of becoming the strongest swordsman. There was only wordless caution and tension before the two fought- a battle of incredible skill and talent from both sides without the usage of the Aether's powers. Yet, despite the lack of the supernatural, calling their battle, short as it was, anything but legendary would be a disservice to the man who Hassan both envied and respected so much, and the man who would eventually accept the happiness of the daemon he once called a 'friend.'
"I want to be like you." Was the words of the boy with a dream once he eventually lost to the man who would wreck chaos into the world. I want to be you.
Time passed, of course. With it, came his training, a loss of that innocence, and that stupid dream that moved him forward: While Hassan achieved his objective to a certain, vague degree, he was still forced to do what it implied: He became a tool for the Daemon Lord to meet his objectives, cutting man after man, soldier after soldier with amber unblinking eyes and that respect that blinded him so much, that respect that robbed him to his future. Move forwards, become better, climb up the ladder, move forwards, become better: Be a Harbinger, be the tool in which his will is used.
It is undoubtedly true that his loyalty became an obsession at some point: He truly saw Sertek's alien nature as something that went against the very nature of this world, and he respected that, because in that mind that was left unchecked, unsupervised by adults in his homeland, a mind that forced himself to grab tools to fight and grow stronger for his own survival, that was blinded under the pretense of a stupid dream, saw this man, this anathema to the light that shaped Grozny, and he blindly followed him. Just like that, Hassan Nox I-Sen became a Harbinger, perhaps a better future stolen from him if he wasn't impatient if he wasn't so naive.
Someday, at some point, he attacked Jianki, or a part of such, with Sertek's forces. The smell of metallic and copper like substances filled his nostrils as he fought, eventually meeting eye to eye to a swordmaiden who may very well be his opposite: A woman raised in a prestigious family chosen under the light of the sun itself, fighting against a man who had none of such thing, not even parents, to guide him. Heart against heart. Blade against blade. A beautiful and gracious butterfly, fighting against a blinded, whispering snake. She lost, of course. But when she didn't, years after, after he watched Sertek fall: He had no desire to move forward, his ideals shattered with Sertek's apparent death, now only loyalty speaking to him. Take me as well.
She didn't kill him.
Perhaps it was spite, perhaps she saw that young child still in his eyes, confused and now only following his loyalty up now that his ideals were shattered, or perhaps it was something else entirely, but she let him go. Live a life with the sins he committed on his shoulders. A life alone, fighting for scraps of foods in the very city he and his companions sought to destroy. A life where one day, he would perhaps learn to listen to both his heart and his mind.
The swordsman is a powerful warrior who uses long blades to cut down their foes with immense speed and brutality. Swordsmen are known for being agile and capable of cutting through the enemy's defenses with good momentum and speed, some using a single blade, while others use two to get multiple foes at once with a single swipe. On the battlefield, a skilled swordsman is truly terrifying- cutting down limb after limb, head after head, all with immense speed and dexterity, making them hard targets to catch up to, and cut down. Despite this, their weakness remains in their frail bodies. Although they can resist pain and push through it, a swordsman will still die from things like blood loss, magic spells, or anyone who is capable of hitting a single, good hit against them.
Sun Style: Song of Fire
The first of Hassan's three sword styles. By adding grozium into a specific slot on his blades, the blades will gain fiery like properties for the remainder of a battle. This style is specifically deadly against weaker enemies, specializing in quick movements and dexterity to move out of the way of attacks, almost like the user itself is fire, with the blade itself causing the burning of the target, as well as cutting down their limbs- and clotting the wound instantly due to the heat of the blade. The fires of the Sun Style cause massive burns against one opponent and can work well to defeat them quickly.
Moon Style: Dance of Ice
The second of Hassan's three sword styles. By adding grozium into a specific slot on his blade, the blades will gain ice-like properties for the remainder of a battle. This is style is specifically deadly against stronger, tankier enemies, specializing in immediate, massive damage all at once and heavy thrusts against specific spots of their bodies to wear them down. While not as fast or constantly damaging as the Sun Style, the Moon Style is rather effective as it can slow enemies down and wear their stamina away over time with the ice it utilizes. Said ice can cause frostbite against the opponent, although it is effective in going past their defenses, as the swings, compared to the Sun Style, are more aggressive.
Twilight Style: Marriage of the Sun and Moon
The third of Hassan's three sword styles. By adding both fire and ice grozium on his blades, they will gain both fire and ice properties for the remainder of a battle, although burning away relatively more quickly than when using the two previous styles. This style is used when Hassan is facing a truly deadly foe- someone who can go toe to toe with him and is more than capable of killing him if he doesn't take things seriously. Using every ounce of speed and strength he can muster, this style is can both of the previous' styles abilities albeit in a much less 'specialized' and effective manner than the two. Its techniques are, however, used to reach enemies which are farther away by swinging his blades to cause a slightly longer-reaching elemental slash that automatically depletes the grozium on the blade in question, although is extremely powerful, but leaves him open when he has to 'reload.'
The style, ironically enough, is also more effective in defense, as it is his last resort when fighting a strong enemy- keep his distance, watch them, and be prepared for the worst.
The Aether tethers the user down into the ground, while their own body and strength keep them standing up in this state. In other words, with this ability, Hassan is able to walk on virtually any surface that is somewhat solid or fully solid, that being a tree, a wall, water, or even falling objects without being flung off of it or falling off. This is especially useful during combat, allowing Hassan to quickly move around the battlefield and jump from location to location with momentum and supernatural skill.
Twin Blades- powered by Grozium.
Solaris and Umbra:
A pair of Grozium powered swords made to him when he first became Sertek's Right Hand, these blades are capable of cutting against the metal Star Sentinel's are made out of, and easily allowing Hassan to cleanly cut through his opponent's limbs. They are long blades: Surprisingly hard to break despite their appearance, with swords such as these normally falling behind those weapons made by the West. Hassan is seen everywhere with these blades and shows a great degree of discomfort if he is forced to fight with only one of them.
It is said that when both blades touch against one another, they create small sparks.
- He heavily likes flowers, though his hands often tremble and struggle to not grip them too hard.
- Hassan has made a promise to not strike down a pregnant woman nor a child who is younger than 18.
- Has conflicting thoughts of marriage, using Sertek's and Sylvia's own as one to build opinions on.
- Likes dogs.
- Has a bit of a weird relationship with the companions. While he doesn't like them, he still has a degree of respect for them.
Alias: Preston S. Pacer, Doctor Webb, Queen Killer;
Title / Profession: Combat Medic/Surgeon of Iris Company (Disavowed), Street Doctor;
Height: 5'10 (176 cm);
Race: Astrian -- Arachnida (Aranea Hominum);
Nationality: ?!?, Groznyan;
Preston is quite the professional when it comes to things of a delicate matter, if you have a problem -- be it physical or otherwise, he'll make sure to get it done. His societal policy is quite hands-off, as he prefers to let anybody do anything within the confines of their privacy. Over the years, he's learned to be quite the pompous person, mirroring the people that once looked down on him. But he means well even if first impressions are sour. Something of a precautious man, he prepares for nearly any situation, be it formal or informal. Sometimes during operations or social gatherings, he might crack a joke or two about the current subject if his wit fails him, he'll simply default to an arachnid joke. Whenever something new is discovered, Preston writes it down in his notebook. Most of Preston's time when he isn't around other people is spent on symposiums, recommended reading, and generally enjoying the finer things of society. Don't let him hear you say this but despite his respect for privacy, he does tend to creep up on people silently. Seriously how does he keep doing that?
