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• Name: "Bloody" Shirley
• Age: 22
• Class: Mercenary
• Level: 01

• Equipment:


• Personal Skill:

• Skills:


• Story: Hailing from nation of Dricia, Shirley’s life has always been on the run in some kind of manner. Due to the stringent conditions of Dricia’s marshlands, her family, like most inhabitants, were nomads. Wherever the food source moved to, Shirley wasn’t too far behind. It was this lifestyle and upbringing that no doubt influenced her eventual path towards a Mercenary. Traveling was in her blood, having been part of a family line that, for generations, was always moving from one place to another.

It was to no one’s surprise then that Shirley would eventually stake out on her own, leaving her family in Dricia to pursue other goals. Her early years as a Mercenary saw to it great success on her part, though sometimes her methods were…questionable at best. For a few jobs here and there, she’d have a perfect record. But there were always those rare instances when she had gotten a little too carried away with her work. What followed was of course a cut to her overall payment and a red mess that someone needed to clean up.

This pattern would continue over the course of her time before joining the Red Branch Company. The problem lay in the fact Shirley enjoyed her job as a sell sword too much, and when she did act out on violent tendencies, it meant reduced pay for everyone involved. And of course, the corpse left behind. This string of seemingly random and vicious behavior eventually earned her the nickname, “Bloody Shirley”.

In all honesty, that was probably why she was scouted out by the Empire of Nuniel, brought in to become a member of the Red Branch Company. Not that Shirley minded. After all, money was money, and to a Mercenary the coin talked louder than the politics. Especially if there were people to maim, bodies to hack, and life to be spilled for Bloody Shirley.

Name: Chiyuri
Age: 18
Class: Myrmidon
Level: 01

Personal Skill:
- Competitive: If Chiyuri’s level is lower or equal to her support unit's level, Critical rate +10, damage +3 and damage received -1.

Skills:
- Duelist's Blow: When user triggers the battle, Avoid +30.

Equipment:
Kusanagi - Skill +10, Range +1
Iron Sword
Vulnerary (x2)

Story:
A proud Mican child that set out to hone her prowess as a swordswoman and make her name known through the wide world.

It would only natural for someone such as Chiyuri, who was born in a middle class family to choose to do nothing but continue their wickerwork traditional craft, bear children and go through life in the most unremarkable, yet not meaningless way possible. However, something was obviously different with her ever since she was young. Chiyuri had a great fascination with the stories she learned about the warriors of her homeland and about the world on the other side of the mountains in which she grew up.

Eventually, she convinced one of the few Samurai that lived in their village to teach her a few tricks with the sword. Chiyuri quickly mastered the craft and it wasn’t long before she felt like that her homeland was a growing too small for her adventurous spirit and the lofty goals she set for herself.

Bidding her family farewell, Chiyuri set her feet on the road. It was but a matter of time for the fiery, tomboyish swordswoman to find her way to a foreign mercenary company where she could partake in as many conflicts as she needed to make her skill with blade the literal stuff legends are made of.

Sample Post:

Reiko Hayakawa

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Appearance:


Name: Reiko Hayakawa

Age: 23

Class: Ninja

Level: 1

Personal Skill:
-Grace: +30% to avoid

Skills:
-Locktouch: User can open doors and chests without requiring keys

Equipment:
-Iron Shuriken
-2xVulnerary

Story: Reiko was born a member of the Hayakawa clan, which is a Ninja organisation based in Mica. Trained from birth as a fighter, Reiko grew up expecting to one day go forth and prove her worth to her clan. Only, for some years after her training was effectively complete, Reiko was not sent off on any missions. Indeed, few people in the Hayakawa clan were actually being sent anywhere, as the clan had developed a small, elite group of Master Ninjas whom monopolised the important tasks that came from the clan’s clients. Reiko and many others among the clan’s newest generation began to feel like they were superfluous. She and the others begged the clan’s leadership for an opportunity to make something of them for what seemed like an age. Eventually, it seemed that their elders finally caved in and allowed them to take charge of their own assignment.

