Name: Garamm Ari-Kaius

Age: 173

Gender Female

Race: Ortakk



Racial Features: Ortakks are a largely humanoid race, with their distinguishing features being horns of various shapes, sizes and positions upon their heads, as well as bony protrusions from their skin (the spine of an Ortakk is always exposed). Their bone structure is almost meshed with their organic skin, and their bones are harder and stronger than human bones. They also tend to have dark grey skin and eyes of various inhuman colours. On human worlds, Ortakks have occasionally been mistaken for devils due to their appearance and their propensity for bargaining for objects.

Appearance





Occupation/Concept: Obsessed Sword Collector

Training:

• Sword Master: Garamm’s slavish devotion to swords and swordplay has had the obvious consequence of making her devastating with a bladed weapon in her had.
• Applied Engineering: Due to many instances of swords and sword related technology in Elysium being reliant upon modern technology, Garamm has been forced to learn more about how to work with such technology in order to keep her precious swords fully maintained and working properly. Never ask her to fix something that isn’t reliant on similar technology.
• Dedicated Athletics: Any Ortakk knows that when pursuing anything of value, it pays to train yourself to be the best you can be in order to claim your prize. Garamm will go to any lengths to take possession and fully utilize a sword. She would probably die a little inside if she found a sword she couldn’t swing.

Powers:

• Metal Manipulation: Garamm commands substances of a metallic nature, enabling her to rip metallic weaponry from her enemies and even crush battle droids with their own casing. Used upon the Exalted, it is much easier to resist critical damage, but those whom it is used upon will certainly feel a great deal of force exerted upon them.
• Sword Conjuring: Having an intrinsic connection to her beloved swords, Garamm has found herself capable of embossing them with a seal that will let her call them to her when bereft of one. All this entails is teleporting the sword of choice directly into the palm of her hand, held by the hilt.
• Bolstered Strength: Garamm often wonders what use her sword arm would be if the gods hadn't seen fit to bless her with the ability to swing her blade clean through heavily armoured opponents.

Equipment:

• Dasrap: One of Garamm’s “Children”, swords made using both her powers and some general smithing and engineering. This sword is lightweight and easy to use, but more importantly has been attuned to conflict with Essence. In essence, it can damage anything comprised of Essence and protect against Essence based attacks, although it cannot completely nullify such attacks, only blunt their force.
• Fahlzarm (image created by Studio4Productions on DeviantArt): Another of Garamm’s “Children”, this one has had a superheated edge built into it, increasing its cutting potential. The sword is an overall two-handed weapon, although Garamm is capable of using it one-handed, it is much less effective due to the sheer weight of it.
• O-13 Supplementary Exoskeleton, dubbed “Canvas” (pictured in appearance scetion): Originally a piece of Ortakk technology designed to enhance movement and provide protection, Garamm has since fused all sorts of metals into it over the years, mostly from swords she owns a duplicate of or that which are irreparably broken. To look open the surface plating is to see a bizarre canvas of metals in odd places.
• Recording Device: Garamm keeps a recording device with a large memory storage on her person at all times. Ortakk law dictates that a verbal contract is legally binding, and thus she endeavours to ensure she gets evidence of confirmation of ownership in all her transactions.

Airship: Garamm’s personal ship is a mostly standard Ortakk vessel, designed to allow for one of their own to live and work out of it on their lonesome. Garamm’s ship has two distinct modifications, the first being that a pair of large, superheated blades have been attached to the front to allow for the performing of ramming manoeuvres against other vessels. The other is that the cargo bay has been converted into something of a blade museum, dedicated to housing Garamm’s collection, with only a small amount of essential cargo being kept in unremarkable containers.

Motivation: Garamm’s primary and overwhelming motivation is to her collection. She feels a strong need to own and collect swords and blades of all types, as well as anything closely related enough to swords to warrant her interest. When she has no specific sword of any type to possess, she will trend towards tagging along to an active combat zone as a mercenary, seeking either to find unique swords on the battlefield or make one from all the metals bound to be flung about.

While Garamm is no stickler for rules and laws, her social condition compels her to participate in mass action undertaken by the Ortakk. As the Ortakk believe that deterring thieves through collective action is a must, so too will Garamm act with the Ortakk in order to punish those that transgress against an Ortakk.

Personality: Any who know the Ortakk know of their deep obsessions, but they would also know each Ortakk expresses their obsession differently. Some express great pride and love for what they obsess over, while others hide their interests from others almost as though they were ashamed of it. Garamm treads a middle ground, loving and adoring her collection while being less inclined to tell every last person just how much she cares for her swords, although she’ll talk the ears off anyone foolish enough to ask. As far as swords go, she likes to have at least one of every kind of sword that she can find, usually using duplicates as a source of metal or simply leaving them be. She has created a few swords over the years, both to serve her in combat as well as just for the pleasure of creating them. Those she creates she considers her “Children”, and will coo and fuss over them like a human mother over their own child. If they were destroyed in combat, Garamm would be most displeased.