The wearisome events that transpired hindered Preston's post-war recuperation. His wisecracks were reduced to a pitiable amount, jovial spirit diminished, a new sense of determination, and righteous wrath has awoken within him. His analytical and curious mind has been honed into the occult: shifting through grimoires, esoteric treatises, demonologies, alchemical texts, et cetera. Whatever his claws can grasp. There is... a remorseful bitterness; his heart aches about his fallen comrade, Laure. He is accustomed to the death of a patient, yet her death stings the worst. Fighting shoulder-to-shoulder for years: on muddy battlefields, damp forests, cave systems, peaks and she died like that? Crushed by filthy rocks, laced with the excrement of an Empire that didn't care for her? An Empire that branded her a traitor by association? That did not sit right with the arachnid. He blames himself for her death. What good is a combat surgeon who doesn't even notice their comrades' peril? Preston, in secret, carved two wooden chunks into the shape of Able & Baker and ran a string through their small handles.
Preston's revulsion towards the truth of Ra'el and the Harbingers fate could not be underestimated. He wanted, at first, to rid himself of their presence but pragmatism prevailed and bitterly accepted their presence. However, he silently vowed to shadow their every move, his trust would have to be earned twofold. Despite his reservations, he will, if the need arises, aid his new allies medically—ever committed to the Doctoral Oath.
In the deepest parts of Grozny's forests, lies an innocuous cave entrance that any cave spelunker would find uninteresting. However should a person decide to brave the damp, dark, unfathomably elaborate or unnaturally developed passages of this wonderous cave, they'll eventually stumble upon something that is, by all accounts, something straight from the horror stories that one hears around a campfire. Grand structures of rock, mud, wood, metal decorations for those of high status and all of that held together by the white tapestry of silk which upon first glance appears soft but when touched is harder than steel. This is the underground mega-city of Met Di Plurida, one home of many for the arachnidan Astrians, or at least those that belong to the Silk Weaver line of Astrians although all spiders, from the smallest to the largest, are welcome in this haven.
Today we focus on but one member of the Silk Weavers. He is, as the outside world came to know him, Preston of Met Di Plurida or as he prefers to go by Preston Saytzeff Pacer.
Preston was a low-born citizen yet his ambition far outpaced his peers around him. He resolved that he would one day leave Met Di Plurida and travel the outside world. To do this, he'd have to rise from his low class and become a prestigious member of society as only those worthy of note are fit to represent the Silk Weavers in the wild. Preston needed to decide what role should he take but quickly found that all of them were unfit for him, save for one... Surgery. It is unknown what exactly drew the eight-legged being to this specific field of medicine but he knew that it would be the right choice for him. His first few applications were denied by the recruiters, deeming someone low-borne would just be a waste of resources and time. However, Preston persisted and eventually lucked out on a mentor who took him under his wing. Ten hard years of studying, practising, sleepless nights, and even specialization in soft body surgery, Preston had done it! He had become a surgeon. It was a momentous occasion for the twenty-eight-year-old, to kneel at the feet of the matriarch, the Great Mother and receive her blessings to exit the expansive Met Di Plurida and venture out into the endless wilderness of the outside.
Ah, the beautiful sunlight, warm on his exoskeleton yet painful on his cave eyes. This was a feeling that Preston would treasure forever.
Years later, Preston finds himself with a badge on his sternum and scars on his body. Wonder what the future entails for him?
Class: The Brutaliser;
The Hack-N-Slasher (pre-upgrade) is a close-ranged fighter whose main weapons consist of: claws, knives, katars, tekko, and other kinds of short-bladed/fist-oriented weapons. These brutal killers can make almost anybody mincemeat in just a few seconds. In essence, they function as essential target removals i.e medics, generals, commanders, etc, etc. They typically also possess some form of specialized movement ability to close in the gap yet their greatest weakness remains their typically short-range.
Welcome to the Brutaliser Style of fighting: combining the ferocious attacks of the Hack-N-Slasher with the precision and sweeping range of a sabre wielder. Execute your foes up close and personal or play keep-away with wide arches. Note: Brutaliser sub-class must be continually utilised to achieve Master-level combat.
- Web Spinnerets ~ Preston can produce webbing from the palms of his hands, the webbing is particularly strong and can't be easily torn apart with bare hands. It has an antiseptic quality. The webbing is also sticky although if Preston wished it, could be created without this adhesive property;
- Stick'em powers! ~ Through miraculous biology of setules and van der Waals force, our good surgeon can scale almost any surface, save for those pesky magical barriers. It can also be used offensively, to easily hold someone with his grip or simply peel away the skin like a banana;
- Spelimbs! ~ Four additional appendages typically used for enhanced mobility, offensive capabilities, or as pseudo graspers. They can regenerate if cut although the process is... quite painful;
- Exoskeletal Armor ~ Like most spiders, Preston has an exoskeleton that consists of these parts: an inner layer that is elastic and typically acts like a gambeson and an outer, rigid layer that is similar to a knightly carapace;
Claws, Daggers, Katars, other short-range weapons, and adequately proficient at sabres;
"Great Mother is Dead! Zolo Kobre MUST FALL!"
"Inconsequential, your legacy shall wither away."
- Likes meat smoothies;
- Is omnivorous;
- Hates it when you shine light into his eyes;
- Seriously... Don't shine light into his eyes;
- Would be happy to teach you surgical interventions;
- Can pull back his faceplate to reveal.... a set of jagged teeth used to strip the flesh off of the bone, with no lips to cover these mucus-covered utensils of consumption;
- Operates his own clinic, "The Web Clinic", in the Central District on 29th Street.
Alias: Bisi, The White Wolf, Shiroi, Bisila Nzo, Tinkerbell, The Trickster
Title / Profession: Prisoner (Previously) Magitechnician/ Inventor, Prankster, Criminal
Nationality: Albion, Groznyan
- Maybe crazy
Bisila was born to the very rich and influential Ranworth family in Westray, Albion as an only child. Her parents, while caring, were strict, overprotective and had many rules. She couldn't go outside without more than four servants watching her, couldn't touch much for fear of getting hurt. Bisila was annoyed but decided to suck it up and deal with it and have some fun inside. Soon, she started pranking the servant; first going small in things like swapping the sugar for pepper. As time passed, her pranks changed and Bisila started building little contraptions to better her pranks, along with developing a silver tongue to get her out of trouble. Her tinkering didn't go unnoticed by her parents and was immediately surrounded by tutors to enhance her skills and proved herself as a prodigy. After a while, she started getting bored. Her machine's utilities were limited to only show and what her teachers taught her. She wanted more, something more exciting, thrilling even. After some convincing, Bisila's parents sent her to a prestigious academy to enhance her skills and for the first few months, it worked out and she was recognized as a prodigy and someone with an exciting career ahead, a career in the family business.
