Cerberus, legal name Kara Lazuli, is an independent data collector who exercises neutral relations with illegal syndicates and government agencies. Whether for profit or not, she is an anomaly somehow able to obtain underground information.
It is unknown whether or not Cerberus possesses a Cataract that aids in her profession, though it is highly unlikely due to her commoner blood. She is experienced with handguns of various types and is normally seen carrying multiple.
Thessia is a woman of noble pedigree who serves as the right hand of the Collbrande of Anterås, Luria Cineris. She is also an elite operator of the "Ashen Embers" Special Task Force, a paramilitary formation under the direct command of House Cineris composed of its best agents. She is one of the best in the business of spies and assassins, serving as the eyes, ears, shield, and dagger of her liege.
Thessia's Cataract, "Umbral Kindred," grants her the capability to summon a variety of umbral familiars with timed lives proportional to their size that can serve multiple purposes. Offensive forms include animal familiars that deal penetrating damage and can damage the soul of the target provided all layers of defense have been breached. Other forms include insect-like familiars that can be used for reconnaissance and prolonged surveillance.
Tentative: Each swing of her weapon is accompanied by an extra set of fire lashes, rupturing from the ground; up to a maximum of 8 extra 'blades' can accompany the attack. For Pheles who is a Phenex, she must live with the cost of being bereft of warmth for several days or even weeks, so she would be physically weak, vulnerable to sickness like the common cold, and perform pitifully weak fire damage too until the cooldown/recovery period passes.
Skill Level: 3 | Type: Arts
Pheles is someone who wouldn't shy away at being ordered to hold or break a line. She is someone who can take a fight straight on, wouldn't flinch at being told to break into a building from its front doors, and certainly wouldn't go down gracefully in a losing fight. She is very much a front line soldier, with proven talents and physical endurance to reassure any one on her squad that she can hold onto their bottom line.
Pyromancy comes with her being a Phenex, however she is not overly interested in realizing the full potential of pyromancy at the moment. Aeromancy came with the training she did in the army, but aside from being able to help others stay in the air for a longer while, or being a spotter for a sniper, she did not study overly hard in this either. There is a possibility that she is a poor student, favouring weapons over magic.
"It's not a question of can or can't. There are some things in life you just do." Pheles is someone who sets strict and high expectations upon herself, and though the burden to do the right thing, to carry oaths and duties as flawlessly as she envisions, is heavy at times, she shows that she carries these (and herself) with pride that is quiet and solemn, yet vividly present.
Because she was born in the upper echelons of society, she had been raised to understand that her life was not entirely her own. To live a full life, to have a life that was productive, meaningful, and significant, was a life dedicated to the betterment of the Empire, she believes. As such, she often fails to understand those who, in her perspective, do not make the most of their life, even believing that they are perhaps failing to live the 'right way'.
TL-DR In simple terms, she is a heroic-warrior character who doesn't even contemplate the possibility of defeat or failure, submitting herself to the mental state where she believes that only victory or death awaits with every assignment she takes. She is someone who is honest, who keeps her word, extends her mercy when it does not conflict with her orders, and intervenes when she finds injustice (although she would not make her displeasure known verbally, because she was raised to mind her tongue). She can be gullable, inflexible, and downright judgmental of those who fail to accomplish their tasks, or carry ill thoughts of the Empire.
The only people she understands are the possibly the Knights, whom she spends most of her time with, and accepting that they have priorities and dreams that are vastly different from hers.
676 : CHILDHOOD
It is hard to imagine having a hard childhood when one is born in a noble house, with privileges, exemptions, luxuries and more to fulfill every little whim that a child may fancy. Pheles enjoyed an easy childhood, and yet her younger years are marked with a distinct loneliness that even a sense of alienation that she couldn't avoid with so few Phenex brethren around her growing up.
694 : ENLISTMENT
Although enlistment was not mandatory for her, she was loyal to the only kin she had known her whole life, and to the Empire, attending military academy so that she may enlist as soon as she could. In the army, her childish worries were stripped, and she was quick to embrace the identity of a 'simple soldier' - until she realized that the simple common soldier was not something she wanted to be, nor was anything great to aspire to.
697 : RAIGNORK WAR
Pheles was 21 when she found herself on Raignork, her detachment assigned to sabotage the anti-air weaponry on ground. Their ambush did not work, and there were causalities on their side, but Pheles would end up taking over command to see the task through. Angry at faulty intel, and the deceased field commander for relying on it to begin with, she would begin to demonstrate her fitness for command, although she would never again find herself in such a role for the rest of the war.
700 to Present
Although the War of Raignork had be won, there was an undeniable unease in the years following the victory, word spread of how it was a hollow victory, and Pheles remained in active service for some time, awaiting for when the decisive final blow and call to arms were to be made. Believing that it was not only within her ability, but a birthright for her to lead on the front, she set her sights on earning promotions.
On a routine package delivery assignment, Pheles and her squad had been sent out to deliver secure documents and keys to [REDACTED]. On the way, she found an underground bunker that wasn't marked on their maps or records, and investigated it. It was lab of sorts, likely abandoned, but it was evident that some human experimentation had taken place at some point. There was a lone terminal found, and Pheles was able to access it - not because she was particularly skilled, but because the system recognized her bloodline to be the same as the ADMIN's.
She lied to the rest of the squad about the discovery she made though, and left the army shortly after, joining the reserves, determined to confront the evils and dangers that were clearly present and closer to home.
Back in Aucteraden, she confronted and killed her sister. And then the man that she was engaged to. For the sake of the Empire and its people. She hadn't wanted the incident and the crimes to come to light, but naturally word spread of her ruthless actions. But they aren't foolish for worrying, or scrutinizing the situation; she has every intention to hunt and cleave away at the corrupted roots of Aucteraden.
But if she's going to do something, she's going to do it right, and the Collbrande of Aucteraden has a record and reputation for doing the right thing the right way.
In Seraphiel, the City of Opportunity, where brilliant minds are never truly asleep, Pheles has been spending her time attending conferences, events, showcases, and the like, trying to learn of the new trends and innovations of the bio-medical frontier. Officially, she is acting as security for them, where she hopes her presence will discourage any misbehaviour or competitive sabotage. She knows that she is a simple call away from the next operation.
Yamagata 'Breaker' Shiro is an unmatched virtuoso in the talent of enhanced interrogations, also known as torture, if he is left alone with any enemy for too long then it will assured that he gets the information that he is after. But this doesn't just extend to inflicting damage to the person's body, but their mind and his observational skills during this time are at an all time high.
Skill Level: 3/1 | Type: Versatile/Minimal usage;
It is unknown as to where Shiro's shadowmancy comes from, there are many rumors surrounding this fact, but what can be determined is that he is a Demon with it. From rending foes apart to sealing ally wounds, Shiro applies Shadowmancy very flexibly and for many situations. Contrast that to electromancy, where he mainly uses it for simple amps like turning on an electronic device or detecting electrical flow, he seems to be neglecting it.
Despite his fearsome appearance, The Fabled Breaker of The Kaiser is downright a sociable person. He is neither shy nor introverted. Many have noted that, during battle, he seems to exhume an optimistic effect on his compatriots—leading others while being at their side. Though he is a knight and thus lacks substantial political sway in the upper reaches of politics, he keeps an ear to the ground in case of shake-ups that might affect the Order. Secretly, he possesses a fondness for brain-rotting entertainment works that are prevalent in the homes of dregs. His abode is not known in Aucteraden is not known to his fellow knights, only superiors are privy to that information and Shiro likes to keep it that way.
He catalogues any interrogation that he conducts in a brown book with leather covers, categorized with an alphanumeric system.
Shiro frequently customizes the mysterious mask on his face, sometimes adding decorative features for festivities, or drawing artistic lines.
A quick fact one might notice is how differently he pronounces Draigh Kaiser's last name and the Kaizer Knight Order, though he writes them the same.
Not much is known about knight Shiro 'Breaker' Yamagata, supposedly he's an experienced agent who has served for a fairly long time. Enough to gather a hush-hush reputation about his torture methods. There are some bits and pieces people can gather if they know what to look for or where to look. For example: During the interrogation of a prisoner, he once mentioned that he belonged to nobility. Whether he was telling the truth or simply manipulating the subject is unknown. Nobody has ever seen him take off that unnerving mask which always seems to break then reassemble itself like a magnetically powered machine. His crimson eyes shift and turn when he looks at you, ordinary people find it hard to face him.
A few independent information brokers have gathered that he was born and raised in Sanguinum, but his parentage largely remains a mystery. Speculations include his father being of noble blood who sired an illegitimate son while touring his industrial ventures. Others claim that he is simply a commoner born to two factory workers and fell into the wrong crowds in New Yurtivel. There is even a crazy rumour that his mother, of noble bloodlines, sent him a legitimate child to fend for himself. Madness.
A definitive point in his recruitment is his participation in the War on Raignork during which he fought alongside Colbrande Draigh Kaiser. Shiro's skill in interrogations and mastery of shadowmancy earned him a definitive seat in the Kaiser Knight Order.
Private Military Contractor; Iscariots of Solarian (7: The Chariot)
Place of Birth
The highest paying bidder
Refer to Loyalty
Exousiarch: Not Available
Phase Level: 0 | Type: Utility
Prodigy of War
Skill Level: 3 | Type: Offense
Proficient in the art of firearms and explosives, and capable of pulling off expert maneuvers in both an Ascalon and a fighter, Pixie has carved her name amongst the ranks of soldiers of fortune as a budding god of war, despite her appearance. Having taken out her fair share of other combatants by herself, and survived all of her deployments so far, she is only just getting started.