As an Ortakk, Garamm has an almost inbuilt aversion to thieves. She would not admit it openly, but she has contemplated thievery many times in the past to serve her collection. Her cultural conditioning has always kept her from indulging this impulse, and while she might understand the motivation behind certain thefts, she still can’t bring herself not to think ill of those that steal. If a known thief were to approach her collection, Garamm would quickly become aggressive. It wouldn’t even matter if they had planned to steal anything or not, as Ortakk try to take as few chances as they can with their possessions. As hostile as she might be to them, Garamm would not bother to take justice into her own hands, unless the act was being committed in front of her. Ortakk hate thieves, but Garamm feels that another races’ thief is another races problem.

When the situation does not pertain to her obsession, Garamm is usually friendly enough. Ortakk are solitary creatures, but they are hardly prohibited from socializing, and Garamm is content to do so when idle. Garamm is not above offering a helping hand to others, as long as she doesn’t have anything better to do, and as long as it doesn’t conflict with Ortakk law. Garamm is clever enough to know that antagonising others does not lend to good bargaining and is thus careful not to be a pest if she can help it. Others have swords, and she wants them to be willing to bargain for those swords in good faith, and so it pays not to make them angry or otherwise against even speaking to her, let alone bartering. Even better, the right favour done here and there for a sword wielder might butter them up to a deal in the future if the object of her desire cannot be had right now.

Flaws:

• Dubious Reliability: Garamm’s loyalty is to her collection and obsession alone, and can be motivate to change sides for the right offer. There are certain limits to this behaviour, but suffice to say she would gleefully switch sides in a war if the other side offered her a really spectacular sword.
• A Mother’s Wrath: To steal from or destroy a piece of Garamm’s collection would quickly earn her ire. To attempt to destroy her precious “Children” would absolutely infuriate her. In such a heightened emotional state, she would be much more careless in action.

Bio: The rearing of Ortakk children would likely seem cold and even inhumane to the more empathetic of individuals. Rather than being raised by their parent, whom only gave birth to them due the compulsion of the Ortakk Mating Season, they are taken to large scale childcare centres where dedicated professionals provide them with a basic education as well as attempting to drill the ethics of Ortakk society into their skulls. Ortakk children often visit their parents, but their meetings are devoid of emotion and warmth, and any Ortakk consider their spawn a threat to their collections more than anything. Like so many before her, Garamm was raised in a great complex alongside countless other Ortakk children on the planet Kaius (hence her last name), all hearing of how someday they will be sent forth to find that which they feel they can devote their life to. Before finding their own obsessions, Ortakk people are somewhat similar to other races in basic behaviour. Garamm herself was terrified of the idea of embarking on her own journey, fearing the idea of leaving behind everything that was familiar to her. She ultimately had little choice in the matter, and upon maturity, she was bundled off into her own craft and set on an automatic course for the nearest inhabited planet.

As most Ortakks did, Garamm fell in with roaming ships and groups in need of hands to do odd jobs. Ortakks were expected to learn quickly and find a place for themselves, and those that didn’t were taken advantage of or found their death unexpectedly. Garamm served on multiple small vessels before she finally found her place in life. It was on board a human vessel bound for Lunar Confederation space where they came under attack by pirates. The vessel put up the best fight it could, but its motley crew were no match for hardened criminals. Garamm had a sword plunged through her chest and was left for dead. Her thoughts dwelt on many things, from how she was going to die alone without having found a purpose, to how she would be killed by that which the Ortakk hated most, and even on how beautiful the craftsmanship on this blade was. Her memory of the events that followed is still hazy, but what she remembers most is pulling that beautiful specimen out of her chest and pursuing the pirates with it. She awakened later to be told that she had managed to save what was left of the crew singlehandedly, and that by their best guesses, she had Exalted. Garamm was glad to be alive, but even happier to have finally found her passion – a passion for swords.