The assignment Reiko got appeared simple enough on paper. She, along with a few others, was to assassinate a warlord whose territory lay near the Yeryn border. When her group of fledgling ninja attempted their task, however, it soon became apparent this was anything but simple. Their target was not some jumped up outlaw but a legitimate warrior who had been gathering a small but vicious following. Her group was discovered trying to infiltrate and were all slaughtered save Reiko herself, although she certainly thought she would die at the time. As she lay there bleeding out, the Hayakawa’s elites showed up to finish the job. It was clear that they had planned to come here themselves, showing little surprise at the failure of their juniors and not even bothering to attend to those that were wounded, Reiko included. They came, killed the target, and left, saving Reiko only by virtue of giving her the opportunity to crawl away from the violence unnoticed.

It quickly dawned on Reiko in the aftermath that her group were used as fodder to soften up the warlord’s band for the better ninjas. They were never expected to succeed, only to kill a few or perhaps distract them long enough for the others to have an easy time of it themselves. Reiko waited for a week, convalescing in a derelict farmhouse, wondering if they would at least try to track her down, only to conclude their was no point waiting for those that clearly thought little of her. With nowhere else to go, Reiko made up her mind to leave this land for distant shores. She ended up in Nuniel purely because it happened to be the destination of the ship she stowed away on. In Nuniel she found a sense of purpose, as the militaristic country always had something in need of doing that suited her talents. She drifted around for a time, scraping by as a low-key mercenary, before she signed on with the Red Branch Company. This time, she hoped, she would be part of a family that wanted her as more than arrow bait.

Sample Post: The irony that her ninja training was what kept her going through these times was not lost on Reiko. Skills that were passed down to her by people that cared little if she ever used them, and later marched her to her potential demise without a care in the world, were precisely what had kept her from getting killed time and time again. The very skills that the Hayakawa clan had not cared to utilise were practically relished by those that discovered them in the warlike nation of Nuniel, and Reiko now found herself swamped with the activity she had so desperately desired during her days at the clan’s stronghold. As she let her last shuriken sink into the flesh of a Zuiterran skirmisher, however, she admitted to herself quietly that it was all too likely that Nuniel would forget her quickly once it found itself at peace. Nobody needed a ninja when they had no enemies to foist them upon.

Such was the way of life, of course. Reiko learned the hard way she couldn’t expect people to care when they had nothing to gain from you. Years having past since that day on the floor of the Zanshan warlord’s fortress, Reiko had embraced the facts of her situation rather than become embittered by them. If she could not expect unconditional support from those that employed her, then she would just have to make herself useful. There was nothing to be gained in wallowing in self pity, hoping that one’s callous superiors would bend down and give charitably. Just as Nuniel’s soldiers showed little care to their Zuiterran enemies, Reiko mirrored such apathy in her own work. She expected it would be little different if she were hired by the Zuiterrans to push out Nuniel.

As she scoured the battlefield for signs of life, her technical commanding officer approached from behind and patted her shoulder. “Damn fine work, girl.” He began. “I wish my own troopers had half the zeal you have for this work. We might push our way to the heart of this land like that.”

“Yeah, sure.” She rolled her eyes as she spoke. She was quite sure Captain Manstein had a soft spot for her. Perhaps it was a slight infatuation with her exotic appearance. Either way, she knew there were plenty of soldiers that took their jobs as seriously as her, and yet here Nuniel was, fighting an eternal skirmish with their neighbour.

“It’s really too bad.” Manstein continued, paying little heed to Reiko’s remark. “The campaign’s winding down again. We’re likely to be heading back to base.”

“But the generals were sure we’d make a breakthrough this time!” Reiko hadn’t been in Nuniel nearly that long, but she had heard enough from Manstein and others to know they were always being told how their next assault would be the start of the final conquest of Zuiterra. Everytime, it was just another minor skirmish.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure they’ll herald this brush up of ours as the victory to end it all.” He laughed along with her. ”Tell you what though, you should head on south. I’ve heard talk we’re planning a major offensive down that way. They’re sure to need someone with your talents.”

