[OOC] SPIRITUM

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Fun fact: If you click the picture, music will play.

 F A S T  F A C T S
▲ Futuristic Fantasy setting
▲ Action, adventure, drama, romance, and mystery.
▲ Magic, airships, magitek, eldritch abominations and one hell of a road trip.
▲ Story shaped by the players. World-building encouraged.
▲ The RP itself will most likely progress at a slower pace, as people have other commitments that of course must come first.

 P I T C H 

And cometh the swallowing darkness.
A blighted destiny by sinners south,
leaving only tragedy by powers wrought.
By hands of Lyssa and the touch of her lips,
those brought pure will face the tide.
Despair not for those lost in the darkness
but look towards the peace of the new dawn.
Canticle of Fajjar 17:1

The story of Spiritum is about a world known as Yerin, a world where magic and technology have mixed and flowed together for centuries. Long before man had conquered the world, creating massive metropolises, machines that could soar among the very heavens, and highways that stretched seemingly endless across the horizon, before it all a pact was made with the Gods. In exchange for our eternal reverence they taught us the secrets of magic, the ability to draw from the Astral Mist to bend and shape reality in ways thought to be unimaginable. The Gods gave them the gifts of powerful and magical minerals descending from the heavens in floating islands, and embedding themselves over and around the lands of Yerin. Large concentrations of these minerals fueled the industrialization of the world, and would form the centers upon which great civilizations would form around. Referred to as Levistone, when refined into Etherium fuel, these magical minerals served as power sources, mechanisms to enable flight, and the backbone of which modern technology would be built on.

It would be these valuable minerals which would nearly plunge the world into ruin due to greed and malice in equal parts. One of the kingdoms that had formed around massive deposit of Levistone would one day become the sprawling Vangar Empire. Over time the Vangar evolved into a strong military and industrial powerhouse. They used the Levistone to fuel their army and industry and over time the large deposits across their lands began to run empty. To ensure their continued prosperity, Vangar began to invade the many lesser kingdoms around them to secure their Levistone supplies for their own use.

This cycle has lead to the current state affairs with the Vangar-Rassvet conflict. The small Kingdom of Rassvet was a small but influential land with a storied history dating back to when the Pact was made. Rassvet followed a policy of strict isolation and neutrality for most of its existence, preferring to keep out of major conflicts whenever they could. Careful guarding and use of their own Levistone deposits have preserved them to state of potential power unmatched in all of Yerin. Seeing an opportunity to secure a massive boon to their Empire, the Vangar marched into Rassvet with the intent to annex the kingdom and secure their prosperity for the near future.

Leading the charge against the Vangar invasion is a special branch of the Rassvet military known as WARDEN. Selected from a very young age based upon their aptitude to draw upon the Mist, these warriors possessing both martial and magical skill far above the standard soldier. With the help of these warriors, the Rassvet army has managed to hold the much larger Vangar Excursionary Force at bay for a little over six months now. Though day by day the Vangar continue to gain ground and casualties mount in the thousands on both sides. 

All the while the coming darkness as foretold by the Oracles themselves approaches. Many believe it is a product of the war and the dead. The corpses and the smell of blood driving the monsters from their hiding places mad with a ravenous lust for blood. Many also theorize that the rapid mining and usage of Levistone disrupting dens of monsters, and bringing them out into the forefront.

Among all of this, the story of Spiritum focus upon a group of freshly graduated WARDENs intent on going on one last road trip as a sort of collective 'family' before they are shipped out to the front lines. Par for the course things don't go as planned. One series of unforeseen events later eventually leads to this group coming to escort a young child with a mysterious necklace connected to the coming darkness and hunted by both Rassvet and Vangar on a world spanning journey to save it all.

 O O C  I N F O 

Come check out our Discord

Welcome one and all to Spiritum, a reboot of a reboot of @Hexaflexagon's Spiritum RP. two parts Final Fantasy, and one part Lord of the Rings, Spiritum is a story about nations and nationalism, moral quandaries, plucky adventurers and the lengths at which individuals will go to preserve their power. 

The world of Yerin is a living and breathing one. A world with its own convoluted and sometimes purely idiotic history spanning backwards thousands of years. It's a world with its own backstabbing aristocrats, religions, cultures, heroes, and prophecies. Yet at the same time much of this background has been intentionally left as vague snippets. Allowing players to add to the lore as little or as much as they please.

The story itself will go at a slower pace focusing more upon character interaction and development in the interest of creating good scenes and interactions between players rather than rushing forward from action set piece to action set piece. The focus always being on telling a good story. It's a strange tale about friendship, war, the inevitability of oblivion, the burden of fate, and the choices we make. But hey if it sounds like your thing well then why don't you come and say hi?

 T H E  C O M P E N D I U M 

General world-building stuff for your reading pleasure. More will be added as we go on.

Yerin is a planet roughly the size of Earth with an orbital period of 400 days. There is one unified supercontinent roughly the size of Pangea surrounded by a smattering of islands almost 25,000 in number, the largest of which is roughly the size of Alaska. As is expected temperatures are warmest near the equator and gradually become cooler as you approach the extreme north and south. The geography is varied from seemingly endless deserts to soaring mountains that stretch far into the sky. Civilization has left its mark upon this geography. Highways snake across the land connecting cities, forests are cleared to make perfectly calculated crop fields and land is torn upon to access the precious minerals beneath.

Though it would be foolish to say that man has conquered Yerin. The planet's wild spirit roars loudly. Beasts of all kinds roam the lands, many large enough to destroy  most with nought but a flick of there claws. Large wyvrns and other flying creatures rule the skies harrassimg airships that dare to fly through thier territory. The seas are no better home to leviathans that would glady drag an unsuspecting sailor to an early watery grave. Due to the general ferocity of much of the local fauna, the people of Yerin have come to a cautious respect of the living world around them in most things.

All in all 10/10 would visit again.

A small kingdom surrounded on three sides by the outerlaying Vangar provinces and on one side by the ocean. Once a small collection of loosely united city states under the protective aura of a large network of Levistone- the largest placed in the center of its Capitol referred to as the Bastion- united close to 1,000 years ago by King Tyrol after centuries of infighting. Ever since then Rassvet has prided itself as an intellectual and cultural powerhouse among the nations of Yerin. Birthplace of the Industrial Revolution which propelled the world into modern era, many come flocking to its lands to pursue intellectual and business endeavors. Nevertheless, the real power that the kingdom possess is not in its people but upon the natural bounty they live upon. Along with massive deposits of Levistone, courtesy of its nearby floating islands, alongside abundant veins of iron and mithril in its hills and mountains, Rassvet materials are shipped around all of Yerin to be used in everything from cellular devices to tanks and ensures the continued prosperity of the kingdom.

Following a small and almost bloodless civil war, between nationalist and royalist parties almost 200 years ago Rassvet became a constitutional monarchy. Most of the power these days is held by the Royal Assembly. The Assembly is composed of 51 individuals, fifty of which are voted on by the citzenery and one of which is appointed by the King. The Assembly is generally considered a rather corrupt establishment run by bribes and the will of the donors. Nevertheless, it gets its job done and the people are generally willing to overlook said corruption. Having a general directive to keep trade flowing and insure businesses continue to invest in their lands the assembly follows a strict neutrality policy in any and all conflicts.

When Vangar invaded, the military was blindsided despite its stronger defensive position. Vangar armor rolled across farmland, airships bombed military aerodomes and infantary stormed underprepared border forts. The defenders were shattered and crushing blow after crushing blow pushed the Rassvet line to a stone's throw of the capital Orestia. Artillery smashed into the city that historians called the 'shining flame of progress', skyscrapers were turned to heaps of rubble and even the Royal Palace was partly damaged in the shelling that commenced. Morale weakened by the day and Vangar higher ups expected the Royal Assembly to offer a peace deal within the month.

The siege would only be broken by none other then Prince Fenris, eldest son of King Balthazar and a career military man. Fenris was promoted to General of the Armies to take on a job that five other men with twice his experience could not. Willing to take the drastic numerical losses needed to break the Vangar siege he give the Rassvet military its first victory it had seen in weeks. Slowly the Vangar have been pushed back to the border that they once easily took control of after a decisive campaign by Rassvet to push deep into Imperial territory.

The mightiest sovereign state in Yerin. Originally a republic governed by a sprawling senate, the rise of the military brought about the shift to an imperial system 400 years ago. With the change in governance, Vangar began invading its neighboring lands, securing their land and resources, quickly becoming the largest realm in Yerin. While in the past the emperor was traditionally of the military, a purge of key figures in the military by emperor's long past lead to a brutal civil war making Vangar into an absolute monarchy.

While Rassvet may have been the birthplace of industrialization it was Vangar that harnessed it to its full potential. Using the power of factories and the assembly line they were able to supply there military at staggering speeds to fuel thier almost constant war economy. It was Vangar that perfected the magitek equipment that almost all modern infantry uses in combat. Though because of this Vangar is trapped in a endless cycle. They harvest resources, those resources are used to supply the army, supplies run low so they invade other nations and the cycle continues.

The current one in charge of perpetuating this cycle is High General Zalser Auckwaeld. The current head of the Imperial Excursionary Force, Zalser is of a different make than most Vangar Generals. Born in a lower middle class family rather than the auspices of the nobility, he worked his way to the top through hard work and dedication. At thirty three years of he is one of the youngest generals in the history of the Empire. Young, charismatic, loyal, and a tactical prodigy he serves as the face of a land whose capital is thousands of miles away.

There is one major religion in Yerin, the Order of Dawn. The Order is one of the oldest continually operating organizations in the world. Taking dominance after several religious wars about several hundred years prior the Order can be found almost everywhere. Independent of any government cathedrals and shrines can be found in almost every major city. While they technically hold no political sway outside of the border of Fazra, the floating city (the holy seat of the order) many governments cast edicts that favor the Order. The general idea being that it is easier to keep them appeased than have them declaring religious war against you.