Garamm left that ship and its crew immediately upon arriving at their destination. The crew were almost glad to be rid of her. In spite of having saved their lives, the mania she had been displaying over her sword had been deeply frightening many of them. She got aboard the first vessel that would take her back to Kaius, and they recognised that she had found her calling. Gifting her a personal vessel, they sent her on her way once more, and she would never turn back. Since that day, Garamm has acquired many swords, with her cargo hold having become a veritable rainbow of different bladed weapons. Her exploits in acquiring new and unique swords added to her growing legend, and some battlefield commanders that hear of her being spotted amongst their enemies reach for their swords instinctively, knowing she might seek to claim them as “rightful battlefield salvage”. Finding herself inundated with swords from countless battles, Garamm took to re-purposing those she had too many of in order to create new ones. Those she created personally she named her “Children”, and she treats them with the utmost care.

Extra Info: A sword is incapable of being Dragon Blooded.

Name: Pix
Age: 106 (looks 30)
Gender Male
Race: Huaman
Appearance

Occupation/Concept Assassin, expert marksman, and a Tailor, Pix has trained for many of years with all kinds of ballistics; rifles, assault rifles, Etc. He has very poor close range skills, however having almost always taken out his opponents before they reach him, it isn't that big of a problem for him.
Training:

• Marksmanship: Rifles, guns, any kind of raged weapon.
• Camouflage: Hiding, blending in with surroundings, making small hideaways, etc.
• Agility: Running, Jumping, Dodging. You know, the basics
• Tailoring: He has always loved to make clothes and hats, combining it with camouflage skills he can make outfits to blend into lots of different environments
• Deception: Lying, fibbing, making up stuff.
• Aerial Aiming: While falling, flying, and or being propelled forwards, he has expert aim. This extends to aiming where bombs, grenades, flechettes, Etc. will land.

Powers:

• Ballistomancy: The magic of summoning aetherial ballistics(guns, bombs, grenades, flechetts, etc). Depending on the ballistic, he can summon up to 20 at a time. He can pick and choose where they appear, aim, and shoot/drop as long as it's not too far away, "too far away" being 80 meters. In addition, if it is a gun he may look through its sights.
• Combustomancy: Pix may create explosions anywhere within an 5 meter radius centered on him.
• Flight: In an extreme use of Combustomancy he can use controlled explosions as a propulsion and hovering method. If used recklessly he can hurt himself and others
• Force Palm: He uses a controlled explosion behind his robotic arm to slam his palm into his opponent. This attack deals a huge amount of knockback to his foes.
• Visual Enhance: Using his robotic eye he can zoom and identify objects up to 200 meters away.

Equipment:

• Persuasion
  Hider [+]

  
  His trusty rifle, which he has named 'Persuasion', is a thing of brutality and beauty. It is a high caliber rife capable of killing someone in a single shot, provided it hits something that would cause lethal damage. He got a hold of this beast when he was serving in the military as part of the secret service, he picked it up and immediately felt a bond with it. He has used it for about 30 years and got a nice feel for it. It's almost completely modular, so he can change it depending on the situation.
• Cloaking Cloak: This cloak is imbued with space magic, bending light around it so that it makes Pix almost invisible to the untrained eye.
• Full body armour: light armour covers Pixes body. Light but durable it can protect well enough from most points, slashes, and cuts, however it is very susceptible to blunt and crushing attacks.
• PDA and UTI, which you already know about, so I'll gloss over that.
• Artificial Eye: he had his right eye removed to replace it with a technologically advanced eye, it has many functions, such as: Zoom, identify, and see heat signatures.
• Robotic right arm: This was also removed for enhancement purposes. This arm is useful for a great many things, including: higher durability, increased striking power, also a cup holder.
• Different rounds for 'Persuasion': Explosive, Incendiary, electric, FMJ/armour piercing, anti vehicle, and chemical.

Airship: N/A
Motivation: To end wars by murdering the side he thinks is wrong. and do what ever it takes to serve the side he believes is right.
Personality: Happy and bubbly, Pix loves spending time with the ones he loves, he will do almost anything for them. But if anyone betrays him, they will have a bullet coming their way pretty damn soon.
When faced new situations he will think on his feet, doing what he thinks is right. He's the type of person to make decisions based on gut feeling, or if someone he trusts tells him to do otherwise, unless of course it puts him in immediate danger. He tends to say what pops into is head without thinking about it, which has gotten him into quite a lot of arguments, and, surprisingly out of a few. This kind of thinking is good on the battlefield or when he is on a assassination mission.
Flaws

• Severe vehicular motion sickness
• Overly protective of friends and family
• Anger issues
• Is a little all over the place and sometimes forgets to brings equipment

Bio:
Pix was born into a middle class family, had a good childhood until he found out about stuff that can shoot other stuff, and hats, then it changed from good to great. When he turned 14 he started researching all kinds of weapons. He would spend his nights tinkering away in his small room in a large building in a even larger city. One day he set out to the garbage dump where he worked, when he arrived there he started doing the same old thing, sorting garbage into different piles, he found something, a old and slightly moldy book. Pix opened it and found words he couldn't understand, he hid the book in his bag to take home that night and study it as he was a very inquisitive child. That night he got home and looked through the book, nothing had changed since that morning, he decided he would go to the library the next day to see if they had any books to help him decipher it, when he woke up he went to the library, found a book and went home. He managed, over time, to the entire book, learning it was a magic tome of Ballistomancy, he studied it until he knew it like the back of his hand, by this point he had aged, he was now 19 and knew the basics of Ballistomancy.