Pixie’s photomancy allows her to, quite literally, bend light to her will, with the most common application being to bend light around herself or others to turn them invisible to the naked eye. Her experience allows her to move under her shroud of invisibility, but not quite able to do the same for others. Her Enchantment Magic allows her to patch up wounds on herself and her comrades, allowing her to continue on with the mission.
Psychological evaluations have assessed that operator Dupaulis harbors no psychological issues that need to be addressed. She views her job as a private military contractor as nothing more than a job, and wisely keeps her social life separate from her professional one, believing that being unable to discern the difference between both is a handicap she does not need. She harbours no ill will towards her targets or enemies, and recognises the fact that she may just as well be their ally the next day, depending on the highest bidding client. She also understands the difference between good and bad, but payment is payment. Every pull of the trigger, to Pixie, has no personal feelings behind them. She carries herself with impartial professionalism, and rarely lets her emotions cloud her duty, maintaining a level head even in situations of high stress.
On the social front, Dupaulis is quiet, but well adjusted. She is, however, described as a better listener than she is a talker. She claims her own personal life as 'rather boring', and does not tend to reveal much about it for said reason. Records do show that she is speaking the truth- her life is quite dull, and her job is the one thing that keeps it interesting. She claims she doesn't mind the tedium of an everyday life where she comes back to her apartment and sleeps off her exhaustion while waiting for her next assignment, but it is clear that she finds combat to be her true calling. Without a proper reason to fight for outside of money, however, she merely enjoys the motions of it, and this disillusionment is causing occasional lapses in focus.
She is a survivor, above all else, and is not above retreating if she deems a fight beyond her capabilities. Her belief is that there will be no money to be made if she were dead. This, however, is in contrast to her confidence in her skills. Though she knows she still has much to learn, she also knows that she is more than capable of taking on other operatives in a fight by virtue of her skills alone, and the dread that the insignia of four wings that decorate her fighter and mech instils upon various operators of other factions speaks volumes of her presence in the field.
Official records show that Sasha Eardley Dupaulis was born on 21/03/683, and became a mercenary at 16, operating under different mercenary groups across her years before joining the Iscariots of Solarian. However, her expertise at handling a firearm when she first joined her initial outfit suggests that she has been operating for at least 2 years prior, possibly solo. Between her recruitment to the Iscariots, she has operated in no less than 4 different PMC outfits, including another vaunted organisation known as Alsosprach Zarathustra, whose colours she still prefers, prior to their disbandment. She is most known for her sudden rise in rank to The Chariot within a few days of her recruitment, a title earned from having killed the previous owner of the rank whilst he was inside his mech, on foot.
Her callsign, Pixie, was a derogatory jab given by one of her superiors whilst she was still with Trident. It was, for obvious reasons, given for her small, waifish appearance, which normally does not suggest a proficient field operator. Despite having been a joke, she wore her callsign with some level of pride, and even based her infamous insignia off it. As she continued to accomplish numerous missions across the years, the callsign Pixie became less of a joke to laugh at, and more of a reminder to any opponents that she was also operating within the area, and only those confident enough to face her should get within her sightline.
Sasha Dupaulis was the daughter of Elisha Imogen Dupaulis, fathered by an hitherto unknown member of the nobility. Due to special circumstances, both her mother and father escaped any repercussions, and all record of Sasha and Elisha’s relationship to said noble has been scrubbed clean. As it stands, the only information that exists is within this entry. It is suggested that her father, or at least his family, had a high standing amongst the echelons of nobility, though it is not confirmed. Due to said special circumstances, however, Elisha Dupaulis was made to separate from her lover, leaving her with Sasha. As mentioned above, Sasha Dupaulis may have entered private military work long before she reached 16, inspired by the want to support her mother, before becoming a member of Trident, one of the numerous PMCs of Empyria. With the money she was making for her job, she managed to afford Elisha a comfortable life. Elisha Dupaulis passed away, peacefully, from an undiagnosed condition when Sasha was 21. Denying the help of her family members, Sasha paid for the funeral in full. She was said to be inconsolable for the next week, tendering her resignation from her current outfit. She later resurfaced, working under another outfit, Alsosprach Zarathustra, under the moniker and callsign Pixie, where she stayed for the next few years. On the last mission with AZ, she was pitted against an operative of Iscariots of Solarian in his mech. Her encounter was her entry ticket, so to speak, into the Iscariots. Defying all odds, she destroyed the mech and killed the pilot singlehandedly, allowing her coworkers time to accomplish their job. Her achievement was not ignored by the PMC that had just lost one member, and when AZ disbanded, she was immediately brought in to be recruited. Within record time, Pixie became part of the ranked numbers of the Iscariots, and currently sits at the rank of The Chariot.
Dupaulis is, as of this writing, waiting on repairs for her customised mech, having taken some heavy damage in the last sortie. She is currently undertaking a mission on foot.
A thoughtful and gentle soul, Aizu's reputation with the downtrodden and the dissatisfied and her naturally genuine nature make her more approachable than many government agents.
Skill Level: 3 | Type: Versatile
If Aizu has another affinity, it has yet to manifest through her own training. Instead, she makes sole use of her rare manifestation of Holy Magic. Despite her affinity's natural flexibility and her uncannily high power output, Aizu is often reluctant to resort to its usage for one main reason: her Demonoid body's natural aversion to its usage. The more she draws on her affinity, the greater her self-inflicted pain. Though her body seems no worse for wear as a result of its usage, the mental clouding caused by her use of it has the capability to interfere with her performance if not properly relegated.
"War never starts with the soldier or the citizen. But it always ends with them."
Contemplative, driven, and kind, Aizu's personality and motivations are intrinsically tied to her complicated feelings toward Empyria, and the complete annihilation of her homeland. Though she is forgiving of individuals, she maintains strong ire toward societal systems she deems unjust, as well as their upholders. Indeed, she sees her role within the Kaiser Knights as corrective, an opportunity to serve as a buffer between the state and its dissidents. Though the War on Raignork remains a festering wound upon her heart, she maintains a constant outward smile, doing her best to care for anyone she finds that needs caring. Going the extra mile due to both principle and need, Aizu is the sort that will put the needs of others in front of herself to a potentially detrimental degree, a trait which, though strengthening, also threatens to consume her.
When Aizu was only ten years old, she watched her world die.
Sometimes, even now, in the stillness of the evening, or the fading ends of her dreams before the morning wakes her, those visions return. The sound of executions, of gunfire in the streets. The endless wail of raid sirens. The pain in her chest and the burning in her legs as she ran, endlessly ran. The last glimpse of her best friend's tangled red hair as she was pulled out of sight by Empyrian soldiers. The sight of her parents from the interior of an evacuation craft, the safety of their daughter as the hatch slid closed comprising their single solace. The flash of light, blinding, as a planet's worth of souls disappeared in an instant.
Aizu had always learned that worlds died slowly. Their stars fell away over millions of years. Their people left for greener pastures aboard grand colony ships, signaling new possibilities. Their shorelines eroded, and their atmospheres clouded with dust and gas. Her world died in as much time as it took for her to shed her first tear over it. By the time it had wet the ground, everything she and those aboard that craft had ever had was gone.
Alongside a group of other refugees, she traveled from world to world in search of shelter and work, never finding one or the other for all that long; it was nothing if not another heavy blow to her already-shattered soul that she eventually found herself in Empyria on account of the bountiful opportunity the Empire supposedly had. The memories of that time are blurred, unloved; the sound of jeering Empyrians, the feelings of stones to the head and arms. Homes that did not feel like homes, all colorless in the context of her mind. Flowers in the sand and wooden crosses in the dirt, handmade memorials to memories the victors did not care to remember. Tears in her eyes at the manifestation of Holy magic, coveted by a populace that worshipped the very system that ripped away her way of life. A cruel twist of fate. Dirtied hands.
As she grew, her anger found a focus. The paradox of her surrounds twisted at her gut, breeding kindness that sprung from spite; no matter how many stones came her way, if she returned a single blow in response, her detractors would scream hypocrisy, that she was no better than they for her retaliation. So, she shrugged off their blows. She greeted them with smiles. She lived for their infuriation as their methods lost their effect on her. She devoted time to serving enclaves of Raignork refugees, and trained fervently so she may protect them. She took a position as a guardsman, and sacrificed her modest salary to better the lives of her lost countrymen.
Her horizons broadened, and more fell under her wing of care; Saygiens still lamenting the binding of their freedoms. Empyrian veterans with bodies ravaged by wars they had come to regret fighting. Her resentment shifted toward the yoke of ideology that motivated people to take eyes for eyes, to execute the uninvolved, to strangle the desire for freedom. There needed to be someone strong enough to protect the people from the system, and protect the system from itself.
Her ever-kind exterior became more genuine. Her drive for improvement became practically inhuman. The only way she would be able to raise herself to a rank where she could even dream of being the internal protector she felt was needed was if she managed to surpass what was practically the entire planet. Even as she relentlessly trained, she still made time for her good works, something which greatly increased her reputation amongst the downtrodden. Though she primed herself for a debut in the Tournament of Valor, her time never came--instead, she was given the opportunity to become the sixth Kaiser Knight. To this day, her acceptance remains a mystery to her. An olive branch to the dissatisfied, perhaps, or the leveraging of her reputation with more insular, less cooperative communities. To Aizu, it only matters so much. As long as she does not let Knighthood change her, as long as she remembers why she is there, as long as she makes the most of her opportunity--perhaps she will be able to usher in change after all.
