Fiona Myrsina Schnee

n/a Heiress to the Schnee Dust Company Vacuan Sector

Female

17

Vacuo / Atlas

Human

There isn't much in her life that Fiona would consider notable. She considered her life boring and often dreamed of meeting her knight in shining armor who would whisk her away to a better life, though reality liked to remind her that her fantasies remained strictly in her head. Still, she knew how to keep her head low and avoid attention--all she needed to do was make sure she never drew any unneeded attention. Of course, she couldn't even do that right, and the first and only time she had ever dared to speak up resulted in regret, making her wonder if it was even worth it. She was shipped over to Shade and told to that if she couldn't learn her place then she would need to make her own path. Despite multiple apologies, she was brushed off, the path of a huntress being the only thing she could take.

None Schnee Glyphs

Crystal Dream [DBCU]
_{A Dust Bolt Crossbow Umbrella built to her specifications.}
Fiona's style comes off as flashy, though she insists its the dust she uses. The constitution of her weapon is much stronger than it looks, its versatility playing into her ability to adapt. She is flexible in her range, albeit has leaned into keeping her enemies at a distance recently.

✓ Agile
✓ Composed
✓ Knowledgeable on different types of dust and its usages
✓ Can get dust at will at any time
✕ Low constitution
✕ Little experience fighting people
✕ Relies on dust for battles
✕ Questionable heritage

Passiveness.

Kohaku Nanashi

Kohaku

Female

16

Vacuo

Faunus

Kohaku was born some sixteen years ago to an unlikely set of parents. Her mother was a chieftain that ruled over one of Vacuo's more sizeable bandit clans, and her father was a Huntsman hailing from Anima. The specifics of their relationship were lost on young Kohaku—whether they parted amicably or bitterly, the girl's father was long gone by the time she could remember anything, and any questions as to his greater identity or whereabouts only seemed to trouble her mother in ways few other matters did. She learned from an early age not to ask those questions, not for fear of reprisal, but to spare her remaining parent any undue pain. Instead she contented herself to live among her mother's tribesmen, a child among killers and thieves.

Against all expectation, her upbringing was somewhat idyllic... at least insofar as much one could describe a nomadic, desert upbringing as idyllic. The clan was among the most successful in its region, and under the strong leadership of her mother, managed to subsume several smaller clans and extort sizable bounties from the trade routes that snaked through its carefully managed territory. But in resource scarce Vacuo, prosperity was scant without its drawbacks.

To have plenty was to draw the eyes and ire of those who would covet it. There were was always an ambitious upstart looking to wrest control of the clan away, both within and without, and when they couldn't bring down the woman in charge directly, they directed their eyes to what weak points she had—namely, her young daughter. Kohaku suffered more than one attempt on her life, or ill-fated kidnapping attempt in her youth. Each attempt thwarted, each one punished in ways far more horrific than would be allowed to trickle down to the young Faunus. Try as her mother might to keep her child insulated from the harsh world around them, the sensitive Kohaku could see the worry she caused. She resolved to become stronger, so that she would no longer be a burden.

At the age of ten, she summoned up her courage and demanded her mother teach her how to fight. How to be like one of the clan. Large as the matriarch's shadow loomed over her, the girl had expected to be denied. Instead, she her mother wistfully accepted, declaring that Kohaku had inherited "her father's fire" after all. While her contemporaries in other Kingdoms prepared at prestige combat schools, a firm hand and the wastes around her would mold Kohaku into the warrior she wished to be.

Mold her it did. While she had been largely sheltered from the brutality of deserts in her youth, her brave declaration shed this veil of nicety overnight. She trained at battle and stealth and bushcraft, to live and fight and live outside the confines of a well-hidden encampment. It was hard, brutal work, beyond what hardship she had experienced in the world up until that point—having to hold off on bathing until the rains returned was of little compare to watching the Grimm descend upon a settlement so they could pick through the scraps, or hearing the strained rasp of a caravan guard's last breaths as he sunk into the blade in his back.