On his 28 birthday he decided he wanted to leave his shitty city and travel the world. Almost a month later he packed his things, put on his best hat, grabbed a walking stick, and set off on his adventure, first saying his goodbyes to his family and friends. As he started walking out of the concrete jungle that was his home, he felt relived to finally be getting out of there. On his travels he found a lot of amazing things, people who can fly, giant airships floating around in the skies, all sorts of amazing things. Eventually he found himself in a large steam filled city with wonders to behold, old men selling doodads and daddoos, young women yelling out to buy their fresh food and baked goods, even people sitting on blankets on the floor with jewelry set out in front of them calling out to anyone they could make eye contact with. He wanted to give it a try, so after a couple days sleeping on the streets and wandering around this huge city, he found a garbage dump and snuck inside, stealing some scraps to make things with, he also a blanket in not to bad condition. The next day he set up shop and started to make a little money, one night a old man came shambling along and saw Pixes Ballistomancy Tome, he crouched down next to him and asked him about it, they talked for a bit and he made a offer of 100 gold coins for it, Pix declined. He came back again the next day to offer him 150 gold coins, then the next day, and the next, each time offering more and more, Pix still declined. He came back one last time and proposed a trade, his Ballistomancy Tome for another book the old man had in his possession, Pix questioned him about it and found out it was a Combustomancy tome, Pix thought about it and decided to make the trade.

He spent the next few years studding the Tome of Combustomancy. At this point in time he was 40. He was now a Expert Ballistomancer and was still learning Combustomancy, but with time he would improve. A few years later his journey led him to join up with a army. He served 17 years before joining a top-secret training program in which it would train their specific skills to perfection, during the training he gave up a eye and a arm so to enhance his combat ability. Pix was trained as a sniper and assassin, his now mastery of Ballistomancy and Combustomancy combined gave him a huge advantage in combat. While in training they let him assemble his own weapons, He made a medium caliber sniper and named it 'Persuasion', as soon as he finished making it, he felt a bond with it. He would upgrade and tinker with it every chance he got, developing his different round types. leaving the training camp 20 years later, a highly trained assassin and marksman, to set out and try and make a difference in the world.

Now, in present day he has started working as an Assassin for hire and a Hatter on the side. with his trusty rifle, a very nice caravan and two lovely horses to pull it, he still is making weapons and practicing his magic, wandering and helping people wherever he can.

Extra Info: His two horses Butter and Bread. He is a renown Hatter, making any kind of hat at his leisure, his favourite hat being a hardened dragon blood hat

___Name:___

Jornwuld Ritaynur

___Age:___

1A (22 in base 10)

___Gender___

You'd be lucky to find out

___Race:___

Hominus Margo Sigasmarandum (Sigasmarandi Rim Dweller); colloquially: "Sig-Mar(s)"

___Racial Features:___

"Hominus Margo Sigasmarandum" is a species of Old Rim Human, found originally in an area of the southern hemisphere of the Elysian Mega-Cluster, in a region of low light reception from the inner worlds called Sigasmarand. As such the species has had to adapt to the effects of stellar darkness as a result of Cosmic Fog, evolving eyes capable of high degrees of low light vision and slight ability to detect heat signatures. And due to the colds of their extreme climate, the species has adapted an internal metabolic rate running at approximately double the median temperature of Human species originating from the more habitable Old Worlds (not only does this mean they need to eat far more, but it means that narcotics and alcohol have a weaker effect). However, as a closely derived successor species, they share almost complete genetic parity with the 'typical' human, though no offspring of the pair is known to have survived the third trimester of pregnancy. Notable physical differences that can be made from a cursory surface glance include: The inclusion of a sixth, fully functional finger on both hands (leading to maths being done primarily in base 12); noses that vary in length and pointiness, having a range of anywhere from two inches of extension past the nostrils to one foot, allowing for similar olfactory levels as 'typical' humans with the added thermosensory properties; similarly, longer ears are present across the species as a means of heat radiation and audiosensory increase. All this meaning, they've grown to have more reliance on their other senses, each adaptation allowing them better functionality in their homeworlds.

