》 𝖡𝖠𝖲𝖨𝖢𝖲: John Smith || 20 || Daeva

---

"Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit."

You can play any of the available races, in whatever reasonable iteration you like. Biological/social gender is quite loose for everyone in this world, thanks to magic. You can specify if you like.

As a result of rather violent culling throughout the eons where those who were outliers ended up annihilated one way or another and those that remained slowly lost the benefits of producing offspring with a longer-lived race, age is now quite consistent across all the sentient races, with everyone averaging around 120-150 years these days. More ancient races in the distant past were eradicated in certain Starweaver attacks, and more ferocious predator races have long warred themselves into extinction. What remains of any such lineage is relegated to the far reaches of the world.

In death, Mal’akh fade into glimmering lights drifting upwards back into the sky; Daeva slowly (or suddenly, depending on manner of death) petrify into stone statues; Fae folk transform into various magical plant life. Humans still die the same way, though some have applied death-trigger spells on their bodies to mimic various other races’ deaths that are relatively more pleasant to look at than leaving behind a rotting corpse.

If you’re doing something particularly complex with the race, PM me first with the idea so we can discuss it. You can put a brief blurb about the character here.

》 𝖠𝖯𝖯𝖤𝖠𝖱𝖠𝖭𝖢𝖤: 160cm tall || 62 kg

---

IMAGE IS OPTIONAL/ILLUSTRATIONS ONLY; NO IRL FACECLAIMS.

Put a description of your character here. Descriptions are mandatory, but the image is not. You’re free to not include an image, especially if you can’t find any that fits.

》 𝖯𝖤𝖱𝖲𝖮𝖭𝖠𝖫𝖨𝖳𝖸

---

Your personality forms a loose theme for the power you receive as a Starweaver. Craft what you like within that, though, as personality themes are not strict and this isn’t a strict game.

》 𝖧𝖨𝖲𝖳𝖮𝖱𝖸

---

You’re free to make any changes to the sheet that you like, aside from mandatory sections like appearance, personality, and history. Change icons, add colors, make a new sheet template, go wild.

Starweavers can awaken at any age. You hear a voice that sounds like someone you know and trust, and maybe that’s just yourself, but you hear it all the same. It whispers “Wake up” in a language you understand and your name. That’s all the warning you get before the burden of the world settles on your shoulders in the form of a new power you might have wished for all your life or never wanted in the first place. The newfound magic comes easily to you, gently easing itself into your mind and your body like it’s always been there. Using it is as natural as breathing and you figure out your nuances and limits rapidly. You also find that you can feel other Starweavers now, that the pull of their nearby presence is like the air turned elastic, tugging you towards each other, just strong enough to notice and weak enough to ignore. Eventually, the feeling is natural, like air against your skin. You no longer find it strange, or even noteworthy, after a time.

Remember that in your history, your character will have somehow encountered the fog sometime before the disaster that struck Antarctica. The character may or may not have been a Starweaver at this time. Seeing as magic is commonplace in this world, it’s possible to pass off such an encounter as a cheap prank or someone’s spell gone briefly awry. What they’ve seen is similar to a sudden mist across their vision, blanketing the surrounding area so severely that it was hard to even see their own hands in front of them. Magic (even Starweaver magic) and tech failed in the mist, and when the character moved forward one step, they seemed to walk straight into a memory of something irreversible—-something they’ve lost or done that they would give anything to redo or return to. Anything for a second chance. When they took a second step, the vision was gone and they’re standing there walking into nothing in particular.

It’s preferable if your character has a great regret. It doesn’t need to be necessarily a huge event that continues to affect them severely and traumatizes them. It’s just something that cuts them to the core personally that, if they were given the chance, they would want to change. Maybe they’ve gotten over it in the sense that they’ve made peace with the fact the past can’t be changed, but if there was a way to turn back time (a magic that has not been created throughout all of history), they would be tempted to take it.

When the fog coated Antarctica, that regret floated to the forefront of their mind, unbidden. They can pass it off as coincidence, or they can decide there’s more to this than what it appears.

You have large freedom in creating a power for yourself, and Starweavers are not bound to the racial magic restrictions when using their unique ability. (You are otherwise still bound when using normal magic, of course.) You can only select one particular power that needs to be specific. For example, you can’t be both a mind reader and a telekinetic. The benefit of a Starweaver is that no known magic or science can easily stop a Starweaver’s ability—-it would take a concerted effort, likely involving many magical beings and devices. The quickest counter to a Starweaver can only be another Starweaver, and only if the other possesses an ability that can do anything about the former. Between power clashes, GM/co-GM will have the final call on how colliding abilities interact, though it’s open for players to call on their own without needing outside decisions.

❖ 𝖬𝖠𝖦𝖨𝖢

---

MIND READER

» 𝖲𝖳𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖦𝖳𝖧	» 𝖲𝖴𝖯𝖯𝖮𝖱𝖳	» 𝖣𝖤𝖷𝖳𝖤𝖱𝖨𝖳𝖸	» 𝖣𝖤𝖥𝖤𝖭𝖲𝖤	» 𝖲𝖳𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖭𝖠
★★★☆☆	★★★☆☆	★★★☆☆	★★★☆☆	★★★☆☆

Describe your specific Starweaver power here. I’m giving you a lot of freedom in what you can do, so I trust that you’ll balance your ability appropriately. A player power that effectively can be any power is not acceptable. Neither is long-term time control/travel. ‘Gaming the system’ isn’t welcome here and is playing in bad faith. Be reasonable, please. I’m open to discussing iterations of anything so long as it’s clear you intended this to be a power that works with the narrative rather than a nightmare to GM.

Most stats are pretty clear. Stamina can be a measure of both physical/magical stamina such as how long casting can keep up without stopping or how long someone can fight at full strength. Just take it as a rough guide rather than anything laid in stone. Feel free to explain any stats further if your character warrants it.

❖ 𝖳𝖤𝖫𝖤𝖦𝖱𝖠𝖯𝖧

---

Starweaver abilities have a signature mark (also commonly referred to as the starmark) that’s unique to each Starweaver and will become glaringly apparent when casting. It’s extremely easy to identify which ability is being cast by which Starweaver as the mark will appear prominently above the head of the casting Starweaver and will appear above anyone affected by the Starweaver. In some way, the mark will always make itself known. For example, in the third Great Calamity, the errant Starweaver destroying much of the Eastern countries left large scorches and enormous chasms in the ground in the shape of his mark. Many of the more remote fissures remain to this day as they’re too deep to readily fix for areas of uninhabited land. Music section below is optional.

❖ 𝖬𝖴𝖲𝖨𝖢

---

❖ PLAYLIST	❖ SONG
OPENING THEME	ARTIST = "SONG TITLE"
CASUAL THEME	ARTIST = "SONG TITLE"
BATTLE THEME	ARTIST = "SONG TITLE"
ENDING THEME	ARTIST = "SONG TITLE"

》 𝖡𝖠𝖲𝖨𝖢𝖲: Akemi Saskia || 25 || Half-Daeva

---

"Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit."

You can play any of the available races, in whatever reasonable iteration you like. Biological/social gender is quite loose for everyone in this world, thanks to magic. You can specify if you like.

As a result of rather violent culling throughout the eons where those who were outliers ended up annihilated one way or another and those that remained slowly lost the benefits of producing offspring with a longer-lived race, age is now quite consistent across all the sentient races, with everyone averaging around 120-150 years these days. More ancient races in the distant past were eradicated in certain Starweaver attacks, and more ferocious predator races have long warred themselves into extinction. What remains of any such lineage is relegated to the far reaches of the world.

In death, Mal’akh fade into glimmering lights drifting upwards back into the sky; Daeva slowly (or suddenly, depending on manner of death) petrify into stone statues; Fae folk transform into various magical plant life. Humans still die the same way, though some have applied death-trigger spells on their bodies to mimic various other races’ deaths that are relatively more pleasant to look at than leaving behind a rotting corpse.

If you’re doing something particularly complex with the race, PM me first with the idea so we can discuss it. You can put a brief blurb about the character here.

》 𝖠𝖯𝖯𝖤𝖠𝖱𝖠𝖭𝖢𝖤: 5'6" (170cm) || 158lbs (72 kg)

---

At first glance, Akemi seems rather ordinary for a Daeva; her crimson horns and long, spade-tipped tail making her heritage utterly clear. However, it wouldn't be difficult for one to realize the distinct lack of the pallid skin tones expected of her kin. This is because Akemi's genetics are muddled by the Human-Mal'Akh ancestry of her mother. Her toned muscle structure and demonic-looking features make it plain that her Daeva heritage is rather strong, but the warm fawny color of her skin and her stark white hair make her mixed-blood discernible, were one to care.

Her cerulean eyes contrast the carmine shade of her Daeva features, while making her gaze appear cool and perhaps deeper than she'd intend. Her snowy hair is usually held up in a ponytail or bun, but even then it dips down just past her toned shoulder blades.

There is one feature about Akemi that is somewhat remarkable however: her wings. Or, wing, to be more precise. Normally she does not manifest any wings, due to the relatively weak genetics of her Mal'Akh heritage - but when she beseeches the powers of the Stormstar, there are exiguous times when a singular, tattered wing of crimson feathers flickers in and out of form behind her right shoulder.

When it comes to her sense of fashion, she's not much of a stickler for any particular style, but she does prefer to wear a darker palette with scarlet details or accessories to match her horns and tail.

》 𝖯𝖤𝖱𝖲𝖮𝖭𝖠𝖫𝖨𝖳𝖸

---

Your personality forms a loose theme for the power you receive as a Starweaver. Craft what you like within that, though, as personality themes are not strict and this isn’t a strict game.

》 𝖧𝖨𝖲𝖳𝖮𝖱𝖸

---

You’re free to make any changes to the sheet that you like, aside from mandatory sections like appearance, personality, and history. Change icons, add colors, make a new sheet template, go wild.

Starweavers can awaken at any age. You hear a voice that sounds like someone you know and trust, and maybe that’s just yourself, but you hear it all the same. It whispers “Wake up” in a language you understand and your name. That’s all the warning you get before the burden of the world settles on your shoulders in the form of a new power you might have wished for all your life or never wanted in the first place. The newfound magic comes easily to you, gently easing itself into your mind and your body like it’s always been there. Using it is as natural as breathing and you figure out your nuances and limits rapidly. You also find that you can feel other Starweavers now, that the pull of their nearby presence is like the air turned elastic, tugging you towards each other, just strong enough to notice and weak enough to ignore. Eventually, the feeling is natural, like air against your skin. You no longer find it strange, or even noteworthy, after a time.

Remember that in your history, your character will have somehow encountered the fog sometime before the disaster that struck Antarctica. The character may or may not have been a Starweaver at this time. Seeing as magic is commonplace in this world, it’s possible to pass off such an encounter as a cheap prank or someone’s spell gone briefly awry. What they’ve seen is similar to a sudden mist across their vision, blanketing the surrounding area so severely that it was hard to even see their own hands in front of them. Magic (even Starweaver magic) and tech failed in the mist, and when the character moved forward one step, they seemed to walk straight into a memory of something irreversible—-something they’ve lost or done that they would give anything to redo or return to. Anything for a second chance. When they took a second step, the vision was gone and they’re standing there walking into nothing in particular.