That is, until the limits got to her again. She became a troublemaker, constantly pranking and using other students to her advantage with her pranks becoming less and less harmless until one day, she blew it, quite literally. It was supposed to be a simple test, one that got out of control. Many were injured and the academy got a nice hole in the wall. The thrill of the explosion, the adrenaline, the beauty, it was exactly what she was looking for. Sadly, explosives and creating machines that posed a danger was a very well known rule that should not be broken and thus Bisila got the boot. Her parents were furious. How did she expect to take over the family business with that issue? All the pressure, all the insane amount of overprotectiveness. It made her angry, a caged wolf wanting to free itself from it's cage. So when the cage broke, it ran free.
She was free to do whatever she wanted and started her own path as a troublemaker, going from place to place, pranking and brushing with the law more than once. Some didn't appreciate the pranks, others didn't like the danger her machines posed, sometimes it was her own family chasing after her. The thrill it posed to be on the run was exciting but staying months in prison, the ultimate cage, wasn't worth it. So there she was, an unemployed troublemaker that went from place to place, meeting people, using people, pranking them and becoming a rather dangerous nuisance in general.
Her life changed for the better when she picked the wrongest person to prank.
It backfired but Bisila got the recognition of her skills from the Demon Lord himself. Her reputation preceeded her and her skills were one of the few things he needed for his army. Bisila couldn't be more excited. At the battlefield, her thirst for excitement and fun was sated more than once as she tested many of her machines, ranging from explosives to even mechanical animals, sometimes entering the battlefield herself, albeit from behind, under the alias "The White Wolf'' and shooting her enemies in the face, really exciting indeed. Out there in the battlefield, there were no limits to what she could do. She could shoot, explode and trick all she wanted. She was accepted for who she wanted to be and she loved it. She later got a business with the underground criminal organisation, The Onyx Owls through an old friend; selling her weapons and paying her for her talents and in return, she would have their protection and help if need be. Soon, her underground weapons business was booming and she felt life couldn't get better.
Sadly, all good things came to an end with the defeat of Sertek. Bisila, like many of her fellow Harbingers, faded into the darkness, once again thrown into a cage. However, she was still smiling as she was detained because she knew that the fun wasn't at its end.
Disruptors, gunslingers with incredible aim, people of this class focus on using guns and bombs that focus on destabilizing the target for the ones at the front to take advantage. However, that doesn't mean Disruptors can't do killing of their own. Their accuracy and aim give masters the ability to kill in only one shot. However, since they are mostly long-range focused, they have lowered guard towards short range, melee attacks. Abilities:
This gives Bisila the ability to craft groznium and modify it's usage ranging from making groznium bullets to enhancing weapons. She also has knowledge of groznium and knows how they work
Rifles, Guns, Explosives
[Imperial Ordnance M95]
A seemingly average rifle with a grenade laucher, with a few adjustments such as being powered by groznium instead of gunpowder.
It's a bag filled with many things, food, weapons and crafting tools so Bisila can prank on the go.
Bisila wears an owl mask whenever doing her stunts in public or to hide her identity. It's a gift from a friend
Weapons made by herself, by using groznium to make a much more powerful and explosive impact
A badge with the Owl insignia on it. It grants Bisila access to O.O bases and information.
- Bisila likes gardening and often does it as a hobby
- Bisila loves dogs, especially wolves and foxes
- Bisila loves tea a lot, maybe to an unhealthy degree
- There's a rumor that Bisila once bombed a whole town. She neither confirms nor denies this fact
- She a very long criminal record
- Favourite Harbs to mess with are Hassan and Galious
- Ever since she got her arm almost sliced off by Preston in the battlefield, she's developed a fear of spiders, along with having a scar on her left arm too. She absolutely hates him for that.
- Despite not looking or acting like it, she is actually a very competent cook
+caring (towards fellow harbingers)
-holds grudges Biography:
Angelica was born on the streets of Dragonsreach, no memory of her parents, and had no idea if she had family members or not. She spent most of her childhood living in the church, but wouldn't stay for long. She wasn't kicked out, she just wasn't all that bonkers about religion, and hated the nuns, so she ran away, and tried to get out of dragonsreach. She didn't get far, due to the lack of money, so she decided to save money until she had enough to travel as far as possible from dragonreach, for a change of scenery. How did she get money? By killing people of course. She'd draw them in with her alluring looks, and then, once they were in a vulnerable state, she'd kill them. Sometimes she'd drag out the process into a slow, and painful death, she enjoyed watching her victims in pain. Once she got the bag, Angelica would leave the premise as quickly as possible, and would repeat the process every night. Eventually, all of her killings would attract the Daemon Lord himself, and when she finally left dragonsreach, she was approached by the Daemon lord, and asked to work with him. Angelica didn't really have any reason not to accept, especially since he was going to pay her, so she decided to accept his offer. Angelica would work as a spy for the shadow legion, and would use the same tactics that she used when she was back Dragonsreach, this time to get information instead of money. And no one lived to to ever tell anyone what she looked like.
Eventually, Sertek would be defeated by the hero, and Angelica would silently slip away before she could be caught by the Iris company. She used all of her money to actually go back to dragonsreach, and open up a clothing shop, and settle down, or at least, that's what she planned, until a certain pair showed up.
A class that isn't the best at combat, but is more suited for roles that have to do with gathering information. The spy uses petty tactics to take down foes with the least amount of attention drawn towards themselves.
This Ability creates a clone of herself that can do whatever she commands it to do. The clone takes some of her own power, so the more clones she makes, the weaker they get. The maximum amount of clones she cane make that are decently strong are 3.
Angelica can make herself translucent for a maximum of 1 minute. She isn't completely invisible, and can still be spotted if you look close enough.
Basically a beauty filter. The ability allows her to enhances ones desire for her, but it only works on one person, and she has to look them in the eyes for at least 6 seconds.
Angelica can place a magical mark on one target, and it allows her to sense when said target is close to her. The farther away, the harder it is to find where they are.
[Black steel claws]
Claws that are coated in a deadly poison. If the wounds don't kill you, the poison will. [/COLOR]
enjoys cooking when she's not working on a dress for a client.
Born into less than ideal circumstances in the slums of Marethia, Caenis Vasilias Koimamai was subjected to a less-than-stellar childhood. From a young age, he was taught that power ruled the world and that only those with power were free. His parents told him that power could be anything, from knowledge to money, to physical prowess, or even political prominence. They beat this principle into his head figuratively and quite literally. Caenis hated that truth, and it was forced upon him even more as a child when his own magical abilities were unlocked. His parents, both lacking in abilities that were made to be feared and respected, took their anger out on the young Caenis. Pain became a constant of his childhood, and he learned to live with it.
Seeing his life was never going to improve, Caenis chose to forsake his parents and go off on his own. He sought out help from anyone on the streets, both to make sure he had a decent understanding of the world, and a means to keep alive. Caenis lived amongst the urchins of the streets, still homeless, alone, and starved of a normal childhood. He had resorted to robbery, trickery, acting, and other underhanded methods to survive. One day, he heard of a woman who housed a vault of items so valuable in price, that if Caenis stole the contents and sold them, he'd be set for life. He wouldn't need to worry about food, a home, or anything ever again. Stealing from the woman, who he soon learned was Laia Guerrero, was harder than he thought. After getting his ass handed to him and seeing his current appearance, Laia offered to take on the young, and still slightly impressionable Caenis as an apprentice.