Yet, despite her sincerity and cheerful goodwill, only time will tell if she manages to endear herself to her new companions in the Order, as well as those she works alongside.
As Knight Six, Aizu now serves as the newest member of the Kaiser Knight Order. Hoping to make up for her lack of experience through strength and competency, Aizu's need for improvement has only grown. Though she can already count herself as being among the best of the best by virtue of her selection for Knighthood, seeing the potential of some of the others she now serves alongside has fanned the flames of fear in her already-injured mind. After all, if she is to serve as a true barrier between a wayward Empire and its people, then she'll have to be capable of going toe-to-toe with those she now stands beside if ever pressed to do so.
Whether or not she currently can is not something Aizu is certain of. That she will be, however, is something she will strive toward until she reaches it, or until the last of her light is snuffed out of her.
Delpher is a self-taught master of the bow and arrow. He never misses a target and is not afraid to shoot.
Elements: Pyro, Electro
Skill Level: 1 | Type: Utility
What Delpher makes up for in archery he lacks in magical ability -- but despite his natural ungiftedness, he is still knowledgeable enough to be able to infuse his arrows with elemental magic. Pyro infused arrows carry fire and may ignite a target upon impact. Electro infused arrows carry a charge and may electrocute a target upon impact.
Delpher is enthusiastic, energetic, and determined to someday do great things -- much to the chagrin of those around him. He likes to think of himself as an all-important archer warrior and divine psychic whose fighting prowess and metaphysical talent will one day save the world (with such delusions only being fuelled further upon being chosen as an Iscariot of Solarian due to his, all things considered, genuine combat skill). Delpher practices a bastardized version of Shintoism, consisting of little more than meaningless rituals, as his family has not practiced their indigenous religion for generations since immigrating to Empyria. He is also convinced that he is a kitsune and will live for a thousand years and gain nine tails; this is not true, and he is a regular fox Hyzurian with a regular lifespan and a mere one tail, just like the rest of his family.
Delpher was born the second-eldest son to a common working family in Zhenra, where he and his siblings helped tend to the farm animals and picked up odd jobs wherever they could. His mother was a housewife; his father left town often on military business. This left Delpher and his elder brother in charge of providing for and protecting their mother and little sisters the majority of days. It was during this time that Delpher fashioned himself his first shoddy bow and would practice by shooting down squirrels for dinner.
Delpher was too young at the time to have been given many details on the situation, but he can still remember the build-up of events that left everything in his life spiralling in the wrong direction: his mother, pregnant with her fifth that this time shared a different sire, being divorced by his father, who turned his nose up at the lot of them as if he weren't running away into the arms of his mistress himself. Delpher's brother was nearly grown by this time, and he would spend all day doing the backbreaking work on the docks and in warehouses that Delpher couldn't yet, just to earn enough money to take care of their mother. It was a period of long nights and longer days, blistered palms and cracked knuckles, and finding extra snippets of sleep whenever they could as if it would make up for the growling hunger in their bellies, because whatever food they had their mother and sisters needed more. 'Course, the part Delpher remembers most clearly is when, after three weeks of shivering under ratty blankets in a draughty house full of winter chill, he was the one who found his brother's body hanging from the ceiling of their bedroom.
A lot after that was a blur. The body was taken away, Delpher screamed and cried like a child who didn't know what was happening (he did), the house was too quiet (quieter than usual) for someodd days until it was too loud (not loud enough) and all of a sudden Delpher had a baby in his arms because his mother spent too much time crying or laying in bed to take care of it.
Delpher, for a while, wallowed in his grief, as if just being sad enough for long enough would even things out and make the whole situation better. But it didn't, and eventually reality couldn't be neglected anymore when the baby got a cough from the draughty cold and he realized they were all going to die in this house like the trapped rats they were if he didn't suck it up and do something. His little sisters were just old enough by then that Delpher let it be their job to watch the baby while he tried to figure out a way for them all to eat, because it was the middle of winter and the five of them couldn't live forever off of the few eggs their hens still laid. Finding work was difficult when there were no crops to tend to and he was too young for mercenary work, but sometimes the other townsfolk took pity on him and gave him made-up jobs to disguise their charity, like scrubbing already-spotless floors for the third time or collecting from coops eggs that were never there. Of course, pity alone couldn't keep them alive, but Delpher managed. He always did. He had no choice.
(It's-- it's stifling, in here, it's too hot in the room and the fur behind Delpher's ears is matted down with sweat. His hair reaches his shoulders now, and he wishes he'd tied it up. The heat should be a good thing, this deep into winter, but there's nothing comforting about it, it feels more like the warmth that comes with a fever and all it does is make Delpher's stomach roil dangerously.
The hand that was tangled into the hair at the back of his head loosens its grip and begins to pull back. Maybe it was too obvious how much he didn't want to be here. Oops.
"Having second thoughts?" Delpher purrs, and he injects a little want into his voice, because he has to, because his sisters are too young, better him than them, it's only- it's hardly even two years, now, 'till he can join the military, so it's only for now, just for a little while he has to pretend, and then- and then someday he'll be doing something better, and nobody can tell him that this is all that he's worth, so for now- for now all he has to do-- he just has to pretend. "If you close your eyes it feels the same as a girl, I promise."
It does the trick. The hand in his hair tightens and Delpher closes his eyes and pretends he's somewhere else, far, far away.
The money is handed over and then he's left to clean himself up. Usually, he's at least glad to have earned something, but now he just feels sick and distantly empty. A measly handful of coin. Is that really all he's worth, now?)
When he has time, Delpher practices with his bow. He likes that he gets to be in charge of this, at least -- it is his bow, his arrows, if he shoots too low and misses his target then it's just his problem and one he knows how to fix. So he practices. And he gets better. And if nothing else, this, at least, he is good at.
The days pass and eventually he is old enough to join the military. This will be better. This is a job worth something, now. He can mail his earnings back home to his family and get the hell out of this town and never look back. Before he goes, though, he nocks an arrow and makes one more shot. Oops.
The next morning, he's cut his hair up to the nape of his neck. It feels lighter on his head. Free.
⠀Many years later, Zenko is approached by someone important. A representative of the Iscariots of Solarian. It figures, he thinks to himself, and bites his lip in a poorly-concealed grin full of fangs. He's not exactly a nobody, anymore. He's good at what he does. His bow is stronger, now, high-tech and deadly, and he's taught himself to mix his magic with the arrows.
Mercenary life suits him. He's number five. The Hierophant. Almost laughable, Zenko thinks, as he aims another elemental-infused arrow at the fleeting figure of the criminal he's been hired to target. He can feel the heat on his face from the flames licking up the shaft of the arrow, before he lets it go with a whistle. Spirituality and conformity. Yeah, right. He's over following somebody else's tradition. He's worth more than any of that. He makes his own beliefs, this time, or he'll die trying.
Years of training have left Nina with only hopes, intuitions, and a deep sense of unfamiliarity with her Exousiarch.
Skill Level: 3 | Type: Offense
Nina is prodigious in many forms of martial arts, as well as run-of-the-mill streetfighting and anything hand-to-hand; decades of training almost never disappoint her in the midst of battle. A mix of both incredible agility and dexterity allow her to perform debilitating attacks without much strength, manipulating her opponent's body and armaments to achieve her ultimate goal of victory.
Elements: Photomancy, pyromancy
Skill Level: 1 | Type: Offense
As much of Nina's formal training was dedicated towards development of her fighting and Cataract, her more plain magic has gone underdeveloped. Regardless, her affinities serve as small, dependable offenses in battle to throw her enemy off balance. Her most common applications are producing small flames to directly burn her opponent with, or creating a temporarily stunning flash of light. Her utility applications are much weaker.
If one were to imagine what either a noble of gold pedigree or diligent civilian servant would act like, both suggestions would fall far short of Nina.
She's only cruder than she is loud, and her choppy manner of speaking is often interrupted by vulgar jokes or childish breaks in composure; near Nina annoyance runs high and calmness low. This peculiar humor knows no bounds, inserting itself into every interaction she has regardless of rank, context, or sobriety. Despite this prevalent quirk, Nina is generally personable and has an almost nonexistent temper. She ties herself strictly to the doctrine of "What would my parents do", returning often with noble deeds in her plans. She is furthermore a hard worker, and relishes her success without gloating—in fact, despite the vicious pride and sense of home it brings her, she will inevitably steer the conversation in a different direction when questions fall on her achievements.
Despite a noble and cushiony upbringing, a sense of imminent replaceability looms on Nina's periphery at all times. At any moment's notice, she is prepared for upheaval, disgrace, a massive victory, or to hang on to her spot by her broken nails: most of the time, she simply has not decided which yet. She is shy to speak opinions that are purely her own, often choosing to limit herself to the realm of things that have already been told to her. Most of all, a deep sense of duty and instilled pride ties her irrevocably to her heritage, family, and the destiny bestowed upon her from a young age: to Nina, disgrace and failure are the same thing, and both a fate far worse than death.
Despite the apparent nature of Nina's upbringing, not once did anything ever seem out of place to her, as first and foremost she was taught to never complain.
Her education, delivered unto her primarily by her father and a litany of private tutors and professors, was for just over a decade the only ruling aspect in Nina's life. Daily, she would wake up, and go through rounds of studying to refine her mind and senses and training to polish her body into a fine instrument capable of anything requested from it. There was nothing else except her small break between the end of her training at 9 and her bedtime of 10, in which she would most often sit on one of the many ornate couches and listen to her parents yell through the walls.