The public are familiar with two major faces of the Order, the inquisitors and the maidens. The madiens tend to the day to day operations of the Order's many buildings. They offer guidance, spiritual healing and the occasional if rare exorcism. Generally there numbers are made up of orphaned young girls that are taken in and raised by the Order. They are taught how to harness magical power to perform a variety of miracles. The inquisitors on the other hand are the martial branch of the Order. Most serve as the police and defenders of Fazra from those that would wish to harm the holy city. Some though are seen throughout Yerin hunting down heretics per ancient accords signed generations ago. These inquisitors are more like special forces than any religious group rooting out those that would spread unpure words across the land.

Magic is the art of being able to pull from the Astral Mist. The Mist is the surrounding energy that encompass the space around Yerin in its plane of reality. Stars and galaxies are not as we know them but actually points of highly clustered magical energy within the Mist itself. The art of mastering this power comes in two parts. First and arguably the more important of the two is a person's natural aptitude as some are just wired to be more finely tuned to Mist than others. The second is actually learning how to use said magic, the memorization and knowledge of vast sums of knowledge whose complexities and intricacies mean the difference between a successful spell and leveling an entire city block.

The power bound in spell formulae may be used for healing, teleportation, destruction, creating illusions, and altering form. Though the mist also affected by the caster themselves and each magical burst is different from person to person. Magic is considered a danger, a blessing, the future, an art and a science all wrapped into one tight bundle. Despite its dangerous properties and potential for massive abuse, magic is seen as something of a sacred thing. As a gift from the Gods it carries with it a certain amount of weight and wonder that comes from centuries of religious thought. Due to its divine origins, the Church has a strong investment in the magical arts and its oracles are some of the best magic users in all of Yerin.

Technology in the world of Yerin has developed alongside and with advancements of magic. This fusion of the unknown and the rational being a fundamental building block in the world. From a technological level the world is futuristic compared to our own but close enough to our own reality as to not be totally distant. People drive cars, take trains and use airships to get around. They have wireless phones and their own form of the internet. It's a place where soldiers with assault rifles can be seen fighting against flying monsters and men that can call down electricity from the sky.  They also have other more stranger things like giant walking war machines, matter replicators, floating cities and gunsblades.

In many places technology and the industries around it is seen as the way forward as especially in the Vangar Empire and its provinces where they have had to focuses heavily on technology, using magic and Etherium to augment and enhance rather than as the sole source of advancement. It's the general rule in all places, that technology general comes first as a military invention before slowly over time being filtered down into the general public's use.

WARDEN can trace it starts back to the early years of the Rassvet. Following in the lineage of a monastic order of magic wielding knights who protected the kingdom from evils that normal men could not. WARDEN serves in the same general purpose of defense of the Kingdom but now do it as decisive shock troops using combined technological and magic power to shatter enemy lines and go on general suicide missions for most normal people.

Every year the Rassvet Government conducts a grand survey of all children within their lands ten years of age. They run the children through what amounts to a series of aptitude tests of all kinds. Those who were considered possessing desirable traits were then taken to the Capital to be trained in the Citadel. The sprawling complex that is essentially a city sized military base within a bigger city complete with its own security force, power supply and laws would become the children's home for the next ten years. Within they were put through hell through one of the most rigorous training regimes in all of Yerin.

Cross trained in a variety of disciplines, including but not limited to: Rifle and small arms marksmanship, close quarters combat and field surgery, WARDENs are trained in both conventional warfare as well as guerrilla tactics, and specialize in using magic in conjunction to traditional arms and armor. 

Upon graduating WARDENs are placed into one of three tiers:

First Class are the best that WARDEN has to offer. Operating on a level beyond any member of the Rassvet military including their fellow WARDENs and consisting of barely one hundred individuals at any given time these individuals are regarded as some of the most fearsome warriors on the planet. 1st class WARDENs are given special privileges and are sent in to deal with the most important of matters and are usually working behind the insure the protection of Rassvet. They generally act as singular walking armies going in alone and without backup.

Second Class WARDENs are generally squadron leaders put in charge of Third Class WARDENs, and are above the average cut and skilled combatants and tacticians. Those that are not in command position are sent in squads to deal with direct concerns that while troubling do not require 1st Class intervention. Only the best of the Second Class have even a chance of being promoted up to 1st Class.

Third Class WARDENs are the general face of WARDEN as they are the most numerous and the most commonly seen by the public. They work alongside the regular forces of the Rassvet military as independent detachments working in tandem to complete operations. Their most common use is as shock troops designed to create large holes within enemy positions to be exploited.

The catchall term for powerful, arcane minerals, Levistone is filled with magic energies and can be harnessed as powerful power supplies. Most modern day applications of Levistone consist of refining it into Etherium fuel, for use in various technologies, though they have also are in use in their raw form. With their faint blue glow, large Levistones seem to have other effects such as keeping monsters away, and large Levistones are often placed in the center of small towns, or around larger cities to keep monsters at bay. However, the process of refining Levistone into Etherium fuel seems to have the reverse affect, as many monsters appear in greater numbers when Etherium fuel is used or burned.

Using and manipulating the Astral Mist to cast magic is both physically and mentally taxing, requiring both extensive training and innate talent to utilize effectively. Alongside conditioning and training, the amount of mist able to be handled by one person often varies from person to person, and an individuals "capacity" to handle large amounts of mist is often hereditary. Mist is dangerous when not handled properly, and overusing or abusing the use of mist and magic can cause a state known as Mistburn. Mistburn is split into 5 separate stages.
  
STAGE 1
The first stage of mistburn is the most minor and is fairly commonplace amongst those that regularly practice and cast magic. Stage 1 happens right after an individual pushes past their natural mist limit. The afflicted will begin to feel symptoms similar to that of withdrawal: loss of powers, lightheadedness, vertigo, general fatigue, pains throughout the body etc. Individuals at this stage can generally recover through rest and recovery, or specialized drugs designed to reduce mistburn and fatigue.

STAGE 2
Stage 2 occurs when one forces themselves to continue using or processing mist while in Stage 1. Those that have experienced Stage 2 of mistburn have often compared the feeling to something akin to an adrenaline rush. The headache and fatigue fade and are replaced by an increasing heartrate, more potent abilities and an almost sort of natural regeneration. Patients have reported feeling more alive, and their reflexes feel quicker and more responsive. Their skin is almost warm to the touch- as if they had been baking in the sun for hours. Aggression and instinct increase dramatically and individuals suffering from Stage 2 mistburn often feel as though they have obtained a type of second wind and have pushed passed whatever was holding them back and are capable of continuing.

STAGE 3
In this stage the individual body has taken in much more mist than a normal person should have taken- to put it lightly. As an individual enters stage 3 they begin to suffer from irreversible damage. Stage 3 symptoms include: burning hot skin and high fever, extremely or completely dilated pupils, dangerously high heart rate and most notably glowing veins and eyes as the mist pushes through them. Around this stage, an individual's raw magical ability has increased somewhere in the field of almost ten-fold and physical strength and speed are beyond superhuman with minor wounds on the body now healing quicker than a blade can cut. It is also at this stage when mental faculties began to decline rapidly: Increased mania, paranoia, and aggression abound. Anyone suspected of reaching stage 3 of mistburn is either drugged and sedated or executed immediately. This stage is often regarded as the point-of-no-return, as patients are difficult if not impossible to control and only care for more power and taking in more mist.

STAGE 4
Stage 4 is the closest any individual will come to being a 'living God'. By this point, an individual is practically more mist than man. An individual's entire body glows and is so hot that nearby individuals may receive retinal damage and heavy burns merely from being within a short proximity. The skin begins to crack and disintegrate into dust leaving only mist held together in a human shape, and a life span of approximately ten minutes. There are very few recorded accounts of Stage 4 mistburn, but it has been guessed that if one wanted to, they could likely lift and move mountains with their mind.

STAGE 5
At Stage 5 an individual achieves what is known as a Full Burn. Following the extremely short lifespan of an individual at Stage 4, the body is entirely replaced with mist and the body collapses in on itself before detonating outwards with roughly the intensity of a thermonuclear warhead.

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For clarification, character sheet templates can be found in the characters tab! I'll probably be taking character applications until the end of the week!

Once again, here's an example character- mine from an earlier iteration of this RP:

Galahad Quaid
21 | 6'2 | O+ 

 A P P E R A N C E

Standing in at just over six feet tall, Galahad is a lithe and sinewy individual with the appearance of one who is used to continuous physical exertion, without some of the bulk of his fellow WARDEN members. As expected of WARDEN members, his physique is in top shape, and his thin, but broad shouldered body is akin to the triangular build of that of a swimmer. His skin is a lightly tanned color; and his body, while bearing an abnormally large number of scars compared to the average individual, when compared to a fellow WARDEN, is relatively unscathed.

Galahad has sharp and prominent facial features, with strong cheekbones and brow. His golden blonde hair falls in graceful waves around his head, charming many a stranger, and his eyes are a similarly warm amber despite possessing a piercing, almost chilling gaze. His sense of style outside of his WARDEN uniforms is modern and minimalist, yet stylish.
 
 P E R S O N A L I T Y 

Cool and collected, Galahad is a confident, yet soft-spoken individual. His calm and reserved demeanor is often mistaken for an uncaring and aloof disposition, and his cynicism does little to change the opinions of others. Underneath his quiet persona lies an innate brilliance, a highly intuitive and calculative mind. Highly logical and orderly, Galahad is efficient and analytical, but often accused of lacking outward compassion. He is a competent tactician boasting considerable knowledge of theory, though lacking in field experience. Strong willed and possessing an air of determination, Galahad can be highly critical and will rarely hesitate to call others out on their shortcomings, often leading to him butting heads with others. 

