Having been conditioned to be a soldier since she was ten years old and serving on the battlefield since she was eleven, the woman known as Stein exhibits a cold but determined presence. Youthful in appearance, most people make presumptions upon Stein’s abilities especially considering she is not exceptionally tall nor overtly muscular due to her deceptively unassuming physique.

Though what Stein makes up for in appearance she quantifies in atmospheric expressions that could be described as “fire and ice” due to the combination of scowls, grimaces, narrowed brows and cold emotionless eyes. In form of her conventional appearance Stein holds bright blonde hair with pale blue irises; her hair done up in generally a disheveled manner depending on its current length. She has had short hair that runs slightly past her ears, but for some reason when her hair gets long she tends to keep it there in terms of preference; a long hair she draws into rough disheveled ponytails, or pigtails. Whether she considers it a tactic to keep up the façade that she’s a meek little girl or enjoys the look of things is unknown to anyone but Stein.

Anxious
Direct
Logical
Perceptive
Pragmatic
Repressive
Stoic

Stein was enlisted in the Elysium Dream military after she was discovered to be neuro-compatible with the technology of neural combatants at twelve years old. Within a year of her enlistment, she was assigned to a regiment designed to protect the greater Seattle area. Before she was fifteen years old she had her first battlefield encounter and her first “perfect synchronization”. In the seven-or-so years of active duty, Stein has found her mind slowly become influenced by the effects of neural discordance. Among these effects include heightened anxiety distress in social crowds to the point of acute agoraphobia and enochlophobia, vivid mental acuity in relation to her non-machine oriented post-traumatic stress disorder, and virulent mood swings.

Whereas some pilots are only affected by synchronization effects linearly and singularly, Stein has found that the shift attached neurologically in more of a widened spread. A blessing and a curse. Stein has found in addition to medical stimulants to suppress such things, retreating to her NC’s cockpit seems to work as a good “mental reset”. Though, the truth of the matter is it is just a lackadaisical safe space that simply shelves the problem for another day. There is, after all, no cure for issues created from a polaris shift.

TBD

TBD

TBD

Little Dragon

Bipedal, Ranged

Assault

The Little Dragon is a medium sized mecha that was designed by The Volkov Corporation some years ago. Painted in a metallic sheen of crimson with black undertones, the Little Dragon flies the colors of its former corporation though the branding of the company logo has since been removed as well as the paint faded due to its constant battles it has been forced to endure in harsh environments. But despite this wear and tear the Little Dragon is not weak nor is it worse off for it. It has survived at least two lifetimes of pilots before Stein and will continue to do so when it moves hands in the future.

TBD

TBD

Arrogant
Boisterous
Cynical
Irrational
Reckless
Selfish

Despite only being fourteen years old, Ryn has had a career over a dozen instances of “perfect synchronization”. As a result her brain signals are extreme damaged through the effects of neural discordance. The most significant of this damage includes a neural functionality issue for recognizing physical pressure and pain. The fourteen-year-old denotes this as an inconsistent “numbness”. Significant consequences and theoretical worsening of the condition are difficult to predict, though it is likely by the age of eighteen she’ll have a complete inability to feel any sort of pain in her body. It is a concern she is aware of and is completely terrified about. However, she’d never tell you that.

Additional effects have yet to appear beyond this neural functionality, but she’s rather young. It is not uncommon for pilots to end up having multiple issues by the end of their piloting careers.

TBD

TBD

TBD

Phantasm

Bipedal, Scout

Sniper

TBD

TBD

Life as a mercenary has turned a once thin, lanky young Alan into the gnarled man that now pilots the Wild Wolf. His face still denotes some tinge of handsomeness under the usual gleam of oil and dirt, but time and stress have caused early wrinkled to appear on Alan’s forehead. He also has tinges of gray appearing in his dark brown hair now. He stands at an average height of 5’10, and his arms and legs are quite muscular due to the labor that comes with self-maintenance on a NC.