It’s preferable if your character has a great regret. It doesn’t need to be necessarily a huge event that continues to affect them severely and traumatizes them. It’s just something that cuts them to the core personally that, if they were given the chance, they would want to change. Maybe they’ve gotten over it in the sense that they’ve made peace with the fact the past can’t be changed, but if there was a way to turn back time (a magic that has not been created throughout all of history), they would be tempted to take it.

When the fog coated Antarctica, that regret floated to the forefront of their mind, unbidden. They can pass it off as coincidence, or they can decide there’s more to this than what it appears.

You have large freedom in creating a power for yourself, and Starweavers are not bound to the racial magic restrictions when using their unique ability. (You are otherwise still bound when using normal magic, of course.) You can only select one particular power that needs to be specific. For example, you can’t be both a mind reader and a telekinetic. The benefit of a Starweaver is that no known magic or science can easily stop a Starweaver’s ability—-it would take a concerted effort, likely involving many magical beings and devices. The quickest counter to a Starweaver can only be another Starweaver, and only if the other possesses an ability that can do anything about the former. Between power clashes, GM/co-GM will have the final call on how colliding abilities interact, though it’s open for players to call on their own without needing outside decisions.

❖ 𝖬𝖠𝖦𝖨𝖢

---

STORMSTAR ORBIT

» 𝖲𝖳𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖦𝖳𝖧	» 𝖲𝖴𝖯𝖯𝖮𝖱𝖳	» 𝖣𝖤𝖷𝖳𝖤𝖱𝖨𝖳𝖸	» 𝖣𝖤𝖥𝖤𝖭𝖲𝖤	» 𝖲𝖳𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖭𝖠
★★★★☆	★★☆☆☆	★★★★☆	★★★☆☆	★★★★☆

Akemi's Starweaver ability manifests itself in the form of a dark, baseball-sized orb made up of what looks to be a deep cerulean liquid, with an agitated black core within. If one were to watch closely, they might notice the minute streaks of puce and mauve-ish electricity arcing out of and around the dark, quivering surface of the orb. One might think touching such an orb would result in a wettened hand, but the dithering surface is actually not liquidy at all - or at least it doesn't physically feel so. This orb - or "Stormstar", as Akemi refers to it - orbits around her at a steady rate whenever she manifests her Starweaver ability, which allows her to manipulate and conjure the forces of the powerful storms of nature.

Among the list of maneuvers she regularly utilizes sits the abilities to create lightning strikes, thunderclaps, bright flashes, directed thunderstorms, and a short number of related phenomena - all of which she seems to endure with ease. She can even manipulate water, to an extent.

Stormstar Orbit Limitations/Notes [+]

Akemi's manipulation of her storm powers is limited to about 300 feet(100m).
Her manipulation over water is even less than this, and is restricted to about 50 feet(15m).
Akemi doesn't seem to be bothered by the deafening thunderclaps or blinding flashes her powers can produce.

❖ TELEGRAPH

---

Akemi's Telegraph is a rather simple one, taking the shape of a jagged wreath piercing through a small, opaque circle.

❖ 𝖬𝖴𝖲𝖨𝖢

---

❖ PLAYLIST	❖ SONG
OPENING THEME	ARTIST = "SONG TITLE"
CASUAL THEME	ARTIST = "SONG TITLE"
BATTLE THEME	ARTIST = "SONG TITLE"
ENDING THEME	ARTIST = "SONG TITLE"

_{Style Code: # f43f47}

Aesthetics [+]

♕

》 𝖡𝖠𝖲𝖨𝖢𝖲: Noelle Hodge || 29 || Human (Faye Ancestry)

---

"I try to always live in the moment. Not my fault if the moment happens more than once!"

The daughter of a British academic and a Tokyo-born singer, and raised to bear an ingrained knowledge of magic, Noelle has spent the majority of her adult life as a Starweaver of some renown, known for her rare ability to manipulate small increments of time. A contractor for various large corporate bodies and research conglomerates, she spends her days going from experiment to live-fire to Corporate unveiling, standing by with a flash of elemental magic and a touch that can turn back time; ready to step in should the... unfortunate happen.

》 𝖠𝖯𝖯𝖤𝖠𝖱𝖠𝖭𝖢𝖤: 203cm tall || 76 kg

---

Tall, lithe and generally fit, with long, powerful legs and deceptively thin arms, Noelle moves with a certain erratic grace, her movements often sudden and energetic but always in-place. While in most respects she resembles a plain human being, the Faye blood that has tinted her lineage since before living memory has lent her skin a pale shade of forest green. Striking at first glance, her silhouette is tall and strong, cutting a narrow, tightly packed figure and almost constantly tensed and ready to move. Her lilac hair falls in short, messy locks around a long and angular face, framing a narrow, smile-lined mouth, large yellow eyes and a prominent Roman nose. She dresses fairly practically, normally wearing some combination of flexible, brightly-coloured trousers, comfortable tops and one of two light, waist-length coats. Her hands, large and deceptively powerful, are almost always gloved.

》 𝖯𝖤𝖱𝖲𝖮𝖭𝖠𝖫𝖨𝖳𝖸

---

Noelle is, at heart, a cheerful woman, but equally one who's inclined to hold her cards close to her chest. While she's never afraid to crack a joke with her superiors, or kick up banter with a random passer-by, the number of true friends she can claim to have can be counted on one hand, and she prefers it that way. In this regard, she could be considered something of an introvert, although in truth she simply prefers not to open up to people she hasn't become particularly familiar with. Consequently, while a conversation with her can be anywhere from engaging to utterly mundane, and one might consider her generally agreeable, attempts to actually get to know her can be futile. Should she feel that a person is prying, she can and will show them a cold shoulder.

Truthfully, Noelle is a lonely soul, with a tendency to isolate herself. Given how often she travels from job to job, holding down any kind of relationship is understandably difficult for her, and in the years since her ability manifested, she has grown less and less outgoing and equally more private. She approaches new conversations and people with a distinctive snark and an ever-present smirk, which has so far yielded... mixed results, and the process of meeting and subsequently stalling with person after person only leads to her becoming more insular. She's easy to work with, but far from easy to get on with.

Noelle's upbringing has left her very familiar with most kinds of magic, even beyond her not inconsiderable ability with elemental magic and spell-layering, and in her free time she will often go out of her way to follow leads or individuals that intrigue her. Similarly, through her mother's career she has some connections in the showbiz world, and is generally better informed than one might expect. On the other hand, her somewhat lonely upbringing and experience with death and catastrophe make her hesitant to approach large groups of people, and outside her career as a contractor she's notoriously private.

Crucially, she believes firmly that life should be lived moment-to-moment. Her experience has exposed her to horrors and joys in equal measure, and too often she's met people - especially through her mother - who are too hung up on wallowing in mistakes or misfortune to truly change things in the present. Consequently, her ability, in her eyes, is an incredibly valuable thing; one that allows her to avoid or correct those tiny, critical moments that might otherwise ruin a life.

At heart, what she most wants is happiness. As satisfied with her career and lifestyle as she is, she truly desires connection, and despite her high barriers, this can lead her down paths and decisions which may not be all that wise.

》 𝖧𝖨𝖲𝖳𝖮𝖱𝖸

---

"WAKE UP, NOELLE..."

The voice came to her unbidden, even as the shock of the explosion echoed in her head. In the haze of dust and smoke, an ethereal light settled over Noelle, a spiritual weight permeating Noelle's body in a way she'd never experienced. Time itself, if for only a moment, stopped; then, suddenly, like a siren in the dark, a scream - Nico's scream - cut through her deafened ears, and she found herself scrambling to her feet, rushing across the courtyard to her friend. There, caked in dust, lay the other guard, a long shard of glass impaling his lung. Blood bubbled to his lips, even as his breath began to slip, and she could see the life fading and something pulled-

And suddenly his scream had just begun to die down, and a feeling of less seemed to fill her as she pushed into him. A sound like the crack of a whip cut across reality, and before her eyes, Nico's body seemed to rewind, the glass rocketing back towards the broken window as his wounds closed and a strange, sideways 'S' burned itself into her view. Just as suddenly, the whipcrack seemed to reverse, and the glass shot forward like an arrow. Heedless of the danger, she threw herself towards the man, shoving him out of the way just as the glass scored a gash through her calf. She shrieked, and Nico's eyes widened as he moved to help, but the whip cracked again, and in the next moment, she stood at her post, panting, a shell-shocked look in her eyes and a body that showed no signs of the events of the last 18 seconds...

---

Noelle first encountered the fog when she was Seventeen. One year earlier, her mother had been killed on a car crash while she and her father were away on a research trip. Her father, the latest in a line of part-Fey academics of some renown would often take her on such trips, much to the consternation - and eventual anger - of her mother. The last interaction the two ever had was a screaming match.

The fog came to her on the streets of London, near the house where she was born. It was a misty night to begin with, and for all she knew she'd simply stumbled across a particularly dense patch while reminiscing, but the experience shook her. Even years later, she would have done anything to simply tell her mother that she loved her, and she would often reflect, with some bitterness, that her power couldn't fix the one mistake worth undoing.

---

Noelle's life has been an odd mix of a sheltered upbringing and a particularly broad worldview. Her father Bruce had met her mother Satsuki in Japan at one of her concerts, and they fell in with each other almost out of convenience. That said, she was far from unloved. The three of them would often go abroad for musical performances, absorbing culture after culture as they went from place to place. When she wasn't trekking around to operas or orchestras or band performances, Noelle attended a small State Primary school in London until she was Eleven, at which point her father pulled her out and set to teaching her the ways of his family.

By the time she was of University age, Noelle was a skilled magician, well versed in wind and fire manipulation and barrier magic, and with a penchant for particularly nasty spell layering. Her father, of course, wanted her to follow in his footsteps, but Noelle, holding him partly to blame for her Mother's death, decided instead to put her practical talents to good use, serving first as low-level security for a high-status bank, and later as a doorman at one of her mother's old concert hall haunts after calling in a favour. It was there she met one of her closest friends, Nico Vasquez, who would serve as the catalyst for her ability's emergence during a small-scale terrorist assault.

She tried to keep her newfound status as a Starweaver under wraps, but being so public an awakening the press quickly latched on, and in the aftermath several large corporations and even a few smaller governments approached her to act as a contractor for various high-risk projects. Given that her workplace had been blown up, Noelle needed a job, and decided she may as well put her abilities to use.

The things she's seen since have left her jaded. Over the course of nine years, she's seen both the best and worse that the world has to offer, from... ethically dubious research projects to the development of increasingly unpleasant weaponry. She does, of course, turn down many more jobs than she takes on, but remains a well known, well paid and well regarded Starweaver, and ends up credited by far more projects and papers than she would like. At present, she's taking a break from work to do some research of her own, and is doing her best to stay out of the public eye. She's made overtures to reconnect with her father, but given her current home base in New York, the efforts are slow-going.