Direct and to the point, this sharp witted WARDEN avoids beating around the bush and doesn't mince words. Galahad likes to maintain awareness over every situation he's in and is quick on the ball, able to make snap judgement in combat and react to a constantly changing situation. Capable of operating at peak efficiency, even during times of great stress, Galahad has a very analytic attitude and can be very perceptive and intuitive in regards to people.

 B A C K G R O U N D 

A child prodigy hailing from the Rassvet Capital city of Orestia, Galahad is the only son of General Quaid, a prominent leader in the Rassvet military. General Quaid is well known amongst his peers, and served for a short time as the executive officer of Prince Fenris himself before being granted his own command. Galahad's childhood was strict and rigid, and consisted of private lessons, tutors, fencing lessons, and statescraft among other things. Throughout his childhood, Galahad proved to be exceptionally bright, and often outperformed his tutors after periods of months, causing the Quaid family to have to cycle through professors from all over Rassvet, and even other parts of the world. An underspoken yet brilliant child, Galahad completed courses rated for adolescents several years older than him before he turned 10.

Upon turning 10, Galahad was taken to the Citadel for testing like many other 10 year olds. His physical tests were average and nothing special, but his mental aptitude and magical tests rocked scales for WARDEN standards. As such, WARDEN requested that Galahad be put into one of their numbers, to which his father readily agreed, seeing the WARDENS as a chance for Galahad to continue the family lineage. Galahad had little opinion either way, and relegated his decision to his father's.

Upon entering the Citadel, Galahad quickly propelled himself to the top percentiles of his class, his natural brilliance and aptitude with magic, as well as a surprising amount of natural leadership supposedly born of his pedigree sending him towards the top, with only his physical abilities holding him back. During training, Galahad maintained a aloof and confident demeanor, and cared little of what anyone thought of him, students, and instructors alike, and spoke with his actions more than his words. This gained him fans, friends, rivals, and enemies in equal number, some valuing what he brought to the table and his dependability, while others disliking his arrogance and coldness. A natural leader among his peers, Galahad gained popularity among his classmates as both an effective leader as well as follower.

Galahad's main shortcomings were his physical aptitudes, which were by no means poor. Galahad's physical attributes, while not stellar when compared to some of his classmates, were far from substandard, and he remained on par and competitive with the general body of his class. To make up for his physical lackings, Galahad primarily relied on his intelligence among other skills to see him through physical challenges, which only got him so far in tests of pure physical strength. 

Graduating near the top percentile of his class, Galahad narrowly missed the cut for Second Class WARDEN, and was relegated to Third Class until he gained more field experience. Galahad left the Citadel with a small, core group of comrades, and a newfound confidence in himself. Upon graduation, several of his friends suggested taking a trip, a last hurrah of sorts, before they received their assignments to the frontlines.

 C O M B A T 

A magic specialist in all definitions of the phrase, Galahad takes his place among his peers as one of the best mages in class. What allows Galahad to stand out is his ability to manage multiple destructive elements simultaneously, changing spell type, and form to fit his needs in the current situation. He can form and propel tiny chunks of stone and metal like bullets, call down lightning from the sky or through his hands, and loose a blinding flash of light without missing a step. While capable of shows of great power, Galahad prefers to make his magical attacks relatively small, precise and concentrated, favoring the preservation of energy and smart use of resources; and reserves flashy displays of power for intimidation and destruction of enemy morale. Galahad is a versatile and dependable spellcaster, and overwhelms his foes with precise, potent strikes from different angles and sources. Galahad is also competent in other areas of magic as well, including short ranged teleportation, healing and illusion magic, though these skills are less practiced than his destructive specializations.

While normally preferring to conduct combat from a safe distance, Galahad is just at home on the frontlines with his comrades, light gunblade in one hand, and magic spell in the other. Darting in to deliver a few quick blows with his blade and then pulling back, Galahad is a nimble fighter when on the front lines, fully aware of his lack of bulk when compared to some of the other frontline fighters, and as such rarely stays in one place for too long.

 N O T E S 
N/A

 R E L A T I O N S H I P S Setzer - For all their arguments, they're actually rather close. Always trying to one up each other in an eternal, somewhat pointless, and largely regarded as for-show rivalry of Brain vs. Brawn. 
Gideon - Got off to a rough start, with differing expectations of one another upon first introductions. Said differences have mellowed out over the course of their training, and are now strong friends.

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Bio

   20 Years Old   |   5’9   |   AB-

 A P P E R A N C E
Asa stands at the average height of 5'9 which is enhanced a few inches more by her special-crafted heels she struts around in. She has a gymnasts physique, her muscle tone is lithe with each fiber of muscle taut and springy with her diet and workouts focusing on increased agility more than anything. Her complexion is pasty ivory with peach and pink undertones, though most of that is covered with flashy clothing from various provinces of Rassvet.

Asa's facial profile is youthful as each feature is rounded and full, the only telling of her age being the carnivorous golden eyes imbued in her almond shaped sockets. Her hair is a long, well-maintained mane of flowing raven strands that are routinely brushed every morning and often tied into twin-tails with fancy elastics decorated with red hued oriental flowers. Red seemed to be this WARDEN member's color of preference when she wasn't in the unit's typical uniform- which was dyed cooler grays and blues, to her dismay.
 
 P E R S O N A L I T Y 
Asa is a firecracker. Explosive, energetic, loud, it's difficult to find a moment of peace with her around and honestly she is fully aware that it can be off-putting  for some and she doesn't care. Typically she falls into one of two states of being: abrasive raging lunatic, and hyper-emotional crybaby. Though, this does not prevent her from being an effective member of WARDEN and Asa's high energy go-go-go mindset is fully taken advantage of by the strategists of her team. She is fully aware that she is seen as a tool and plays her role in whatever mission she is tasked with to her highest potential, and does so happily to keep her position intact.

While her time in time in Aporia was short, she also carries a lot of traits found in its citizens. She's incredibly materialistic and enjoys glamorous items and things of high monetary value that may not even have use to her, and Asa has even responded to someone taking these things from her with hostility. But she's cunning to a degree, and knows when to don the facade of whatever her supervisors wish her to be- until they turn their heads and she's right back to normal. Despite everything, she sees the Barghest Squad as her family and wouldn't sell them out despite any of her tendencies mentioned.

 B A C K G R O U N D 
Aporia, a bustling metro-city filled to the brim with people of every walk of life. There are spires towering into the sky, red light districts open all night long, all of which are mostly owned and controlled by the Etherium Barons that turned the city into the capitalistic hub that it is today. Which has its boons and drawbacks, there is no shortage of jobs in Aporia and if you're willing to slave yourself away to the whim of the elite you will have food on the table with little-to-no issue. But should you decide to try and take a piece of the pie they enjoy hoarding among themselves, they'll hire deathdealers to invade your home in the middle of the night and take what you have and what you love. 

There are those who stand their ground against the status quo, like the Mata Clan for instance. They've been around since the founding of Aporia, Yuta Mata even refined the mortar that was used to build many of the oldest walls in the city. Currently Shiro Mata runs the Mata Arms Company in its shanty little corner of the city slums, but despite the location- the company is pretty well known in Rassvet for their reliability and "classic mechanical look". They clan can't afford to innovate or branch out due to the tendrils of these Etherium Barons reaching so deeply throughout Aporia, higher quality resources are sold at higher premiums to non-surrogate businesses they control and thus Mata must utilize scrapped metals and Levistone that they find themselves. Shiro's wife Rika typically hires a team to head out into the boonies and seek out what she can scrounge up, returning to the Mata Arms Shop with what she finds to produce their products. Weapon aficionados call these armaments "Artisan Weapons" due to the fact that they are still made by hand, forgoing the manufacturing em-masse that a lot of other companies have turned to for efficiency.

Shiro and Rika are Asa's grandparents, and the shop is where she was raised for the early years of her life alongside her mother and father who worked there. Her time in the slums wasn't bad though, kids there build cliques early on and learn to find fun where they can make it- resourcefulness is good for building character. Her grandfather was definitely someone she looked up to in her youth, he had pride in his work and despite his age worked his greasy arms off from dawn to dusk without taking any breaks and was meticulous with every detail of each sword, gun, or explosive he created. Grandma Rika called him an artist, constantly experimenting with different minerals to find some breakthrough in his work to keep customers enticed in the company name and his craft. If Asa perhaps lived in a parallel universe where the establishment hadn't hounded out gifted youths at the ripe age of ten years old, perhaps she would have risen to be some weaponsmithing prodigy like her grandfather! The old geezer once even said that "If anyone steals this company from under me, it'd be you Asa."

But the suited men did arrive on that fated day, and Asa passed all of their evaluations.

She was peeled away from her family, and while there was some resistance- they all knew the repercussions of trying to keep her from the WARDENs and eventually pushed the girl to go to the Citadel peacefully. Her training started quite rough seeing as Asa didn't really want to be there, and thus resulted in a lot of pressure from the instructors who were already quite harsh on the new recruits. Asa constantly whiffed a lot of the courses in the first year and there were moments when she intentionally tried to thoughtlessly be removed from the program, but it was seeing the perseverance of people like Lance Bennett and Ray Hopkins that actually influenced her to apply herself in the program. When she actually began to push herself in training she quickly rose to be one of the best students in CQC, her body was unusually flexible and she could take a hit- due to stubbornness or not. Knife Combat in particular seemed to be her calling as she even in her earlier years take on some of the more athletic instructors on in mock knife fights. She was good with her hands making martial arts come easy, and mechanical work a breeze as well. When it came to magic she at first didn't seem to have much talent for it, the concept of harnessing mist and utilizing it wasn't something that the loudmouth could wrap her head around. But eventually she felt something like thread, difficult to even detect and it was fleeting- sometimes it was there and others it wasn’t. The instructors in Citadel told her that many mist sensitive detect via different senses, seeing it, hearing it, smelling it even, and sometimes through touch. 

