A P P E A R A N C E
Zimmy is as fit as being a WARDEN requires of her, but more than that would be too much to ask. Her muscles are well defined and she is in excellent human condition, but compared to some of the other beefcakes at the Citadel, she can't even come close. She is of average height and average build. On her left shoulder is a tattoo of a hawk, wings open as if flying.
Her hair usually flows wild. She's taken to just brushing it out of her face, instead of trying to keep it smooth and silky. When she wants to look good, she uses either a magic spell or a heavy cord to tie it out of her face.
She has a band of charms on her left wrist, which was given to her when she was nine by her best friend at the time. Aside from that, she has no other jewelry to speak of, save for a strange bracelet which she refuses to speak of, no matter what anyone says. Only she knows its significance.
P E R S O N A L I T Y
Zimmy is a social woman, but not bubbly or hyperactive. She is charming, vivacious, and has a particular knack for convincing others to see things her way. She comes with a sharp mind and a sharper tongue, but tends not to use either when unprompted. She prefers to take life easy, but not necessarily slow. She likes to think of herself as easily likeable, but no damn pushover, neither. When she wants something, she will get it, or embarrass herself trying.
Despite immense pressure in her youth from her family expectations, she presents a level face to any who come looking. Her parents expected great things from her, but their constant support as she tried to meet those expectations helped to temper the lasting damage. unfortunately, she struggles constantly with fairly bad imposter syndrome, and is always seeking to prove herself, to herself. Usually she buries the feelings of inadequacy with alcohol, action, or conversation.
She calls the world as she sees it, and despite her friendly demeanor she has proven to have quite a sturdy complexion, never balking from blood or broken bones. She is tough-spirited and not afraid to show it. Interestingly, she has alektorophobia, a strange fear of live chickens, which no one has been able to explain or alleviate. She claims to "hate their beady little poultry eyes". Of course, she loves eating dead chickens, which she views as a personal victory over the feathery bastards. She also has trouble throwing things away, and without a verbal reminder to clean out all her things, she will allow her possessions to pile up, everywhere.
Some would even call her lazy in comparison to other WARDENs, as her penchant for levitation, sliding, and warping spells lets her move around without much physical exertion. By normal standards, she's well-disciplined, but not in comparison to her comrades. She gets bored from hours of training, whereas some other WARDEN absolutely love it. If life isn't entertaining her, she likes to shake things up.
People talk to Zimmy when they're in the mood for adventure, or feeling down about their life circumstances. Her free spirit and wry quirk can lift almost anyone's spirits, or distract them from their sorrows long enough to get something to drink.
B A C K G R O U N D
Zimmy was born to two retired WARDENs. The spark of magic was in her for sure, but no one really knew exactly how much magic she would have. Either way, it was more or less expected of her to become a member of the elite order. For a short time when she was very young, she told her parents that she was going to be an artist. She had seen a television show about a kindly old woman painting on a canvas, and it had entirely entranced her. Her mother smiled kindly at her and said "of course you are, sweetie".
Instead, she was enrolled in preliminary schooling: having gone through the system already, her parents knew the tips and tricks she would need to know to pass the WARDEN aptitude tests. As soon as she could run, she was going along with her father each morning on a long jog. She hated those jogs, but her father talked about so many interesting things--magic, monsters, flying through the skis--so she sucked it up. Following the jog was a short, intense strength training session, and then reading. Lots of reading. She didn't even understand half of what she read, but her mother and father insisted on it.
She still tried to practice her art, but as time went on, she slowly admitted to herself that she had no talent with a paintbrush whatsoever. Instead, she went to school, trained with her parents and made friends, living a young child's life of wonder, happiness, and laughter. She was quite the popular young lady, with a bright smile and a slowly developing wit which put her peers to shame.
During her tenth year, she was brought to the Citadel to be tested. Due to her parents guidance, she impressed the testers almost instantly. She was in excellent shape, had a keen mind, and knew magic far better than she had any right to. Her parents were nothing short of thrilled. Both Second Class WARDEN in their own time, they had a quiet hope that their daughter, armed with the knowledge and physicality to go far, might even make First Class.
Zimmy was a girl leaving all her friends and family behind, and even for a bright spark like Zimmy, that still hurt. Her best friend Karmin hadn't passed the WARDEN test, and would be going to a normal school for non-military folks. They probably wouldn't see one another for ten years, at the minimum. So it was no real surprise that Zimmy took a while to warm up at the Citadel. She did well in her classes, because she didn't have much else to do.
Slowly, however, Zimmy warmed to the Citadel. Her parents kept in touch, and the people inside were mostly good folk, if a bit rigid and structured. Her infectious smile and funny witticisms won her the affections of her instructors and many of her classmates. Zimmy was quite the charming young lady, full of light-hearted gestures and pranks and sharp comments. Her motto was: anyone can be a smartass in life, as long as they're sassy with a smile. It was hard to get mad at Zimmy, because anyone who speaks with her can feel the vibrancy of her tone, and can't help but share in the excitement.