___Culture:___

The Sigasmarandis are scattered across a system of stellar debris of varying sizes, on the very edge of Elysia. They are the successors to an original group of colonists who settled the area long before the race had evolved/engineered its defining characteristics. Sometime during the collapse of the Outbound Tykassian League, the colonists took advantage of the situation and declared independence, not expecting the Senate Loyalists to retake control of the unruly Retainer States as soon as they had. After a succession of successful defensive battles, Sigasmarandi sovereignty was won, despite them having had to face off against a numerically and materially superior force. As such Sigasmarand earned a reputation for being the home of stalwart fighters, of excellent skill and unyielding nature, to an extent that the coming centuries saw the proliferation of mercenaries to far-flung systems.

However, as the loose confederacy invaded and defended against its neighbours, a deep resentment grew towards their cold isolated territory, away from the Elysian centre and on the edge of nothing. The cold forced them to bundle up, rarely ever showing skin (except in the presence of family, friends and loved ones), and eventually, this evolved into a culture of suspicion and mistrust; day to day meetings happenings happening from behind veils and masks and scarves; to an extent that parts of the body that did show despite the layers were painted or tattooed black. The almost sacred nature of identity plays into gender in some societies, from a young age, children get used to dressing androgynously, behaving androgynously, shaving all hair and doing everything in their power to appear sexless. Once hitting puberty, it is customary for females to bind their chests and men to tuck, or for both to wear padded clothing to obscure body shape (in more liberal families), and once voices start to break Sigasmarandis are often trained by their parents to speak in one tone and pitch. This voice, common to all of Sigasmaranda, is called Tonsloslillt and is used in day to day communication basically ensuring everyone sounds the same if not similar. The only time Tonsloslillt is not observed is when Wuld (which will be discussed later on) are being given, and only then.

Another result of being so close to the cosmic edge was the presence of a constant, corrupting fog, that manifested itself as grey, sooty mist, that made vision difficult to long distances. The Fog, however, has water like properties, in the sense that it exhibits systems of currents and tides; meaning there are times of more and less dense fog, and areas where the concentration and thus effects of the fog are more powerful. As well as this, the strength of the fog is also dependant on the distance from the cosmic void, with the Elysian center being completely devoid of its effects; despite this, the fog has inroads and tendrils in the dark places of Elysia and a weaker ambient fog permeates in most places farther from the center. The properties of the Cosmic Fog (though typically having minor manifestations in Sigasmarandi) have a powerful mutative effect on the flora and fauna of the outer system, spawning and melding beasts into increasingly more terrifying beasts. That being said, just as the fog has the capability to produce flesh-rending monsters, it has equal capacity to make creatures of little notability or even beings of awe-inspiring beauty.

Due to the ever-present gloomy darkness of the Cosmic Fog, song is the major form of art and follows a complex system of belief, identity and utility. In their culture, songs are called Wuld, and Wuld varies in style from planetoid to planetoid, with families having their own tones and rhythmic variations of the regional Wuld, and with everyone having a unique fingerprint to their own. Wuld are not typically lyrical (though some Wuld are worded), and vary from melodic tones to simple screaming, acting as an alternate form of communication that could cut through the fog and cloud mired terrain. Wuld are also deeply engrained in Sigasmarandi mythology; they are believed to be the borrowed voices of the Lost Good (positive spirits trapped in the cosmic fog), and as such lore dictates that Wuld outlive their Wuldors, so that they may make the journey back to their Lost Good.

With every death, families hold on to the Wuld of their loved ones by incorporating it into their own in some way. This is the reason as to why there is such a huge variation in Wuld, which can be heard on a daily basis, with brief Wuld being presented as greetings; longer ones being performed at weddings-births-and-funerals; and full ballads being passed between friends and loved ones in lieu of conversation, as an expression of affection.

Wuld forms such a core part of people's lives, that some Sigasmarandi believes that one dies when their Wuld leaves them, and not that the Wuld leaves them when they die. This has resulted in a tradition of yearly festivals, conducted when the tide of the Cosmic Fog is at its weakest, and culminating with ships setting off into the void - crewed by those who believe that if they can get permission from the Lost Good of their Wuld, that they will be able to hold on to their Wuld forever.

Wuld also has a more sinister side, various intonations, harmonies and incantations allowing the Wuldor to manipulate the properties of the cosmic fog and the beings corrupted by it. Aeyterwuldoree is the forbidden art of using those Wuld, though its basics are simply learned and sometimes practical (though usually useless and typically frowned upon for the connotations of using it). However, more advanced Aeyterwuldoree is considered a heinous crime, as its seen as cooperation with the cosmic fog, due to the process allowing mutations to happen more readily in the Wuldor's body. To an extent that people can be horribly disfigured/misshapen by its misuse, these individuals (Aeyterwuldor) are considered highly dangerous and traditionally have been hunted down and killed, or locked away and unstrung (the process of making someone mute), a punishment some consider worse than death.