When she told one instructor Ada Matic, she was pressed to do everything she could to grab hold of that thread and eventually she found that this was all it took to be able to procure a result from harnessing the mist. At first she would be able to move things using the mist with some simple telekinesis, she learned that if she visualized the thread of mist touching what she wished to move it became easier to manipulate. Then came teleportation, which came from visualizing a location that the thread touched, mentally equating to “pulling herself” to the location. The last thing that she really shined with was lightning magic, which was a hot tip from the same instructor Asa hit it off with before. Thinking of the mist thread as a wire to guide lightning projected to a target, though she utilized this more as a stunning deterrent rather than a purely offensive option. Nonetheless! Finding all these skills and working hard at mastering them really warmed Asa up to the lifestyle as a WARDEN, and now she happily works alongside her companions to the best of her ability.

 C O M B A T 
Asa is a close-to-mid range fighter with an emphasis on quick and lethal actions to dispatch numerous targets in high efficiency. Her firearm of choice is two Mata Pistols that utilize coarsely-refined levistone to project small concentrated blasts into opponents in close proximity. While not relying on typical ammunition the concoction that fuels these firearms is prone to overheating the weapons, meaning that while highly effective in short bursts- they cannot be used excessively in long duration and if pushed too far can even backfire causing damage to Asa herself. 

What Asa is more so known for are the twenty thin blades strung around her person, of which are where her magic prowess comes into play. Teleportation, telekinesis, and lightning emission are where Asa shines bright. She is able to freely manipulate these blades freely and launch them up to fifty yards away, each blade is imbued with a levistone attuned to Asa which she can quickly teleport to freely- blinking between different locations over short periods of time. She’s also able to guide lightning to these blades and also produce a strong electromagnetic pulse from her hands, both of which are good for stunning enemies and deterring their equipment. What this combination amounts to is a highly-mobile assailant capable of swiftly navigating the battlefield and disposing over numerous low-defense enemies at a time. This makes her incredibly optimized for infiltration and other covert operations, though some of her personality barriers do hold her back in that regard.

 N O T E S 
• Asa keeps in contact with her whole family and many of the friends she left behind before joining WARDEN.
• She is also known to be incredibly prone to getting into other people’s business and documenting gossip in a journal she keeps in her quarters.
• Over the years her grandfather has sent a few experimental ideas to his granddaughter in the citadel. The Mata Pistols and her four Levistone Imbued Blades are both made by him, donning the Mata Clan emblem.

Family:
- Shiro Mata "Grandpa"
- Rika Mata "Grandma"
- Hiei Mata "Father"
- Ari Mata "Mother"

Aporia is a bustling metropolis settled close enough to the port cities for easy shipment access, and close enough to the mainland to implement a towering Levistone spire within the city center. From the outside looking in, Aporia seems to be a lively city full of possibility and most importantly profitability. Inside the city you'd find that the main streets to be quite luxurious. Ivorystone buildings, marble statues, people dressed in clean clothes of vibrant colors who smile and socialize under the glow of the sun. The more commercial areas like the Haida District are tightly packed with large industrial buildings with large smokestacks, the sound of machinery usually heard roaring inside. There are also the extensive factories tucked along the outskirts of the city which are manned mostly by the Aporian citizens who live in the slums which also are found in the outer rings of the city.

The reality of Aporia is that it is a city ruled by the financially mighty few that exploit large portions of the city population for personal gain.

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Samdihier “Sam” Zeintler
20 | 5’9” | A+

 A P P E R A N C E 

When lined side by side with his fellow WARDEN classmates Sam will always be a fair bit shorter than the rest, but for what he lacks in height he makes up for his stocky build and general presence. He sports a pair of forget-me-not blue eyes, a full head of blonde hair, and a relaxed mien, paired with a mischievous yet infectious grin. While still possessing the confident air common amongst the WARDENs, bespoken by his muscular form and presumed lethality, nevertheless Sam remains as approachable as ever. His mere presence exudes good humor, and even in moments of oppressive silence Sam’s plethora of comical facial expressions and exaggerated movements makes him a larger than life figure for everyone around. 

 P E R S O N A L I T Y 

Throughout his early training, different combat and physical instructors made it their goal to wipe the foolish, goofball grin off Samdihier’s face. They soon discovered to great derision no amount of rigorous nor grueling training, which shattered his body, scarred his flesh, and drained his mental stamina ever sapped his nigh endless reserve of good cheer. Sam has always been that way from the moment he could first talk he was laughing and making others laugh. He carries with him an unquenchable drive and a go-lucky attitude that made him popular amongst almost all of classmates within the Citadel. Although not lacking in intellect, for Sam is both quick on his feet and blessed with sharp wit, he has never been the smartest amongst his class struggling through the knowledge and magical portions of his training. For all his outgoing nature Sam keeps his personal issues to himself, only releasing whatever turmoil he’s hiding inside in the form of dark jokes, and self-deprecating humor. For better or worse he’s taken it upon himself, as a personal mission of sorts, to keep his comrades’ spirits high, and their moral steady. Thus, it would be fair to classify him as the first follower, willingly charging first unto the breach, and being vocal support for his friends and leaders in their decisions, motivating others to do the same. Despite this Sam is not always the comic, indeed throughout his two decades he’s demonstrated a willingness to temper his antics, follow orders and be a pillar of support when necessary. 

 B A C K G R O U N D 

For a young man so jovial and motivated its hard to imagine his first decade of life in childhood was not a happy time, from day one. Samdihier Zeintler’s arrival would be on the same day as his mother’s passing, in the small farming community in southern Rassvet. This perhaps was the breaking point for Sam’s father, who did not show the newborn son, nor his elder brother much love from that point on. Sam was a tough kid however, and he and his brother Rythal had a good relationship throughout those hard years, supporting each other despite the abuse and adversities they faced. They were exceptional children, irrespective of their common backgrounds learning quickly and as such became candidates for the WARDEN training. When Sam joked about how they might one day serve together amongst the ranks of the kingdom’s elite their father snuffed their hopes with a scathing prophecy, and a good whipping from his belt. “When the seas dry up, the sky falls down, and all the kingdom is torn asunder, that is when you two cowardly failures shall be become WARDENs, bah!” Rythal was accepted first of course, Samdihier following a year after, both determined to prove their father wrong.

	Away from home at the Citadel Samdihier found he excelled in almost every field. Sure he struggled through the academic side of things, and he would never be at the top of his class in any respect, but his gung-ho attitude and many helpful friends kept him competitive amongst the WARDENs-to-be. Those years which most looked back upon with groans remembering the many challenges were the best of his short life as he trained to become a member of the revered and elite force. Nearing graduation would see the beginning of the conflict with the Empire, and the deployment of his brother Rythal to the front. Samdihier would keep in close contact with his sibling, eager to wrap up his final months and join him fighting for Rassvet’s independence. Those days drew ever nearer, and at last the Citadel named him a full member of the WARDENs, but instead of deploying him and his training squad to the front immediately Sam was given a short leave to prepare. A time he intends to take full advantage of, going out with several close friends and enjoying these few nights of freedom.

 C O M B A T 

The epitome of the Vanguard, Sam is a frontline fighter who rather charge in headlong than hang back and exchange rounds from range. Equipped with heavy rifle and bayonet in the heat of the moment he can become a grinning angel of death, laying waste to the enemy formations with fire and close combat. He relies heavily upon his defensive spells, which absorb the returning fire and provide a shield for himself and those nearby. His magic tends to focus on battlefield control, whether fashioning smoke screens to cover movement, or stopping hostile rounds mid flight. He also branches into explosive fields, and carries a plethora of high explosive mines, breaching charges, grenades and the like to compliment his damaging incantations. Although at first glance he may seem an easy foe Sam excels in close quarters, skillfully utilizing his hands, feet, and weapon to put down much larger and stronger foes. Or at least he did in training, Sam has no experience of true combat, but his comrades can rest assured that Sam will be the first into the fight, and the last to retreat crying, “Tallyho!” all the way. 

 N O T E S 

N/A Currently

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21 | 5’7 | B+

 A P P E R A N C E 

Sorin takes pride in her appearance when she can, though she tries to pretend that her deliberate beauty routine is a thing of happenstance. She braids her own hair or keeps it in an afro bun. Her demure fashion sense couples with the straight-backed poise which she carries herself with and often gets her mistakenly identified as someone of a higher class than she is. Her left hand is mottled pink with a burn scar and when she is uniform, she takes out all of her removable piercings. She enjoys wearing blue, yellow, white and gold and will incorporate these colours into her makeup.

 P E R S O N A L I T Y 

The fundamental concept behind Sorin’s behaviour is something along the lines of “I was blessed with two working legs, a sharp mind and a healthy body - I want to use it to its best potential”. Once you understand that, the rest of it makes sense - the daily prayers, early rises, strenuous workout routine, and late nights in the study halls. But it’s not a sustainable mindset and it hasn’t granted her any favours aside from the obvious improvements in her intellect and physique. She’s reserved to the point of coming off as cold, constantly in a state of stress, and awkward in any social situation that isn’t in a professional environment. She’s even developed a case of sleep maintenance insomnia because of it - though the strict routine of the WARDEN programme meant that the effects haven’t really been too pronounced due to the regimented bedtimes and access to medicine.

Most people who meet Sorin subsequently believe she’s an introverted, shy stick-in-the-mud. Whilst she’s pragmatic to a fault and knows when and when not to goof around, the Sorin that’s comfortable around her company has a dry sense of humour, boatloads of self-confidence and likes to annoy her squadmates with her nigh-undetectable sarcasm. She’s a bit of a worrywart too and when you’ve managed to worm your way into her very small list of people she cares about, she won’t stop haranguing you about staying safe and healthy.

 B A C K G R O U N D 

Sorin is a first generation Trolin immigrant in Rassvet, with her parents working full-time. Her childhood, though difficult to recall now, mostly consisted of being looked after by her grandmother and playing with her siblings in the streets. Her mother was a greengrocer and her father worked as a mechanic. She had a pleasant albeit nondescript initial ten years of life and was reared to love Rassvet and respect the people who kept it safe from Vangar forces. It was perhaps this pro-government upbringing that stuck the most in her early days and shaped the course of her future for the next ten years to come. When the aptitude tests came in she was the only one out of her siblings who surpassed the baseline to be transferred into the Citadel, showing particular prowess in her magical capacities.