Laia Guerrero, a name Caenis cannot and will not forget. A former Bladebreaker, Laia taught Caenis everything she knew about life. She taught him how to be his own person, she taught him how to fight, how to speak, how to dress, and most importantly, how to kill. She taught him everything, and on his 18th birthday, Caenis would be officially adopted by Laia. It was also at this time that Caenis learned of Laia's association with the Harbingers. Following his mentor and adopted mother's lead, Caenis pledged his allegiance to the Demon Lord. He was gifted Laia's old equipment, refitted to suit his needs.
When the war came around, Caenis joined in the place of Laia. With his squad of infiltration specialists, Caenis would disrupt the enemy lines, communications, and intelligence. They were some of the best. However, tragedy struck on a mission gone awry. Caught in an ambush, he and his squad were supposedly killed. However, Caenis survived albeit with the loss of his right eye. Returning, Caenis was tasked by Hersa to infiltrate the IRC as a spy. They had thought him dead, and for all intents of purpose, Caenis Vasilias Koimamai was.
Entering the IRC as a hopeful recruit was easy enough. The claim of a Riesen origin would help keep people from finding out his background easily. Caenis, now under the guise of Senna Den Pragmatikos, was enlisted and quickly appointed as a Quartermaster. He supplied the members of the group with munitions and armor, all while living his lie. Two years after he had joined, Caenis would learn of his lord's defeat and the end of the war. Distraught, Caenis made a risky decision and contacted Hersa. She advised him to continue his mission. Another year would pass and Caenis would learn of the Harbinger's joining with the IRC, as well as the IRC being declared enemies of the empire, which made his decisions harder. Until commanded by Harbinger leadership, Caenis would keep up his guise.
Proficient with both firearm and blade, Bladebreakers prefer the close-quarter lines of engagement. Although they prefer to be close and personal, they are still proficient marksmen as well. Of course, the usage of firearms has come into question multiple times for this profession, but none can deny the way it is used. Requiring a keen eye and sharp blade, Bladebreakers use guns for defense as well as offense. Shooting the edge of blades as they come to strike opens opportunities for deft stabs or slashes. Parrying with a sword or knife opens the enemy to a gunshot. However, a skilled Bladebreaker need not rely on parrying or breaking enemy blades. A true master is said to be untouchable, able to dodge and weave around enemies.
Abilities: Mirage of Light
A number advantage is always good in any fight. Drawing on the Aetherium within him, Caenis is able to form clone-like mirages. While sharing the physicality of Caenis, the mirages are linked to a single mind. The mirages are able to do simple tasks if given orders. To perform more complex actions, Caenis must view/control the mirages himself. Doing this causes him to see through the mirage's eyes and feel what the mirage feels (think split screen in games). Cutting the connection between himself and a mirage disperses it.
Sometimes, repositioning is the best move in a fight. Connected to the mirages created with Mirage of Light, Caenis is able to swap places with them. This ability is treated more akin to a substitution effect rather than one of teleportation, as a mirage needs to exist to use it. Of course, the distance to the mirage is a limiting factor.
With every beginning, there must also be an end. Like the stars that dot the sky, Caenis is able to explode anything that carries or uses his Aetherium. His mirages are able to be turned into explosive clones and the magical shots from Heavenly Tipota and Demonic Kati can be turned into flashbangs. The amount of Aetherium pumped into the explosion determines the size and intensity of the effect. More Aetherium equates to a bigger boom or a larger flash.
Due to his heritage as a pureblooded Lupo, Caenis has an enhanced sense of smell and enhanced hearing. His enhanced sense of smell increases his sensitivity to certain odors/smells, whilst his enhanced hearing allows him to hear more minute sounds and sounds from further away in higher clarity. This has greatly helped him in the past with stealth and tracking.
> Daggers or Knives
> Small Arms
> His body
Equipment: Heavenly Tipota
Resembling that of a golden and white lever action, Caenis has modified his family heirloom to take Grozium in order to negate the need for bullets. The weapon, however, can still accept standard bullets in a modified action.
Crafted in a similar fashion to how Heavenly Tipota works, the break-action revolver is powered by Grozium to fire either magical or real bullets.
> His ears are extremely sensitive to touch and sometimes are indicative of his mood. No touchie.
> Has a small notebook of poetry that he actively writes in. No read, please.
> The hot leaf water is better than the caffeine bean water. No ifs, ands, or buts.
> Cooking is a passion Caenis discovered after learning to live on his own. Taking even the fewest ingredients and turning it into something delicious makes him happy.
Alias: Dawnbringer, The Rising Sun, The Bloody Maiden
Title / Profession: Swordmaiden of the Iris Company (Disavowed)
Height: 5 ft. 7 in. (170 cm)
Race: Astrian - Faean
Nationality: Dominion of Jianki / Groznyan
Allegiance: Iris Company, Oeki Order (formerly)
Personality: Irelia is good-natured and benevolent. Through her radiance, she spreads happiness and hope. She is fair in her judgment, treating everyone equally, and without discrimination, regardless of who they may be. Many view her as a respectable arbiter, as so often, she is beckoned to settle dissension. Outwardly, she appears to wear a mask of gentle and kind. On the battlefield, she is ever calm and composed; seldom does she succumb to her seething rage. Though, woe betides any foolish enough to invoke her latent wrath.
Instilled in her since young, Irelia has an affinity for nature and a strong instinct to protect and preserve life. Thus, she is deeply concerned with the state of the world around her. Seeing decay, strife, or anything else that disrupts the delicate equilibrium brings her great sadness, and she will do everything in her power to make things right. She will make things better. She must. Never again will she fail those who have placed their faith in her.
Even if that means to put an end to the very life, she solemnly swore to defend.
The Oeki Order are the self-appointed keepers of Jianki's sacred balance. They constitute solely a caste of swordmaidens, trained since they were juvenile neophytes to guard their homeland. The Oeki operate under a matriarchal society, led by a triumvirate.
Born among their ranks was Irelia, daughter of Kaguya Sonan, the renowned Eye of Dawn—one of the three leaders of the order. Interactions with her father, Shen, an inhabitant of the village at the base of the mountain, were minimal. Her mother raised her in the Oeki monastery, where she grew up under the vigilant gaze of the acolytes.
Even as a small child, Irelia was fascinated by the grace and beauty of the earth. It was through the order's teachings that her desire to preserve such splendour bolstered. Though a naturally gifted neophyte, being the offspring of one of the triad leaders was both a blessing and a curse.
All eyes were on Irelia, as she practised the martial traditions of her people, and excelled in all her classes. Soundless voices echoed in her ears, of awe, praise, but even jealousy. The burden of expectation weighed heavy on her shoulders.
Nevertheless, Irelia blossomed into an exceptional acolyte. Few could deny her worth to the order.
Many years later, the beginning of a savage war was brewing. It will have been the fourth time the conflict against Sertek spread havoc and turmoil.
When the fiefdom entrusted to the Oeki was attacked by the Demon Lord's countless legions, the swordmaidens rushed to retaliate. Much blood was split on both sides. Black clouds coalesced as entire villages set ablaze. Alas, though they fought valiantly, the swordmaidens, eventually outnumbered and exhausted, suffered a grim defeat.