___Appearance___

Jornwuld stands at four cubits tall and is rarely ever seen not dressed in their Hunter Garb. Rarer still are the people who have seen their face, or much of any skin really, with the exception of their nose which extends like the beak of a hummingbird a few inches passed their scarf. Floating in front of their face, between where the scarf ends and the brim of the hat begins, is a thin yet dense veil of shadowy mist, two small, luminous gold dots the only visible thing from the other side.



___Occupation/Concept___

Beast Hunter

___Training:___

• Aeyterwuldoree - At an Advanced Level
• Piloting Light Vehicles Through Treacherous Terrain - Single Occupant Speeders, Sloops and Small Frigates
• Small Arms Proficiency - Specialised in Manually Repeating Firearms
• Wuldoree - The Study of Wuld Heraldry and Mimicking
• Tracking - Using Environmental Ques to Find Animals, People or Vessels

___Powers:___

• Fymlercaal (summon familiar) - A Brief, pulsing chirp at an inhumanly high pitch similar to that of a congregation of many birds, followed by a ringing echo. This call summons Jornwuld's familiar and secondary transportation, a giant Peldmaus (bat) with a wingspan of twenty long paces, affectionately named Tarkarus. Though giant and intimidating, Tarkarus is still flesh and blood, meaning that if summoned in the heat of battle it can die and making the Wuld unusable for a period of time depending on the severity of the death.
• Mahenschrye (splitting cry) - A sharper, shriekier version of Fymlercaal, this Wuld rapidly concentrates ambient Cosmic Vapours in front of the Wulder, gouging out a trench ahead of devastation in a cone ahead of them, obliterating most things in their path. The distance and severity of the effect depending on the prevalence of Cosmic Fog/Vapours and the effort put into the Wuld.
• Demklverff (cast darkness) - Breathy, deep lulling followed by sultry whispers, growing in volume before reaching a crashing, loud crescendo. By drawing in the Cosmic Fog from the area surrounding the Wuldor and suddenly releasing it, the concentration can reach a level that can match the worst fog storms from Sigasmaranda, with the same flashes of lightning and roiling winds manifesting in the black cloud.

___Equipment:___

• A Pair of Heirloom Pyroclastic Repeating Pistol - These pistols were passed down from first born to first born, with a lineage of generations behind them. To say however that they are the same guns that came from the manufactory when they were first made wouldn't be correct, as over the decades parts have been replaced and calibres swapped. The only parts on both guns are the silver, front sight beads.
• Mother's Canary Dagger - This Knife, which is eighteen inches in length, was presented to Jornwuld's mother on her eighteenth birthday, It was shiny and new when she had first received it but over years of hard use it has weathered and tarnished but still retains a sharp edge. When made to leave, she gave it to Jornwuld as a parting gift.
• Rusty Grappling-hook Adapter For Pyroclastic - A simple, spring loaded, grappling hook. The stem can be slid down the barrel of one of the Pyroclasts and fired out into most surfaces, sheet metal, light body panels, rock faces, wood, etc. A memento from a mission that involved a lot of repelling canyons.
• Weathered Telling Stones - Are the equivalent of Data Loggers and PDAs in Sigasmaranda, smoothed down quartz pieces with runes scribed on them. Each one can perform a certain function, compass, audio recording and playing, data storage, image projection, communication, etc. They function by frequency oscillation of the quartz (and crafted substructures), the energy needed usually provided by a low drone from the user.
• Condensed Bottles of Cosmic Vapour - These bottles contained distilled Cosmic Vapour, condensed down into an oily liquid. Though the Cosmic Fog is a sooty black when uncontained, it shifts to a more harmless transparent solution when bottled up, in an effort to deceive people into opening the bottle. The farther away from the Void it is, the less viscous and more waterlike it becomes.
• Burlap Rucksack - Standard Issue of the Ritaynur Band, Jornwuld toated this pack from one end of Sigasmaranda to the other, each stain, scuff and mark tells a story of a time something memorable happened. Jornwuld uses it to carry ammo mostly, though it does contain other personal effects.
• Looted Water Cooled Undergarmants - Early in Jornwuld's travels, leaving an area remotely distant from the cosmic edge was dangerous, as they were at risk of dangerous overheating, as was the nature of the hot-blooded species. However coming across a beaten husk of a ship, covered in a strange flecked symbol, Jornwuld managed to scrounge a usable set of cooling apparatus.