The transition into life at the Citadel was confusing but not necessarily unpleasant. Sorin held her own against the rowdier children and displayed curiosity as well as a keen ambition. Though she had yet to understand what the WARDEN programme entailed, she knew enough to know that it would involve defending Rassvet and was keen to show her gratitude through hard work and constant self-improvement. She pushed herself harder, trained for longer and studied better than her peers - with detriment to her physical and mental health. She did not make many friends during her initial three years as she also went through all the awkwardness of puberty. She obsessed over self-improvement to the point that she was losing sleep and injuring herself during training. Like many of the other overachievers in the classes, she caught the attention of the instructors and was given sterner guidance. Nevertheless, it was Otto who had managed to cut through her stubbornness and reveal the damage she was inadvertently inflicting upon herself. Though he was her polar opposite in most aspects - boisterous, overly confident and more keen on grabbing all the fame and glory that went with being a WARDEN - he had an infectious charisma that brought the young girl out of her shell a little and rubbed off on her. Whatever she saw in his words was lost on their superiors but she took heed of what he was telling her and adjusted appropriately.

There was, however, one crucial weak point in Sorin’s training. She had an interest in magic that bordered on obsessive and worsened with each passing day. Trolin was a harsher land than Rassvet and religion was a key aspect of her culture. Sorin had extensive theological debates about her right to manipulate the ‘Holy Mists’ as per their concordance with the Gods and that she should use their gift to its fullest extent. She had been in and out of the medical ward for minor cases of mistburn. Her instructors warned her, but her overambition had clashed horribly with her religious views. Not even her best friend could get through to her until she had managed to minorly burn her left hand and impeded her training. During her recovery period, Sorin visited the Cathedral of the Order of Dawn for spiritual guidance and returned with a more moderate approach and a freshly lit curiosity in healing. She turned her practice of faith from spellcraft to field medic training and began to garner an unofficial reputation for being available to patch up any injuries students were too embarrassed to go to the medical ward for - or too worried about getting caught.

During the latter half of Sorin’s training, she bulked up. Now that she realised she couldn’t rely on her magical prowess alone, she was often seen sparring with Otto in the fields and instead poured her combat specialisation into marksmanship. She also took supplementary classes to become an official field medic. When she was grouped into a squad, she began to come out of her shell in increments. She even went to a few parties and festivals (albeit with some cajoling and persuasion from her squadmates). When the group dynamic shrank into a smaller team she was able to flourish and showed leadership capabilities from time to time; ultimately, Sorin graduated as a third class due to lingering anxieties of a relapse into her magic-worshipping early years and the subsequent note put on her record because of it.

 C O M B A T 

Sorin can best be described as a supporting agent on the field. She specialises in long distance precision shots with a bolt-action sniper rifle as well as close quarters melee and unarmed combat. She uses her surroundings to her advantage whenever possible. Given time and equipment, she’d be a better asset as a sniper tucked away in a corner somewhere to provide cover fire. She particularly excelled in guerilla combat during training. Magic-wise, Sorin specialised as a healer and took extra courses in first-aid in order to be able to qualify as a medic. Her bulky stature lets her carry a little more equipment without detriment to her movement which she uses for medical supplies and her large rifle.

 N O T E S 

Sorin took up knitting within her second year of training in order to offset the mental and physical strain of her ambitious routine. It’s a simple, mindless activity that she can do when she can’t sleep. If she knows your character’s measurements, she’ll gradually make hats, gloves, blankets, small toys and scarves. She will give them to you, regardless of the month and the weather. And she gets despondent when you do not use them in the cold.

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Bio

Zadkiel "Lance" Bennett
20 | 5'11'' (180cm) | O+
"Just Zak is fine. No, really, I insist."

 A P P E A R A N C E 
Lance had always been a skinny kid growing up, but once being initiated into WARDEN he bulked up as much as possible. His physique is something he can take pride in, so despite the nicks and scars carved into it, he keeps himself as fit as possible. In fact he's on a strict "diet:" intake, intake, intake then burn all the bad off. His clean look extends to all areas of his body and even his household, but that's another story.

As far as personal style, Lance enjoys adding little unique flairs to his WARDEN uniforms. He was never one to be ashamed about things like taste, and some of his fashion choices might clash or inspire second-hand embarrassment. He wears his heart on his sleeve, and the things that catch his eye are the ones he ends up donning himself in, no matter if it's flashy or just comfortable.

 P E R S O N A L I T Y 
Loyalty, that's the basis of Lance's personality. He was raised believing how important it was to obey one's parents, their superiors, and their God. The thought of betraying someone's trust doesn't even cross his mind, and on the rare chance he does it the guilt eats away at him until he usually ends up confessing. Because of this, Lance makes for a good friend and is very easy to get along with. He's always willing to lend a hand, hear someone out, or join in on a fun time. Lance isn't a touchy guy in general, shrugging off casual touches, but when he grows fond of someone he can get a little clingy with checking in on them. Outside of that he's a guy that will do anything for a friend.

There are times when Lance grows intense or introspective though. He worked very hard through the years to keep up with his WARDEN training, and he never misses a day of it even through sickness. He travels to one of the Citadel's cathedrals once a week, head down and quietly talking with himself. These are routines he takes very seriously. Sometimes he struggles with his own identity, although this is a side of himself he would be mortified to let anyone else in on. When he isn't following orders and his laid back personality slips, it can lead to hesitation in his personal life as he thinks "is this something I would want to do or █████ would want to do?" Unfortunately this aspect of his personality is often considered airheadedness, but he doesn't bother to convince people that's not the case. After all, his battle prowess when all his attention is focused speaks for itself. 

Lance tries not to let anything bother him, keeping strong both for himself and others, but of course that isn't always possible. He doesn't often talk about his family, and jabs about his less than stellar performance in the program upset him. Still, when he can he looks on the bright side of things. He's quick with a smile or joke, and his emotions are pretty easy to read on his face. When he's in a good mood he loves to share it, but when he's feeling down or conflicted, he deflects. His calm demeanor is a comfort to some, but really, he's been long resigned to whatever fate may come.

 B A C K G R O U N D 
As the middle son of the Bennett family, Zak's early childhood was... simple. The family patriarch was a proud inquisitor from a long line of inquisitors, and to say his wife was devout would be an understatement. The couple settled in the pretty fishing village of Sheldock where they purchased a large amount of land, on which they raised their four sons. The eldest son Michael was put on a high pedestal, groomed to be the next Bennett inquisitor before he could even talk. The second son Lance was sure to be scooped up by the WARDENs as soon as he was of age to be tested given his innate talent. The youngest son Laramie was coddled and doted on not only by his parents, but every man, woman, and child in the village, with a sense for magic unlike any other... and Zadkiel? The epitome of a middle child. He inherited none of the prestige of the family name, nor the attention of his father or the raw mist affinity of his mother. His brothers, all superior in one way or another, outshone him in every aspect of his life. Zak wasn't neglected or abandoned, just overshadowed. Most of his younger days were spent helping his brothers prepare for the grand lives they would surely lead, running errands for the household, trying to stand out before ultimately learning he never would, and growing content with his situation.

"Boys, come!" their father shouted. He waited by the back door, arm bracing it open and letting the light of the backyard seep into the house. It was early morning, and the sweet smell of spring was finding it's way through every nook and cranny of their home. The sound of feet moving about upstairs quickly made it's way down the steps, and three bright faced boys appeared. They rushed toward the open door, cheery and excited, but a sudden hand stopped one of them with a firm touch on the shoulder. Jophiel followed the other two out, and the door swung shut behind him. Zadkiel looked at the hand clutching him and his gaze followed up his mother's arms to her face. She smiled sweet and tired at him.

"Zadkiel, you know you shouldn't bother your father when he's training your brothers. Help me get lunch ready instead."

"Yes, mother," the child replied, trying to keep the disappointment from his voice. He knew he shouldn't interfere, but he'd been working so hard lately... Zak watched his mother move into the family room and return with an infant on her hip. She nodded toward the kitchen and he followed her in.

"You boys are growing up fast," the woman chatted, watching over her son as he cut a stalk of celery, "you're still so thin though Zadkiel, make sure you're eating - oh, son, clean that up quick. Wash your hands again too."

Zak nodded absentmindedly as his mother went on, following her instructions as he went. He chanced a peek out of the kitchen window at his brothers. They were sat on the grass before their father. Based on the way he moved his arms and the wobble of his steps, the man was likely regaling them with stories of his time with the Order of the Dawn or giving them advice on the best way to drive off an enemy. Lance looked over and spotted Zak through the open window and waved to him, and Zadkiel waved back. His mother shut the shade.

"Focus Zadkiel."

"Yes, mother."

A few weeks after Lance's tenth birthday, he was selected to join WARDEN just as many predicted. In celebration, the boy's father let the eldest three brothers take their boat out for some quality time together before they split up - as Michael would be traveling to Fazra soon to complete his initiation into the Order. Lunches and fishing poles packed, the day was a blur of warmth and happiness. It was on their way back that tragedy struck. As dusk was settling over the water, one of the boys rocked the boat a little too hard, or shoved each other just a little too roughly, and Lance was thrown overboard. Given that the family was well accustomed to the water, the remaining brothers waited for Lance to come back up. He never did. Frantically, Michael and Zadkiel dove in to try and find him, but the waters were dark by now. It was late into the night when they gave up, unable to locate their brother. Explaining what happened to their father was most frightening thing the boys had ever done.

They stood on the edge of the yard cold, wet and shaking. At sixteen, Michael was much taller than his brother beside him, but both boys felt impossibly small standing in front of their father at that moment. His face was shadowed in the dark, but his breathing was hard and it betrayed his unseen expression.