“It’s definitely worth considering. Do I really want to walk all that way, though?” She said half in jest. She was concerned about travelling so far for an uncertain venture.

“I’m sure the walk would do you good. But if you’re feeling lazy, you can always hitch a ride with a mercenary company. There are a few good ones that are guaranteed to get picked up for the campaign. I know a guy in the Red Branch Company, if you want me to help you get in. Interested?”

“…Yeah. Yeah, I think I am.” The two of them would leave their modest battlefield behind and return to Nuniel’s territory. Eventually, Captain Manstein made good on his word and introduced Reiko to the Red Branch Company, and soon enough she would join them in battle.

Appearance:

Name: Fenne de Wees
Age: 27

Class: Fighter
Level: 1
Personal Skill:
Knight Scourge – when attacking, Fenne has a chance -affected by enemy gear, speed and weight- to topple her opponent using her scourge, preventing counterattack while the foe is down
Skills:
Gamble - at the cost of some accuracy, Fenne's attacks are more likely to deal critical strikes

Equipment:
Iron hammer – a sturdy, heavy hammer, not oversized, that excels at crushing bone, armor, or even other weapons. 20/20 uses
Scourge – a leather lash with a clawed end, commonly kept wrapped around Fenne's left wrist. Its points tend to snag on opponents' apparel, more so on armor, and it can be used to bind, trip, and topple enemies, particularly heavy ones 15/15 uses

Story: The mountainous nation of Brudel is a vast one, with dizzying highs and astonishing lows, full of secret and remote places isolated from the rest of the world by the inhospitable, obstructive terrain. Far from the spires of the capital, overlooking the bay between Brudel and distant Nuniel, rests a town stewed in superstition—Gespenst. As the tale goes, its namesake -a legendary warrior whose nightmarish skills and crimson eyes marked him to others as a demon- established it centuries ago after growing tired of fighting and bringing his war caravan to a halt. The resulting settlement flourished over the years thanks to the mountain's untapped resources, though rumors persisted of unholy rites to ensure that the land's bounty never ceased. In present times the town persists in good shape despite certain degradations commonly associated with backwater towns, honoring its founder as a saint and maintaining prophecies about his legacy and eventual return.

Though not all such utterings proved true, one did seem to make itself apparent following the birth of a girl, Fenne. From the moment she opened her eyes, wild talk flew about their brilliant, scarlet hue. Fenne grew up made to believe that she bore the blood of the noble demon lord Gespenst, if she was not in fact the great warrior reincarnated. She certainly acted the part; full of pride and excused from the consequences of her actions, she tormented the other children and caused no end of trouble. When the town's head warrior taught her how to fight, she displayed a remarkable aptitude for violence, finding that she preferred brutal, heavy weapons. Her wanton aggression faded as she grew, but her capacity for cruelty only swelled, and she fought with demonic strength whenever bandits, wild animals, or invaders threatened the territory. Fighting scum, however, eventually came to bring her little satisfaction, and she sought escape.

Looking to the myth of her heritage, she decided that it was the duty of a noble demon to tear down the falsely righteous, serving as an arbiter to determine the world's true heroes and warriors. To that end she left her town and crossed the great bay to Nuniel, where she sought out such people, particularly knights, the supposed defenders of the weak and protectors of the innocent whose principles and ability bore closer inspection. She became a mercenary, employing an arsenal tailor-made to take down opponents in heavy armor, and she delighted in dethroning the proud and the powerful warriors she faced, in showing them their own weakness and hypocrisy. However, the real world also brought along a number of rude awakenings for Fenne, showing her through pain and punishment that the same behavior that flew in Gespenst would not serve her well elsewhere. She also began to learn her own shortcoming; that sometimes the wicked and unjust prevailed no matter what. Troubling thoughts plagued her, telling her that her whole sense of self might be built on a lie, that she might be nothing more than a bloodthirsty, insane human, and that she was doomed to live a life short, agonized, and alone. Her mission to tear down the false and the weak, however, remained, and as such Fenne ended up in the Red Branch Company, poised to bring her hammer down on Lapis' unworthy.