❖ 𝖬𝖠𝖦𝖨𝖢

---

TIME SLIP

» 𝖲𝖳𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖦𝖳𝖧	» 𝖲𝖴𝖯𝖯𝖮𝖱𝖳	» 𝖣𝖤𝖷𝖳𝖤𝖱𝖨𝖳𝖸	» 𝖣𝖤𝖥𝖤𝖭𝖲𝖤	» 𝖲𝖳𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖭𝖠
★★★★☆	★★★☆☆	★★★☆☆	★★★★☆	★★★★★

Time Slip is a deceptively simple ability. Fuelled by a stock of fifty 'charges' which regenerate with the dawn, it grants the ability to manipulate and undo moments of time in increments of up to nine seconds, either in relation to herself, or the world around her. By expending a single charge, Noelle can reverse her position in linear time by up to nine seconds, moving backwards while the rest of time remains as normal. In doing so, she effectively erases the effects of those 9 seconds on herself. Conversely, she may expend a charge to undo the passage of time around her, placing her nine seconds ahead of the situation and undoing the time she spent moving/casting. Using these two abilities in tandem allows her to blip around an area, fleeing extraordinarily quickly, dodging attacks as though she was never there to be targeted and otherwise confusing things, at the cost of a finite and valuable pool of charges. Noelle can rewind anywhere from half a second to the full nine, but must always spend a full charge to do so, complicating her micromanagement even more.

Alternatively, she can spend a second charge to manifest the rewind as a projectile to be exerted over someone or something else. The sphere is roughly the size of a tennis ball, bears her symbol, and moves at roughly the speed of a sprinting Greyhound. When it makes contacts, either by being touched to the target directly by Noelle, or by being propelled at them from range, they and anything touching them experience the next 9 seconds in reverse, appearing to rewind while the rest of the world moves forward. During this period they are completely inviolable, as anything which touches them is caught up in the effect. In this way, Noelle can heal associates, undo disasters in labs or facilities she's contracting for and inconvenience opponents or line them up for an attack.

Beyond the resource limit, the ability has certain hard limits. It cannot reanimate a corpse; the body will simply revert to the state it was in prior and remain dead. It also does not remove the memory of rewound time.

❖ TELEGRAPH

---

Noelle's sign is a stylised musical Turn: a horizontal 'S' marking that curls in on itself.

❖ 𝖬𝖴𝖲𝖨𝖢

---

❖ PLAYLIST	❖ SONG
OPENING THEME	Satellite Young = Moment in Slow Motion
CASUAL THEME	Motoaki Takenouchi = Shining Force 2 - Town Theme
BATTLE THEME	Mr Big = Strike Like Lightning
ENDING THEME	Tomohito Nishiura = Time Travel (Instrumental)

》 𝖡𝖠𝖲𝖨𝖢𝖲: Daniel Telem || 20 || Mal'akh

---

"I'm running on a mixture of spite, erythropoietin, and clinical strength bronchodilators. So yeah, not doing so hot."

MEDICAL EXAMINER REPORT

Name: ■■■■■■■■■■■■■■ Date of Birth: August 5, 2022 Age: 26 Race: Human (Caucasian) Sex: Male	Medical Examiner #: ■■-■■-■■■■ Date of Death: May 15, 2049 Time of Death (Estimated): 1830-2000 Hours Date of Exam: May 16, 2049 Time of Exam: 0800 Hours

FINAL DIAGNOSES AND FINDINGS

• Widespread rupturing of soft tissue abscesses.
  • Cutaneous abscesses present within exanthematous rash in repetitive patterns resembling known starmark.
  • Internal lesions apparent on upper and lower lobe of both lungs.
  • Large volumes of blood present in major bronchi upon examination.
• Evidence of rapid onset pulmonary sarcoidosis and extensive respiratory inflammation.
• Generalized pallor and evidence of exsanguination.
• No evidence of physical trauma or laceration despite extensive wounding.
• Serology returned no evidence of causative agent of infection.
• Notable lack of lymphatic swelling despite evidence of immune response.

Cause of Death: Exsanguination from extensive cutaneous and internal lesions across the body.
Manner of Death: Contact with Starweaver identified as Telem, Daniel.

》 𝖠𝖯𝖯𝖤𝖠𝖱𝖠𝖭𝖢𝖤: 175cm tall || 65 kg

---

Daniel is a diminutive, sickly boy with alabaster-pale skin and unpigmented hair that would drive a hairdresser to tears with how lifelessly it drapes over his head. His eyes are an unexpressive pale blue, contrasted starkly against the dark circles that always hang under them. The rest of his face is veiled near-constantly by a magitech gas mask to keep pollution and other irritants from his disease-weakened lungs, which only exacerbates his taciturn appearance. When he speaks, his voice is a flat monotone that rings with a subtle but haunting echo as enthralling as it is unsettling, partially from the mask's distortion and partially from his mal'akh heritage. Daniel's silhouette is slender and unimposing, though a glimpse of him unclothed would suggest his figure derives more from ill health than any lean musculature. He moves with a languid, ethereal grace, not one for animated movement unless he's in immediate danger. Despite this general malaise, Daniel has a habit of restlessly bouncing his leg when he's irritated or deep in thought.

His wings manifest as shadowy feathered appendages that appear opaque at the base but taper out into near-translucent tatters that resemble worn and ripped cloth at their distal ends. Even their substance grows more ephemeral away from the base, being wholly solid at first before growing akin to animated shadows that barely register as a feather-light tickle on contact. They're not particularly large; even unfurled in all their spectral glory, his wings would barely extend past his armspan, and the projections at the tips are easily malleable enough that the wings can be hidden under a heavy coat for convenience or to keep a low profile.

》 𝖯𝖤𝖱𝖲𝖮𝖭𝖠𝖫𝖨𝖳𝖸

---

Daniel is fairly inexpressive, and keeps his reactions neutral if not aloof. Not to say he's emotionless, but he isn't very outwardly emotive. This isn't helped by the mask covering the lower half of his face, which leaves onlookers with few visual cues beyond eye movement and body language as to what's on Daniel's mind. Even then, the external portrayal of most of his emotional extremes are muted and subtle, with abject horror perhaps expressing itself as wide-eyed surprise, or overbearing excitement presenting as a simple narrowing at the corners of his eyes. One of the few things that can reliably provoke an emotional response from the boy is people blatantly pitying him, though even his anger at that is a cold seething rather than hot and explosive rage. Despite his aloofness, Daniel doesn't actively avoid interaction, but he's quite used to being alone; no grade schoolers really wanted to be friends with the sick kid that was always in and out of school, after all. He's quite desensitized to death and the prospect of dying, which could be interpreted as fearlessness or foolhardiness, depending on one's outlook. This makes him open to risky actions, though he's not usually a proponent of them. Likewise, the mal'akh is typically agreeable and not one to defy orders from a superior or reject a consensus of his peers unless he finds the decision exceptionally misguided.

When it comes to his ability, he's hesitant to make use of it in any circumstance where he doesn't feel he's in explicit danger, but is fully willing to condemn entire swaths of people to death with perfect clinical detachment should he be forced into action. A subdued opponent appealing for mercy can generally tug enough of the apathetic boy's heartstrings to be granted a reprieve and Daniel is usually quite forgiving, but there's only so many life-threatening actions one can forgive a person for before it becomes simple stupidity.

》 𝖧𝖨𝖲𝖳𝖮𝖱𝖸

---

Daniel Telem was going to die. He was reminded of this in every hospital ceiling he stared up at, in every glimpse of his sunken cheeks in the mirror, in every pill bottle and every inhaler. As a child, it scared him. The novelty wore off in his teens. He did not want to die, but he knew it would happen eventually; that he'd staved it off longer than expected was a hollow victory in his eyes. The mal'akh boy had been sickly from a young age, cursed with failing lungs and chronic illness that left him in and out of hospitals throughout his entire childhood. Even when healing magic and medical magitech put his symptoms in remission and he found the strength to get out of bed long enough to function normally, Daniel was always ever-wary of triggering another horrible coughing fit that would land him back in the hospital. Naturally, with all the free time he possessed laying in bed, he took up magic as soon as he was able; if Daniel could barely walk on his own, he'd fly instead. If he had to slink back to the hospital for a healing spell, he'd make every attempt to cast it himself. It was the smallest bit of freedom he could grasp for.

Throughout his teenage years, his health showed marked improvement, but every period of much-sought freedom for the boy - though they grew longer and longer each time - would always end far too soon in potential suffocation or crippling exhaustion. He was eighteen when he was discharged from the hospital for the last time. Four hours later, he was cornered during a walk around town; a group of hoodlums had apparently decided the sick-looking kid was an easy mark. Such a cruel mistress fate was, trading one method of death for another. Well, maybe not; he didn't exactly have money, they might've just let him go. He never got to find out. Mere seconds after that, Daniel heard his own voice ringing in his ears, affectionately urging him to wake up like his mother would when she visited him in the hospital. Within a minute, Daniel's assailants had fled at the sight of the starmark igniting above his brow. By the end of the day, they'd all died agonizing deaths in a puddle of their own bodily fluids, along with a few of their friends that foolishly tried to help. The police helpfully provided pictures when Daniel didn't believe them.

He was under government contract by gentle coercion soon after, too dangerous to be left alone but too useful to be discreetly disposed of. He hadn't bothered to call their bluff; the terms were agreeable enough to him. Aside from occasional deployment on law enforcement's behalf - criminals were quick to turn themselves in when they were oozing blood from every orifice and were told their only salvation was peaceful surrender - Daniel was mostly left alone. Sure, the comfortable apartment in New York his employers had provided was definitely under regular survelliance and he was called in by lab coats to show off his ability in probably-not-legal-or-humane experiments more than he probably should've been comfortable with, but otherwise it seemed like he was being paid simply to not use his ability. He only needed to exist as an unspoken threat at the negotiating table to be of use, though such a status meant he was usually swamped with offers from other people looking to undercut America's new bargaining chip.

It was in New York that Daniel encountered the fog. The day was otherwise mundane; a step outside a local restaurant sent him into a foggy haze where he'd been certain there was a sunny afternoon previously. Before any wild theories as to the cause entered his mind, the mal'akh was assaulted with emotion like a punch to the gut. A nostalgia for experiences he never had, places he'd never been, all coalesced into the painful clarity that his childhood was over and he'd wasted it in a hospital bed gasping for breath. Perhaps he was romanticizing things, perhaps his health really wouldn't have allowed him to live his life any differently, but Daniel couldn't shake the feeling he'd lost out on some cherished, idyllic time that he'd never get back. He was alone in another prison, about to spend his adulthood in the same lonely blur. The fog faded away moments after, but he barely noticed.

❖ 𝖬𝖠𝖦𝖨𝖢

---

CONTAGION

» 𝖲𝖳𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖦𝖳𝖧	» 𝖲𝖴𝖯𝖯𝖮𝖱𝖳	» 𝖣𝖤𝖷𝖳𝖤𝖱𝖨𝖳𝖸	» 𝖣𝖤𝖥𝖤𝖭𝖲𝖤	» 𝖲𝖳𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖭𝖠
★☆☆☆☆	★★★★☆	★★★★☆	★★☆☆☆	★★★☆☆

The fate of all things is to eventually wither and die; such decay is written in the stars when they too flicker out at last. Those who band together and seek comfort from this eventuality will learn but one inescapable truth: all end up alone in the cold embrace of the grave. This is the futility of mortal connection laid bare for all to see by Contagion's horrors. The ability begins as a sickly green mist that Daniel coalesces around himself in an ever-growing cloud. The cloud does little to reduce visibility despite its color, and the mist itself feels damp and slightly sticky. It cannot penetrate skin but mucous membranes and open wounds are both easily colonized once a victim makes contact with the cloud. No biological function can halt the disease's progression after infection, nor can survivors of the disease gain any degree of immunity to it should they be infected a second time. Contagion is a disease of the soul, the target's very life essence; it bypasses the host immune system entirely because it simply is not a physical pathogen. Even magical healing can only treat symptoms or stall until Contagion has run its course naturally, though this may put the healer themself at risk should they stray too close to the infected.