Spared at the hands of a Harbinger - the top echelons of Sertek's army - after an intense battle, Irelia was one of the fortunate few that survived the bloodbath. Around her battered and bleeding body was nothing but crimson flames and death. For nights and day, bereaved, she mourned her massacred kin. The wicked, seething, fires of vengeance churned inside of her.
All hell was about to break loose.
Her mind tainted with hatred, Irelia passed through what little remained of a village—charred wood and mounds of ash. Reluctantly, she accepted her mother's weapon - Amaterasu - after her mother sacrificed her own life to protect the few remaining survivors of Hirana. For the months to come, she relentlessly hunted Sertek's forces, cutting them down by the thousands, without an iota of remorse. Ironically, some would dare say she was becoming a demon herself.
It was on the path of revenge that she came upon an individual that shared a common goal—Sylvia of Verdan. Both desired to collapse the reigning terror of the Demon Lord, and concurrently save the world. But on their journeys together, Sylvia inadvertently accomplished much more than that. She not only gave Irelia a chance at redemption, but she also rescued her sanity. For that, Irelia is forever grateful and feels indebted to Sylvia for bringing her back to her senses.
Now, Irelia accompanies her new comrade as a powerful ally, and a close friend.
Bladers are masters of the sword. They wield their weapon with lethal precision to inflict critical damage. Opting to don less or lighter armour, the blader deftly dances across the battlefield to cut down their foes with rapid strikes. However, this means they can ill afford to lower their guard and must be prepared to counter. A true blader aims to kill in a single, painless slash.
Irelia is able to cast sun spells via Amaterasu. Most often, she imbues her blade with the sacred golden light and exacts divine retribution on her foes. As her magic is light-based, its effects are particularly fatal against undead and beings of darkness.
In the presence of the sun, Irelia can bathe in its light and restore her health and aetherium pool. Additionally, her body exudes a glowing, golden aura that grants her additional magical power and enhanced physical capabilities (i.e. speed, strength, agility and endurance).
A counterspell, Irelia summons an aetherium mirror in front of her. The mirror absorbs energy from the attacks that strike it. After a duration, Irelia can return fire bolts of light that are equal in power to the stored energy. However, the mirror has a capacity on how much energy it can soak up; if hit with a powerful enough attack, or too much energy, the mirror will be dispelled.
A powerful, defensive light spell. Irelia calls upon a beacon of light, which disperses and forms a revitalising umbrella of aetherium around an area. The veil of light restores the health of all those underneath. This spell demands a large amount of aetherium and blood to fuel it, making Irelia significantly enervated afterwards.
Weapons Proficiency: Katana
A legendary katana - one of three kin - that once belonged to Irelia's mother. It glistens with the golden hues of the magic imbued into the steel of the blade during its craft. Now, Irelia wields it to bring a swift end to her enemies, as a paragon on justice.
Likes & Dislikes: (+) Has a fondness for jewellery.
(+) Plants and flowers as the vibrant hues remind her of the beautiful forests and gardens of her homeland.
(+) Some of her favourite foods include noodles, rice, vegetable parcels and tofu. Also, she enjoys certain confectionary like daifuku served with tea.
(+) Her favourite smell is that peaches. It is the reason she often purchases peach-scented conditioners and perfumes.
(+) Irelia continues to act upon the practices of the Oeki Order; she spends a lot of her free time doing things such as yoga, meditation and training martial arts.
(-) Darkness can sometimes make Irelia uneasy, or perhaps, even a little scared.
(-) Meat dishes.
(-) Unhealthy lifestyles.
Title / Profession: Magitechnician/head golemanecer
Race: Astrian salamderian (Or is it draconian?)
Nationality: (insert region here), Groznyan
If Galious was not himself, He'd likely be described by others as an arrogant, self-centered, delusional, prick. However his small stature, squeaky voice, liking of head pats, and candy. Leave him being more cute and endearingly goofy. This is of course a pet hate of his. Going to great lengths to get people to actually respect him. Galious believes himself to in truth be a dragon. recent incidents have resulted in him returning to his older attitude from the fourth daemon war, a calmer more brooding sort of attitude when required to face a foe. he will begrudgingly respect those that best his constructs in a fight.
Sir Galious Meeples' early life was full of the usual tropes you see of bullying and insults however most of this was just people thinking he was absolutely adorable. Over the years he grew to resent this throughout the years learning to produce golems mainly To threaten people. learning was a long and arduous process taking many years to master. Finally, he returned to his childhood home to destroy everything. Of course such petty and wholesale destruction attracted the Attention of the Daemon lord who needed very little to convince the gecko man to join his cause. early during the war, Galious took over Saarema. Chasing out the Havenite settlers of the town of Kean and converting into great golem factories. That churned out golems through the war till the city was retaken, through his golem legions Sir Meeples finally got what he wanted people to fear him, even if he rarely entered battle personally. His existence was only made known to the empire and iris upon the invasion of Sarrema and the discovery of his factories. Galious managed to escape without ever been seen. Sadly having to leave his battlesuit behind, leaving no one the wiser of who the head Golemancer truly was. Thus the legend of the "Great Dragon" faded away. Now finding his way back to the Grozny mainland. Galious is back at square one and adorably pissed about it. it should be noted however Galious is somewhat of an anomaly in appearance not exactly matching the normal look of astarian.
An expert in the art of golemancy often being proficient in both lore and rune mastery. These people construct, conjure, maintain, and fight with the usage of golems. Sometimes even riding a more personalized construct into battle as to make up for their personal lack of combat skills, without their golems however this class is usually rendered harmless
Golemancy: Galious magic almost solely specializes in the creation of golems form on the spot materials allowing him to have an army that simply raises debris to fight on. The quality and type of material used to conjure the golems matter immensely, metal is the most preferred material even if it's still got meaty dead bits inside it. this includes a fairly intermet understand of magitech long with it,
Grozium destabilization: allowing Galious close to grozium devices is to spell disaster this little gecko (Or dragon) man with some time and focus can turn a grozium battery into a ticking time bomb.
construct override: Galious is capable of overriding the control of golems with but a single touch those fed directly by atherium are easier to hijack then other grozium powered one this spell also works upon certain other pieces of grozium tech but its effectiveness veries
Personal combat suit: to make himself more intimidating Galious pilots a hollowed-out automaton of his own designs running not of his own magic bit that of grozium. The combat suit is armed with 2 small arm cannons, carrying either light ammo for more mobility or heavy ammo for more of a kick (can't change it during a fight tho) It stands at an impressive 6 foot tall SO BIG!!!! (current it is lost on Saarema after the DL defeat)
remove the swords add arm cannons instead Weapons Proficiency:
modified Sentinel combat armour, bag of hard candy, golemancy template scrolls
Alias: 'Cadaver', a slighting nickname given to Ódhran due to his pale complexion.
~Secretary for Lord Bruatar of Iona, Consul of the Outer Parallel Kreise ('circle') for the imperial year 1210.
~Former Chief of Logistics for Iris Company.
~Former aide-de-camp to the Iris Company.
Age: Twenty-five years old.
Allegiance: Iris Company.