Sample Post: Everything about the man irritated her. His unkempt hair and beard, his easy smile, the cobbled-together armor wholly unfitting of a knight, the scandalous way he talked to the village girl...after a time walking behind them, Fenne could bear it no longer. She lengthened her stride to catch up with the wagon, its driver, and its pedestrian escort. At her approach, the two gave her a momentary glance, but the next moment the man pretended not to notice. To her disgust Fenne realized that he seemed to be in the middle of some kind of story, no doubt trying to steal the heart of the girl he was paid to protect, taking advantage of his position. Venom filled her voice as Fenne came up alongside the man and snarled, “Hedge knight!”

The words demanded the man's attention, and he turned to look at her as he continued walking. Though the village girl seemed frightened by Fenne's tone, the amused, offhanded manner of the knight appeared to put her at ease. Brown eyes sparkling, the swordsman replied, “Yes?”

Fenne bristled. Her insult should have roused this fool to action to defend his supposed honor, but this cur just rolled with the punches. Proof, she decided, of his falsehood. “Dirty, broken armor, and the emblem of some noble house,” Fenne observed. “You've got balls to parade about that trash, likely stolen from some battlefield, and act like some gentleman or hero.”

The man smiled, showing white teeth. “Why, thank you. Not every day someone walks up and starts offering compliments.” On his other side, the village girl snickered, prompting Fenne to clench her teeth as her anger mounted.

“You're scum!” She thundered, pointing an accusatory finger at him. Her red eyes flashed in the morning sun, but if her target noticed, he gave no indication. “Preying on the weak and gullible! And there's nobody I hate more than pretenders!” Fenne twisted, putting all her strength into a sideways swing of her hammer, newly pulled from her belt. Its metal head rocketed toward the false knight's chest, but like grass in the wind he bent out of the way. Fenne's overswing carried her off-balance, causing her to stagger backward.

She righted herself a moment later, whirling to face her foe. The wagon and the knight had stopped, with the man in question standing with his hands on his hips. His right hand lay close to the hilt of his sword, but he did not reach for it. His mocking manner infuriated fen, and with a guttural cry she launched herself forward. Once again the man moved out of the way, stepping to the side to slip past Fenne's overhead slam, and this time his hand shot out in a cross punch to Fenne's ear.

“Guh!” After another stagger sideways, Fenne whipped around, loosing the lash curled around her wrist. Its clawed end snaked through the air, ready to latch onto the hedge knight's gambeson, but he reached up a hand and caught it like one might snatch a buzzing fly from the air. He gave it a yank, pulling Fenne toward him, and before the woman could react the man delivered a left hook to her temple.

This time, Fenne crumpled without a sound. Her hammer plonked into the earth of the dirty road, and her body fell right beside it. As she lay on the ground, head spinning, she became aware of the man standing over her. “Look,” he was saying, slowly so that in even in her state she could understand. “You're obviously new to Nuniel, and I don't know where you might be from, but you should lighten up. Things are more complicated than they might appear, especially people. If it's your mission to take out liars and pretenders, you should know that not all the just are strong, and not all the unjust are weak. I like your passion, but sooner or later it'll be the death of you. And not everyone's going to forgive an attempt on his life for a pretty face.” He winked, then turned to walk away. Fenne heard the wheels of the cart begin to groan again, and the man's voice grew distant. “Take it easy, Red Eyes!” he called. “I hope I'll see you again!”

The next moment Fenne drifted off into unconsciousness, though her scowl remained a few moments longer before her muscles went slack.

Name: Stian Berland
Age: 20

Class: Wyvern Rider
Level: 01
Personal Skill: Fiery Blood – When the user’s HP is not full, Damage +4.