Alan’s usual facial demeanor among strangers is a lackadaisical and goofy attitude. A half-cocked smile, a wry grin, and a gentle chuckle are commonplace for Alan in a canteen or in a meeting room. It’s when he gets to know someone or when things get serious that his demeanor changes into a cold stare; revealing his dark green eyes. He usually has bags under his eyes, both in part to a lack of good rest and due to the mental strain, the Polaris shift has done to his brain. His dark, spotty beard is usually unkempt but thin, and his hair is kept in a messy cut, never long, but always disheveled.

Jocular
Intelligent
Creative
Insular
Deceptive
Manic
Well-Read

Alan was tested at the age of fifteen in his community of Dead Springs, and while he held a solid synchronization level during his first years as a community pilot in the Atlanta area, it wasn’t until his entire squad and home were destroyed that he experienced his first perfect synchronization, which is partially in line with the fact that he survived such an experience. In the six years since he has undergone perfect synchronization a handful of times, but in recent years he has been suffering from “memory bleeding.” In a sense, he is undergoing extreme mental dementia, where he experiences the memories of someone else. Memories include a pre-war forest in the morning, a sunrise, and snowfall. If left untreated, Alan can become lost in the memories, and become confused and upset when he is brought back to “reality.” He takes a low-dose prescription for now, but it only helps treat the symptoms, as his steady mental degradation is irreversible.

Alan grew up in Dead Springs, near the Atlanta Megacity in Fairbanks. Small ruins and tons of junk, it became a frontier trading post between the larger megacities in lower Fairbanks. Still, living in the frontier comes with danger: raiders especially. The test came to Alan’s town later in his life, when he was fifteen. Thinking of a chance to provide for his family and give them a better life than living in a junkyard town, he took his chance with the surgery. Still, a town needs money to pay its pilots. And Dead Springs was no megacity. But when you’re in a junkyard, you can find many wondrous things: including the frame of the Wild Wolf. Found nestled away in a collapsed compound in the ruins, the frame had been stripped of armor and a core, leaving only the skeleton remaining: a remnant of what it could be. But a frame would work: with money raised for a core, and what armor and armaments the money could afford; the WW was rebuilt piecemeal. But it worked.

Alan took up sorties with local combatants, as well as defense jobs in the area; providing for both his home and his family; allowing them more luxuries than a Junker’s life can provide. But more than that, he fought to bring them some semblance of peace. However, a roughshod mech is only as good as its parts and pilot allow; and it was on these sorties that Alan met real terror. A team of outdated and hand-built mechs doesn’t usually fare well against well trained and well-equipped soldiers; especially deserters from Atlanta. Outmatched and outgunned, Alan’s compatriots were slaughtered, and he was left broken and left for dead; a heavy grinder blade digging into his cockpit and tearing the metal apart, giving him his facial scar as a reminder. Alan's final memory of that day was a large custom NC with golden plating, inspecting Alan's damaged frame and simply walking away.

The deserters didn’t simply wipe out the defense party; they came to Dead Springs. The town and its people burned. By the time Alan had made his way to his hometown, he was too late. The sight of his family and friends slaughtered awoke something inside of him: a beast; a wild, rabid dog that fed on all of Alan’s negativity towards his weakness came to life. It consumed him and drove him to fight. He survived, and he kept the Wild Wolf alive using the parts he could salvage from his fallen comrades. Metal scavenged from the destroyed ruins of his town strengthened his armor-and he went hunting.

Surprise attacks. Traps. Decoys and delays. Alan learned to fight his new enemies with his mind to make up for his glaring technological weaknesses and his own lack of combat skills. And when it came to combat, the harder he fought, the higher his synchronization grew with the Wild Wolf. Between perfect synchronization in battle and the tactical advantages Alan created in combat, he’d gotten his revenge at the cost of serious damage to his NC. But the leader, the Golden NC, was nowhere to be found during this time. When Alan returned to the Atlanta burrow with news of the attack and these deserters, he was blacklisted from the job board, removed from the local registry and told that it was simply a raider attack and nothing more. A week later, towns near Dead Springs claimed allegiance to the Atlanta Burrow and most residents were relocated.