Upon initial infection, the target is immediately overcome with a sense of weakness and general feverishness. Respiratory distress soon follows, causing shortness of breath and a hacking cough that expels the same noxious mist that Daniel can generate himself, which clings to the infected and turns them into a walking biohazard. At this stage, the victim becomes capable of transmitting the disease to others. Rashes break out across the body, typically in the shape of Daniel's starmark wherever possible, which progress into pustulent boils that leak contagious mist and bleed profusely if and when they pop. The victim may also begin hacking up blood if they contracted Contagion through inhalation at this point. Eventually, the boils will form and burst so frequently that the skin simply flakes off and creates massive open wounds, staining grotesque crimson starmarks into whatever fabric the victim is fruitlessly using to stem the bleeding. If the poor bastard hasn't died from blood loss by the final stage of infection, widespread internal hemorrhaging eventually leads to mass organ failure and certain death as the last spark of life energy is siphoned from the victim's pitiful husk. After death, the mist gradually dissipates in about a minute, but will continue to cling to the corpse until then, barring a strong wind or other means of spread. The corpse itself retains no trace of Contagion and is no longer contagious after the mist fades.

As any infectious disease, Contagion flourishes in interaction and dies in isolation; a victim must remain within around forty meters of another infected person (or Daniel himself) for the disease to continue progressing, and this can include those the victim infected personally. Failing to meet this criteria will cause the symptoms to slowly recede at roughly the same rate they appeared. Wounds won't spontaneously close, but new boils will stop forming, coughing fits will become less frequent, etc. Only when the fever finally breaks and chills stop wracking the victim's body is it safe for them to approach others again. Conversely, being in the presence of larger numbers of infected people will cause symptoms to progress much faster than normal, with two people alone in a room perhaps taking hours to reach the final stage of infection while a tightly packed crowd might succumb to their fate in mere minutes.

While Contagion is an exceptionally deadly power, especially in populated areas, it cannot distinguish friend from foe; only Daniel himself is immune to its effects. He can dispel the disease with a touch as a last resort, though this does little good for victims who were infected outside his notice or those that had already sustained gruesome lesions or crippling organ damage before Daniel had a chance to cure them.

Though Daniel is as magically potent as any trained caster among the mal'akhim and a competent flyer (beats coughing up a lung after he tries running), he's physically pathetic even by his race's standards. A cocktail of performance-enhancing drugs and mal'akh restorative magic keeps him functional as a combatant, but he's still reliant on arcane means where his body fails him. As such, he tries to exert himself physically as little as possible during a fight, using his Starweaver ability to dissuade foes from getting close and his aerial dexterity to avoid anything at range.

❖ TELEGRAPH

---

Daniel's starmark is a swirling, vaguely circular sigil, with descending lines that break off in varying lengths that look as though the curves are bleeding. The mark burns with haunting red luminescence above the heads of the infected and Daniel himself, and the sigil can vaguely be glimpsed in the rolling currents of his virulent clouds if one stares at it long enough.

❖ 𝖬𝖴𝖲𝖨𝖢

---

❖ PLAYLIST	❖ SONG
OPENING THEME	ARTIST = "SONG TITLE"
CASUAL THEME	ARTIST = "SONG TITLE"
BATTLE THEME	Obligatory
ENDING THEME	ARTIST = "SONG TITLE"

》 𝖡𝖠𝖲𝖨𝖢𝖲: Eckehard Köhler || 150 || Dwarf

---

》 𝖠𝖯𝖯𝖤𝖠𝖱𝖠𝖭𝖢𝖤: 160cm tall || 210 kg

---

Image

》 𝖯𝖤𝖱𝖲𝖮𝖭𝖠𝖫𝖨𝖳𝖸

---

Eckehard is a very quiet man. He doesn't like to talk all that much in fact. The Dwarf rather just spend his time alone with some books than go out. Eckehard is also quite humble, never having flashed his achievements for fame. For those who know Eckehard, they say that he is a very sweet man. He never raises his voice, always speaking in a soft-tone. While he does not show it, Eckehard has a deep care for many, especially the poor.

》 𝖧𝖨𝖲𝖳𝖮𝖱𝖸

---

Some Dwarfs enjoy a peaceful and quiet life in the reservations, but Eckehard’s parents were not those kinds of Dwarfs. Wilfried Köhler and Grete Köhler wanted their son to become someone in the history books, and pushed their only child into a life outside of the German reservations. The benefits given to the Köhler’s family were enough to allow Eckehard a decently comfortable life and education. Who knew being a near-extinct race had its upsides. Years passed, and Eckehard was moving through life with good results. By the age of 18, Eckehard had just graduated from his secondary education, but issues with Germany and the end of the First World War would cause a big road-bump ahead. Extreme instability forced Eckehard to take a short break from education, as he watched the political and economic situation go up in flames in his home-nation. Thankfully, the Golden Twenties came, and the new German Republic became more stable after the chaos of the First World War. Eckehard went back to schooling, and everything seemed to be back on track.

Unknown to Eckehard, the greatest economic event of the 20th century would change the young Dwarf’s life forever. The Great Depression came, with the New York stock market crash, and Germany became unstable once more. Eckehard still continued his educational plans and life as always, but soon became fearful of new rising political bodies. Eckehard knew that he had to leave Germany for one reason or another, and so moved to the Soviet Union before the National Socialist German Workers' Party fully took power.

Now in the Soviet Union, Eckehard quickly found himself a job at the state planning commission for Stalin’s five-year-plans. Dwarfs were rare sights outside their reservations, and they were often not highly well versed in technology. For Eckehard, this was the case, and combined with his background in industrial engineering, the Dwarf had no shortage of work to do.

The industrialization in the Soviet Union went forward, and Eckehard was responsible for the industrial construction and operations in Magnitogorsk. In 1937, a whole three years after moving to the USSR, Eckehard witnessed another historical event (besides the industrialization of the USSR and the Holodomor), the Great Purge. The Dwarf was never targeted by the NKVD, but Eckehard saw multiple familiar faces in the show-trials. Eckehard simply watched on the sidelines. This was merely another event inscribed into the Dwarf’s mind.

On August 30th, 1942, Operation Barbarossa was in full swing. Eckehard was tasked with ensuring stable military production and expanding war production. For the whole of the Second-World War, Eckehard did just that and then so much more, in the form of military R&D in the late years of the war (mainly with the development of the T-54/55). Once the Second-World War came to an end, and the Cold War began, Eckehard had his work sorted out for him again. The Soviets needed an atomic bomb, and the government pulled anyone of talent to the project, that included Eckehard.

On August 29, 1949, the first Soviet atomic bomb was dropped. Throughout the whole cold war, Eckehard helped develop the Soviet nuclear arsenal. In the history books, Eckehard is better known for his role in the space race. Both Sergei Korolev and Eckehard helped launch Sputnik in 1957, and spent Yuri Gagarin, the first human in space, in 1961. Beyond the space race and until the end of the cold war, Eckehard developed multiple military systems for the Soviet Union. On one faithful day, while the Dwarf was working on paperwork alone in his office, a strange fog entered in. An odd feeling of future loss was felt as the Dwarf walked endlessly into fog and then into a massive-crowd. Before long, Eckehard woke up and he was still at his desk. Must have been a dream.

By the time of the Soviet collapse, Eckehard stayed in Russia for a bit before he moved to the U.S to work in NASA in 1999. The National Aeronautics and Space Administration would be the home for Eckehard for the latter-half of his life. Over the course of his later-years, Eckehard aided in the rapid development of space technology, and then later fusion energy. Fast forward to today, Eckehard has now retired and now lives in a small home in Germany.

❖ 𝖬𝖠𝖦𝖨𝖢

---

Defensive Magick

» 𝖲𝖳𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖦𝖳𝖧	» 𝖲𝖴𝖯𝖯𝖮𝖱𝖳	» 𝖣𝖤𝖷𝖳𝖤𝖱𝖨𝖳𝖸	» 𝖣𝖤𝖥𝖤𝖭𝖲𝖤	» 𝖲𝖳𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖭𝖠
★★★☆☆	★★★★★	★☆☆☆☆	★★★★★	★★★★☆

Starweavers are often not not very flashy in their abilities. It comes with the job of being one afterall. Plenty are superstars and famous for their unique magic, but Eckehard’s Starweaver power is not all that pretty for the camera or that complex really. Cooking is the name of the game here, and Eckehard’s food has properties that can boost people’s ability in many fields. The more complex and elaborate the food, the better benefits that it gives. Over the course of his life, Eckehard has memorized hundreds of recipes and their effects on people.

❖ 𝖳𝖤𝖫𝖤𝖦𝖱𝖠𝖯𝖧

---

Eckehard's telegraph is a pig that shows up right next to him.

❖ 𝖬𝖴𝖲𝖨𝖢

---

❖ PLAYLIST	❖ SONG
OPENING THEME	Simon Swerwer - The Storm And The Bounty
BATTLE THEME	Simon Swerwer - Danger Room
CASUAL THEME	Tarn Adams - Dwarf Fortress Mode Theme
ENDING THEME	Tarn Adams - Dwarf Fortress Menu Music

》 NAME: Ragneka Qroarae || AGE: 8 || RACE: Mal'Akh

---

OPERATION CALAMITY DEMISE
Lead Researcher: Professor Fletcher Patel

Journal Entry 1228
April 24, 2042

'Today marks the birth of our primary test subject: Ragneka Qroarae, daughter of the beautiful Mal'Akh angel Naomi Qroarae who has volunteered this precious gift for our vital research. Naomi will remain on standby for when it is time for her to feed Ragneka, but in the meantime, she is to be made comfortable while this experiment proceeds, to ensure her motherly instincts don't interfere with its due course.'

Journal Entry 1274
November 7, 2042

'I don't often get the chance to observe Ragneka whilst she's out of the machine, but from what I can see the most peculiar thing about her facial structure is that left eye of hers. I've never seen eyes change color this often in my entire life, but I feel as though I've figured out what each color is supposed to represent. It seems to me that the color of her eye shows what she's feeling at that particular moment in time. I should leave some space on this page so that I can write down what color represents which emotion.'