"You let my son die?" he whispered, disbelief and tempered rage tinting his tone. The boys couldn't look him in the eye, their gazes fixed on the ground and their shoulders tense. When no one spoke for several moments, Jophiel moved forward with surprising speed and seized the younger boy by his arms.

"You killed my son??" he questioned again, voice a dangerous hiss. 

"N-no, I - "

"Father, it was an - an accident!" Michael said quickly. Zadkiel and Michael were never very close, but in that moment there was no one in the world Zak appreciated more than his brother, scared and quivering, hesitantly placing his hand over their father's. "Lance just - he, he fell off the boat. We..."

"We looked for him," Zak sobbed, no longer able to hold back tears in his father's bruising hold, "h-he was gone, we couldn-couldn't f-find him, I - I'm sorry, Father, I'm sorry, I'm sorry - "

The sound of his child's cries shocked Jophiel back to his senses and he released the boy, watching him crumple to the ground in tears. His oldest sniffled and covered his face with his arm. Water gathered in the man's own eyes and he rambled to himself, "no, no, no..."

He crouched down to Zadkiel's level and took the boy's face in his hands, wiping the tear stains away with his thumbs. Zadkiel looked so much like his older brother. Was Lance really gone? It couldn't be true. It turned out that Jophiel wasn't quite back to his senses yet. Lance and Zadkiel, an accident, a death, no -

Rather than admit that Lance, the WARDEN hopeful, had most likely died on his watch, Jophiel Bennett hatched a plan. No, he wouldn't face the shame and disappoint from his family and society. One of his sons had died that day, but it wasn't Lance. Of course it couldn't have been Lance, that boy had promise, he was going to be a WARDEN. It was his third son, Zadkiel, that drowned. At least, that's what he convinced his family and neighbors of. Lance and Zadkiel were close in age, they both had the same red hair and tanned skin - they might have even been confused for each other if one wasn't treated so much more handsomely than the other. The only people that knew the truth were himself and Michael, and his eldest was being shipped off to serve the Order soon anyway. The Bennett family mourned "Zadkiel" for a little while, and prepared "Lance" to be sent to the Citadel. Before the WARDENs came to collect him, Zadkiel was doubting whether he was "himself" or not...

But he wasn't Lance. He was Zak.

"You're losing it," his brother growled, trapping Zak in the stone alleyway outside of the WARDEN training grounds. It wasn't often that Zak got visits from his family, even less so Michael, what with how busy he was with the Order. It was nice, sometimes. Now wasn't one of those times.

It'd been almost four years since Zadkiel assumed his late brother's name and entered the ranks of the WARDEN recruits. In a word, it'd been hell, but he stuck with it. He was doing his best. Apparently, it wasn't enough.

"You try being a WARDEN! I bet it's a lot harder than standing around Fazra waiting for - "

"Shut up," Michael snapped, holding Zadkiel's eyes with a dangerous stare. "If rumors about how much you suck reached all the way to me in Fazra, you know it's bad. What's Father going to think if he hears it too? Lance, you - "

Zadkiel's nostrils flared and his eyes flashed. He shoved Michael away from him, and the young man hit the brick wall behind him hard.

"Don't you dare," he warned, his hands curled into fists, "not you."

"...Zak," Michael corrected. He stepped back into his brother's space, his tone softer than before. "Sorry, Zak. I know it must be hard. But you have to work harder."

"..."

"...you learned some magic, right? That's awesome. You proved you can do it, now just take it farther."

Zak looked up at his older brother. After a moment he sighed and his shoulders sagged. He nodded, and when Michael reached out to ruffle his hair Zak dodged away.

"Cut it out, I'm not a kid."

"You're thirteen."

"And a HALF! And a WARDEN," Zak huffed, his face slipping into a smile. He leaned back against the alley's wall and soon enough his brother joined him there too.

"Yeah, you're our family's pride and joy," Michael stated, but they both knew that wasn't completely true.

Training to be a WARDEN was grueling, especially for the mostly talent-less Zak. Not only was he keeping on top of his martial and magical training, but the Bennett boy was also focused on maintaining a lie - that he was "Lance." Early on the suspicious drop in his abilities was explained away with tales about still grieving for his brother... which was true, in a sense. Over time it got harder and harder to make up excuses, so the only thing Zak could do was train harder and harder. He gained a reputation as a workhorse, and though he was consistently in the lowest percentile of his class, he managed to remain "WARDEN material." The most difficult thing to fudge was his aptitude for magic. It was many long days and nights before he had a breakthrough. Instead of branching out, trying to control the multitude of spells his peers could use, Zak focused his energy into refining one type of magic until he was an expert at it. This being spells related to fire. Mistburn was common for him while perfecting his techniques, and is still common to this day. It was around this time though that Zadkiel not only realized that he couldn't really be Lance, but that he didn't want to be either.

Zak stood silently in the small quarters, posture straight and hands clasped behind his back. He focused only on the sound of shuffling papers. His eyes were focused there too, and it wasn't a joke when the aged man at the desk laughed and said, "son, you're burning a hole in my paperwork."

"Oh, sorry," Zak said. He snapped his eyes shut instead of simply looking away and the man laughed again. He shook the tiny embers off the forms he was holding before setting them down and rising out of his seat. The elder WARDEN was a head shorter than Zak, gray haired and stocky, with a scar running down the length of his face - but it didn't stop him from looking friendly. Instructor Geraint was Zadkiel's favorite superior, so it only made sense to confess the lie to him first... but, now that'd he'd done it, Zak stood by confused as the man didn't seem to care at all.

Geraint approached and stopped just in front of Zadkiel. The young man was two years from graduation, and he'd dropped a relative bombshell. However -

"Zadka- Zad, was it?"

"Zak."

"Zak," Geraint rumbled, and the sound of his name being called after all this time brought an unfamiliar warmth to Zak's chest. "To be honest Zak, I don't see what you're so worried about."

Zadkiel opened his eyes, his puzzled expression meeting his instructor's pleasant one.

"I lied to the WARDENs, to you, to - to everyone."

"...and?"

Zak narrowed his eyes, glancing around the room slightly. At this point, to say he was confused was an understatement.

"...and... lying is bad...? You trained the wrong guy all this time."

Geraint sighed and put a comforting hand on Zak's shoulder. "Son, we didn't train the wrong man. If you weren't cut out for WARDEN, we would have dropped you a long time ago. In the last few years your test scores have improved, your control over the mist has gotten so much better, and hey - I've personally seen to it that your strength is at the top of your class!

What I'm saying is, you're a WARDEN. You, Zak Bennett. ...Er, Bennett is still your last name, right?"

Zak fought off the urge to tear up at the man's words, and he barked out a laugh at the question. "Yeah, still a Bennett," he chuckled. After a few moments to process the instructor's words, Zak awkwardly shoved his hand forward for a shake.

"...thank you, sir. I mean it."

With a smile, Geraint took it.

After confiding in some of his trusted superiors, Zadkiel was ready to be expelled and become the single stain on the Bennett family name. It was a surprise that they kept everything hushed and let Zak remain in WARDEN. For all intents and purpose, he remained "Lance," but he'd managed to convince some people to call him by his real name by telling them that "Zak" was a middle name he preferred to go by. As graduation got closer, Zak started to express himself more, trying to get more people to call him by his "middle name." To his relief the people he got along with best didn't mind calling him by his new nickname one bit. Most didn't even realize there had ever been four Bennett brothers, fooling themselves into believing there had only ever been Zadkiel Lance Bennett - or rather, Lance Zadkiel Bennett. For everyone besides his immediate family, Zak and Lance were the same person: a WARDEN who worked his ass off, always followed orders, and was really good at fire magic.

After graduating, Zak planned to come clean about everything and get his WARDEN records changed to his real name, so that he'd at least be able to die as his own man. One last hurrah with his closest classmates to find out just who that man actually was seemed to be a great idea, and with no hesitation for once he called driver - or at least shotgun.

 C O M B A T 
Lance relies on his raw strength the most, having honed his body since induction into WARDEN for the specific task of using it as a human-spear to drive wedges between enemy formations. He does his best work on the front lines in direct combat with the enemy. Trained with both pistols and rifles, Lance keeps firearms on his person, but he prefers bladed weapons like swords and pikes not only because he is just better at handling them, but because the sight of a man felling dozens of foes with a sword often inspires fear (or at the very least, second guesses) in the ranks of opposing forces. One particular weapon he's come to like very much is something called a "gunlance:" a large lance capable of shelling from it's tip, sometimes paired with a small shield. It's big and heavy, but extremely effective - and yes, he's aware of the name thing. Ha ha, Lance using a lance.

Over his WARDEN uniform, he wears a light armor once meant for his brother, modeled after the likes of the Order of the Dawn's inquisitors but bearing the Bennett family crest. It's imbued with blessings, and it isn't hard to move around in. It gives him a little more protection when he's out on the frontlines. At one point he hated the armor, but after several cuts and scratches and a friendly paint job, he came to really like it.

Magic was never Lance's strong suite, but after years of refining his craft he'd become an adept caster of fire magic. Because his affinity is low and he often suffers from mistburn, he always keeps a stock of burn-relieving drugs on his person. Lance's control over fire is so complete that he can even change it's color or choose not to burn people with it so long as he stays focused. His "signature" spell is the halo of flames, a ring of fire summoned above or around him that flings deadly embers outward from it.

 N O T E S 
Father: Jophiel Bennett (58)
Retired from service as a Dawn Inquisitor after suffering a leg injury. Very concerned with family image.
Mother: Miranda Bennett (44)
Married young and never looked back. Spends half of her day in prayer and the other half looking after the home.
Older Brother: Michael Bennett (27)
A talented inquisitor like his father, and his father before him, and so on. Strained relationship with family.
Older Brother: Lance Bennett
Allegedly drowned when he was 10 years old. Would be 21 now.
Younger Brother: Laramie Bennett (14)
Gifted youth in his fourth year of WARDEN training. On track to graduate as a Second Class WARDEN and mage.