When Nina was six, her parents stopped talking entirely, and what she gathered from this was that they had separated, which was not entirely untrue. But of course—as Nina was told—there are always much more important things in life than the whims of men and women. In the public eye, nothing at all had changed, and truthfully Nina felt the change little either. From this day forward, her father was the main figure in her life, although much smaller than her tutors, instructors, and staff.
Whether it was something she was born with or developed, Nina quickly grew into a prodigious example of skill and a pride to the family. Her grace and wit never developed alongside that, but as long as she had a solid future in the more combative sides of the government, all was well. Her father and seemingly everyone else she talked to had threateningly high expectations for her, and eventually, Nina did as well. One of the most notable events of her childhood was her competition in the Tournament of Valor as one of the youngest competitors that cycle. She made it nearly halfway before losing. Shortly afterwards she moved out and was drafted into the Raignork War a few months later.
Despite her service, Nina never saw the worst of the war, her position mainly in training the new and inexperienced drafted to fight. Her proficiency in weaponry and combat types diversified during this time, though she remained with her preference for martial arts. After the war was over, she promptly left the military and resumed training alone for the next Tournament. Though her first few rounds were insanely successful, her performance worsened exponentially throughout the matches, and she finished in third. It was through this that she became a Kaiser Knight, her reputation seemingly reaching far enough to bring her salvation.
Nina lives away from her family, and has not heard from her mother in almost two decades—her full efforts and concentrations are spent furthering her training and attending to her duties as a Knight. She awaits orders from Kaiser and orders from her few remaining family members. Otherwise, she has solid relations with other noble lines in the area, and occasionally serves as a mentor for their young.
'Always be prepared, meet the opposition immediately'. An easy summation of Sain's swordsmanship - the agent is never seen without his katana strapped to his belt while he's out in the field. Should he ever be forced into an engagement, he's simply prepared to make his first strike so devastsating that such an encounter ends as swiftly as it begins. While he has trained for longer bouts, he always seeks to have the advantageous first move.
Skill Level: 3 | Type: Combat/Utility
As someone physically trained, Sain has always relied more on common magic as a means to further augment his abilities. And thanks to his natural abilities as a Revenant, he has been able to apply magic to his swordsmanship for truly devastating results. Most notably, turning his sheathe into a rudimentary railgun to perform an extremely fast draw. Without his biology or blood-hardening powers, such a feat would easily tear apart another's arm.
A professional. Sain is someone who carries out the law and assignments he's given to their exact specifications. Though capable of bending the rules one way or another, this is simply a result of his own pragmatism. He's never taken pride in his job, whether as a simple detective or an agent for the ISD. A job's a job and the directorate's pay is sufficient enough. The man's cold professionalism is almost unsettling and among colleagues it's been said that he's never once smiled. Combined with his stellar record, whether intended or not, a gap has formed between him and other agents. Some would even go as far as to wonder if he's not some sort of highly advanced automaton given his cold, unfeeling demeanor.
It can also be observed that the Revenant seems to have no friends nor family to speak of in New Yurtivel - Sain is well and truly alone. Loneliness is something Sain has always dealt with - moreso in his adult life. And although one may grow accustomed to it, that stinging pain never truly ceases. He's aware of the gulf between him and others, and the wide berth many tend to give him unconsciously. But he has made no efforts to correct that - the image of an elite agent, at the end of the day, is far more conducive to his role as an ISD agent. If he has any hobbies, they're the sort that a solitary person can indulge in.
And perhaps because of his under-developed social skills and solitary nature, Sain is also someone who can be exceedingly blunt with his opinions. Nine times out of ten, he'll choose honesty over deceit if the situation doesn't call for either. His lack of attachment and professionalism also make him ideal as an investigator who mentally corners and breaks someone - having no compunctions in informing them of the reach of the ISD's methods and activities under the Book of Icarus's jurisdiction is one way. But careful psychological study and keen observation tends to yield better results. A paycheck is a paycheck, but doing a satisfactory job is necessary for continued fortunes, after all.
Though ultimately, at his core, Sain is someone who despises doing more than he needs to. Pragmatism dictates that he should only do as much as what's required - no more and no less. This philosophy has also resulted in a silent resentment for his meteoric rise to the ISD - while he enjoys the paychecks, he's ultimately not sure if the larger salary justifies the increased workload. Picking up swordsmanship and learning how to properly wield a katana is also intrinsically linked to this mindset - the katana was ultimately the most suitable weapon for a pre-emptive strike at close to mid-range. If the first strike disables or outright slays his opposition, then there's no need for a second or a third. Efficiency is but another important facet for the agent.
There's nothing particularly special about Sain's upbringing in the provice of Sanguinum nor his family life. By all accounts, he lived a normal life as the sole child with both his mother and his father present. Extra-curriculars during his formative years involved rock-climbing and swimming, but oddly enough nothing pertaining to swordsmanship. His mandatory service coincided with the brief Saygien Conflict and he was discharged with the rank of Corporal with no demerits to speak of.
After being discharged, Sain worked as a detective within one of Aucteraden's wards. Despite his best efforts to remain inconspicuous and otherwise un-scrutinized by the powers that be, Sain's comptence as an investigator and his high success rates ultimately forced him into a meteoric rise towards the upper ranks - ultimately landing him within the Bureau of Internal Affairs in the Aucteraden Police Department. His tenacity at rooting out dirty cops and conspiratous dealings during his time there brought him before the Directorate. Rather impressive considering his intentions to remain as low on the totem pole of law enforcement as possible.
Sain lives a solitary life in New Yurtivel, always prepared to travel if the directorate calls upon him. Regardless of the parameters, he'll bring back a satisfactory result for the organization. If he's managed to make any friends or connections, then they're unknown to even the most prying of eyes. ⠀
While his tenure with the ISD is relatively new, he's already managed to make waves as a notable newcomer and someone whose reputation precedes them. And whether or not his new position will manage to change him one way or another remains to be seen.
What Klauss lacks in formal training, she makes up for in adaptability. She learned her way around her blade and sidearm in cramped corridors and on unsure footing, and as such has learned to be able to do battle in practically any sort of environment. Be it a collapsing building, a river of lava, or even, god fibid, the low ground, she seems to be able to find a way to worm herself into a better position than her enemy.
Klauss is largely unpracticed in the magical arts, having relied entirely on her physical prowess in her youth. The spells she does know are mostly minor ones, engineered to disorient her foe or aid in her attacks.
A scoundrel woman plumbed up from the outer rim of the Empyrian Empire. Klauss is known amongst the nobility of Elesrith as being especially fervent in the pursuit and punishment of traitor nobility. In her decade of service as a Vanguard, Klauss has seen to the exposure and punishment of numerous ill-willed, blue-blooded lords and ladies, and as such has earned a reputation as quite a divisive character, especially when considering her low station of birth. Opinions of her tend to categorize her as either a bar of soap, helping to scrub the nobility clean of its impurities, or as a spiteful insect, abusing her station to take revenge on her betters.
Klauss was born under a distant star, under a different name. Her memories of her childhood are as distant and fleeting as the deep space mining station she once called home. She's able to recall cold, industrial hallways, laced with the everpresent aroma of grease and exhaustion. Her parents were a pair of engineers contracted to perform regular maintenance with the station's delivery pipelines, that after working together decided to do some work on some pipes of their own.
Given her environment, Klauss has little interaction with children her own age during her youth. On the odd occasion, she'd have the chance to meet with the child of some passing trader, but for the most part, she was stuck with the company of men and women ten times her age as a minimum. Life aboard the station was dull, her schedule just as mechanical and grey as the walls of her home.
Despite her lower station of birth, there was little that Klauss wanted for as a child. Her parents may have been commoners, but they were still of an educated sort, and their posting at the edge of the Empire came with enough benefits for the three of them to live both comfortably and safely. Her life was free of the complex politics that haunted those who led their lives in the inner worlds. Indeed, her parents' little asteroid away from it all was a shockingly safe place to spend their overextended honeymoon years, but it was also an absolutely dreadful place to raise a child.
Forget playing make-believe and running their the fields with the wind in her hair, to Klauss, the very planets themselves were an almost alien concept. She was almost a woman before she caught sight of her first speck of dirt that hadn't been blasted sterile by cosmic radiation, so dull and unchanging a place her childhood home was.
It was no surprise then, when her rebellious years were of a particularly explosive strain. Starved of stimulation as she was, Klauss's age hardly needed to be counted on two fingers before she was starting to break out on her own. She'd frequently take forrays out of the station, going on spacewalks in ill-fitting maintenance gear and stealing away in the gravity skiffs used to traverse the asteroid belt. She was undoubtedly bright, showing a keen enough sense of wit to, well, not get herself killed, but her parents were hardly supportive of her endeavours nonetheless. Screaming matches between Klauss and either of her parents were commonplace, and the other staff on the station afforded her less and less trust by the day.
Everything came to a head when one of Klauss's bolder ventures resulted in the destruction of a vital mining installation, endangering the lives of not only Klauss but several of the crew members, and setting the station back by several months of profit. Nobody was critically harmed, but her consistent disregard for the good of the station left her with two options: Be shipped off by her parents to the military, or strike out on her own before she was old enough to even drink.
She chose the latter.
Before her parents had the chance to have her conscripted, Klauss stowed away on the first trading vessel she could scurry her way onto. By the time she'd been found, they'd already make their way halfway across the quadrant, and returning the girl home would've been many times more effort than just dumping her at the nearest spaceport. It took some time, but eventually she managed to find employment as a legitimate member of another vessel that'd been left short of crew after some series of incidents. She took a new name, added a few years to her age, and then her new life began.