Red = Anger
Blue = Sadness
Green = Jealousy/Discontent
Yellow = Happiness
Brown = Lethargy
Pink = Affection
Orange = Sarcasm
White = Shock/Fear
Aqua = Confusion
Violet = Intense Focus

Journal Entry 1387
February 10, 2044

'We've hit our first snag in the project, and although it's not a critical upset, it is most certainly a crucial one. The machine has taken major damage due to Ragneka's resistance, and we'll need to recalibrate it entirely before we can proceed with any further experiments. Furthermore, Naomi is still in hysteria as I write this, and I don't blame her for the way she acted. After all, we ALL could've lost Ragneka that day. I'm just glad she chose to stay with us, even though she coerced me into telling her the truth behind the project as a whole. Were she to choose to flee instead, the project would be doomed in its entirely. That's what I feared most.'

Journal Entry 1666
May 31, 2046

'At long last, we're finally ready to begin field tests. Naomi seems to be especially optimistic about how far Ragneka has progressed. We remain skeptical about whether we've truly achieved a magitech-accelerated awakening, but we don't intend to bring this project to a halt until we accomplish said feat; ethical bullshit be damned. That's precisely what these field tests are for; to see how far we've come to this penultimate goal.'

》 HEIGHT: 127cm || WEIGHT: 26 kg

---

Even among the Mal'Akh race as a whole, Ragneka has a very unique appearance. Her choice of clothing is about the only thing that could be argued to be commonplace, but even then, one does not simply come across a robe that has golden cords on the inside, a gold ribbon up top to tie it together and two "tails" of fabric that reach down towards the ground. Beyond that, her hair, which she ties into high twintails, looks to take on a metallic grey during the day, only to shift to white in the night. Ragneka has a total of 4 wings; a white pair that sprout from her shoulder blades as one would expect, and a black pair that forms from the lower back, just above her buttocks. Both pairs of wings have a myriad of "pockets" on the inside of their span, which are invisible to the naked eye, but glow when magic makes contacts with them. But the most unique things about the way Ragneka looks are her eyes, beyond a doubt. Her right eyes remains as black as coal, but her left changes colors based entirely on her mood at the time, and may even take up to two separate colors if she's feeling multiple emotions at once.

Full Body Image [+]

》 𝖯𝖤𝖱𝖲𝖮𝖭𝖠𝖫𝖨𝖳𝖸

---

She may have only lived just over 8 years of her life so far, but Ragneka has already shown comprehension beyond that of any human being who is anywhere near her age. Her intellect is on par with that of the vast majority of the adult population, and she has keen observation which makes her difficult to fool. As such, her opinions always have the potential to be very valuable. Ragneka will always speak her mind; if not physically due to complications such as her mouth being gagged or sealed shut, her vocal cords being worn out or even whilst her mouth is otherwise in use, then through telepathy. She can always count on that to get her message across if need be.

Ragneka is usually a calm and collected individual. She'll always look through all the options available to her before she makes an executive decision, and she won't allow her emotions to cloud her judgment. That said, one thing reigns supreme above all Ragneka's personal pet peeves; she absolutely despises being lied to. She can tell if someone is trying to withhold information or mislead her just by reading their face as a whole. Ragneka could keep a secret, but will more often than not decline such requests, her reason being that secrets beget dishonesty.

As is the case with most Mal'Akhs, Ragneka's voice brings a soothing melody to her speech most of the time. However, it gets completely distorted when she becomes enraged, and winds up sounding demonic as a result, akin to a being that may have come straight out of hell. This distortion will last until Ragneka has successfully calmed down, but because she's a difficult person to provoke, one should be thankful for the exceeding rarity of which this occurs. And even in the event that she does get pissed off, again, Ragneka won't allow her emotions to cloud her judgment. She's more than capable of granting mercy from her wrath to those who swallow their pride, kneel before her and beg for her forgiveness. The true question is whether or not said mercy is deserved. Once Ragneka's mind is made up, no amount of groveling will pressure her into making the slightest alteration.

》 𝖧𝖨𝖲𝖳𝖮𝖱𝖸

---

"My name is Ragneka Qroarae, and I'm here to tell you my story in regards to taking part in Operation Calamity Demise. I've lived in this world for the past 8 years now but, outside of my arrival to New York, none of it has been on any semblance of record. So you'll have to take my word for-..."

"..."

"Oh? You'd rather I begin immediately? Very well, then."

"I was born in London University, right inside the underground laboratory in which Operation Calamity Demise was to take place. I don't cry out as my mother birthed me like other babies would; instead, I was peacefully sleeping, even as my body was transferred between multiple pairs of hands. During the first 20 odd months of my life, it was evident that I had a severe case of lethargy, and I suspect that the scientists that were assigned to the project took advantage of that fact. They put me in this strange machine and strapped me in, before putting a helmet-like device over my head and sealing me inside. One of them would have his hand over the switch in preparation to throw it, and once he did, all sorts of different memories would be instilled into my brain at once."

"Of course, these were not my own memories, but those of many different Mal'Ahk warriors that had fallen in combat. Primarily, the scientists would've wanted me to learn the magical spells that they used, although I suppose seeing how they died was useful for me to save myself from their own fate. In any case, the machine seemed to be programmed to only operate for 6 hours at a time, and the scientists would use the hourly breaks to bathe me, deal with any of my bodily excrements or hand me off to my mother so she could breastfeed me. Afterwards, they'd put me back into the machine and the cycle would repeat all over again ad infinitum. At first, my ever-growing intellect proved to be a delightful side-effect of all these memories being supercharged into me. But as I grew smarter and smarter, I became increasingly uneasy with the entire process. It didn't help that I remained unaware of the end-goal they had in mind at the time, mind you; that knowledge would've been nice to procure beforehand..."

"Unable to take the burning questions in my mind any more, I demanded to know why the scientists used me as their test subject for so long, and what they were attempting to accomplish. It stirred a small amount of conversation within the scientists, but they ultimately decided against heeding my desires altogether, and continued as they would with the experiment. That was the first time I showed a conscious effort to resist the machine's attempts to get inside my head, and apparently it was enough to cause serious stress to the machine itself. Had it not been forcibly shut down when it did, it would've likely self-destructed from the pressure, and taken my life with it. My mother was in hysterics, and scolded me for not thinking about what my death would mean to her, but I ignored her; I was still furious with the scientists for denying me much needed answers. I repeated my demands, and this time I assured all of them that I'd refuse to co-operate until I knew the truth behind everything. It was only then that my professor stepped forward, announcing himself as the lead researcher for Operation Calamity Demise."

"Apparently the scientists were trying to make me into the most powerful Starweaver alive. I initially wondered why they would want to grant me this power and not save it for themselves, but now that I think about it, they never struck me as the type that would go full-hero or full-villain. But if they could grant me enough power to even hold my own against the Starweaver that was solely responsible for the Third Great Calamity, if not defeat him, then in theory I could single-handedly stop any further Great Calamities from ever happening again. That was what appealed to me most out of everything my professor told me that day. But in order to grant me this power, the scientists would have to continue to teach me powerful spells through the machine, and they would also have to try to force my Starweaver Awakening to occur earlier than it naturally would, so they could learn of the ability that the awakening would've granted me and teach me how best to maximize my ability to wield it. Ironically, my Starweaver Awakening would never occur until after the project was already declared terminated, but it wasn't in the cards for me to know that."

"Would the project work? Would I work? Who was to say? But the scientists continued their work. Approximately two years later, they were ready to put me through some field tests. It was quite simple, all I had to do was blow up some dummy targets, which I easily obliterated with the magical spells I learned. I was having so much fun, but suddenly the scientists all scurried away elsewhere whilst I was still doing one of the field tests, and I completely failed to notice until I finished that specific test. As soon as I peered around the entrance door, they all returned. But I could tell that their moods had soured considerably, and they were escorting someone with a black sack over their head."

"..."

"Yes, I believe this was this "John Doe" character you were talking about earlier. He was a student of London University who merely arrived in the wrong place at the wrong time; all because he got lost on his way to class. My professor told me that this was a common cover story crafted by those that would intentionally snoop around restricted areas, which explains why he himself didn't buy it. But your John Doe character boldly stuck to this same story when I interrogated him myself, and unlike the scientists who allowed their paranoia to consume them, I could see that he was telling the truth. When I asked him to retrace his steps, however, he revealed to me that he noticed all the rooms of the building above were empty, and that he noticed something odd about the stairwell that led to the underground laboratory. That's where he went wrong. He should've known those rooms were empty for a reason, and he should've left that stairwell untraversed and went on his way. There's no doubt in my mind that he had to have tripped the security cameras that the scientists installed there long before initiating this project and all the others that they conducted down there. That couldn't exactly be helped; not with today's technology. But he most certainly should've obliged my professor when he told him to abandon all memory of what he'd seen thus far and leave."

"I reprimanded him for these actions, but then he turned around and asked me how I could possibly be OK with, and I quote this, "this shady af shit that goes on in the underground." That alone was enough to give me pause. It made me realize that, yes, I was OK with such proceedings, and that something maybe wrong with me because I was OK with them. I can only hope that the answer I gave him was satisfactory to him. But alas, I couldn't allow him to report his findings or what I told him to the authorities, and he seemed unwilling to simply let it go, so I had to kill him. You should know that he has my deepest sympathies, as do his family and other loved ones."

"Through all the potential jeopardies, the entire project lasted almost the full length of my entire life... give or take the few months it would take to move from London and settle into New York, obviously. It wasn't the threat of looming officials that shut the project down, but the presence of this strange fog that seeped down underneath the earth and covered the ceilings of the entire laboratory. It disabled all the technology inside, including the machine that I was sleeping in, which I knew because the memory that it was trying to put into my mind had completely transitioned into this weird dream. I... don't think that dream I had is relevant to your cause. But if you must know, it lasted a couple of minutes before my professor managed to shake me awake, and unstrapped me from the machine in a panic. He handed me off to my mother, who then flew out ahead of him so he could help the other scientists gather some important files. The scientists also wanted to know how the fog got down as far as it did and started by examining the air ducts that lead into the laboratory, but I suspect they took too long in that endeavor and that most of them are now behind bars as a result of that. But now Operation Calamity Demise is dead in the water, and my professor's been on the run ever since its termination, with myself and my mother in tow."

❖ 𝖬𝖠𝖦𝖨𝖢

---

DUAL LIFE-DRAINING BEAMS

» 𝖲𝖳𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖦𝖳𝖧	» 𝖲𝖴𝖯𝖯𝖮𝖱𝖳	» 𝖣𝖤𝖷𝖳𝖤𝖱𝖨𝖳𝖸	» 𝖣𝖤𝖥𝖤𝖭𝖲𝖤	» 𝖲𝖳𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖭𝖠
★★★★☆	★★★★★	★★★★★	★☆☆☆☆	★★☆☆☆

Ragneka fires up to two beams of pure light (one for each arm) that home in on her enemies' hearts, and allow her to continually drain life from them. These beams are ethereal in nature and can be handled akin to a rope of sorts, allowing Ragneka, her target(s) and all combatants on either side to pull on the beam from their respective sides and adjust how much life will ultimately be drained from the target(s). The more force that is applied on Ragneka's side, the faster the rate at which life is drained from the target, but if too much force is applied on the target's side, the ability to drain any life at all can be almost completely negated. Ragneka can always disconnect these beams at will, but otherwise they will continue to drain life towards Ragneka until either the enemy(s) being drained dies or she completely exhausts her supply of magical energy. However, they don't automatically stop when Ragneka reaches full health. Instead, the extra life is stored in certain "pockets" of her wings for later during combat. If Ragneka is struck by anything whilst storing any extra life, that extra life is expended in order to reduce the damage and numb the pain, if only by a small amount. If Ragneka doesn't use any magic for exactly 3600 seconds, any extra life that she'd stored through the effects of her life-draining beams will be absorbed by her wings, which in turn will aid in replenishing her pool of magical energy for the next battle she gets herself involved in.