Skills:

• Strength +2

Equipment:

• Iron Axe
• Hand Axe
• Vulnerary (3)

Story:

Stian was born in Malia (in the town of Narla in the country’s centre) to parents who were both hunters and warriors. For the first few years of his life, Stian’s childhood was such a common story, any citizen of Malia could accurately tell you it whether they knew Stian or not. He lived in harsh conditions, as did every other Malian. Stian learned first from his parents, then his peers and other adults. He was luckier than the strays for sure, but had nothing too remarkable going for them either. Perhaps a surprising amount of optimism. Stian learned the basics of unarmed combat, chose an axe for his main weapon. As most teenagers did, he eagerly joined on the hunting expeditions and helped in the occasional guard shift as soon as the adults let him do so.

This common tale became an uncommon one on the day The Wyvern appeared. While the beasts could certainly survive the harsh northern climates, they were most typically found in the mountainous regions to the south. Why one had flown all the way to Malia was unknown. Stian saw it fly overhead during one of the expeditions he was accompanying. The hunters and guards reported the happenings to the city, and it was cautiously decided that the beast should be either found and disposed of or captured alive and sold off. Stian suggested keeping it for themselves, but was rebuked on account of the resources the wyvern would cost.

The youth did not give up, however. Instead, he tracked the beast on his own, found its lair, and through sheer stubbornness and undaunted will, managed to get the old scarred wyvern to accept him. Stian revealed his success only to his parents, announcing he would leave Malia and become a sell-sword, which was the common Malian thing to do, though Stian’s reason was not quite so regular. Stian traveled southwards with his wyvern companion (newly named as Gamleen), earning money however and wherever he could. This nomad and sell-sword lifestyle led him quite naturally to eventually join the Red Branch Company, which offered a surer income in exchange for serving in riskier mission.

Sample Post:

It was early winter, but the snow, ice, and morning mist were already a daily occurrence. Stian was securing Narla’s perimeter alongside several other (adult) guards. It was still afternoon, but getting dark already, and they would have to light torches soon. It was in that moment, as they turned to take a side-path around the town, when a high-pitched shriek sounded. It was similar to an eagle’s but louder, and soon the creature responsible for it could be seen as it flowed overhead. It wasn’t flying particularly low, and yet it appeared large. Too large. Stian was dumbfounded in awe as he recognized the shape as a wyvern – something he’d only heard of about till then.

He noticed his obvious distraction only as a sharp SMACK ringed in his ears, and his head was turned slightly from the impact. “Stop gawpin’ silly, boy,” the culprit rumbled from almost a foot above him.

Stian directed a fierce scowl at the bulky man, though the blonde teenager’s expression was akin to a cute pout compared to the mild yet expressive frown the older dark-haired and long-bearded warrior was sporting. “But Jonas, the wyvern!” the youth sulked, yet was unable to conceal the note of excitement when speaking of the winged dragon-relative.

Jonas grunted, spun on his heel, and moved ahead with the others as they had finally been able to calm the two horses accompanying the group. “We’ll deal with it later, now’s time to finish our round,” the brute announced, leaving Stian to jog to catch up with him.

Stian was perfectly sure he knew what ‘dealing with it’ meant and was surprised to find he didn’t like it one bit. The wyvern had impressed him, even though he’d seen the greyish-white white creature for maybe the span of a half a minute. He found himself wanting it. He had already fixated on the idea that it could be human friendly.

However, his fears that the townsfolk would want to hunt it down proved true some hours later, when all the people gathered at the chieftains’ hall, a place usually dedicated to feasts and sometimes to meetings, the kind of which they were holding just then. It almost unanimously decided they would need to get rid of the wyvern.

And although Stian had suggested what he deemed the perfect alternative…

“Chief, what if we keep it for ourselves? I bet a flying mount would be useful.” but his idea was practically trampled on by the killer trio combo of their current leader’s cold glare (and coming from the chieftainess, the redhead beauty who had won her position by combat of trial, it was deeply devastating thing indeed), his father’s grown and his mother’s “Hush you fool, we’re hunting it because we don’t want it to have none of our game! ‘Sides, meat or no meat, you can’t tame a wild wyvern, boy!”