The official story was very sanitized, censored and lacked anything about Alan. Alan's own interpretations have been classified or simply ignored by Fairbanks staff at the Atlanta Burrow. With that, Alan left the Atlanta area and made his way across the continent, working for various settlements and cities. Alan began to make a name for himself over six years as an honest mercenary who got jobs done in a professional manner. He grew his own network of other mercenary pilots in the Fairbanks, DV and other areas.

During his tenure working as a mercenary, Alan upgraded the Wild Wolf’s systems and learned how to survive in the harsh wastelands by himself or with a squad. Still, Alan’s travels were always influenced by his one true goal: to find the Golden NC and finish what was started so many years ago. It’s this reason above all for Alan’s journey to New Anchorage.

Junkyard Mechanic: Unlike his counterparts who had access to proper materials during their combat stays, Alan grew up in the frontier where clean, shiny new supplies were few and far between. This meant that he had to scrounge and repurpose outdated, damaged or scavenged parts to keep his unit in workable condition. While he has to leave it to the professionals for proper upkeep of the WW, Alan can perform emergency repairs in the field if push comes to shove, and that ingenuity comes in handy when things go to shit.

Unshakable Will: In serious situations, the average pilot would lose their cool and give in to negative emotions, shaking them and breaking their morale. Alan, due to both his insane drive for destruction when fully “in the zone” as well as his own nature of do-or-die, is not easily shaken in combat. It would take extreme duress to make him break his usual façade; though a break would be disastrous.

Adaptive: Alan’s past has forced him to make do with supplies and weapons he could scrounge either in the junkyard, the frontier or after the battle. Alan lacks any sheer expertise with weapons, but he makes up for that in his ability to pick up and use a weapon with gradual skill. If he can find a half-working FMR or a Powered Spike, Alan can find a way to perform maximum damage with it.

Well-Read: If Alan has one indulgence it's literature. At a young age, collecting bits of archaic literature became a past time for Alan, especially exploring the databanks of ruined libraries. Alan's datapad has to date over 800 novels, short stories and poetry ranging from the seventeenth century to the twenty-third century. Alan prefers the classics over the later literature, enjoying chivalric romances, gothic horror, and transcendental poetry. Alan's favorite stories include Le Morte d'Arthur, The Once and Future King, Frankenstein, T.S. Eliot's The Wasteland, and The Hound of the Baskervilles.

Tactical Awareness: Alan’s greatest strength is using the environment and information to his advantage against his enemies. He’s used dust storms for cover, set off explosions to avoid thermal detection and isn’t afraid to attack from behind if it increases his chance at victory.

Alan’s facade may appear to be two-faced, but in actuality, Alan keeps his comrades at an arm’s length as a defense mechanism. His fears of growing close to others have led to issues with other pilots in his past, notably Ryn.

Bipedal, Mid-Range

Assault

At first some believe the Wild Wolf to be a raider’s mech due to its patchwork customization and scrap aesthetic. But Alan’s fine-tuning over the years has allowed him to make Wolf’s awkward platform work for him, and he has made the Wild Wolf into a dangerous machine. Areas around important joints are more thickly armored, and other areas have been stripped to the bare necessities, allowing for maximum maneuverability and mech survivability. The colors are a mix of rust-browns and dark greens over the mech, and where a corporation logo would go, Alan has his own custom stencil of Wolf’s head.

Leg and Lower Back Thrusters
These give strong bursts of speed and sustained air boosts for a limited time for extra mobility

Heavily Used LFR (Light Frame Rifle)
30 round magazine rifle with anti-armor ordinance, short-to-mid range.

Underbarrel HFG Launcher
A 3 round grenade launcher attached to the LFR. Equipped with standard fragmentary grenades.

Scavenged Light Grinder Blade
A heavy blade meant to pierce and then tear pieces of a mech apart.

Electrical Discharge Cannon
Emits high powered electrical bursts at close range. Can temporarily disable an unshielded NC or cause damage to the pilot in the cockpit.

Grapple Tether
Arm mounted grapple launcher with an industrial NC winch system. An odd armament for a combat NC, but it’s varied uses have saved Alan multiple times in the past.