Klauss spent the next few years hopping between planets and crews both. She acted as everything from raw muscle to a cook to a grease monkey, and was fired more times than she can count. It was only after half a decade that she found a stable position in the crew of a so-called privateer, selling his services to the Imperial Navy. They'd patrol regions of space where Imperial presence was light, and see to taking care of anyone that had slipped under the radar of the Empire at large.
She spent the next decade plundering the ill-gotten gains of the galaxy's worst, starting out as little more than a cabin girl and eventually working her way up to a position as the right-hand woman of the vessel's captain. She'd crossed blades with scoundrels, gunned down starfighters, and ultimately even won the trust of both the crew and their Captain. It was surprising, given just how turbulent she'd been in her youth, but Klauss made for a surprisingly excellent officer. She was able to think quickly and cooly, and the brazen bullheadedness that'd driven her from homemade for an excellent leadership tool, once it'd been hammered into shape by a few character-building years of hard work.
Klauss, now a young woman, had been so taken with the thrill of her adventures that she failed to notice when things started to change. Their hits were harder and faster, and where they'd previously first send a warning, they begun to strike their targets before they had a chance to react. Klauss certainly had her doubts about the affair, but she'd been working with her Captain and crew for years at this point, and turned a blind eye without even realizing it. It was only when they eventually descended upon a trading vessel, one which she'd served aboard many years ago that she was forced to confront what they'd become.
Pirates. Criminals. Scum. Whatever you wanted to call it, it was clear that they'd strayed from the path that they'd been following for the better part of Klauss's lifetime. When she confronted the Captain with her concerns, he was apologetic but ultimately unwilling to change his ways. Business was bad, he said, it was all for the crew, he claimed. His tongue was silver and his words were honeyed, and worst of all, Klauss wanted to believe what he had to say. She'd approached him wanting to steer the vessel back onto a safer path, and had left as a reluctant accomplice.
For a few listless months she worked more closely with the Captain than ever, scoping out which routes they could plunder safely, hiding the true nature of their work from the rest of the crew, and desperately trying to make things go back to the way they were. It was only when the Captain approached her with a glint in his eye and a certain scheme in mind that she came to her senses. One last job, one huge hit that'd take them from destitution to riches in a single day's work. It was all they needed to not only get back on their feet, but be better than ever. They'd be able to put aside this spacefaring nonsense altogether and live lives of luxury like they were the nobility of Elesrith itself.
The target? A mining station, barely registered on any Imperial maps, and laden with resources that they'd be able to peddle off for an incredibly pretty penny. It was obviously a familiar sort of place to Klauss, and that familiarity was exactly what she needed to snap herself to her senses. She realized more than ever just how far they'd sunk, and took it upon herself to put a stop to it. She rallied the crew together and told them what their Captain was planning, but not even half of them took her side. Tensions quickly boiled, and try as Klauss might have to manage the situation, it wasn't long before the crew broke out into a brawl, and it was even shorter still before the first blood of drop was spilt.
The men and women she'd worked with, the family she'd found, both collapsed in an instant. The Captain was enraged, spitting at her words of bloody murder and betrayal, and she was forced to cross blades with the man she considered a second father. By the end of that day the ship was in flames, and Klauss's life had collapsed, but she at least managed to escape in one piece.
Her escape pod drifted through space for a matter of weeks, during which Klauss had ample time to reflect on what she'd done, what she should have done, and what she'd do next. By the time a passing military vessel finally scooped her up, she had a rough plan in mind. Regardless of how things had ended, her time sailing through the stars had left her with a set of skill that'd make any handyman swoon, so she'd put them to good use. She spent the next few years travelling inwards, towards the Empire's core. She took on as much mercenary work as she could as she went, filling her pockets with coin and honing her skills to as sharp a point as she could muster.
There was some purpose for her out there, some reason she'd escaped that day with her life, and she was going to find it. During that time she made quite a name for herself, and the flash of her sword and the crack of her pistol became feared by the lowlife of the Empire. By all means she was doing well for herself. Her pockets were stuffed and her name was spreading, but it all rang hollow. In the eyes of her grateful clients she saw reflected the dead she'd buried, and in the corpses of her victims she saw only what she herself deserved.
It was only by happenstance that she decided to participate in the Tournament of Valor. She'd travelled to the Empire's core on little more than a whim, so when she'd arrived only weeks before the Tournament was set to take place, she took it as a sign from fate. She'd enter the Tournament, fight her hardest, and if she failed, she'd end her own life that very night.
Perhaps it was because of that decision that Klauss managed to perform as well as she did. The further she drove her way through the tournament, the stronger her drive to win, to live became. The jeers of the crowd and the dance of blows she exchanged with her opponents returned to her a sense of adventure that she'd not felt in years, and before she knew it'd she'd been swept up in the thrill of it all. It was hard-fought, but at the end of the day she stood at the top of the ladder, and was faced with what followed.
Honestly, she was halfway tempted to just run away. Klauss was about as far from a politician as one could get, and her win was hardly a popular one, but this was the sort of chance she'd likely not get again in her lifetime. So she let the greed that her good Captain had taught her take the wheel, and decided to give this Vanguard business a shot.
During her decade-long tenure as a Vanguard, Klauss had managed to make no shortage of enemies. She's good at her job. Shockingly, frustratingly, and painfully good at her job, to the chagrin of Klauss herself just as much as the corrupt nobility and criminal underground. She's done very little in terms of the management of Elesrith, but has more than made up for it through her countless busts of criminal rings in both the state's upper and underworld.
In more recent years she's taken a back seat to the front lines of her operations, electing to play the manager to a select group of trustworthy military folk and mercenaries, and as such her martial abilities have withered somewhat. While she's still no slouch, if she were to enter the Tournament of Valor today as she did ten years ago, she'd likely not see as much success as she previously did.
a large degree of know how on fixing verious things form mech guns to the printer or even construction of drones and other devices,
Elements: pyromancy& photomancy
Skill Level: 2/2 | Type: offensive/utility
mostly zengren uses there magic to assist them with repair and maintenance of there equipments and vehicles, combat wise are an incident that left them without a vehicle they learned to use there pyromancy in a more offensive way and to cook bacon bits .
Kariko is best described and cynical if determined having lost their previous no-nonsense attitude as long as the job gets done they really couldn’t care less if your methods aren't perfect as long as it gets the job done. of course when the situation calls for it she can put on a much nicer attitude if such a thing is called for afterall being a cynical i don't care person at all times tends to be an issues just as much as how she previously acted. don't expect her to get any super if she warms up to you Kariko will probably just bully you a bit more in that joking sort of way. Her closest friends however get the nice treatment.
kariko grew up in Sanguinum her family lived there and were machine workers, naturally she got a good hang of repairing operating and assembling verious’s kinds of machinery in her youth and having made friends with a boy called Yamagata, whom would go on to become known as “breaker” Kariko on the other hand, ended up finding her factory job rather mundane thusly decided she might as well become a mercenary, turned out she was a bloody good one at that, preferring to stick to vehicles and her own personal mech that’s at this point a chimera of various different models. Though in recent months she’s gotten a little sick of the newer recruits..
currently remains working for the IOS not much has changed since then having picked up some extra field equipment for ground work after a few incidents that needed her out of her mech Zengren doesnt really plan on stopping work any time soon. Though hopes to open a coffee shop one day. having missed out on the mech heavy job she’s a bit more irritable then normal.
To arrive at astounding results invisible to normal eyes. Able to make specific observations and measures, and use them to begin to detect patterns and regularities. Being able to formulate tentative hypotheses. In which leads to answers being solved.Quiet useful when dealing with people who have died from violent and suspicious activities
Elements:Shadowmancy and Enchantment Magic
Skill Level: 3 | Type: Offense/Utility
Her shadowmancy is used to conceal herself in Demonoid like shade , making it as if she is invisible , however if she gets within 15ft of someone they can see her. Enchantment magic imbues her with the power to strengthen her own body , especially her hands which are armed with claws and two tails on her lower back operating as lashers. Making them as sharp as blades , She can even momentarily evolve her body augmenting them with more surface area to slice and dice.
Des is obsessed with death she is a person with a laid back but dark personality. But she is intelligent and very good at her job. A macabre woman who comes off as pretty sarcastic, Desdemona's eccentricity makes others view her as a freak , resulting in further alienation from staff. She even has her own corner in the medical examiners facility. Someone who makes no effort to be popular and instead makes friends with the poor corpses who lay on her operating table.
Although strangely, she is very polite and quite positive. If you can get past her unnerving demeanor Desdemona is pretty friendly. Des loves to go with the flow of everyday life but can quickly be more serious, which to some is even more unnerving giving to how she usually acts. Even when Desdemona was young she was quite quirky, it was only after witnessing the brutal death of a random woman did her slightly strange but sweet personality warp into what it is now.
On the outside, she may seem a bit unstable, but her years in the military combined with her childhood have made her resilient, stubborn, and tough all around.
“The goal of all life is death” – Sigmund Freud
Born to a mother who was an escort, Desdemona was quickly abandoned soon after she was born. Her mother intended for her to die, throwing her, a baby who had just been born a few minutes prior into a trashcan in the alleyway, Desdemonas start was already filled with hardship. She somehow managed to survive the night, workers the next day could hear the weak but still audible cries, and inside was the newborn Desdemona. Through child services, she was reunited with her family, her mother's aunt Beatrice. Although in writing it sounded good, her aunt was also in poverty and lived with 7 of her children, Des was just another tax claim for a bigger income.