As Zimmy became more comfortable with her new life, and as the years passed, she felt her urge to succeed waning. It was enough to just enjoy life, and it was Zimmy who people came to when they wanted to have a night out, or a party, or a get together. She was fun to be around, and she accrued quite a list of acquaintances and friends around the Citadel, but her interest in the actual classes just wasn't cutting it.
That was until her third year at the Citadel, when she took her first class of movement spells. In a snap, Zimmy was entranced, watching their dancer-like instructor swirl around the room, then blink out of existence, only to reappear on the other side of the room. Zimmy felt an excitement in her chest like she hadn't ever felt before. That was what she wanted to do. The instructor had heard of her--no surprise there--and seeing the interest in the young girl's eyes, agreed to teach her, one-on-one.
From there, it was like a series of dominoes fell. While the majority of her classmates were working on a large array of general spellcraft, Zimmy was practicing zipping around, and she may or may not have used her newfound movement abilities to gain access to places she shouldn't have. She was caught once, and given a very stern talking to, along with the two others she had roped into her schemes.
But Zimmy didn't care. She wanted to fly. She had been introduced to the non-combative side of magic, and she intended to learn as much as she could. She learned how to create distractions with unconscious ease, memorizing spells for fireworks, shrieking whistles, and more. She learned spells to bend the light around her so she could sneak around without being seen. By the end of her training, Zimmy had practically written the book on being a magically enhanced prankster.
Any class that involved distraction, sneaking, climbing, or confusion, she aced without even trying. Theory and knowledge classes, she had to work at, but she did quite well. It was the combat classes where she really struggled. She was very fit for a woman her age and size, and she passed every exam they threw at her, but she knew she was barely scraping by. She knew the tactical aspects of firearms backwards and forwards: reloading, handling, and magical enhancement...she got that. It was the aiming that screwed her over. And her offensive magic just never seemed to be as potent as the rest of her arsenal. They were acceptable by WARDEN standards, but they would never place her in a higher ranking.
Her average level of skill with attack spells and firearms showed heavily on her performance review. She was worried her parents would be disappointed; she knew that they had hoped for her to be First Class. Due to her only average combat skills, she was appointed to Third Class. When she found out, she was horrified that her parents would disown her. There was no good way to swing this--she had pranked away her years instead of studying, and now it was her fault.
But the day after her appointment, a shadowy man pulled her aside as she walked down one of the halls, alone for the first time in a long while. She had almost stuck a firecracker of sparks in the man's mouth before he started talking. No, he was not trying to kidnap her: he was part of Rassavet's intelligence agency.
An offshoot of WARDEN, they had noted her particular talents during the course of her training, and requested her specifically to join their ranks. As far as the rest of the world would know, she was just a Third Class WARDEN. When her particular skills were required, however, they would contact her, through a strange looking bracelet he handed to her.
"Awesome," she said, smiling brightly at the man. He nodded and faded away into the shadows. Zimmy never even saw his face, but he had brightened her mood considerably.
Her parents were very confused when she told them of her appointment. Third Class, yes, but she said something huge had come her way, something she wasn't allowed to talk about. Her parents knew her--if she had been allowed to tell them, she would have. They were a little disappointed that she hadn't made even Second Class, but that secretiveness she showed them was enough to keep them satisfied. Something was going down.
Zimmy decided to celebrate her interesting new life in the best way possible. A road trip. She called up several of her friends and told them to pack their bags. They'd survived ten years of the Citadel...it was time to get the hell out of there.
C O M B A T
Zimmy is a Third Class WARDEN, and that suits her just fine. She is proficient with offensive magic and firearms, as all WARDEN are expected to be, but her skills are nothing to write home about. She would much rather have a more skilled fighter between her and the enemy.
Instead, Zimmy's skillset involves espionage and distraction, or in her words, "sneaking around and being really, really annoying". She is well versed in movement spells, such as warping, levitation, climbing, and speed enhancements, using these spells to move around battlefields and safe areas alike with grace and poise. She is working on flight spells, but flight magic is exceedingly difficult for anyone, and she hasn't quite gotten there yet.
She also is capable of generating small, camouflaged barriers, or bending the light around her to disappear from view, as well as generating loud noises, bright flashes, and all other manner of disorienting and distracting effects. She once turned a pile of rocks into quicksand two feet deep, dropping a fellow student into the earth and leaving him there for ten minutes while she went to get lunch.
In short, Zimmy is a spy and a nuisance, and is excellent at both tasks.
In the event that she has to fight, she uses sub-machine guns and an assortment of magical grenades, things that don't need to be aimed too precisely. Midrange weaponry suits her best, as her small stature means she would get pummeled at close ranges, but her aim is not as sharp as other WARDENs.
N O T E S
Is Zimmy still the trip planner?
May or may not have a magical liver, given how much she drinks.