Ódhran has always been something of a busybody; if there are things to be done, you can be sure that the former aide-de-camp will get to them with great promptitude. The young man's tendency to always be engaged with some kind of task stems from a jittery desire to make sure that everything is in it's place, that everyone's roles and duties are circumscribed in all situations and that as little as can be humanely-possible, be left to chance. In behaving this way, Ódhran as somewhat monotonous to those around, often being described as a person stuck in a rut vs. being in a healthy routine. Though the young man might agree that on a first look it would seem to be the case, if it's all about ensuring that people can perform at an optimum rate, his personal feelings are well worth the sacrifice.
This stems from a childhood filled with a great degree of want, and, being the eldest of a group of five siblings, Ódhran always ensured that his own meagre earnings, through working a number of jobs from a young age, contributed to his siblings betterment and that of their mother. As a result, whenever he sees someone attempting to go about something not in their best interest say, health-wise (i.e., running head-on into a skirmish with numerous regiments) Ódhran will admonish them for their foolishness and, in hoping that the reprove has done its job, will try to ensure that they don't go about anything too reckless again; though, knowing the company he keeps, mitigation is the best course of action.
Ódhran loves to be in the company of those close to him and could talk to them for hours on end. If it also happens to be on a subject he's greatly interested in (Ódhran is fascinated by rivers and greedily scoops any books on hydrology that he can!) he'll have the talked off you by the evenings end, if he hasn't made you fall asleep by then.
Ódhran was the born the eldest son of Art and Máire von Starkenburg on the 16th March, 1185 A.C. on the small island of Aran, in the Outer Parallel, a dominion of the Havenite Imperial Accord of Grozny. In 1192, his father was involved in a political controversy when, in his capacity as a notary for Lord Colm of Aran, the latter holding the consulate for that year, attempted to undermine a joint-initiative agreed a few years previous, which stipulated that all members of the Kreise would convey itself as a single body to the viceroy (in this case, Lord Spiel of Drakensreich) for any requested administrative changes relating to the islands. Although having been conquered by Haven a good four centuries ago, the political culture amongst the islanders was not tampered too heavily by the Havenite administration in Dragonsreach, for lack of need for a better system.
With the forged seal as well as signatures uncovered (with Ódhran's father complicit in attesting to the validity of the signatures) by an ambassador from the young Lord Bruatar of Iona, who has declaimed that Colm intended to try and influence the viceroy to extend his consulship for another year, a 'League War' (a typical instrument used by the small island-states of the Outer Parallel for enforcing consistency with established practices) was launched against Colm and in the space of a few short weeks, Colm, his family and the vast majority of his administration, were remanded into custody to await trial for malfeasance. The resulting trial ensured the prosecution and imprisonment of all those involved in the conspiracy, leading his mother to take up her own job as a seamstress and for Ódhran to take up a job distributing newspapers, often met with a fair degree of ridicule from those awake to receive them whilst he attended school.
At the onset of the 4th Daemonic War, Ódhran, like other men his age, was conscripted into an expeditionary force organised the Outer Parallel Kreise, who, as a collectively body, had reduced the age necessary for conscription so as to appease the authorities in Dragonsreach as to their earnest involvement in the war. As the war passed into its 6th year, Ódhran found his company, the 1st Aran Company, co-opted by a group of rather eccentric individuals, known as the Iris Company, led by the much-vaunted Sylvia, the Angel of Verdan, who a few years previous had fended off an army of undead from her eponymous namesake. Sylvia had ordered Ódhran's company to scout enemy forces near the town of Cannstatt, so as to get an idea of their fighting disposition in the region. Ódhran demonstrated his ability to Sylvia and informed her that they'd be more efficient, time-wise, if they utilised his ability as opposed to ANPRAC. After a successful reconnaissance and subsequent routing of the forces at Cannstatt, Sylvia requested that the young Aran join her squad and Ódhran remained with the Iris Company for the remainder of the war, enjoying a friendly, if ever-fretful relationship with this group of eccentric figures. Though he always was cautious, maybe even circumspect over some operations (especially the invasion of Saarema, later known as Operation Aquila), Ódhran always trusted the judgement Sylvia's judgement.
After the war had concluded, and Ódhran parted ways with his companions with whom he had built a formidable bond, the young man found service in the administration of Lord Bruatar of Iona, as a way of making amends for the crime that his father had committed.
Far from the thick of the action, an Information Officer's role is to ensure that information passes expeditiously between the various flanks of the army and that section commanders are kept abreast of changes on the battlefield as well to ensure that lines of communication are kept intact.
Real-Time Information Relay (RTIR) Clone
This ability allows for Ódhran to manifest an exact, incorporeal copy of himself that he can then use to attack to various persons or groups should the need arise. It's primary purpose is to facilitate the quick transfer of information (especially on a battlefield setting) between pertinent individuals, allowing them to adjust a given situation, whether to push onward or to retreat, as well as to relay messages from said persons i.e., to initiate a manoeuvre.
If a person is conscious, Ódhran can mentally manipulate the person to divulge any knowledge that they currenly possess. It goes without saying of course that if they do not have the requisite information to answer the question, they will remain silent. This ability is incrementally useful the more a person goes up the chain of command.
Ódhran shows proficiency with standard issue equipment.
Alias: "The Mountain" (Former)
"Mr. Irons" (Current)
Title / Profession:
Grand General of the Demon Lord's Army (Former)
Owner and butcher of "Isern Braede" (Current)
Part Time Adventurer (Current)
Race: Astrian (Dovean)
Nationality: Ries, Groznyan
Single minded and focusing on one task at a time, Isern's slow, deliberate actions made him the perfect choice to command the grinding advance of the Demon Lord's armies. And his stalwart belief that the strong have a right to rule guaranteed his loyalties. However, having had time to think upon his actions, his outlook on life has changed drastically. While he is still a single minded individual, he does not place raw strength in as high a regard as he used to. Though occasionally he will slip back into his old ways of thinking, he will quickly catch himself.
Isern's early years are shrouded in mystery. Hailing from Ries, there are rumors abound that he's from a tribe of cannibals, marauding savages, each claim being more ludicrous than the last. Isern has not helped in quelling these rumors by neither confirming nor denying any of these. The first confirmed reports of Isern being him on the frontlines of the war, seemingly impervious to all but the greatest of blows, with even those simply causing him to slide back. It wasn't until a combined assault of a Siegebreaker and Slayer was lead on his position, on the eve of the Demon Lord's demise, that he was eventually subdued. And that was more because he surrendered than actually lost.
It wasn't to last, however, for he soon escaped. How they managed to lose a 6'9" Astrian is anyone's guess, but lose him they did. And as far as anyone could tell, he simply disappeared. However, he is in the one place no one would expect to look, Dragonsreach itself. He hasn't even bothered to change his name, though instead of leading a mercenary company he has settled on the more mundane and opened his own butcher shop, selling the finest meats in the city he claims. Though, at times, he can't help but think about what the world would be like if Seretek had won...
Bulwarks stand where the fighting is thickest, the enemy's blows bouncing harmlessly against their superb defense. Bulwarks have been known to hold off entire armies when the conditions allowed it, sometimes even managing to single handedly push it back. Coupled with their immense strength allowing for some truly titanic blows, the Bulwark can be an intimidating opponent to face. However, this comes at the cost of speed and agility. The heavy arms and armor worn by a Bulwark slows their movements to a sluggish crawl when compared to the more nimble classes. However, should a Bulwark be smart and their opponent careless, they can capitalize on the first mistake.