In a lot of ways, Eli resembles her mother. Spirely, with strict and rigid posture and a demeanor that might generally be considered as “harsh.” Physically she’s a bit lanky, and if observed in her rare, relaxed moments, one might remark that she seems ill-fitted to herself. Her hair falls long and flat, and is a shade of off-white that makes her otherwise porcelain skin appear thin and pallid. The sunkeness of her eyes is off-put by their brightness: a deep, bright blue like the depth beneath a sheet of ice.

She tends to dress conservatively, and her wardrobe is slim. An assortment of long shirts and pants, pull-overs and thick boots. The one constant is the plain, sky-blue scarf she wears as often as she’s allowed—which, considering the lax dress code in the facility, especially among pilots, is nearly always. Beneath it all though is her pilot suit, donned first-thing, so that she can be ready for anything that might come New Anchorage’s way.

Fiercely Loyal
Direct
Obsessive
Instinctual
Distrusting
Perceptive
Cold

Eli may be newer to piloting, but she’s been given no breaks for it. The nature of her combat role, as well as Blur’s reliance on the physical and mental reflexes of its pilot necessitate both high and consistent rates of synchronization. Due to a crisis of identity brought on as a result of her mother’s psychological conditioning, Eli has little to no trouble assimilating herself into Blur and achieving these synch rates, and it’s here that her Polaris Shift finds its roots.

Eli is slowly losing herself to her NC. The more benign effects of this Shift include things like adherence to patterns and routines, acute awareness, and the occasional need to remind herself to blink. In more serious instances, or flares, Eli ceases to think of herself as a human being, but rather a part of the machine. She may neglect sleeping and eating, disregard pain and harm herself as a result, or simply “shut down,” which could more accurately be described as an immobilizing episode of dissociation.

She’s found some success in repressing these effects through medication. Alternatively, the commands of her mother, or the consolation of her sister, have also shown to be able to “snap her out of it.” But as with all Polaris Shifts, there is no long-term cure.

Eli was five when she learned that her name was short for “Elizabeth.” Her mother used it the first time she’d cried during one of their conditioning sessions.

“Elizabeth,” she’d said. “Never cry in front of me again.”

For most of her life, Eli rarely left the ramshackle library the Jackspars called home. She spent her days studying, practicing, and doing what her mother commanded, when she commanded. At night, she would listen to Vera talk about her day; where she went, what she did, who she met. Second-handedly she developed a sense of community, which mingled nicely with her burgeoning desire to protect Smith’s Rest.

As her mother began to take a more active role in the Smith’s Rest community, Eli was subjected to fewer conditioning sessions, and the two were around each other less often. She spent more time with Vera, who coaxed out of her an almost human affection, which blossomed into a genuine, if repressed, personality. She grew to be more than just a prospective tool, she became a sister and a friend. She became “Lizzy.”

When the day finally came that Smith’s Rest acquired its Neural Combatants, Eli was there fresh and early. She hadn’t considered that she might fail her compatibility test, her mother had never even mentioned it. It was as if the woman knew, somehow, that her daughter would pass. Eli considered it a sort of destiny. Of course she would defend Smith’s Rest, what else was there?

The cockpit fit her like a glove. Blur was her second skin, her body-away-from-her-body. Never before had she felt so certain of who she was, never had she dreamt of what fulfilling her purpose might feel like. Together with her team, under the command of Sophia Torres, Eli finally saw what Smith’s Rest could be.

Then, Sophia vanished.

Smith’s Rest, now expanded into the Free State of New Anchorage, went on without her. The NC program went on without her. It seemed like everyone was willing to move forward without batting an eye at the fact that their head of defense had disappeared overnight. Eli, however, was not. Her sharpening image of New Anchorage could not accommodate deserters, or traitors, or those whose intentions were too selfish to put the good of the people before themselves. When Raschke brought on Michael Graham, and he proposed to flood their ranks with mercenaries, Eli was…less than confident in his choices. She was, admittedly, less than confident in him.

Now, with her sister’s imminent career as a pilot, and her mother’s growing popularity among the people of New Anchorage, Eli feels stuck between her obligation towards her home, and her own distrust of the strangers inhabiting it.