The red-headed leader of Narla shook her head. "Even if it's tame already, we can't keep it. Dead or alive, we're capturing it, and selling it," was her only comment. The others were all excited about the idea of getting to fight a creature like that, but Stian remained convinced having it as a mount would be way cooler.

It was then and there that Stian decided he would find the wyvern first, confirm if it was tame or not, then get it for himself in secret, all the while pretending he'd been convinced the creature should be hunted. He even used his well-known cockiness to brag and convince them of the lie: “Well, if I can’t have it alive, I’ll cut off its head for a trophy myself!”

And so, Stian had joined in on the wyvern-hunting expedition. However, this effort proved to take longer than expected. There were quite a few rumours of sightings, but no other evidence. No animal carcasses, no bloody trails, no tracks that would lead to the wyvern. The beast was smart enough to hunt at night and left nothing to hint at wherever its lair might be. In fact, it was suspected to have several hideouts, so that even if it was seen mid-flight, it could easily switch up its resting location soon after (and again, usually at night). As cunning as the wyvern was, there wasn't a single report of it harassing, heavily injuring or even killing a human. Thus it was presumed the wyvern was tame, and simply owner-less. Nonetheless, the Malians wanted it out of their territory one way or another.

It wasn’t until the following mid-spring that anyone had any kind of breakthrough. And it was either by luck or chance, or perhaps the blessing of a deity, that Stian found it as he was investigating one of the recent rumoured sightings by himself. The wyvern was standing at the edge of a cliffside cavern, gazing at the sunset, the range of pale blue, pink, orange and crimson slowly fading into obscurity behind the western sea-line.

Stian approached it carefully, but the wyvern gave no reaction behind a single tail-swish. “Hey, wyvern?!” the teenager shouted at it. In answer, the lizard-like creature barely turned its head, seemingly reluctant to cease its observation of the admittedly stunning sunset. However, its action was enough that it focused a single baleful eye on Stian, then boomed a deep grumble, the kind a dragon might issue before blowing a fire-full directly into someone’s face. “Hey, hey, easy, handsome,” Stian tried placating it. The wyvern stomped the ground and clawed at it, but with the way it threw its head back Stian figured it both understood and was pleased by the compliment. “Yeah, yeah, that’s right, you’re real beautiful. The others either want to capture and sell you off as a pet or kill you, but not me. I figure you're just lonely having lost your owner, right? So why not let me be your rider?”

At this, all Stian perceived was a larger-than-the-average-horse sized white blur come at him, and a second later felt a sharp sting as four lines were carved into his face. He promptly fell right to his ass, gasping in shock, forgetting all about the wyvern as he checked if his face was still attached. The blood was flowing freely, but the cuts were surprisingly shallow, no deeper than if some huge but pissed off cat had attacked him. This thing could’ve easily ripped me to shreds! He knew that for a fact and it took a couple of moments for his panic to recede, and the reason to kick back in. But it didn’t. So, just a warning? Or it doesn’t see me worthy?

Either way, Stian’s humiliation only fuelled his anger, and he stood up, then drew his axe, gripping it tightly in both hands as he faced square-footed and straight-backed against the wyvern. “Ya think I’m too young and stupid too, huh? Just like all the rest,” he ranted at the wyvern, which stared down at him with a calm belied by its spread wings and swishing tail. “Yeah, well, I’ll show you. I’ll hurt you and I’ll tire you down, till you can’t move an inch. Then I’ll bring ya some meat. That’s right, I’ma feed you, buddy. You’ll see, I’m strong. And I can take care of you. So just give it up! Be my companion!” Stian exclaimed in fervor, simply winging it at this point. The wyvern bared its fangs, approached, but did not attack.

Rather, it simply stared. Stian didn’t know how long they stood there, neither willing to back down. His arms burned and his eyes watered, but he knew he had to show he meant it, otherwise the wyvern probably would kill him for real. To this day, Stian couldn’t tell you how long the stare-off lasted for.