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Raymond "Ray" Hopkins
21 | 6'7 | O-

 A P P E R A N C E 

Ray has always been massive. He was the 11-pound baby that every midwife claims they delivered that one time. He's the dude that can't blend into a crowd, no matter what he tries to do. He's the kind of guy you'd never take on a stealth mission- big, strong, and loud. Concealing a 220lb man isn't the easiest thing in the world.

But, when you need a friend to help you when you're down, Ray's your man. His brown hair is perfect for ruffling. His strong arms and thick torso make for excellent cushions. And, of course, who can forget about the bear hugs?

When he's off duty, Ray wears large, baggy clothes that hide his physique along with a red fanny pack stuffed with the essentials- Mistburn meds, bandages, a mini sewing kit, antiseptic, and candy! He's not one to show off, and dislikes how his official uniform wraps his muscles so tightly. Sweatshirts and sweatpants are the bomb!

 P E R S O N A L I T Y 

In almost all situations, Ray ends up as the Team Dad. With his powerful build and array of practical skills, he strives to protect and help his friends in any way he can. Fiercely loyal to those he loves, Ray will put his own life at risk at any moment to protect his friends and family.

Of course, that's only if it ever comes to blows. Ray is a pacifist by nature. He always tries to find a way to cool down fights and resolve them peacefully. Still, as a member of WARDEN, he understands that force is sometimes necessary. Malice without reason is one of the few ways to set him off. Hurting his friends or family is another.

Regardless, it's very difficult for Ray to hate anyone. Contrary to his appearance, he possesses a natural feel for the subtleties behind others' motivations, and empathizes with them intensely.

 B A C K G R O U N D 

Raymond was the second child born to Fletcher and Ana Hopkins. The happy family of four lived in the bustling city of Aporia, where his parents worked as decently well-off HVAC technicians. As a child, Ray always felt rather awkward about his large body. Sure, he was always picked first for the impromptu sports games at school, but he was maladroit and tended to be of little more use than a meat shield. Nobody treated him poorly, no, but Ray often felt as if he were a bear in an air duct.

When Ray was 8, his father died in a work-related accident. The official cause of death was "accidental fall," but something seemed amiss to Ray and his older sister, Ema. The only thing that Ray knew was that he had seen his mother dance in triumph one evening after receiving a letter, two days after Fletcher Hopkins's death. It was long after his bedtime-he'd been creeping downstairs for a midnight snack, only to see his mother kick up a fiercesome jig to a nonexistent tune. Scared, the eight-year old had scrambled back up the stairs into his bed. Afterwards, he'd searched for the letter, even going so far as to digging through the bins for a week straight in hopes of catching it, but no dice. He told Ema soon after, and she confirmed his suspicions. She herself had seen someone other than the normal mailman bring multiple packages to their mother.

Perhaps it was the impersonal way that their mother acted after her husband's death. Perhaps it was the lack of a proper funeral. Or perhaps it was the slight lifestyle upgrade the Hopkins went through afterwards. They weren't the most well off, but Ray and Ema noticed some nicer dinners here, a slightly more expensive gift there. The worst "upgrade," however, would come soon enough.

Half a year later, Ana Hopkins became Ana Wersar by marriage, and soon enough a baby was due. Fiona Wersar was the cutest thing Ray had ever seen, and he put any plans to investigate his mother on hold. It wouldn't do for the family to get shaken up by a re-investigation into Fletcher's death- not with a newborn and another baby coming soon after. The newly married couple would often go out for long nights, sometimes not even returning home for days. Ray and Ema quickly learned to take care of their new sister, and eventually their new brother as well. Ray covered the cooking, Ema the cleaning. The two worked hard as impromptu parents in order to avoid rocking the boat, deciding that their best course of action would be to wait.

Then, WARDEN happened. Ray was thrust into a rigorous new life as a hopeful, and he relished every second of it. The physical training, the studies, all of it distracted from the tiny gnawing in the back of his brain. Thoughts like "my mom might be a murderer" are hard to muster up when you have a paper due Thusday, two magic assignments, and several rounds of grueling physical training each day filling up your schedule. Ray focused on training up his naturally-strong body into a frame of truly epic proportions. He devoted himself entirely to the program, and found a second family in his fellow cadets. No longer was he the awkward boy in the back of the class. Somebody had to take care of this group of crazy-smart, crazy-strong young adults. He became a needed figure, a pillar of support and happiness, and it felt good. The gnawing thoughts faded, and Ray began to even doubt if the memory of his mother dancing was real or simply created in the mind of a grief-stricken 8 year-old. He remained close with Ema, sending her letters regularly and following her course as she made her own way through life- school graduation, job hunting, and even courtship.

With graduation imminent, Ray found himself wanting, even longing for those peaceful days in the classrooms. It was highly likely that the class would be split come graduation, so a final farewell party sounded incredible. After all, someone had to make sure they all got to the front lines in one piece.

 C O M B A T 

Raymond specializes in protection and area control, using a combination of barrier spells and matter manipulation, as well as a bit of healing on the side. His magic requires physical motion in order to focus, whether it be hand motion or direct contact. He can create barriers of all sorts and purposes, from a watershed shield designed to minimize magic damage to a multilayered wall. He is able to maintain multiple barriers at a time, though doing so takes far more effort to the point that he is immobilized.

Ray also picked up matter manipulation spells in order to complement his barrier magic. He can raise walls of earth in order to block projectiles or ruin the terrain beneath enemy boots. His favorite strategem is to raise walls to narrow the field in order to focus fire, then protect his allies' charge with a barrier.

Ray is no slouch when it comes to close-quarters combat. He is skilled in throw and strike-based martial arts, and prefers to disable his opponents instead of crippling them. He wears metal gauntlets during battle to keep up with bladed weapons as well. Any enterprising foe looking to take out the protection around Ray's allies will find a tough foe facing them, provided they can make it past the barriers in the first place.

 N O T E S 

Skills (Beyond what WARDEN soldiers normally learn)Cooking
Embroidery
Sewing
Can play percussion

Ray's siblings are as follows:Ema - 4 years older (25) - Hip, chic architect based in Aporia. Engaged.
Fiona - 9 years younger (12) - Cutest thing in the world. Early-onset gun fanatic.
Derek - 10 years younger (11) - Bundle of joy. Reads more than the rest of the family combined.

R E L A T I O N S H I P S

Galahad - "Oh, he's great. People tend to think he dislikes everyone, which isn't true at all! Get to know Gal a bit better and he's just a softie on the inside like everyone else. He's got a sharp tongue, too. Plus, I never have to keep an eye on him in combat sims- he's got the whole field mapped out in that blonde head of his."

Asa - "I keep a small vial of pepper oil in my pack for Asa. She's all about the spice. Suits her, really. Never a boring moment when she's around. She's from Aporia too, a real high-class girl. I'm just glad that my cooking seems to satisfy her. When she eats something really good, she sometimes makes the cutest expression that just makes you wanna grab her cheeks and smush them together!"

Samdihier - "Sam's hilarious. Real joy. Plus, he's got a good head on his shoulders. He sorta... gets the feel of the room, you know? Always saying the right thing. He can get a bit wrapped up in antics sometimes, but doesn't everyone? Oh, and he's pretty good at protecting himself, but I can always spare a barrier for him."

Sorin - "She's so nice! I want to get just as good as her at knitting, too. Though, I felt kinda bad when she needed three whole spools to make a scarf for me. Rin said it was okay, but that's just the kind of person she is. We don't get a ton of money in allowance."

Lance - "Zak's a total inspiration. When I first met him, he was this small kid who barely came up to my chin! He's still only up to... here, but now he's definitely not 'small.' He's put in so much work to get where he is, I can't help but feel proud. Is that weird? I think that's a little weird."

Betelgeuse - "She's had a rough time getting here, but I think Bete's all the more amazing for it. She's always blasting forward at a crazy pace, it's hard not to fall behind! Yeah, Bete can get set off pretty easy, but otherwise she's lovely. Wanna know my secret? If you let her vent it out in a safe place, she gets back into the game real quick."

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fledermaus 𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙣𝙤𝙬, 𝙮𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙣 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧

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fledermaus

𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙣𝙤𝙬, 𝙮𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙣 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧

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𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐆𝐄𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍
TWENTY | 5'6" | AB-

 A P P E R A N C E 

Betelgeuse is not quite graceful, she is nothing close to exuding elegance and refinement, but she could be described as nimble. She moves fluidly, every muscle works with purpose and no energy is wasted. Often, she moves aggressively on spry feet, and she gives the impression that she can snap into action within a millisecond. Betelgeuse doesn’t walk, she stalks.

Despite her demeanor being aggressively self-assured, Betelgeuse is very petite and dainty in appearance. Her frame is small, a thin waist with narrow shoulders. Her big watery blue eyes draw attention to her noble cheekbones and pointed chin. She has decorated her body in tattoos of beasts from a young age; the most visible of which is a wyvern twisting on her shoulder. She has blue hair that rests beneath her chin and she often pulls it back in a half-ponytail. 

When it comes to her wardrobe, Betelgeuse prefers light clothing. During her freetime, she’s in comfortable pants and thin tanktops. On the clock, however, she wears black cargo pants and plated tanktops underneath a long black sweater.

 P E R S O N A L I T Y 

Brutish. That is the word others would use to describe Betelgeuse.

From her mannerisms to her personality, everything about Betelgeuse seems feral. She’s a quiet person, and her silence is heavy with unspoken judgment and muted snark. Rarely does she talk, finding it unnecessary to waste her words on communicating, and often falls back on disparaging looks and long-suffering sighs. When she does talk, she’s gruff and perpetually irritated. A loner and a misanthrope, she doesn’t want to associate with others very often and it is hard to impress her. 