Coat of Thorns: An almost invisible enchantment, Coat of Thorns reflects a portion of the damage intended for Isern back upon it's wielder. A single strike will do nothing, but over the course of a battle the small cuts can and will add up.
A Grudge Held: Instead of reflecting a portion of the damage via Coat of Thorns, Isern can choose to store it. Strikes stored this way are cumulative and are unleashed in a singular strike. Because this does require him to be hit by the full force of his opponents attack, timing is everything.
Bastion: For those that think they are smart and can simply fire upon him from afar, Isern has developed Bastion. Summoning a wall of hard light, he is protected from ranged fire. For those in melee combat with him, trying to pass through Bastion will feel much like trying to move through water.
Commanding Aura: There seems to be a natural aura of leadership that surrounds Isern, though some argue it is an aura of intimidation and not leadership. Those he deems as subordinate or lesser suffer from a crushing presence, second guessing every move they make while under his gaze. Those that he deems as equals or of strong enough will aren't effected by this. Isern does not appear aware of this ability.
Equipment: Blodsweor: The sword Isern wielded during the 4th Demon War. This gargantuan blade, while appropriate for his size, makes any wielder look almost like a child holding their family's heirloom. The only magical property it has is it's strength, having withstood attacks from even the strongest of classes. Currently on display in the Dragonsreach Museum, alongside Isern's armor Draca Scirham: The 'Dragon Bright Armor', worn by Isern during the 4th Demon War. Tailored by an unknown smith for Isern, it is impossible for it to be worn by anyone else. Similar to Blodsweor, the only magical properties the suit of armor has is it's enhanced strength. Currently, Draca Scirham is on display alongside Isern's sword.
Isern occasionally moonlights as an adventurer when business is slow and he needs to make ends meet.
Title / Profession: Combat Medic/ Surgeon of Iris Company. Yeah we got two of 'em.
Nationality: Haven, Groznyan
Allegiance: Iris Company
+ Maximum effort in carrying out his duties
+ Nice enough in most circumstances
+ Deadpan humour
- Somewhat of a sadist, taking pleasure both in inflicting injuries and in treating the more "aesthetically pleasing" ones
- Will forego the painkillers while treating you if you annoy him sufficiently
- A brewing addiction to whatever drugs might be laced in his candy
~ Obeys his commander without question
~ Quite merciless when it comes to gunning things down
~ Occasional sass
~ Obsesses over the minute details of his combat performance, constantly criticising what he should have done better
Having been born a Solarian in Haven, Eryn had been well-acquainted with technology during his upbringing. His mother was a magitechnician and his father a doctor, both having great influence on him, becoming skilled in first aid and gaining a basic understanding of magitechnology. The Fourth Daemonic War came around, and he enlisted as a combat medic. He didn't see combat for quite a while though, often assigned to patrol missions or to garrison in 'safer' areas. When he got his first real taste of combat, it was probably in one of the worst ways it could have happened for a greeny like him, at the Siege of Verdan. Soldiers and civilians alike had their blood spilled while the town was on its way to being reduced to rubble. Even if he had the stamina and skill to treat every casuality he came across (which he definitely didn't back then), he could only carry so many supplies. People called out to him for help, and there was nothing he could do for them. It took everything he had just to be able to return fire during his retreat. His uniform had become a mess of blood stains, as if it'd been dyed red. This was, however, the first time he'd catch a glimpse of his future Commander. In the distance, a girl who couldn't have looked less than a couple years younger than him, had engaged the horde with nothing but a lance, allowing the evacuation to be completed. An Angel, perhaps? Well, that was what everyone else started calling her. He definitely thought it was fitting.
It took some time, but he started climbing ranks. He was on the front lines more often now, honing his skills and discovering his specialties. He stopped carrying his bolt action rifle after deciding it easier to return fire with a sidearm when treating somebody, and the lost weight could allow for carrying extra supplies. He got good at both of those things. First it was just pausing to fire off a few shots before returning to treatment, then he was doing it one-handed while his other hand continued patching people up. Being ambidextrous had its perks. Next he was using two of them, and his accuracy still didn't falter. Eventually he stopped needing to look directly at a target to hit it. He was a medic, but killing things had gradually became something much more enjoyable for him now that he was getting so good at it. He became pretty great at the main job too, even picking up pharmaceutical developments as a side hobby. Prescribing amphetamines to his comrades really seemed to boost their performance, as well as his own. On more than one occasion, he fought in close vicinity to members of the Iris Company, garnering their attention.
We know how things go from there. He especially took a liking to the spider. That guy's cool.
A type of gunslinger. They fire quickly, accurately, and they don't let up on their constant barrages of lead. Preferring to use sidearms instead of a rifle, they like to shoot from up close and see the blood fly. But not TOO close. Obviously.
[ICU - "I see you"]
The ICU is a magitech visor that grants him a drastic increase in his field of view. Drastic, as in he's got 360 degree vision whenever he's got it wrapped around his head. The thing's got nodes connecting to his temples to send everything directly into his head, and it's a miracle that he hasn't gone insane from all the input his brain recieves. Or maybe he has, who knows?
The H2, derived from HH, short for "Helping Hands". Magitech gauntlet-looking things that connect from his forearms to the groznian batteries on his belt. An aperture on the back of each hand opens up to let long, thin mechanical tendrils sprout out, five from each hand. Each one is capable of holding a tool on its own and using it effectively, potentially turning him into a 10-surgeon team if he uses all of them to treat somebody, or treat multiple people at once.
Basic aptitude for most firearms, while showing particular prowess with sidearms, more specifically revolvers.
-Two 6-shot revolvers chambered for .45 calibre cartridges
-Above mentioned magitechnologies
-Spare groznian batteries
-White cloak lined with load-bearing webbing, stores ammunition and extra medical supplies. It's white because he "likes the aesthetic whenever blood gets on it"
-Packs of candy under his beret
Does not like potatoes. Unless they've got meth in them, then maybe.
Title / Profession: Iris Member (Current) Fire Mage (Former)
Nationality: Epirean, Groznyan
-Literally the opposite of Tactful, and probably talk up your crush right in front of them.
-Unfocused (Usually just likes to move around, hates staying still/hiding)
Biography: Born in a middle-class family at the district of Epirean, Kazan was always making trouble in some form. As soon as they was old enough however, Kazan enlisted to become a Fire Mage, simply to get away from a dull life.
Her time becoming a mage though, led her to understand that she was more of a Magma mage, and she practiced hard to become that. After an incident regarding another mage, she was kicked out however.
Soon after that, she met Sylvia who invited her to join Iris company. Defeaing the Demon Lord? Count her in! She was one of the last members to join Iris company, but she was there for most of its its important events, like Onyx Valley and the fall of Mount Hornet. She decided to stay with Syliva after all was done however, and moved to Dragonreach with the rest of them. She decided to study to become an architect, and maybe maybe a small hope that this could be her Happily-Ever-After.
That was, until Five and Eleven showed up.