Up Close and Personal: Eli isn’t a good shot. One could justifiably say that Eli is in fact a bad shot. Thankfully, swordplay and fist-fighting require grace and power over accuracy, and utilize a different sort of hand-eye coordination, which Eli excels in. Quick, agile, and ambidextrous from years of self-teaching, Eli would like to say she makes up for her shortcomings in long-range combat with her prowess in CQC, but she still has to reach her target first.

Unwavering Loyalty: Alternatively: “goal-oriented,” “single-minded,” and “unhealthily skeptical.” With Eli, the mission always comes first, because to her, the mission is always in the interest of New Anchorage. Instilled within her is an almost fanatical loyalty to her home, desire to protect its people, and see it prosper. To her, any pilot who fights for them should be willing to lay down their lives for the good of New Anchorage. This has led her to hold a distaste for newcomers, especially mercenaries, or former mega corporation pilots. Consequently however, her trust, once gained, is absolute to a gullible fault.

Reliable: Eli is, if nothing else, a phenomenal solider. She gets things done. She follows directions and fulfils her tasks with speed and proficiency, never questioning—out loud, at least—the orders of a superior. For everyone else, especially her equals, she rarely keeps her doubts to herself, and as standoffish as that may sometimes be, one can at least rely on her to be honest and direct.

TBD

Blur

Bipedal, Melee

Close-Range Assault

Blur is a light-weight, medium-sized Neural Combatant designed to embody the “high-risk, high-reward” philosophy. Likely created by Red Star, it was recovered from a glacial wall. Its sleekly humanoid, aerodynamic frame and snow-white exterior help it live up to its name amidst the Alaskan wasteland, and especially during blizzards. The array of propulsion engines affixed to its back expand and shift during use not unlike spines, or sharp wings.

Omni-Propulsion System: Integral to Blur’s design philosophy is its array of engines, which help it to achieve the ludicrous speed required of a melee-oriented NC. When coupled with Eli’s quick reflexes and intuition, they also provide Blur with a surprising degree of maneuverability, necessary for avoiding the front and backline fire it tends to draw.

Bladed Weaponry: Blur’s weapons reflect its orient towards melee-combat. A beam-sword of standard design, an energy-projected, wrist-mounted shorter blade, and sharp, retractable claw-tips for its fingers complete its standard arsenal. The only deviance in the design of her weapons is that they’ve been fitted to work with Blur’s Energy Relay System.

Energy Relay System: What the Omni-Propulsion system does to initiate combat, the ERS does to finish it. Considering the prioritization of agility over distance-closing speed in close-quarters, the ERS seeks to make sure that the engines’ massive energy output isn’t put to waste once Blur has actually reached its target. It allows Eli to pump extra power to her sword, or her gauntlet-blade, or even the sharp-tipped fingers, which can come in handy when cutting apart NCs and holding against other melee weapons.

Flare Cache: When fancy-feet and speed just aren’t enough, or as a proactive-countermeasure to cover its approach, Blur is equipped with multiple rounds of flares with which to throw off heat-seeking ballistics. They don’t always count for much, and they’re no replacement for covering fire, but in a pinch Eli has found them useful.

Optimistic
Friendly
Persistent
Resilient
Conflict-Avoidant
Empathetic

TBD

TBD

TBD

Firefly

TBD

TBD

Standing at 5’6”, Agatha has sharp features and a smile that could cut an NC to ribbons. Hair once flaxen has long since gone gray, which is pulled into a loose bun. Deep set green eyes and a pointed nose. Some people have told her she has the face of a 1st grade Math teacher who takes joy in assigning homework over the weekend. While not a weightlifter, she has a solid frame from years of hard work on the surface. Tends to wear a faded burgundy vest over an oil stained grey jumpsuit.

Steadfast
Maternal
Good Humored
Stubborn
Guilt Ridden
Reckless

Perfect Synchronization yet to be achieved.

Born and raised on the surface, Agatha always knew she was a special snowflake. At the bizarrely typical age of 14, she was found compatible to pilot an NC. Like so many before her she was drawn into piloting a bipedal weapon of mass destruction and had many mercantile adventures as an independent NC operator that aren’t worth recollection. The kinds of adventures that blur together but can often be summed up as, ‘Go to exotic locations, meet interesting people, and kill them’.