Betelgeuse’s movements are aggressive in nature – she’s the first one to get physical in a confrontation and is not above fighting dirty with her teeth. Often, her solution to things seems to be violence, and she craves the adrenaline from a good fight. The best way to get in her good graces is to give her a good brawl or through food. Once someone has won her affection, she’s loyal and protective, going to extreme lengths to protect her friends. She has a hard time sharing, too, and can be disgruntled if her friend has become close to someone else.

 B A C K G R O U N D 

Betelgeuse was born on a settlement of workers who moved their families near the factory they worked in. The factory being a plant that transforms levistone into etherium. Since she was a baby, Betelgeuse witnessed the horrors of monsters that lurked around the nearby plant and lost many people to them. By the age of five, there was no one in the settlement that was her age. Most of the time, she had to entertain herself while both her parents worked. As nothing was near them, Betelgeuse was taught how to fish and hunt for food as well as gather herbs by a woman next door. She grew to appreciate nature, monsters and all.

Everyone in the settlement was surprised when Betelgeuse was enlisted into the WARDEN program. She was reluctant to go and only her parents praising her for being special convinced her to go away with the strange men. Her time in the program was spent mostly fighting or ignoring people. Since she had no friends when she was younger, she wasn’t used to being around kids her age and she found it annoying as well as energy-consuming. Betelgeuse threw herself head first into the program, it was cathartic to her agitated spirit and the adrenaline became her favorite drug. 

Betelgeuse aimed for being a First Class WARDEN, but her temperamental personality and impulsivity landed her a position in Third Class.

 C O M B A T 

Betelgeuse is a fiend in battle. Technically, she is supposed to be long-distance support, shooting Mist-enhanced arrows in the weak links of the enemy. However, she tends to rush into battle (to the irritation of her superiors). She’ll fight using her flexibility and Mist-enhanced fists. When she’s close to the enemy, she pulls her bow taut, and releases the arrow close range. It is an incredibly impractical way to fight – and it gets her adrenaline pumping like nothing else. 

Her abilities with the Mist lies in enhancement. When she sees the Mist, a big sheer floating blue glob, she enwraps it around whatever she wants to enhance by shooting through it. With an arrow, she aims the arrow to fly through the Mist as manually wrapping it with her hands takes too long.

 N O T E S 

Not applicable.

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thread shitposting is my jam

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Just a note, at this point I'll be closing this off to new players unless they've talked to me beforehand!

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Sabina Rosato
20 | 6' | A+

 A P P E R A N C E 

Striding along at a perfect 6' tall, Sabina could have sculptures made of her and they'd be considered works of art. Neat and elegant, she's nimble without being frail and tough without being bulky, all averaging together into a nice athletic build that's not at all off-putting or unusual, or even notable. She rarely even breaks a sweat, if at all, and it's near impossible to find an unnecessary mark or speck on her flawless ivory skin, save the artificiality of her hands that she keeps underneath her gloves.

Her youthful, well-sculpted features are framed on the sides by wavy brown hair escaping from underneath her trademark beret and flowing past her chin, while her bronze colored eyes are often hidden behind dark sunglasses. Besides the hat, glasses, and gloves, Sabina's wardrobe varies with the fashions of the day, generally preferring a tomboyish style including vests, trousers, and low-hanging belts, but she can always be counted on to be fashionable, and god help you if you scuff those glasses. They're worth more then you are, pal.

 P E R S O N A L I T Y 

It's very easy to hate Sabina. Snooty, arrogant, a silver-spooned elitist, she's the popular kid in school who gets her comeuppance at the end of your favorite teenage coming-of-age novel. She's so easy to despise, but at the same time, you kind of love her, don't you? Always so poised and confident, never shying away from center stage, basking in the limelight she was born under. Sure she's not the smartest or strongest out there (even if she is fairly close to the top, mind you), but when she turns on that magnetic charm of hers, it's like she can do no wrong. It's okay to admit you love her, Sabina loves her too.

Perhaps those who do dislike her assume that she's just a plastic husk who relies on coolness and style to make up for having no personality of her own, and you'd be surprised to hear there's some truth to that, at least from her perspective. Cheated out of a chance to explore and experience life before choosing a path forward, Sabina's layers of confidence and flashiness hide some deep seated issues and anxieties, and she's always been terrified that when those layers are peeled back, there won't be anything underneath. Perhaps that is why she's friends with those that would be considered beneath her, friends who understand that she cares for them in her own special way, and though she'd never say it aloud, would happily lay down on the line for every single one of them.

Don't we all just want to be loved?

 B A C K G R O U N D 

Anyone who's spent longer then five minutes in Katerio knows Rosato, a name synonymous with wealth and power, a name that was whispered with reverence all the way to the halls of the Royal Assembly, and a name that everyone knows reigns supreme over the city, even if the official paperwork insists otherwise. To be a Rosato was to be superior to the lowly rabble beneath your feet; you were born to rule and dominate, and for Sabina that was no exception. Sabina was trained almost from birth to be a politician, her career meticulously planned out all the way up to the Royal Assembly, where she'd use that power to ensure the continued dominance of the Rosato clan.

Or at least that was the plan, until the eight year old Sabina got into a frightful accident and was feared dead. Fortunately for the little girl, she did make a miraculous recovery despite losing her hands, which were readily replaced with valuable levistone prosthetics, but she was left traumatized all the same, not by the accident itself but by the way her closest family reacted. So used to being smothered in what she thought was love and affection, it was a shock when in her dying moments her parents dropped her like a sack of potatoes, writing her off as a wasted opportunity and never once showing up to her deathbed until she made her recovery. The 'love and affection' quickly returned, but Sabina became acutely aware of how hollow it actually was, and how her only value to her family was as a pawn in their great game. Well, if she was going to be a pawn, then she'd be one on her own terms. And her father loved to insult the military as being 'pawns moved around by their betters'. So despite her father spending a pretty penny to ensure recruiters didn't snatch up his children, Sabina undercut him by going directly to a recruiter to be tested, one who belonged to a rival family and would certainly earn his stripes by kneecapping his family's hated rival this way.

While many instructors weren't pleased to see a Rosato entering the Citadel, all but certain that she had gotten in via bribes or favoratism, she quickly proved them wrong, making up for her physical shortcomings through her remarkable talents and deep intelligence. It was a grueling process, but Sabina took to it with style and grace, even if it took her quite some time to admit to her fellow cadets that she needed help in some areas, cadets who up until now would have considered this rich and famous princess from a powerful family nigh unapproachable.

Graduation approached like an iceberg though, and Sabina was almost too eager to go out on one last hurrah with her classmates. After all, you never know what could happen out there, and they...well, they were the only friends Sabina had in the world. That wasn't something she wanted to leave behind.

 C O M B A T 

Sabina considers herself a brawler, wielding her magical abilities and physical prowess to be adaptable to any situation, especially those that demand aggressive action, playing to the weaknesses of an enemy. Her artificial hands are hardened against blades and other strong blows, but she prefers to keep opponents at arms length, not too close and not too far away, exactly where she wants them, and while she's not afraid of wielding a variety of firearms and weapons, she's particularly attached to a rare magical set of weapons; heavy Levistone-infused chains wielded from both hands, almost twelve-feet long and with her expert hand can be used to inflict powerful magical blasts upon striking a target as well as snaring and grappling foes at a slight distance, and with a thought can appear with a weapon attached to the end, such as a heavy weight or a spear tip.

 N O T E S 

Other various stuff.

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dumbledonk kills obiwan

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As told to Roland, Zimmy's longtime Vangar guard. Unprompted, of course.

Galahad
"Tall. Ice man. I like the way he thinks. Ask him about the time I convinced him to sneak out of the Citadel with me for a bar crawl in the city. Okay, I admit it was sort of a low point for both of us in our definitely-platonic relationship. I don't think he remembers it. Don't actually ask him about it, please. Please."

Asa
"Ah...sweet, sweet Asa. Maybe one day she'll find a way to out-drink me. She's got great style. You'd like her. I mean, I like her, and you and I get along. Sometimes she just needs a guiding hand to get her to chill a little. Sometimes that's me. I think she likes me.

Lance
"Okay, don't judge me for this: Lance is hot." *snort* "Yeah so actually he uses the mist to throw fire around, so I'm hilarious not thirsty. Stop looking at me like that. Seriously, we're friends. He's been there for me at a few moments when no one else was, and I value that. He's funny, too. Kind of a lightweight, though.

Ray
"I fucking love Ray. You don't even know, man: when I first got assigned to my squad I was terrified--you know, because of the whole anxiety slash self-esteem shit I told you about a couple days ago--anyway this beautiful man made me a soufflé. Where the fuck do you get soufflé ingredients as a fifteen year-old in a military fortress? Yeah, I would die for that man.

Betelgeuse
"Bete and I used to play this fun little game where she'd try to shoot me out of the sky, and I'd have to dodge it. God, I miss her. We're the same star-sign, actually. Basically sisters.

Sam
"Okay, lemme level with you here. I have no idea how to pronounce Sam's full name, and at this point I'm too afraid to ask. He's awesome, though. A bundle of cheer no matter what. I aspire to that level of positivity. One time me and him and Bete got together on a holiday a few years ago, and I swear I saw him get Betelgeuse, queen of Stern faces--hah, get it, god I'm hilarious--to crack a smile. The guy's got a soft center, though. So you know, if I ever see him again and he wants to talk about his problems, I hope he knows I'm there for him."

Sabina
"Okay so the thing about Sabina is that she's easy to hate. Trust me, I did for a long time. She's what we'd call abrasive. But then we got blackout drunk one night, and she spilled her guts to me and Asa, and it turns out she's all kinds of fucked up. Lots of mental health issues that the Citadel would never help out with. To be honest, I'm not sure that anyone but me remembers that night. Remember, I told you I have an invincible, possibly demonic liver."

"...I probably shouldn't be telling you any of this, huh."

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