Luckily her aunt didn't forget to enroll her in public school. Academics was where she excelled, doing homework was her favorite part of the day. Especially when she came home, using it to block out the constant screaming and chaos in her household. Usually, however, she would be needed to do things other than learning how to use PEMDAS.
A life of crime was something that she had to partake in, even though she lived in a low-income district, there was just too much demand from her family to survive on government assistance alone. Desdemona was the youngest at the time only 12 when her life took a turning point. It was just supposed to be a routine larceny, Desdemona had homework she was supposed to finish up on. Maybe it was due to her rushing that when she tried to swipe the wallet in the women's open purse, she noticed and grabbed the young demonoid girl by the wrist. This was the first time Des had ever been caught for doing something she knew she shouldn't have done. As both parties struggled for the wallet Desdemona managed to pull hard enough to steal it and made a ran for it. Those few minutes felt like hours, her limbs felt pinned to her sides and it was as if she was running through molasses. But she had rehearsed for this scenario with her cousins multiple times, they knew this area inside and out, so there was no way Des would be caught. She was partially lucky in that it was night time and most honest people wouldn't leave their homes.
But the weather was not on her side.
Turning the curb Desdemona tripped on an oil-filled puddle, scraping both her knees and the palms of her hand as she tried to keep her head from hitting the ground. She could hear the woman's footsteps pleading for someone to help her, but they both knew no one would come. Only when Desdemona tried to stand up did she realize that she had sprained her ankle, not even enough time to process her next step the woman was hovering above her before she knew it. At that moment, the only thing Desdemona could feel was panic, would she go to jail? would this woman kill her? How would her aunt react to her being caught? Would she starve her? Beat her? Lock her in the closet for a few days? The only thing des could do was throw out a kick from her uninjured leg, and that was all it took. Not being hit by a car, or stabbed or shot, all Des did was kick the woman off-balance, the fall could have only been a couple of feet but the hit to the head was all it took for this woman's life to end.
When the woman stopped moving, and the blood started to rush out of her head Desdemona rushed to her side for a moment, she tried to pick her head up to awaken her but as soon as the young girl's fingers felt that back of the woman's head, it felt like rice crispies, crunch, loose, bloody. She stared at the woman for a moment, she looked so relax , her eyes were dilated but slightly closed, her muscles eased which left her mouth open if no one knew you could almost say she was asleep. Her skin was already beginning to grow pale, and with the onslaught of rain and thunder, she looked like a ghost. Desdemona closed her eyes and laid her on the ground and placing her wallet by her side, she knew she had just committed the ultimate offense, her hands were covered in blood but at that point, she didn't care, she ran even on her sprained ankle. She ran until she got home. To her relief her family didn't really care that she was covered in blood and drenched in rain, so she headed for a shower.
The next day on the news, the death of that woman was announced, She was a single mother of two named Rose Geloni. Two little girls to be precise, and she also worked at a grocery store, she was 31, half Demonoid, and pregnant with a third child. Although an investigation was ongoing for some time, the authorities deemed it an accidental death in the end. She fell on a puddle and hit her head.
Desdemona could never truly recover, she was racked with guilt for so long the only solace she could muster up was that at least she looked peaceful when she died. The rest of Desdemona's life stayed relatively the same, She was enlisted into the Imperial army ground forces at the age of 17 and received an honorable discharge after her service. She essentially had the role of a team leader in the medical division which helped her get into a medical school without a bachelor's degree.
Des tries to atone for her sins by helping others who died of unnatural and violent deaths find answers and by living an honest life. She lives on the outskirts of Seraphiel and takes about 50 minutes to get to her job which is in the city. No one really knows much of Desdemona, her role at the Imperial Security Directorate is a small one in the grand scheme of things.
She spends most of her time at home watching mukbangers for hours wondering how this isn't an Olympic sport. And she has a pet cat named Garfield who she regularly takes out on walks at the pet shelter to laugh at the other cats.
Lilianna prefers to use her skills in less direct ways, usually as a sneaky saboteur scouting ahead behind enemy lines. In a fight, she doesn’t have the firepower or need to mow down foot soldiers, rather she’s there to pick off vulnerable high value targets.
Tear gas and fool’s gold, illusions and eliminations. The winds of fortune may be but a spectre.
Aeromancy can manipulate sound and smoke, skills developed for the illicit windfalls of her past. Photomancy allows for temporarily flashbanging people and creating mirages, also crucial for good old grand larceny. Pseudo invisibility by basically green screening herself to not be visible from a certain angle is possible, but unreliable.
Lilianna is highly reclusive about her personal life. Though she can and will talk your ear off given half a chance, she will drive the conversation to be about anything other than her. Her demeanor is describable as “friendly, but not a friend,” affable but slow to really trust. Despite an appearance of outgoing cheerfulness, she is more of a calm and observant person, thinking with her head rather than her heart, barring the occasional moment where she snaps. Lilianna prefers to think of herself as a realist, though it occasionally slips into pessimism. As an extension of this, she isn’t some Good Samaritan saint or Robin Hood handing out free money. Little holdovers from her past include being skilled at deception and persuasion, constantly having a plan B or C prepped, and the ability to constantly scan the environment and notice small details.
Lilianna learned to take life’s sucker punches early on.
Her parents met in the usual way. Hotshot businessman meets attractive coworker, they perform acts that cannot be discussed within polite company, new coworker arrives, hotshot leaves, never to be seen again.
For those in between years, life was good. That just made the sudden turn to misfortune all the worse. Her carefree life in the City of Opportunity turned into a struggle to survive, where opportunism was a necessity to see another day.
Turning to crime to support her mother, she would end up as part of one of many minor gangs, having to learn the business of black market deals, thievery, and even shootouts through good old trial and error.
It worked. And once again, things were looking up.
For about five seconds, anyways. Her mother soon found out how she was getting this extra money and delivered an ultimatum. Quit now or leave and don’t come back or help her until she was on the straight and narrow path.
Lilianna was in too deep to give it up. Now left on her own, she threw herself further down the slope of illegality. Her devotion to the crooked life was enough to get her recruited into a small group dubbing themselves the Cullinan Gang. Not concerning themselves with petty crimes, the group would spring directly for major robberies, soon becoming notorious for their constant success.
Soon, this unstoppable force would soon meet an unmovable object. That object would be the Seraphiel branch of the First Aucteraden Bank, famous for having never been successfully broken into in its almost 150 years of business. Confidence turns to complacency, and that belief that the place was unrobbable would be the downfall of the guards. Lucky for them, the place would be showing off its security and vault to shareholders. Said security would be easier to disable and the vault would be overflowing. It was the perfect heist. In and out right under their noses, leaving an empty treasury and with enough money to never have to pull a job ever again. Of course, just because they didn’t need to perform anymore robberies didn’t mean they didn’t attempt more anyways.
…Lady Luck isn’t always going to be on your side.
It was supposed to be a simple take. Sneak into a gang’s illegal gambling operation, steal the jewelry prizes, get paid by their rivals.
Underground, turnabout is fair play.
As far as anyone was concerned, the Cullinan Gang was finished. Lilianna went into hiding, not like anyone was looking for her—nobody could have survived an explosion like that.
Several months passed until she finally started making moves to rejoin society proper. That year wasn’t spent idly, rather she was constantly plotting and planning. The only job that fit her criteria of “paid well enough to explain her ludicrous wealth,” “involve something I’m actually good at,” “doesn’t involve the government staring me in the face,” and “somewhat legal” was mercenary work. Honing her marksmanship skills, she worked with her connections and started joining various PMCs, under a new codename. Horizon, Spirit, Alph, Crystal Helix. Cheap contractors where one got what they paid for at best, but a start. She once again started to gain a reputation for being a consistent clandestine operator. Of course, low budgeted PMCs do not an offworld account worth more than some royal families make. The choice was either get to the top or get found out and subsequently arrested for income tax evasion.
She chose the former, jumping on a vacancy within the legendary Iscariots of Solarian and putting herself into position to be recruited as a stealth specialist.
She definitely still qualifies as a newbie to the team, and this is compounded by her unusually high rank and more unconventional style of operation. Dirty tricks with smoke and mirrors they may be, but they get the job done.
Her time alone is usually spent wandering the streets and admiring landmarks or natural spaces, occasionally challenging herself to try and figure out a place’s security—old habits die hard.
Having achieved his primary target to win the Tournament, it's been years since the teaching's focus shifted to the progression of his Exousiarch traits. Thanks to contacts from the Beaumont with a certain Cataclysm wielder, the transition into phase 3 became only a matter of bureaucracy. As part of the House of Divinity, Émile's healing capabilities could receive potential bonuses, but this attribute is yet to be seen in action.
Specialty: Qiang Shu
Skill Level: 2 | Type: Support
The fundamentals of his combat techniques were based on this ancient sport from the times previous to the birth of Empyria. From mastering the individual acrobatics to the handling of his weapon, the art of the spear enabled him not only to make his movements hard to predict, but to gain prestige for lethality of his precision thrusts.
It's only been recent that he's gained some familiarity with defensive hydromancy, being relatively succesfull with casting frontal and surrounding shield spells as he uses his spear. Healing spells and white sheets for his rune drawings compose his enchantment set to help with wounds and injuries of his team.
Even after being practically tortured by many of his own blood throughout the making of a tournament champion, his respect and pride for the Beaumont’s background has stayed intact, well separated from any kind of disgust against the current genealogy he had to put up with. Serious and stubborn most of the time, his strategic thinking and process of analysis have given him enough confidence to prefer working in a more autonomous way, though not ignoring the inherent benefits an efficient group can give to the results of any type of mission.