The elemental support class is mainly consistent of mages and others skilled in elemental magic, who use it in middle to long-ranged combat. Generally, they use staffs and other things to allow for a focusing of power. They are known to be weak in physical strength however, and can easily be dispatched if able to get close to them. Most Elemental Supports focus on more AoE, or Area of Effect spells instead of ones meant to target an individual.
Molten Cube Creation and Manipulation
-Their main gimmick, Kazan is able to create a molten magma cube varying in area. They can also create multiple smaller cubes, which takes more focus however. They can use it in many ways, such as creating arrows to fire or just using the cube for a giant smash into the battlefield. However, it takes a while to recharge, depending on how big it is. At maximum, she could create a 6'6 feet cube before having to stop due to corruption.
Basic Fire Magic
Before becoming a Magma mage, Kazan decided to try out becoming a fire mage, which lets her be able to use basic Fire Spells, like Small Fireballs or a Fire punch. She was never proficient in it however, and can only do limited amounts of Fire magic.
Weapons Proficiency: Does know how to use Staffs or other magical channels of power.
Others: -Has ADHD
-Occasionally makes puns so bad, you wonder if they are even puns
Born under the pale, watchful eye of the crescent moon one wintry night, Enzo was the last of a litter of three. His coming into the world was an unexpected burden, one wrought with difficulty, but with the Great Lupine's guidance and blessing, both mother and son managed to survive through the night.
But something about this last birth seemed to just keep taking and taking from Freja Saoulevich; she had one last son to offer and in return, little by little, her soul bled back into the frost and ice. Too soon, the altar was built around her body stone by stone, contributed by every member of the tribe. As the Alpha of the Northern Saoul tribe, his father performed the last rites, transforming into lupo form and initiating the Last Howl, to carry his wife's spirit into the skies, where she could join the Great Lupine and chase the Polar lights with the rest of their ancestors.
After that, nights seemed colder. The sun appeared reluctant to rising, and the warm embers behind his father's eyes seemed to freeze up overnight, turning a crueler shade whenever they landed on his last son. To add insult to injury, the next few winters were remembered as some of the harshest in recent memory. As a result, for a good portion of Enzo's early childhood, survival took nearly all priority, leaving affection and familial love to melt and trickle in drop by drop, like water beads off the tips of icicles.
The only one who ever expressed a steady stream of affection was Enzo's oldest brother. He was nearly a decade his senior, with practically nothing to connect their vastly different stages in life except for the fact that they were blood. However, this did nothing to stop his eldest brother from standing in for their father, who could barely stand to love the runt whose looks were a constant reminder of what he had lost.
The art of the hunt, the Northern Lycan ways of honorable combat, and most importantly of all, the ancestral, aetherian technique of lycanthropy and ice-spitting were not passed from father to son, but from brother to brother. Despite this, Enzo was more often than not the forgotten one - his purpose, place, and value to the tribe seemed almost as insubstantial as the winter's first frost. This fact was driven home mostly by the callous, barbarous words and actions of his middle brother, who followed in their father's cold-hearted example and took great pleasure in punishing the runt responsible for the death of their mother.
Enzo could only ever find respite from the torment when the two eldest brothers went off to settle clashes. The Northern Lycan tribes of Karelia were, at their core, ancient warrior clans. As such, territorial disputes, competition and truces that broke almost as quickly as they were drawn up were all a fact of life. Casualties were often minimal, but once in every while, a bitter feud would spark, sealed even further by the blood of an Alpha's son. Such was the case for Enzo's middle brother, who died just as he had lived; repugnantly, in a pool of his own retching thanks to infected battle wounds. Talks of uniting the clans as one bubbled to the surface from time to time, but these never seemed to penetrate beyond the realm of rumour and wind whispers.
Until the rest of Karelia came right on their isolated doorsteppe, with news of a brewing war that would echo destruction absolute across all the dominions.
The Demon Lord, Sertek.
Before Enzo knew it, a seizing tension permeated across the settlements as their reluctant but grim-faced chieftains gathered with Viceroy of Karelia herself, Suomi V Samanova in their war hall, though in comparison it seemed more of a shack than anything else. It was quite a historic event, as relations between the fiercely independent Northern Lycan nations and the government of Karelia were tense and dubious at the best of times.
But the bad blood had to be put aside. Samanova, ever the talented and eloquent orator, seemed to seal those divisions overnight and within the week, left the tribes with a small troop of soldiers with plans to modernize and train the natives.
But this would be no easy task. Unification was somewhat synonymous with subservience, a concept that held no love in the mind of the tribes, under a government whose own motives and self interests historically had rarely aligned with their own. This was the overarching sentiment that brewed behind every eye and echoed in every word exchanged between native and outsider, Enzo's own brother being one of the most unafraid to express their hositility.
In fact, it seemed that for the first few months, the only one who seemed to truly enjoy the outsiders and their instruction was young Enzo himself, who understood that the modernizing force of Samanova's army against their primeval ways was a necessary improvement.
The young Saoul would find himself spending most of his time with a particular faction of the soldiers. True foreigners they were; their crests not of Samanova's - a black iron cross brandished on their scabbards and livery. Their accents had strange lilts and an cryptic, sophisticated, metropolitan feel surrounded them. Watchers, they called themselves. Enzo did not understand what they meant by this, but he didn't let that stop him from crossing the unspoken boundary between their camps to train and learn everything he could about the outside world. In return for their teachings and company, the young Lycan native used his experience to teach them how to survive his harshest little corner of the dominion, forming a discreet, unexpected camaraderie.
This bonding drew the disapproving anger of Enzo's eldest brother, though with their father's stepping down and his newfound duties as the Alpha of the Northern Saoul tribe, this would only ever stay as an occasional point of contention between the brothers. An uneasy tension began to simmer as brother began to distance from brother, worsened only when by chance, Enzo came across his brother with an unfamiliar figure in the woods. When questioned on the identity of the figure, his brother's only response was,
Weeks after this encounter, the war howls are sounded; a grand Harbinger army had gathered and infiltrated into the Ma'el tribe's territory, launching a terrible attack upon their settlement. The time to act was now. The Fourth Karelian Daemonic War had officially begun.
The trek nearly killed him. Still, by some miracle of the Great Lupine, he carried on. Day and night, he carried on, with death on his tongue and memories swirling in his mind. He carried on, for as long as his aether permitted him.
Samanova. He needed to tell her. She needed to know about the betrayal, about the coming carnage only she could stop-
They had called it the Battle of Soulwater, named after the small sacred spring the conflict concluded near. Almost no one survived, earning it a reputation as one of the deadliest battles recorded in the Fourth Daemonic War.
They told him he had a gift. The scar proved it. A usefulness, a purpose, an enduring aptitude. "Karelia needs good soldiers like you," Samanova had told him, placing the medals and newly-pressed Karelian military uniform in his grasp. But there was no place for him here, if there ever was one to begin with. Karelia was done with him, and he was done with Karelia.
But he wasn't done serving.
And Samanova wasn't the only one who had made an offer.
Class | TBD
(brief summary of class role)
Abilities | TBD IN MORE DETAIL
Weapons Proficiency (TBD IN MORE DETAIL) | Broadsword
Familiar with most basic firearms. Expert handling of certain types of advanced groznium-powered guns.