___Airship:___

Tarkarus is a horrifying mutation of a Waldosian Peldmaus, giant and muscular, an apex predator in Sigasmaranda but somewhere in the middle compared to some of the things that Jornwuld had seen since leaving Sigasmaranda. Tarkarus has a wingspan of an impressive 44 cubits, in the upper band for what is usual of his species. Though he is capable of combat with brutal effectiveness against humans, at the end of the day Tarkarus is still mortal-ish, and sustaining enough injuries will kill him. Once dead, it will take Jornwuld time before she can re-summon him, leaving her without a ride or anywhere to deposit her backpack. Though not the fastest transportation in the sky, the creature is nimble and reliable, going off to feed when not being flown. Despite this, hard riding will mean Tarkarus will need longer to recuperate, and will be more sluggish if summoned and not fully rested. In the air, his talons and the combined shrieking of him and his rider are the primary weapons, however, if more firepower is necessary then Jornwuld shoulders Tarkarus' Saddle Gun, a Massaen MischeenenGevayr to provide longer ranged, hard-hitting shots.

___Motivation:___

Jornwuld left Sigasmaranda by force and so wishing to return must find a cure for the effects of Aeyterwuldore, that means wandering aimlessly around Elysia, being told by shamans and doctors alike that the afflictions caused by the void are uncurable. Jornwuld is losing hope, and finding a cure has fallen down the list of priorities, replaced by more immediate things like money and comfort. And a longer-term goal of finding a place where the Cosmic Fog has no influence.

___Personality:___

Jornwuld doesn't talk much, not because they want to avoid social interaction but simply by choice, not at all objecting a trip to the pub or in some instances the nightclub, just not talkative due to a speech impediment. Having been raised in a society with a major aim of deceiving each other, Jornwuld suffers from extreme trust issues, often being very sceptical of other people and their intentions. As well as this, they suffer from a deep identity problem, linked with their untrusting nature this makes them prone to lying, and appearing shiftier than they should be given the situation. Otherwise, they're a sociable person, good at making talk but not quite as good at talking sincerely. This causes them significant frustration and troubles, as they'd like to shed some of the mistrust of their culture. Despite this, they're making progress, recently sticking to just one fake name as opposed to many.

___Flaws:___

• Knisterlunge (crackling lungs) - A side effect of Aeyturwuldoree, resulting in a crackly voice and pain when breathing. Other than hacking up tarry mucus every morning, the pain is manageable, as Jornwuld has lived with it for a while.
• Lischtanghst (hyper light sensitivity) - Sigasmarandis are naturally equipped to handle the heat and the intensity of suns in general. The light that reaches the outer systems is cold and faint so they adapted as a race to that. Blistering occurs in hours with a temperate sun, minutes in a desert sun.
• Mutschayor (mutant) - Mutations, refer to appearance for more clarification.
• Heiligendemk (dark halo) - A dark mask of Cosmic Vapour that surrounds Jornwuld's head, concentrated around the exposed parts of the face. Making them a clear mark for any sort of witch hunter or magic ludite, as well as making vision difficult at random moments.

___Bio:___

Jornwuld was born on a farming rock, to farming parents, their mother, Jalaena, a runaway serf from the fiefdom of some Petty King, and their father, Hapferwuld, the son of one of the most powerful hunter clans in Outer Sigasmaranda, the Ritaynurs. The life of a Beast Hunter wasn't one Hapferwuld was willing to bare, so he gave it up and left his family in shame. Life in the little rock cluster was otherwise uneventful, Jornwuld spent most days as a child in the care of the Sisters at the Abbey, as most children did while their parents eeked out an existence on the bleak accretion cloud, learning to read and count and Wuld. At night Jorn would return to the commune to tend to the mushrooms and the Aurochs, while the parents kept their eyes trained on the skies. And life carried on like this, when Jornwuld was good enough at reading and arithmetic that she didn't stutter or hesitate, days spent at the abbey would be curbed to once a week, when high-tide came and everyone in the area would spend the day at the Abbey. Giving their Wuld together and taking aim from every window and arrow slit.

It was on one of those communal evenings, when the children were still too young to be expected to cover their faces, that Jornwuld saw someone die for the first time. A lullaby night, Wuld echoing softly in the din of the nave, tensions were low and guards were down. Then, sometime after midnight, the quiet was broken by a blood-curdling scream. The moment was unfolding mere cubits away from Jornwuld, a man (it could be discerned by the screaming) thrashed wildly, pinned up against a wall, something on the other side of the arrow slit pulling at him and making a ghastly noise. People jumped up, knives ready, there was no prying him away from the wall, they were going to have to separate him from his arm. The gaggle of people with drawn blades didn't get to the man. Fleshy, mucusy, tendrily tongues crowded through the arrowslit and wrapped around the man. He was pulled through the space, not much wider than the thickness of a fist, leaving a sickening crunch echoing behind him and the smeared remains of skin and flesh from where his body was smashed through the narrow gap.