Having lived isolated adolescence, he was incapable to fully comprehend the nature of the lower echelons of society. But after entering the Tournament of Valor, this has been able to change in the course of years, gaining sensibility for the micro-data and the individuals it represented, as opposed to the prosperous macro numbers the empire showed. ets to show signs of empathy. As a result of his past experiences, he’s focused on trying to abstain from harm dealing anyone if possible.
Being born in one of the noble families who’d received the Exousiarch from The Founder herself, part of a surviving lineage from the glorious defense of Empyria during the Great Wars, Émile ended up discovering his Caract amidst the luxurious neighborhoods of Elesrith. Though the regular schedule of the family didn't break away from the regular life aristocracy tend to have, ranging from extended corporation meetings to social gatherings where opulence became the star of the night. Tradition demanded from him, as a firstborn and opening to the next generation to come, following their own interpretation of the Agarthian faith, the kid's fate had already been written down. From the age of 8 onwards, his preparations for the Tournament of Valor would commence.
The harsh training he had to tolerate for his endurance, the punishments, lacerations, and scorching he endured for his lacking performance against his tutors, the sleep deprivation, stress positions, coupled with teachings from the days of yore and the techniques of the spear he wielded. All part of the process of making a genuine competitor for what the Beaumont family had been looking for, desiring for decades now. The victor of the Tournament having their family crest proudly fly over the arena, opening them a spot inside the public affairs of the nation. A hand of their kin turning a knob to lead the empire their ancestors tirelessly protected from the foreign invader. A yearned path of commitment to servitude for the youngest child under the Collbrande’s guidance. Perhaps… maybe one day, the Beaumont would be rewarded for their unconditional allegiance with a Collbrande of Elesrith.
Only the chapel masses helped him find relief, some kind of comfort believing in an entity whose cause is right, helping the nation develop, taking them down the road of Ophelia’s grace. The noons under the clerics' guidance enlightened him. After years of being prepared to evolve into an expert of combat, priests taught him runes and spells in order to heal those in dire need of aid, contradicting the principles on which his martial discipline was based. They soon realized he was a candidate who had the necessary stamina qualities that were needed to aim for more demanding spells, in which incarce fluctuation could easily make people faint if their formation hadn't been the proper one. Those were short classes, but it was their insightfulness through their words that inspired him to strive for something different, right at the end of his militaristic journey.
But he could only save those memories aside, as the arrival of the Tournament proved to be far more complicated for him to take over. Even more, as it progressed, from subjugating the opponent to acts of savagery in the arena which everyone applauded, a joyful gory festival, and Émile one of the main artists to come. Round after round, fight after fight, it would feel like an endless dance of attempts to finish the fight before the killing methods became inevitable for the win. He couldn't find any sort of peace in his heart, even after knowing the revival of the casualties would come, for he knew deep inside him that somehow, these clashes didn't have to end in bloody ceremonies. But, after all, this seemed to be the true blessing of Ophelia. As the vanquisher of the Tournament, finally reaching his purpose as a Beaumont, the scheme they’d drawn out for him from the very beginning of his Cataract development, it was about time to take the reins of his life. Especially now, Émile, from the House of Divinity and Vanguard of Imperius.
Now, as another gear in the whole political mechanism behind the curtains, his goals differed from those intended by his family. It wasn’t anymore about holding their banner high up and revive tales of fame for those Beaumont's who little time had left to enjoy life. The Collbrande position was tempting him, for independence to be attained once and for all.
Currently, life in politics has been harsher than the initially thought, having to deal in numerous occasions with angered citizens at the public announcements in the city. Even confronting a couple of reactionaries protesting immediately after the enactment of certain economic policies. Aside from the misfortunes with the public opinion, organization topics haven't proven to be a nuisance at all, in fact, becoming pleasing to his sight whenever everything's in its place, a rare occurrence indeed when it comes to regional or national business. The nobility meetings that require to be taken place with the neighbors of Elesrith though haven't changed for him, compared to how reunions back at home with their similes unfolded every now and then, especially after the masses.
In regards to whatever free time he has, he's trying to live somewhat of a peaceful life far away from home matters, changing what used to be his time perfecting his weapon handling, to deepening studies as a combat medic. And trying to find out how to correctly focus his incarce in a water wall rune.
Fehl's Exousiarch has manifested as an infantile eldritch entity, residing within a pocket dimension directly linked to Fehl's body. This entity, named Vheros, utilizes a symbiotic relationship, wherein Fehl helps the entity cultivate through either his own life essence or other external forms of energy. This directly correlates to how much Fehl consumes; consequentially, his calorie intake is incredibly high. As debilitating as this may be, Vheros promises Fehl that he will eventually allow him to utilize aspects of himself, though is currently too young to do so. This entity appears to be entirely unrelated to demonology, though it may appear initially similar in nature — rather, it is an anomaly of reality, whose magic is grotesquely unique. Other than the standard benefits of an Exousiarch, all Fehl has been granted is both debilitating hunger and a voice in his head.
Skill Level: 3 | Type: Offense
Both an unstoppable force and an immovable object, Fehl's ability to dish out punishment is only overshadowed by his overwhelming stamina and endurance. When engaged in combat, Fehl's primal instincts completely take over. He ignores the pain and pushes through, while simultaneouly maintaining his skill with the blade.
Elements: Shadowmancy, Pyromancy
Skill Level: 1, both. | Type: Offensive
Having disregarded regular magic for the most part, Fehl's capabilities are lackluster. He primarily utilizes pyromancy and shadowmancy for pure offense, ignoring the more technical applications they may provide. Even then, his capabilities are at a minimum.
Overall, Fehlek is composed and competent in his actions, usually taking the time to think things through and apply logic to whatever issue he may be facing — this is especially true during combat, where he becomes dead silent and laser focused. This isn't universal, however: if the issue concerns people he's close to, emotion may take priority. Given the choice between saving one loved one or one thousand strangers, he'd find it difficult to decide. As appealing as the "greater good" may be, being a little selfish sometimes is just human nature. Needless to say, if you're a friend of his, his loyalty and attachment is unbreakable.
When interacting with others, he's sociable, though is relatively unrefined and somewhat child-like — as much as he may try to hide it. Even so, he seems to be polite and quick to correct his mistakes. He maintains a positive outlook on the future and aims to constantly have a goal in mind, as it serves to keep him moving forward. Humbled due to his past, viewing someone as beneath or inferior to himself is a trait he never inherited, unlike most nobility.
One of his strong-suits is his unbreakable will, ever moving forward through hardships without hesitation. He promised himself that giving up was never an option; consequentially, the boy's incredibly stubborn, seldom changing his mind. His moral compass is rigid, but not unbreakable — the Empyrian Empire requires him to do things he would rather not involve himself with. Reluctantly, he obeys.
Fehl desires a role — he wants to make an impact, to be part of something bigger. No matter what it may be, he'll find a way to leave a mark on history.
Fehl was born into a family of nobles, both conceived and abandoned by them in Elesrith. Their reason for abandoning him is unknown, but the truth is likely more simple than one would expect: they simply didn't want a child. As prosperous as the province was, the poor and unfortunate will always manifest, as unlucky circumstances can't be avoided forever. Those who lived in poverty, ironically, were those who Fehl considered to be his true family. They could've let the young boy waste away, but instead saught to educate and prepare him for reality. One particular man, Bernard Raumos, acted both a father figure and mentor to Fehl. An aged man, Bernard was well out of his prime, having served in the Imperial Army many years ago. A skilled warrior, his teachings were what allowed Fehl to stand out. Nearly all of Fehl's combat knowledge came from the veteran, who relentlessly hammered discipline into the boy. As important as the ability to fight was, becoming a decent human being was a skill in its own right. Many of the mannerisms and ideals that Fehl has now were passed on from Bernard.
Unfortunately, age began to catch up with the old man. When Fehl was 16 years old, Bernard passed away, but not without heavily influencing Fehl's future. Fehl's determination was contagious — it was obvious that he had no intentions of staying shackled to the life he was born into, especially after the mark Bernard left upon him. This work ethic allowed him to enlist in the military, though he would never forget the hospitality and kindness of the destitute; most of all, Bernard was eternal, living on in his heart. The one he considered his true father. Inheriting Bernard's last name, Raumos, Fehlek left his old life behind and began serving the Imperial Army. Around the same time, the beginning stages of his Exousiarch manifested, revealing his noble blood not only to Empyria, but to himself. Luckily, this worked out in Fehlek's favor. Not only did the choice of creating his own noble bloodline align with his goals, but the methods of acheiving said goal were something he had already set his mind on: serving the Imperial Army.
As the years went on, Fehl grew curious about Tournament of Valor. Given how he excelled in the military, he believed he had the skills to be the Champion. The rewards one would reap if victorious were especially appealing. Needless to say, his mind was made up:
A recent addition to the Vanguards of Imperius, Fehlek was granted the esteemed position after participating in the most recent Tournament of Valor. His unwavering resolve allowed him to endure the pain inflicted upon him during the bloodshed, be it physical slashes traced upon his flesh or mental anguish inflicted as he watched countless men and women cut each other down. As awful as it was, an individual had to numb themselves in events like this and focus on succeeding, no matter the cost. Pulling through by the skin of his teeth, Fehl managed to procure the title of "Champion." However, personal celebration was short-lived, as idle hands cultivated uneasiness within Fehl. Without direction and structure, he would find himself unsatisfied and without a purpose. Fehl's salvation came in the form of the Vanguards — his recent victory in the barbarous tournament making him eligible for the 15th position. After joining, Fehl began to dabble in something which he had seldom regarded as important for a large portion of his life: politics. Under the direction of the Collbrande of Elesrith, it was inevitable for each Vanguard to assist in governing the province, as it is one of their many duties as one of the Vanguards. Unbeknownst to Fehl, politics would become an undertaking he deeply enjoyed. Learning about the inner workings of not only his province, but the entire empire, proved to be something that piqued Fehl's interest. As green as he may be to the Vanguard, the gleam in his eye indicates a genuine curiosity in continued education about governing and the intricacies surrounding it. Furthermore, as out of reach as it may seem, becoming a Collbrande is a goal that provides ample motivation for improvement and continued success. Fehl has latched onto this possibility — for the purpose of both increasing his significance and as a way to show his respect to the empire.