The beams of light can also be "reversed engineered", allowing Ragneka to sacrifice her own life in order to provide emergency healing to a valuable ally. In this instance, pulling towards each end has the opposite effect from normal; that is, force towards Ragneka reduces the effect and force towards the target increases the effect. It should be noted that the reverse-engineered beams will always use the extra life that was stored in Ragneka's wings before they use her own life. Ragneka can also fire off one reverse-engineered beam towards an ally and a standard beam at an enemy, in order to transfer the life she drained straight to whoever is in dire need in healing.

Between maintaining her life-draining beams and her habit of "overspending" energy for her offensive magical spells, the cost of most anything she can throw at an enemy is steep enough to completely undermine the Mal'Akhs' naturally high energy pool. On top of that, Ragneka is a poor physical fighter on account of her underdeveloped body, and as such, her effectiveness in combat is only as good as the amount of magical energy she has left. However, Ragneka has access to a myriad of powerful offensive and supportive spells, and the speed in which she can soar through the air is remarkable. She can very easily swoop in to save a life when least expected. Ragneka can be a great ally to have at one's side; so long as her magical energy is topped up before engaging the enemy.

❖ 𝖳𝖤𝖫𝖤𝖦𝖱𝖠𝖯𝖧

---

Ragneka's Starweaver Mark resembles an Ouroboros, the head of which seems to hover over her right eye.

❖ 𝖬𝖴𝖲𝖨𝖢

---

❖ PLAYLIST	❖ SONG
Opening Theme:	Catch Me When I Fall, by Stitched Up Heart
Encounter Theme:	Persona 4 OST: Heaven
Battle Theme:	Valkyria Chronicles II OST: Valkyria Theme

☢ A S C E N D ☢

☉ BIRTHRIGHT

---

TYRANT OF STARS

» 𝖲𝖳𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖦𝖳𝖧	» 𝖲𝖴𝖯𝖯𝖮𝖱𝖳	» 𝖣𝖤𝖷𝖳𝖤𝖱𝖨𝖳𝖸	» 𝖣𝖤𝖥𝖤𝖭𝖲𝖤	» 𝖲𝖳𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖭𝖠
★★★★★	★☆☆☆☆	★★★★☆	★★★★☆	★★★☆☆

Jagganath's power is both that of a Starweaver and inherited from his long-distant draconic ancestor. Whether by accident or some strange design, these powers seem to work in tandem, creating a truly unique being. The direct "source" of Jagga's power is his nuclear dragon heart, a miraculous organ that functions in a manner resembling an biological fusion reactor, supplying his body with tremendous amounts of energy. Most of this energy is channeled into his muscles, which can accept the power like a living dynamo. While his strength, speed, and endurance are all already prodigious, as he continues to exert himself, his nuclear heart will continue to heat up, increasing its rate of fusion, allowing his power to increase to levels considered obscene even for Starweavers. As the heat of his body and his strength both increase, the molecular structure of his flesh changes, revealing his hidden dragon genetics. His flesh becomes metallic in composition, giving him massively increased durability, and effective immunity to heat and directed energy. This also greatly decreases the density of his body, making him much lighter and able to leap to tremendous heights and over long distances. He can even vent this excess power in the form of blasts of heat, beams of nuclear fire, and other energetic attacks.

However, his power has a drawback. His human body is not the correct form to accommodate the heat and power of his nuclear heart, and so if he accumulates too much excessive heat, or remains "overheated" for too long his body will literally begin to melt down. His metal flesh will begin to soften and eventually liquefy, and his muscles will begin to rupture like an overexerted human athlete. The only ways he can combat this drawback is to allow his body to cool down naturally from inactivity, or attempt to vent the heat all at once by exposing his nuclear heart. The latter of these options can make for a devastating attack where he unleashes all of his pent-up energy at once, but also leaves him extremely vulnerable to having the source of his power attacked.

While Jagganath does not have the training nor disposition to wield magic, he is also heir to the legacy of the racial magic of the dragons, which they used to fly through the stars and maintain their dominance over races they considered inferior. There may also be yet more secrets of his draconic ancestry hidden away in his flesh and soul, waiting to be uncovered.

♕ CROWN

---

Jagga's starmark takes the form of a pair of wide curves of burning light that curl upwards to either side just behind his head, giving the impression of a pair of draconic horns, or else some manner of regal headdress.

❖ 𝖬𝖴𝖲𝖨𝖢

---

❖ PLAYLIST	❖ SONG
OPENING THEME	MIKE OLDFIELD = "NUCLEAR"
CASUAL THEME	DIGITALISM = "MIAMI SHOWDOWN"
BATTLE THEME	DANCE WITH THE DEAD = "BECOME WRATH"
ENDING THEME	JUSTICE = "WATERS OF NAZARETH"

》 𝖡𝖠𝖲𝖨𝖢𝖲: Luka Krasnoff || 20 || Daeva

---

"We'll all be ashes in the end."

A young man born and raised on the unforgiving borderlands of Siberia, where the government still maintains a stronghold to guard against the ever encroaching threats of leftovers from the last Calamity. The harsh conditions of the borderlands had made Luka a survivalist, but it was his father's iron-fisted training that made him a fighter. Years later, when the man finally succumbed on the field as Daevas tend to, Luka was alone in the world as a young man. Having never really formally joined the borderland guards, he followed his father's will and returned to New York, to scatter the man's ashes.

》 𝖠𝖯𝖯𝖤𝖠𝖱𝖠𝖭𝖢𝖤: 185cm tall (210cm with the horns) || 86 kg

---

Tall and well-built, with long exotic platinum hair and bright red horns, Luka can certainly draw the eyes. His right horn seemed to have been broken off near the base, though. His eyes were also peculiar, the iris are slits like a beast's, while the sclera is jet black. His tail is long and whip-like, tipped half way with tufts of white fluffy hair. The skin of his hands and feet is reddish in color, and each of his fingers is tipped with hard, sharp nails that almost resembled talons. He filed down his toe nails, just for the sake of wearing shoes, but he doesn't really see the need of doing the same thing for his hands.
Despite his exotic and often intimidating appearance, Luka is actually soft-spoken and mild-mannered, at least in his human form. Often seen in ill-fitting and mismatched military fatigues or crummy t-shirts, it was quite clear that he is careless about his appearance. Yet, the look fits him somehow, with his slit eyes and feline grace. One would often be reminded of a prowling predator, if not for the warmth in his smiles.

》 𝖯𝖤𝖱𝖲𝖮𝖭𝖠𝖫𝖨𝖳𝖸

---

Having grown up among the beasts and mountains of Siberia, Luka's social skills are a bit lacking. He is always a bit awkward, even when he tries to mask it with smiles and apologies. At his core, he is honest and kind, if not a little bit naive in his thinking. Still, he is no stranger to violent and bloodshed. The twists and turns of city life might confuse him sometimes, but Luka is also familiar with the hunt; he knows enough to be wary of what might be lurking under the surface.

》 𝖧𝖨𝖲𝖳𝖮𝖱𝖸

---

Luka was 2 when his father brought him down to the borderlands. It was no place for a child, so he had to grow up quick, and his father made sure of it. The man was hardly a good father, but at least he was a good soldier, so Luka learned fast, and he lived. Between following the soldiers around when they do their assignments in the fort and ice fishing down in the fjord, Luka learned how to first use guns, then his fists, then finally the most powerful weapon of them all: his head. He learned how to pick his battles, he learned to size up beasts and shadows, and learned when to run for his life. His father was busy most of the time, so he had to fend for himself and learned how to make his own fun. It was not the easiest life, but it was good enough for little Luka.

When he was 14, he became a Starweaver. In the foolishness of youth, he had let himself stray into more dangerous territories. One moment he was running from the gnashing teeth of giant Hell Bats, and the next, he was tripping and falling down into an empty barrow. The tiny space kept the bats out, but it also trapped him in. Almost a day passed, before he heard his father's voice calling: "Wake up, Luka". His memories were blurry in the next few moments, but he remembered aching pain, then the feeling of being faster, stronger than ever. That was the first time he ever shape-shifted, and the form he took closely resemble those bat-like beasts that chased him in the first place: hulking things, with massive fangs, long claws and an endless appetite for destruction.

His father took the news well. After all, strength is respected here, and little else. Life went on until the summer of Luka's 19th year. The beasts were getting more cunning, more dangerous with each passing year, and this particular year was when they grew smart enough to coordinate an attack. Luka only remembered a sea of blood and countless gaping maws. He fought to the last ounce of his strength but at last they were overrun. His father, among many others, died. Later, Luka found a desperate letter addressed to him from his father asking him to bring his ashes back to New York, and strangely, to never ever come back to Siberia. Luka obeyed even when he never really understood why. It was in the streets of New York when he first encountered the fog. Flashes of that last battle in Siberia filtered through his chaotic thoughts, taunting him with visions of what could have been. Then as fast as it appeared, the fog dissipated and he was left alone once again with the bitter taste of regret.

Life in the city took a while to get used to. Luka managed to find a small apartment with his father's contacts. He set up a landline, then a PO Box that he never checks, while passing his days doing odd jobs and his nights lounging at the Tipsy Temptress.

❖ 𝖬𝖠𝖦𝖨𝖢

---

LURKING DEATH

» 𝖲𝖳𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖦𝖳𝖧	» 𝖲𝖴𝖯𝖯𝖮𝖱𝖳	» 𝖣𝖤𝖷𝖳𝖤𝖱𝖨𝖳𝖸	» 𝖣𝖤𝖥𝖤𝖭𝖲𝖤	» 𝖲𝖳𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖭𝖠
★★★★★	★☆☆☆☆	★★★★★	★★☆☆☆	★★★☆☆

Luka's unique ability allows him to take the form of a Hell Bat, one of the many ferocious beasts that roam the Siberian borderlands. In this form, he gains many advantages unique to this apex predator: brutal strength, lightning speed, high regeneration, sharpened senses and deadly instinct. As a creature adapted to hunting dangerous preys on the plains of Siberia, Luka sported a pure white coat of fur, as well as the nimbleness and speed unsuited for something of his size. He can also fire off bursts of magical fire that cannot be put out by traditional means. Additionally, his beast form has a pair of leathery wings protruding from its back, allowing for flight. With its superior senses, once the creature tasted your blood, it can give chase for days on end.

To possess such devastating power, Luka has to make do with significant limitations. He cannot transform at will; but rather, the beast would slowly emerge as he fights and consumes the enemies' life force, which usually means their blood. As the battle drags on and he feeds, Luka gradually is able to summon the beast's strength: first its claws, then teeth, then fiery breath. At the peak of his strength, he will be able to fully shift, however without life force and battle rage, the form also cannot be maintained for long.

Form for reference. Antlers instead of horns, right one is also broken. Face is more bat-like.