But he did know he fulfilled the self-made promise to bring a trio of hares to the wyvern the next time he visited it.

Other:

Name: Raina Clerevaux

Age: 19

Class: Pegasus Knight

Level: 1

Personal Skill: Zephyr - Increases Avoid and Hit by 20% when paired with another unit.

Skills: Darting Blow - If unit initiates combat, grants unit +5 speed during battle. Learns at lv 1.

Equipment: Iron lance, Javelin, Vulnerary

Story: Raina is a young aspiring Pegasus Knight from the Queen's Peaks with quite a large chip on her shoulder. This lass belongs to the Clerevaux family, who were once well respected nobles within the Queendom of Brudel. In her earlier years, Raina enjoyed a life of luxury and recreation, given to her by her family's wealth and status. She was carefree and was mostly concerned with absorbing as much fun out of life as possible, as opposed to having any lofty aspirations or long term goals. Being a noble heir who could usually get anything they desired, she never grew a need to seek anything more. Until one unexpected day.

The court guard stormed into the Clerevaux house one mid morning, needless to say the family was surprised at the intrusion to say the least. When Lethereus Clerevaux, the father of the house, wanted answers for the abrupt invasion of his home, the leader of the squadron held out a parchment of some sort and began to read out its contents. Apparently, Sir Clerevaux was found guilty by the Royal Court for money laundering and being a supporter for drug trafficking. Naturally the rest of the family couldn't believe such a wild accusation, and Lethereus himself denied such claims. However, the court apparently had an insurmountable quantity of evidence pointing toward the contrary, having various transaction documents bearing the Clerevaux family seal for example. Unable to prove his innocence, Lethereus and the rest of the family were stripped of their nobility and he himself was imprisoned for his crimes. His family - A wife, two sons, and his eldest child being Raina - were forced out of their home and exiled to a small village in Dricia.

Having to come to copes with her father's crimes and adjusting to her new life took a rather profound toll on young Raina. Her mother struggled to take care of her children, having been stripped of all their wealth and resources. Eventually the mother became ill, and was for the most part bedridden. This left taking care of day-to-day chores and responsibilities to Raina, being the eldest child. In a matter of speaking she was forced to grow up faster than she should have.

Despite, Raina tries her best to maintain a positive attitude, if not for her family then for herself at the very least. She worked at a stable in order to gain income to support her family, she got little compensation but it was enough for them to make ends meet. Worried that eventually they would run out of funds, Raina soon began looking some work that was more...lucrative. That when she got the idea to become a Pegasus Knight. The stable she worked at sometimes had Pegasi placed in their care, knowing this she decided to try to enlist as a knight and receive income through mercenary work. As it would turn out, she had talent for the profession.

Raina came to believe that if she garnered enough renown from her work she could restore honor to her family and even have her father released from prison, wishful thinking perhaps but that wouldn't stop this young lady from trying.

She was eventually sought out by the Red Branch Company, and was promptly enlisted. She hoped that joining the company would further her pursuits.

Sample Post:

Name: Lyx
Age: 20

Class: Troubadour
Level: 1
Personal Skill:
Major Domo - Allies within 10ft gain skill activation +15% and Critical rate/evasion +15

Skills:
Resistance +2 - Increases Resistance by 2.

Equipment:
Daikon Radish 25/25 - Speed +1, Defence/Resistance -1, Critical Evade +10
Heal 25/25 - Restores (10 + Magic/3) HP to an ally
Freeze 20/20 - Reduces an enemy's Movement to 0 and their Avoid by 20 for one turn
Entap 10/10 - Moves an enemy next to the user

Story: A beastkin trying to make it big by selling along Coris trade routes, Lyx's luck ran out as their prized beaststone was pocketed by a passerby thief. This was a cardinal sin against their pride; for loosing one's beaststone was akin to loosing one's importance and identity. Apart from trying to track down the thief, the only way Lyx could regain lost honor would be to scrounge enough money and hope to acquire one on the black market. Reduced to a status fitting peasants until the stone could be recovered, Lyx joined as a servant; proudly cleaning up and running errands for the gathering company.