As he continues to learn the many functions of government and finds his place within the Vanguard as a new blood, he simultaneously seeks out opportunities to keep his skills sharp. Be it practicing on his own or sparring with whoever is up for it, he finds a way — even if he has to keep his identity anonymous.
In the short time he's been a Vanguard, he's saught to build a positive reputation with the Collbrande, assisting in many political affairs. His primary focus has been on economic policies, where he aims to improve living conditions for the impoverished and commoners while maintaining the nobility's luxury. Luckily for him, this means he's built up a reputation as a generous, compassionate individual among a decent portion of the public. Some nobles, however, see his actions as a waste of time. With that said, Fehl doesn't completely ignore other points of interest, trying to absorb as much experience as he possibly can.
In Aucteraden, the corporate world is just as twisting and winding as the streets below its glistening glass towers. Finding and retrieving information is only the first part of the battle, but being able to understand that gibberish is the next great barrier. Akiba excels in auditing through data to find discrepancies, nonsense, and vital information.
Elements: Photomancy, Aeromancy
Skill Level: 2 | Type: Utility
Akiba's elemental prowess lies with illusions, specifically using Photomancy for making nonmoving visual illusions and Aeromancy for auditory illusions. While it can be used offensively, such as a blinding light, she is much more practiced in using it for avoidance than confrontation.
Despite the nonviolent tendencies connotated with her namesake; Akiba feels raging, destructive and blinding light that glimmers and consumes her thoughts ray by ray. This light burns to wreak vengeance upon the Arcalion Syndicate that killed her twin sister, to achieve redemption for her own actions that spurred that tragedy, and to spite the ones that called her improper and unfit to walk the same path as many before her.
While she holds the belief that avoidance and craftiness will always trump confrontation, which holds close to her typically melancholic nature, her attitude is liable to change. A calm and focused mood can swings wildly for small reasons into a disproportionate amount of anger, then just as quickly settle into a gleaming smile. Her mood wanes and flickers like the light of a flame with the same reckless and foolhardy nature as it was the very first few years she joined the Imperial Security Directorate. However, the ISD changed her as it does most that are under its employ.
Throughout her career as an ISD Agent, her temper was tempered. The cooling of a blazing star. As such, she has dimmed. Her spontaneous nature was replaced with something that is cautious, controlled. That flippant sense of following with whatever life had in store for her next is now something she must grasp and control. With her responsibilities mounting, she starts matching the inflexible and business-like attitude of the Imperial Security Directorate. She is much more liable to cooperate with others, hold her duties respectfully, and follow the written law—so long as they do not seem inconvenient to her ambitions.
However, that light still seeks to consume, to engulf all that Akiba can see. To allow herself to be consumed or to shape that light into something anew will be something she will have to form herself.
The follow is currently the concrete facts that will stay unchanged:
* A mixture of Akiba and the Arcalion Syndicate caused the death of Akiba's twin sister.
* Akiba learned much of the corporate world before joining the Imperial Security Directorate.
* Minorly affected by the Saygien Conflict. It's what got her to move to Aucteraden with her twin.
A few questions to ask to get a better feel for the character before properly making the backstory:
* Would this character work better as an active agent, or as an almost director-esque character like a commissioner, with the espionage specialty?
* Can Aeromancy be used for sound? I don't want it to sound (ba-dum-tiss) too much of a stretch.
Currently pursuing leads on the Arcalion Syndicate with fiery and almost disgustingly intense fervor. For even a dove must soar the sky and spread its wings in search food. As such, the gathering of specific individuals to raid against the syndicate has piqued her interest.
A devoted maid can resolve almost anything. From the Kaisers' habitual schedules to that of the Knights' mundane appetites, nothing is untouched by Bethlehem's resilient memory. Sporting a hospitable demeanor to complement her vast knowledge of the culinary art, Bethlehem can turn a bad day around with her organized resolutions. Trained in the arts of diligence and grace, Bethlehem can facilitate almost everything with speed, whether it be a grocery trip or making sure the Knights achieve tactical superiority by efficient logistics. Should the Kaisers or the Knights wish it, she will make it happen.
Elements: Cryomancy / Enchantment
Skill Level: 2 | Type: Healing / Support
Bethlehem specializes in minor incarce support, typically incorporating ice magic to create choke points or delay enemy movements. Her cryomancy expertise is also used to treat wounds and injuries by adept hydrotherapy. The latter is typically accompanied by a fine blend of high-grade tea recipe to soothe the soul. Supported by minor enchantment abilities, she can strengthen her allies' damage output and keep their equipment in good shape from behind the scene. Armed with these two schools, Bethlehem can prove to be a potent auxiliary on the field as she is a reliable maid.
On the outside, Rieper may appear to be an aloof personnel, one can easily mistake her true intentions with what she presents. She chooses her acquaintances with care, aligning herself to those she deems to be worthy of her time. In general, she receives strangers and guests with courtesy and a polite tone. A figure that is hard to read, Rieper is a controversial figure to say the least - all in the name of serving the Kaisers. While she has personal aspirations, she does not let it cloud her priorities and judgments. Behind her indiscriminate dealing with others, Rieper has a soft spot for certain things that are only unveiled when one indulges her presence long enough. Beyond the scope of her personal preferences, little else of note is worth mentioning outside of her predesignated psychological evaluations.
A servant of House Kaiser, raised to serve their master's purpose in the field or at home. Rieper comes from a long line of the Kaisers' established retinues. Being a Kaiser maid requires both grace and competent fidelity, something Rieper possesses down to the letter. Trained by the Head Maid from a young age, Rieper has an intricate knowledge of House Kaiser's engagements, histories and schedules. From mundane jobs to that of personal matters that require eloquent competency by their subordinates, Rieper has never once failed to carry out her masters' will. Like most of her peers, Rieper endured harsh training that transformed her into a deadly instrument for the Kaisers' purpose. Ever since a young age, she have always looked up to the Knights with reverence, wishing upon stray stars that she could one day be one. Yet, even with her long-established conduct and competent abilities, she was held back within the confines of household duties. She was a talented arbitrator and coordinator, rotting away behind colorful gardens and social soirees.
Rieper's childhood is shrouded in mystery, although speculated as mundane as any orphan of Aucteraden. Ultimately, all that is known about her can be seen in her well-mannered etiquette and her upright standards. Trained by the Head Maid themselves, Rieper is a talented servant with the heart of a warrior. Having undergone extensive domestic training and household discipline, she is often considered a seasoned troop among the formidable ranks of the Kaiser's Maid Echelon. Through sweat and hardships, she represents of the Kaisers with grace and vigor. Behind her charms resides a zealous heart for Draigh Kaiser's cause.
Eventually, her dossier made it up the line, by the grace of the Head Maid of the House and she was given a chance to put her talents to good use. A lengthy processing effort ensued, as Rieper was finally given a chance to serve alongside the current host of Knights in an auxiliary capacity. Designated as Bethlehem, the young woman is described as Draigh Kaiser's "instrument" and their Knights' "attendant." Specializing in cryomancy and enchantment, Bethlehem is able to keep her comrades in a fight for as long as possible with pivotal supporting techniques and stratagems. Where she falls short on offensive abilities, Bethlehem makes sure to compensate it with her arrays of enchantments or simply hauling equipment for the Knights. In battle, Bethlehem is also described as the power-bank that maximizes her allies' output and performance without fail. Conditioned to serve her master, her sense of duty always take precedence over her desires. Given the chance to serve the Kaiser alongside her idolized confidants, Rieper takes her new assignment as the Order's auxiliary very seriously.
While she continues to serve the House of Kaiser, Rieper can be seen accompanying the Knights on some occasions. An avid admirer of their works, serving alongside the Kaiser Knights is considered the greatest honor she could ever hope to accomplish. Keeping to what she does best, Rieper takes care of the Knights to the best of her abilities, attending to their daily needs as she does the Kaiser household. While her form is frail and delicate, Rieper's quick wit and hands make her a competent and reliable maid in any capacity. Sparing her limited martial prowess, Rieper's current job makes her an invaluable asset to the Order's field operation when deployed.
Hikari is excellent at weaving around attacks, and using them to his advantage to deal devastating blows. It's quite annoying for his opposition.
Skill Level: 3 | Type: Multi
Hikari has often been called a ¨Master of the Winds¨ From sending a slightest gust that sends weapons off course, to winds that could blow practically anyone into the air.
Hikari is often thought of as distant or flighty by those who don't know him, but for those he trusts or respects, he is an entirely different person. Unlike the brooding picture the public portrays him as, he actually can be quite cheerful when he wants to be, with a dry humor. He can be forgetful at times, and likes to change things whenever he pleases, which can be a bit frustrating for whoever has to work with him. And yet, he can shift to a more grumpier state faster than a storm whenever something annoys him.