❖ 𝖳𝖤𝖫𝖤𝖦𝖱𝖠𝖯𝖧

---

Luka's telegraph is two red shapes that look like a beast's eyes. They seem to follow you at every turn.

❖ 𝖬𝖴𝖲𝖨𝖢

---

❖ PLAYLIST	❖ SONG
OPENING THEME	THE SUN KITE = "DARK STAR"
CASUAL THEME	FEVER FEVER = "SEA MEETS EARTH"
BATTLE THEME	GREEK FIRE = "COMING OUT OF THE RAIN"
ENDING THEME	FIVE FOR FIGHTING = "HEAVEN KNOWS"

》 𝖡𝖠𝖲𝖨𝖢𝖲: Juān Bái || 23 || Fae

---

"C’mon, let’s fucking do something already."

A fay lacking a firm purpose, a frustrated youth itching for trouble, an ex-gang member from Hong Kong, a newly minted New-Yorker dabbling in crime and activism, and a covert Starweaver.

》 𝖠𝖯𝖯𝖤𝖠𝖱𝖠𝖭𝖢𝖤: 163 cm || 64 kg

---

Juān is somewhat on the short side, has the grayish-blue complexion of a cloudy, misty, rainy day, and is fit with some decent muscles, especially in her legs. She has obvious demi-human features, including her pair of horns, fluffy animal ears protruding beneath them, eerie eyes, sharp teeth, tough and pointed fingernails, lightly furred thighs, heavily furred calves, and mountain goat shaped hooves instead of feet. Her hair is moderately thick, slightly scruffy, and has obviously not been cut in a while (or not cut well); her split, uneven ends fall just slightly past her shoulders, and her fringe covers the wide forehead of her heart-shaped face. Her eyes are a mesmerizing thing; her irises are a thick outline of near-black, and the pupils as if it were a spark of light ignited within, hues of amber to light red swirling in the center. As Juān tends to peer at the world with mistrust, irritation, or discontent, they can be rather alarming to observe.

Juān dresses fairly unassumingly, in dark toned clothing consisting of graphic t-shirts, hoodies, jackets, jeans (usually worn out, ripped, and/or patched) or baggy trousers, the occasional bottom-free ‘boots’ (more of a wrap-around which fastens above her hooves), and some accessories (clip-on chains and earrings, studded belts and bracelets, a necklace or two). She tends to get her things cheap, usually second-hand, which comes with having to often purchase a size or two larger. While her apparel is unremarkable, she does have a certain presence to her, mainly due to her fully confident posture, a quick paced walk, a complete disinterest to get out of anyone’s way (if anything it’s the other way around, as she will make any bumps more painful than necessary), and what could fancifully be termed an aura of danger. Completing the ensemble is her somewhat low voice, hoarse and scratchy from smoking, and a harsh manner of speaking; she also has a practiced, effective, well-carrying shout and little compunction not to use it.

》 𝖯𝖤𝖱𝖲𝖮𝖭𝖠𝖫𝖨𝖳𝖸

---

As a thrill-seeker and an adrenaline junky, Juān is very rarely not involved in something action-packed or adventurous. She does occasionally swing from high-octane volatile to apathetically morose, which is not any more flattering of a temperament. As unsatisfied as she is with the state of the world, however, she is willing to put in the effort to change some things for the better (bitch as she may while she does so). She doesn’t consider herself an idealist, since her methods are not strictly moral nor necessarily legal. Besides, she is more than willing to make use of many a thing purely out of a healthy self-interest. However, she has lines she will never cross and principles she will not betray. Whatever cause or person that manages to earn her loyalty will not easily (if ever) lose it.

Juān is a temperamental young woman, her ire and dissatisfaction easily earned. She is curious, and an innate recklessness draws her to act upon whims, which combined with a disinclination to commit fully (usually borne out of disappointment) don’t give her the best reputation. However, as aforementioned, the rare things that she sticks to, she would rather die than let go of. Despite her faults, she is willing and used to working together with others; granted, a lot of that experience comes from her dealings with criminals.

Keeping her Starweaver abilities secret (after the initial exposure) has forced her to be cunning. Though she does not reveal it, she has become much more cautious and wary, especially when it comes to her Starweaver ability. She also strives to pay more attention to the happenings around her, to be more aware of noteworthy, relevant events as well as to be informed of anything which might endanger something (or someone) truly dear to her. Admittedly, such observation, scheming, and foresight does not come easily to her. She still gets heated quickly, and is too dismissive of things which do not concern her. But she is at least putting in some effort so she does not inadvertently become a danger to someone she likes.

》 𝖧𝖨𝖲𝖳𝖮𝖱𝖸

---

Juān was born to a pair of the many refugees fleeing to Hong Kong during and after the events of the 3rd calamity. By the time she was born, the metropolitan area was still teeming with fugitives, though they were diminished compared to the first few years of the 2000s. There were two main reasons for that; part of them had moved elsewhere, and a part had been decimated during the early power struggles of the various criminal elements clashing for turfs and influence. However, after a swift resolution followed a boom of building and gradual healing. The remaining newcomers were also largely integrated.

Juān’s home was a medium sized, demi-human exclusive community – consisting predominantly of fey – which had claimed an old, unused underground mall. With the allowance of the city (or rather, its not-so-secret rulers), it had been renovated and expanded, now serving primarily as a residential area. The fey had layered it with soil and grown foliage within, making it resemble a large greenhouse/park. Over the years, part of the place was once again dedicated to shoppers, while the expanded main entryway became littered with small-scale eateries and tea or coffee houses.

For a daring youngling, there was plenty to explore, especially once one left the premises. Juān soon became acquainted with the wider world – though it might have seemed sizable at the time, it was of course only a small part of it. Since the nearest public school was outside of her home district, Juān ventured outside daily, and there wasn’t much to stop her from wandering elsewhere after her lessons were finished. Her parents were largely unworried, distracted as they were with work. It was during her early childhood that she met her best friend, a half-fey named Yun with a penchant for adventure matching Juān’s.

The two were practically glued hip-to-hip for years, together for nearly everything; going to school, playing, visiting each other’s homes (Yun’s was an apartment in a high-rise), learning how to fly, discovering new locations on the daily. However, this nearly idyllic life was cut short when Juān was about 14. Yun simply disappeared one day, and even after being declared missing for a month, hadn’t been found. Those who were aware and cared presumed the child had been snatched by the Mun Ji Dong. Juān was devastated, and stayed at home for two weeks straight.

Her return to school was a rocky one, her grades dropped, and she was clearly not engaged, not with the lessons nor with the people. She became more withdrawn, not letting anyone get close. But she also became wilder and moodier, started getting into fights, and was drawn to minor crimes (mainly vandalism). She was obviously lashing out, and no one seriously tried to stop her. After a brief loner period, she migrated to the company of older kids, whom she occasionally got to mooch cigs or alcohol off of. Once or twice, she got herself a stronger hit back home, but it wasn’t what she was looking for. She somehow managed to muddle through school until 18, though poorly. She got her successful graduation purely in memory of Yun.

Due to her low prospects, the downwards spiral into aggression, and a seemingly non-caring, dismissive environment, it was of little surprise that Juān fell into with the worst of the worst. She was recruited into the Four Seas Gang, and she joined entirely willingly, even eagerly. It was the first and last time that she managed to shock her parents into fury; they threw her out, severing all ties. She knew by then that her home district was one of the suppliers for the Tien Tao Meng, but didn’t feel like joining that business; it was mainly due to this conflict of interest that she was driven away. She never got to see her parents again, but frankly wouldn’t have cared to even if she could have.

Ironically enough, her gang membership in the following years had a stabilizing influence on her. Juān felt better that ever, and got to improve her physical fitness and magical prowess. Certainly, she was murdering, extorting, and otherwise intimidating whomever she was ordered to left and right, but since her superiors cared more for an efficient pawn than a self-destructive maverick, she was tightly leashed and collared. The young fey actually enjoyed the sense of direction, both being under control yet feeling more in control than she’d had in a long while. She got a sense of accomplishment and a decent pay besides.

At 21, Juān was sure that this was it for what remained of her likely short life. Her work posed a high risk of fatality, yet wasn’t anything that special. But it was hers, comfortable and well-known by then, and rather freeing. Then, one mundane nighttime, during her earned rest after a shootout the previous day, her long-departed best friend spoke to her. “Wake up,” they said, in the Old Tongue and with that all-too-familiar voice. When she awoke, Juān knew she was a Starweaver. She felt as if she’d finally emerged from a haze she hadn’t even known was there, yet was simultaneously drunk on power.

She recalled her desire for vengeance against the Mun Ji Dong; a goal which suddenly felt well within her grasp. Those old embers of righteous fury were reignited, and she was proudly full of purpose. She set out on her own, disappearing into the night, with nothing but a half-formed plan. This, then, shortly after the most momentous occurrence of her life, was when she encountered the mist; an event which very suddenly and unexpectedly swiftly became the newly most prominent of her existence. She met Yun, this time not just their voice, but the whole person; some as she remembered, some as they might have grown up had they occasion to do so. Yun spoke to her at length, though when Juān reemerged from the mist, barely any time had passed at all.

The whole of it was deeply confusing, though also brought her deep relief alongside a bittersweet happiness and a sorrowful regret. Juān didn’t know if it’d been a hallucination or an unexplained magic, but she was nonetheless tremendously affected. She forwent the solo revenge plan and went back home to sleep on it. Over the next few days, Juān gradually crafted a new idea, one that’d satisfy both her and her friend’s wishes.
She arranged a meeting with some of the Four Seas bosses, claiming to have info on a Starweaver.

When faced with them, she simply activated her power, and the meeting began. It was fairly long and tense, involving mutual blackmail, threats, menacing, and violence. Eventually, they grudgingly came to a satisfactory arrangement. Juān would get an array of targets to destroy (people and buildings from all three clans – including the Four Seas, so they could hide their involvement). This would get her the desired revenge against the Mun Ji Dong, as it would be the first time she got leave to act against them in a significant manner. In exchange for a vow against attempts that may lead to mutually assured destruction, she’d get the appropriate documents and such afterwards. Finally, Juān would leave the country – effectively being exiled until further notice.

The plan was carried out, and though the rampage of the so-called Blue Emperor lasted no longer than a day, the gangs were certainly affected enough to act swiftly. With the secret backing of the Four Seas (who’d in actuality been harmed the least, though they put on an admirable front of outrage), Juān left the country before she could be chased down. She then got herself out of the continent, leaving the area of influence of those who might seek her.

Eventually, she settled in New York, where she’d been laying low since then. She got herself some part time jobs, a shitty apartment, and eventually made a few low-scale connections among the local gangs. Nothing she did was too prominent, as she’d been concealing her Starweaver powers ever since the events in Hong Kong. She’d got what she wanted; now she wanted to try out that ‘normal life’ thing her departed friend had recommended.