Name: Cael Augre (Birth Name: Cael Valence)
Age: 22
Class: Wyvern Rider (Spear Variant)
Level: 01

Equipment:

-Vulnerary (3/3)
-Iron Spear
-Javelin

Personal Skill:
Mangled Wing: Due to Verdan’s wounded wing, he doesn’t have the full mobility of other Mounts (-1 to Movement). Cael has adapted to using the sometimes erratic flight pattern of Verdan to distract or disorient enemies, creating an opening that a partnered flying unit can use (-15% to enemy’s Avoidance, when partnered with another flying unit).
Skills:
Level 1: Strength +2

Name: George Gallagher
Age: 20

Class: Knight
Level: 1

Personal Skill:
Optimism: This unit recovers 150% the usual HP when healed by a staff

Skills:
Defense +2: Increases Defense by 2.

Equipment:
- Iron Lance
- Vulnerary x2

Story:
Born to a wealthy family in Coris, George experienced a significant portion of his life from the perspective of a nobleman - he was pampered, waited upon, and the only actual exertion he experienced was the voluntary exercising he performed every few days. Hunger was never a real concern and his father, an arms dealer, experienced regularly traded with Nuniel and lining the family coffers. George was satisfied with his destined future of taking over the family business, and never experienced that call for freedom that seemed so common among the wealthy.

At the age of 18, the family estate was robbed - his father killed while trying to keep the rest of the family hidden. This event traumatized George and, against his Mother's wishes, he immediately began to train so he could one day get his vengeance. Six months went by, and while he was far from a disciplined warrior, he was ready to find the killer - George left his Mother and Younger Brother, the latter of which took up the family business. With no leads to go on, George turned to the mercenaries that always were present in the Coris forces - and after being turned away from many of them as well, one man finally suggested a company that could help George find his prey.

With the help of a wagon and Mules commisioned by his Younger Brother, George finally found the Red Branch Company. It only took a bit of convincing and some bribes to get within their ranks from there.

Sample Post:
George awoke with a start, reaching for his Lance. The hot air on his face ceased as he rose and, pointing the blade, George sighed. Cocoa, unlike her brother, did not enjoy sleeping outside. And it seemed, like usual, she had climbed into the wagon and tried to claim the blanket for herself. George kneeled down, petting the mule gently so as not to wake her.

"One of these days I might end up hurting you, girl."

George immediately began his morning ritual - he washed up with some of the water he kept in the back of the wagon, shined his armor, and then proceeded the long process of donning it. He had it custom-made, and he could wear it all day before it grew tiresome. As the sun rose in the distance, George began to cook breakfast for the early risers in the company, sitting next to Gus as he did so. The mule was absentmindedly chewing on some feed as he watched the fire.

With many of his teammates fed, George proceeded to feed his two favorite members - the mules eagerly consumed the bag of feed, before eventually finishing. With that, George tied them up to the wagon and prepared for the journey to the next battle.

---

A days march later and camp was set up once more. While the others set up tents, George cooked dinner using more of the Company provisions. Mother always said that it'd be easy to find a wife if he could cook! Not that it mattered, on the battlefield, but he was glad to pitch in any way he could to the team. After everyone had their fill, George took the remnants and had them for dinner. Climbing into the wagon, he proceeded to remove his armor, make his 'bed' and lied down. As he did so, with a second or two of contemplation, he laid down one of the spare blankets on the other side of the wagon. If Cocoa was going to sleep in here, it would be best for her to not wake him up so early again.

Name: Kieran Arol (born Kieran Rendel)
Age: 24
Class: Wyvern Rider (Spear)
Level: 1
Personal Skill:

• Pincer Formation: When supporting a flying unit, increase that ally's Hit Rate by 15%.

Skills:

• Strength +2

Equipment:

• Iron Lance