From that day on, the parents would tell Jornwuld to follow instructions, or else she'd get pulled through an arrow slit too. The years went on, Jornwuld grew taller and stronger, but the fear from that day never went away.

Jornwuld was 17 when they came, a band of warriors clad in various pieces of rough armour, and toating enough weapons and rations to go for months without encountering a single stop to rest and resupply. They were hunters, travelling around and offering their services to those who needed larger beasts put down. However, this was not just any band of merry hunters. They were Ritaynurs, or at least a large proportion of them were, towering men and women with weapons carved with familiar runes. They came for Jornwuld's father, who had refused to join when he was a young man. One of their own had fallen in battle, and being a Ritaynur only another Ritaynur could take their place. Hapferwuld was vehemently against joining, arguing that he had a family and that he couldn't and wouldn't leave them. It was during this heated negotiation that it was suggested Jornwuld take up the mantle of her father. At first, Father denied them fervently, but reluctantly started to agree that it made sense, Jornwuld was old enough to fight and Hapferwuld had other, younger children to mind. Of course, Jornwuld was itching to see the world outside of her rock, but never thought it would be with a Band of Beast Hunters.

The next few years of Jornwuld's life would be under the tutelage of the Ritaynur Band, learning the art of combat and anatomy of beasts. Jorn showed aptitude for the trade, and quickly moved into studying the more perverse abominations that they might face in their travels, learning about the corrupting effects of Wuld misuse, and the subsequent mutations caused by it. However, instead of repulsion Jornwuld felt curiosity and began to experiment with the forbidden arts. At first, it was in the night, practising the Aeyterwuld that were common knowledge, shifting around dust, fraying the edges of shadows. Soon Jorn had graduated to putting out candles at the end of rooms, and making shadows disappear entirely, that's when the slightest tickle in her throat began to develop. It was in the thorn grove that what might have been termed more sinister Wuld were practised, this time with a larger focus on manipulating the fog, which in a way was easier. The fog called to those who tried to skirt around it, at least that was what Jornwuld was taught. The lessons seemed to hold true.

In combat, when sent out alone and sure that she was alone, Jornwuld would practice new Aeyterwuld on the pests that she was sent to deal with. It was simply knocking the little mutants around at first, before finally dispatching them with a pistol, but quickly Jorn grew bolder, doing the killing with the use of Wuld and making it look like it was the bullet that did the job afterwards. The damage was easy to cover up... Until one day it wasn't. Jorn was locked in a melee with what had once been a pet dog turned sour, out of bullets and resorting to swinging at it with a club. The dog dodged deftly, before digging its teeth into her side. As she opened her mouth to scream, she felt something seize at her throat, and the splitting shriek that came out of her was not her's. The dog was gone, disintegrated into tatters of flayed flesh and crunched up bones, a pile she couldn't possibly bring back as proof she killed the dog, lest they become suspicious of her abilities. Jornwuld instead buried the remains hastily and returned to camp, to stitches and a flogging for not completing an order.

That night she noticed a black mark beneath her diaphragm.

It was during a particularly fogless summer, when the sky was the lightest grey, just verging on a pale blue, that Jornwuld trusted someone enough to show what she was capable. Kaleb was a friend, or more aptly the person she'd sneak out to meet and be intimate with in the scrubs outside camp. One cool summer night, Jorn demonstrated a weak version of what was to become Demklverff with more practice, swirling her fingers in the dirt and trailing darkness around it as she gave her Wuld. That was her biggest mistake. The next day she was confronted by some of the trainers about what had happened, and it seemed for all she loved Kaleb, Kaleb didn't love her back enough to stay quiet. Kaleb got a pat on the back, Jornwuld, on the other hand, got a rigged trial and 2 days to leave Sigasmaranda, they weren't going to kill her, she proved she was innocent enough, but laws were laws and the least they could do was exile her.

Jornwuld returned home, for one last time, to bid her family farewell. She left as the tide rose, carrying with her a mother's disappointed gaze, and leaving behind whatever ability she had to trust another person.

___Extra Info:___
^{Dragon Blooded}
https://open.spotify.com/track/58UkAqR3wY9pQi2jbemnwF?si=VVkkrC8MSAGB5rE3eaKthA

Jornwuld's Theme