❖ 𝖬𝖠𝖦𝖨𝖢

---

DEVOURER BUTTERFLIES

» 𝖲𝖳𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖦𝖳𝖧	» 𝖲𝖴𝖯𝖯𝖮𝖱𝖳	» 𝖣𝖤𝖷𝖳𝖤𝖱𝖨𝖳𝖸	» 𝖣𝖤𝖥𝖤𝖭𝖲𝖤	» 𝖲𝖳𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖭𝖠
★★★★★	★★★☆☆	★★★★☆	★★☆☆☆	★★★☆☆

The ability to conjure magical butterflies (up to 30 at a time) which can be freely directed (either actively or by passively following simple commands) and detonated once they gather the sufficient energy. The butterflies are small (able to be held within the cusp of two palms), and while their shape and coloration is similar to the Papilio Ulysses, they are obviously magical in nature. For one, they are much brighter, with shimmering hazy forms, as if they were constructed out of light. For another, they are immaterial until after the first few seconds from their summoning. This means they can neither be dismissed nor are they likely to be destroyed before they obtain their minimal charge level (explained below). If the user dismisses one or more butterflies, they may be resummoned without cost, however, they will once again have to re-charge from zero (i.e. the same swarm or part of a swarm can be conjured, dismissed, and re-conjured without cost – however, this is useful only as an intimidation technique). If the butterflies are destroyed while they are material, they will detonate then and there (their level of charge determining the diameter of explosion).

When conjured, these glimmering insects appear within one meter of the user. They require a set amount of mana to be summoned, and once they exist, they gather further energy on their own (from designated enemies, the general surroundings, or by being gifted it by the user or allies). When ordered to drain a someone’s energy, the butterflies will fly to the chosen enemy (or enemies) and attempt to stick to them. They need to be within a meter of a person to drain them, and they will primarily deplete their magical energy. If the enemy is nonmagical, they will sap their physical and mental energies (tiring them out), but this will take longer. An enemy can get rid of the butterflies, for example by shaking them off and escaping them. However, the closer the creatures are to an enemy, the more difficult they are to remove (within a milimeter of them, it’s nearly impossible). The summoned creatures will automatically dissipate if 1) the enemy gets more than 500 meters away from the user, and/or 2) they have been summoned for longer than an hour.

Once the butterflies reach a certain energy threshold, they can be detonated at will by the user. They gather magical energy at a rate of 1% (of mana equal to the user’s level) per 6 seconds, and non-magical energy at a rate of 1% per 12 seconds. The user is aware of each butterfly’s energy/charge level. The more energy a butterfly gathers, the larger the resulting explosion; however, there are some limits. The lower limit is an explosion of 5 centimeters in diameter which requires the butterfly to be charged with the equivalent of 1% of the user’s mana pool. The upper limit is an explosion of 50 centimeters in diameter which requires a butterfly to be charged with the equivalent of 10% of the user’s mana pool.

When all butterflies from a swarm have been used up or when more than an hour passes from the initial conjuration, another swarm (of up to 30 butterflies) will have to be summoned. The user cannot conjure more than a maximum of 30 creatures at once (i.e. no more than a single swarm may be in existence at a time). Additionally, an existent swarm cannot be replenished – for example, if 5/30 butterflies have been already detonated, no more than the remaining 25 may be operated with. Only once the initial 30 have been destroyed can another 30 be summoned. However, summoning subsequent swarms is significantly more fatiguing. For Juān, the hard limit is 6 swarms per day, however the more closely one after another she wishes to conjure them, the more taxing the effects. Even summoning a second one immediately after the first was destroyed would require her to heavily conserve on casting her regular (fey) magic. Even if she did do that, she would then be unable to conjure a third swarm without at least a few minutes of rest after the second one was destroyed.

❖ 𝖳𝖤𝖫𝖤𝖦𝖱𝖠𝖯𝖧

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A fanciful cyan outline of a butterfly.

❖ 𝖬𝖴𝖲𝖨𝖢

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❖ PLAYLIST	❖ SONG
OPENING THEME	The Raven Age = "My Revenge"
CASUAL THEME	Silent Theory = "Watch Me Burn"
BATTLE THEME	BNHA OST = "Bombing King"
ENDING THEME	Black Hydra = "Honour"

》 𝖡𝖠𝖲𝖨𝖢𝖲: Morgan Berion || 24 || Human

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"The past doesn't matter, only the present is important. Don't you think so too?"

》 𝖠𝖯𝖯𝖤𝖠𝖱𝖠𝖭𝖢𝖤: 180cm tall || 68 kg

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Morgan is of average height, pale skin, and black shoulder-length hair he keeps in a small ponytail. His eyes are a light blue, and seem to focus intently on whatever they look upon. Even if he isn't, it always feels like he has a small smile on his face, giving him a lighthearted or playful expression. He acts with a confidence that makes it seems like he's meant to be wherever he is. As for outfits, Morgan goes for whatever is stylish at the time. Lately however, he's used to wearing a brown bomber jacket and blue jeans whenever he's not going to a party. He also carries a pair of magitech goggles, for whenever he starts using his powers to go around.

》 𝖯𝖤𝖱𝖲𝖮𝖭𝖠𝖫𝖨𝖳𝖸

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On first impressions, Morgan is a amicable figure. Even outside of the parties he frequents, he maintains his social disposition, usually finding some reason to talk to someone about anything. Regardless of who they are, he treats everyone he meets in a cordial matter, using the same friendliness and confidence as one would talk to an old friend. He finds everything about a person to be interesting; . But he especially likes people who he feels are attempting to make an effort in their lives, and is quick to lend a helping hand if he feels they need one.

However, those that get to know him will realize Morgan is seemingly always in an easygoing mood. He experiences life with whimsy, doing whatever he feels like, and dismisses hardship with the same carefree smile. Even if he was in grave danger, he'd treat as any other day While it wouldn't show in the small talk he's prone to do, he's aloof towards himself, and evades personal questions regarding himself, especially if it involves his brother. In truth, Morgan feels completely resigned to his lot in life. The relationship between him and his brother feels irreparable in his eyes, he has no particular goal in mind, and a lack of motivation even if he did.

》 𝖧𝖨𝖲𝖳𝖮𝖱𝖸

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Morgan was born the second son of the Berion family. He enjoyed a well-off life, as his parents occupied the rare niche of being the head of the Vulcan Company, one of the few non-Japanese companies that develop and manufacture magitech. There was also a lack of hardship on him; His brother Julian took the brunt of being forced to follow in their parents footsteps, leaving Morgan to his own devices. He never felt lonely however. Despite Morgan having a more leisurely life, Julian never detested his younger brother for it, and played with him whenever they had time away from school, or whatever social gatherings their parents dragged them to. In turn, Morgan idolized his brother, and wanted a way to support him.

And in an unfortunate turn of events, Morgan got his wish to an extent. On his 10th birthday he heard Julian's voice calling him. Even stranger, he found himself inside fog rather than the room he was in. As he moved, he felt a sense of loss slowly enveloping him and in a panic he ran, desperately looking for his brother. He eventually found him, along with the surprise party waiting for him. Instead of surprising him, they were the ones shocked at seeing the young boy appear out of thin air. It didn't take long for them to realize Morgan was a Starweaver, and rather than futilely suppress it, his father decided to nurture Morgan's newfound talents.

It had worked in a way. Throughout the rest of his school life, Morgan quickly learned various magics, although he could only channel two consistently. He became an often seen face in parties, with everyone knowing his name. And while he grew accustomed to it, he still felt troubled from the newfound pressure in his life. But the worst part to him was having little time to meet his brother, now currently working in their family business. But the real issue to him was that it seemed like Julian was deliberately avoiding him. Morgan wondered if him being a Starweaver was the reason, although he could never ask. He could only observe as their relationship slowly drift apart over the years.

Eventually the strain hit its tipping point. As Morgan heard it, his parents died on a business trip, and Julian was voted in as the new CEO of Vulcan. As he finished school, he was already bombarded with offers by all sorts of people, all involving his status as a well-known Starweaver. And each one he declined, hoping the next one would involve his brother. But that never came, not even a representative from Vulcan messaged him. He eventually managed to confront his brother at a charity event. What came next wasn't a conciliation or even a bad argument. It was a cold conversation between the two, with Julian declining his brother on having him doing anything with Vulcan. And with that, Morgan gave up. He could've taken a job anywhere, but instead he decided to live off the inheritance his parents gave him, along with the couple business investments he'd made on a whim. And he was fine with it, wasting his life on parties or whatever small thing catches his eye.

But when Morgan heard about the fog in Antarctica, he recalled what happened when he became a Starweaver. Even when he realized that the fog and awakening were two separate things, he didn't think too much about it as he had other things to worry about. But as he was reminding himself of what happened, his emotions stirred. It called up the emptiness he felt being all alone, and the terror of never seeing his brother again. As he tried to disregard those memories, he wondered if anyone else experienced something similar. He didn't pursue the thought however, but for the first time in a long while, he felt a small bit of excitement inside of him. After all, the recollection gave him a feeling he's never had in his life: Anger.

❖ 𝖬𝖠𝖦𝖨𝖢

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Teleportation

» 𝖲𝖳𝖱𝖤𝖭𝖦𝖳𝖧	» 𝖲𝖴𝖯𝖯𝖮𝖱𝖳	» 𝖣𝖤𝖷𝖳𝖤𝖱𝖨𝖳𝖸	» 𝖣𝖤𝖥𝖤𝖭𝖲𝖤	» 𝖲𝖳𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖭𝖠
★★☆☆☆	★★★☆☆	★★★★★	★★★★☆	★★★★☆

Morgan can teleport anywhere within his eyesight. When he teleports, he maintains the same momentum, and can even change his facing if he so chooses. He can teleport as much as he desires, which generally means whenever he's oriented enough after teleporting, and his own physical limits. Additionally, he seems unable to teleport into other objects; In a situation where it can potentially happen, Morgan will instead appear in a location close to it.

He can also take solid objects or even people along with him. The effort needed to do depends on the target's weight. Morgan can effortlessly teleport anything his weight or lower. If it's something around twice his weight, it'll take a second, and he'll need to take a breather if he does it constantly. And it's something beyond that, the best case scenario will have him exhausted after doing it once. While he needs to touch the target to take them with him, he can choose whether or not he wants to and teleport alone. Additionally, the rules for teleporting into objects applies: He can't teleport two things into each other, and they'll move somewhere close accordingly.

As for distance for Morgan's teleportation, the rules are similar to weight. In addition, there's a charge time for longer distances before he teleports. It takes little to no energy teleporting several yards away in a second. For a mile or so, it would takes half a minute, and he can only a few times consecutively before he needs a rest. He can potentially do a few hundred miles at once, but not only would it takes several minutes, it would completely tire him out, if not knock him out from the sheer effort.

Lastly, although he needs to see the actual location he wants to teleport to, real life images such as pictures or videos work just as well with his ability. If he uses his ability like this, he can feel the potential exertion that'll happen if he teleports, in the possibility that the area is much farther or closer than it is to his current location.

❖ 𝖳𝖤𝖫𝖤𝖦𝖱𝖠𝖯𝖧

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A circle with a four-pointed star in the middle, similar to a compass.

❖ 𝖬𝖴𝖲𝖨𝖢

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❖ PLAYLIST	❖ SONG
OPENING THEME	Modest Mouse = Float On
CASUAL THEME	Deadly Premonition OST = Life is Beautiful
BATTLE THEME	Skullgirls OST = Moonlit Melee
ENDING THEME	Free Tempo = Sky High