Throughout her ventures she had a loyal mechanic who would have followed her to hell and back by the name of Albert Smith. He wasn’t particularly handsome or clever, but he was loyal, sweet, and won over her affections through his perseverance. At 27 Agatha was married, by 28 she had a daughter and another on the way. Finding their means of employment too dangerous to foster a family, they decided it was prudent for Agatha to set aside the adventuring for a more sedentary lifestyle. Investing their considerable saving towards setting up shop in a scrapyard, Agatha began a new life as a mother and family woman.

For years, that was good enough. All the effort she had put forth piloting her NC was directed towards running the scrapyard and raising her kids. There wasn’t the same rush that came with piloting a multi-ton automaton, but she was satisfied for a time.

Then the children grew up, and left the nest to find out their own destinies. To be the special snowflakes that have fantastical opportunities all lined up for the taking if they only go out and claim them. Her husband of 29 years had grown ill and passed peacefully in his sleep.

That left Agatha, with a job she didn’t care for and no one relying upon her. Most would have considered this time to retire, settle down and indulge herself before the inevitable end, but she couldn’t. Even with the best years of her life in the past, she knew she had more to give. Firing up the old NC, which had been used as a makeshift crane for the scrapyard, she went out to recapture her lost glory, but found there wasn’t any demand for someone so long out of the game. The only ones as desperate as she was where the good folks down at New Anchorage, and they just so happened to be looking for any pilot that would come their way.

Spatial Awareness: Between years of combat and decades of navigating shifting heaps of torn metal and forgotten scrap, Agatha has an excellent sense for the environment around her and any shifts within her proximity. Her youngest child joked she had a had a sixth sense for falling debris, but Agatha insisted she was just more willing to listen to all her sense then most.

Confrontational: There's no horsing around when the call to action arises. Up front and to the point, she'll tackle a problem head on even if it's not the most tactful or polite. It caused her no ends of trouble but she'd argue it's saved her life just as often.

Strong Constitution: Retirement didn't dull Agatha's drive to stay in top shape as much as she could. Finding healthy food wasn't the easiest thing away from the cities, but she maintained a routine workout regiment and abstained from the typical vices of alcohol and tobacco. Chocolate was a rarity saved for her daughter's birthdays, and the only coffee she drank was decaf. A commitment made all the more trying by the other member's of her family having no such compunctions, but it is a trial she has endured with good cheer and will power.

---

Herakles

Bipedal | Close Range - Medium Range

Assault

A medium sized mech balancing armor and speed, differentiated from most bipedal NCs by it's emphasis on hands-free integrated weaponry and a reliance on laser weaponry. A lack of an expansive radiator system keeps the use of its laser weapons to short instances with longer cooldowns between engagements, prompting a reliance on close quarters combat and use of auxiliary missile launchers.

Dual Oscillating Laser Armatures: Each of Herakles' arms features two light laser batteries, firing in a three ray burst before alternating barrels to fire from, mitigating the heat build up somewhat while keeping the fire rate low enough there can be some semblance of accuracy. Due to the NC's arms being designed around the weapon's integration, it's firing angle in no way inhibits the free articulation of Herakles' hands.

Chassis Mounted Medium Laser: A heavier laser then the arm integrated variants effective at medium range, meant to hammer targets at a safer distance. Has greater penetrating power at the expense of being wildly inaccurate while moving unless at extreme close range, as well as limited rate of fire.

Four Quintuple Missile Arrays: Fitted to the shoulders with deployable armored canopy for added protection. Payload constitutes 10 airburst flechette missiles programmed to arch upwards and detonate at a designated range above ground for maximum dispersal. The remaining 10 missiles are willy pete obscure visuals and thermals on top of their intended purpose.

Reinforced Fists: Self evident in their purpose, but sporting added armor along the finger exteriors in order to improve striking power and protection from impact. Precludes the use of any delicate small arms by NC scales, though heavier armaments are feasible.