But she labored to survive, and thrive, in her new role. Something she had succeeded in; young as she was, she quickly became an accomplished raider among her people, a feat no doubt attributed to her heritage as much as her determination. It was all she could have hoped for. Long were the days when she needed to fear knives in the dark, or wallow in the knowledge that she was a vulnerability that weighed heavy on the mind of the woman she owed her life to. She was praised, even. A reliable fighter. A useful asset. A suitable heir.

But that praise was all but empty in the face of what she had to do to receive it. It had been easy to live with when she was little. When her mother came back from the wilds with a new toy or a shiny trinket to delight her with, she needn't think of where it came from. Of who it came from. But having bloodied her hands, having taken part in her familial career, she could only wilt. This wasn't what she wanted to do. This wasn't why she had worked so hard. She didn't want to hurt people anymore, even if hurting people was the only way of life they—that she—had ever known. Maybe her mother had been right to keep her walled off in the camps, hidden away from reality for however long it could have lasted. She wasn't cut out to be a cutthroat.

So she summoned that resolve that had led her down the path of banditry in the first place. Made a plan, packed her belongings. She didn't even have the courage to say goodbye. Instead, with a note pinned to the floor of her tent, Kohaku disappeared into the night on the eve of her sixteenth birthday. If she couldn't walk the path of one parent, then perhaps she could walk the path of another. She could track. She could fight. She had even had her Aura unlocked. Even if she knew no other way of life, she knew there was one place that never had enough capable killers: the Huntsmen Academies. Her journey led her to Shade, and the rest, as they say, was history.

Kohaku's Semblance, Haze, allows her to superheat things around her. She needs merely be aware of an area, possess the requisite Aura to generate the necessary heat, and have a direct line of contact to the place in question—most commonly through the air, though she is also capable of using the ground—and she can affect drastic increases in the temperature there. On the surface level, it is a very offensive Semblance, suited for dealing horrific injuries or property damage should she will it.

Years of practice, however, have led Kohaku to carefully hone its usage in a variety of more creative, less extreme way. By rapidly heating the area around her, for instance, she is capable of creating sudden updrafts to misdirect projectiles or soften falls. The rapid expansion of air can be used to hasten or impede movement, and more than once she has used her abilities to form rudimentary mirages in the wastes of her homeland. She even managed to utilize it to form a localized thunderstorm at one point.

For all its potential, destructive or otherwise, it does have its limitations. Like all Semblances, its output is directly linked to the amount of Aura spent on its use. Consistently using it to create truly extreme differences in heat is considerably taxing. As the initial heat generation is localized on her position, utilizing it at long-ranges is more difficult than doing so at closer ones. Lastly, as she requires an indirect link between herself and the target, impeding this link makes it challenging to use. Creating gusts of wind to disrupt searing air, destroying the dividing ground, or ducking behind terrain all hamper the effectiveness her ability.

While relatively insignificant to its combat potential, possession of Haze has given Kohaku an innate resistance to extreme temperatures. While it is likely a trait meant to insulate her from the effects of her own powers, it has been of greater help in surviving the deadly climate of Vacuo's wilds.

Kohaku's primary weapon is Requiem, a Multi-purpose Projected Dust Caster (MPDC). To call it a weapon would be considered insulting to those who painstakingly crafted their own at Remnant's many combat schools—it is little more than Atlesian salvage cobbled together into a miraculously functional staff. Canisters of Dust housed at the base of the clunky, rusting head feed into a central projector mechanism at the center, where it is then ignited and shaped based on her will. The staff has room to house four standard sized canisters, which Kohaku fills with the most common four—red, blue, dark orange, and white—to create fire, water, earth and wind based phenomenon respectively. The staff also functions as a foci for her Semblance, extending her range significantly.

Her fighting style is equal parts evasive and crafty. Utilizing the agility afforded to her by her stature and physique, she deftly maneuvers into mid-range against her opponents. Here, where her Semblance and casting potential are most optimally deployed, she wreaks havoc with the multitude of tactical opportunities her Dust-based fighting style affords her, though she typically avoids using the more destructive or lethal options in her repertoire.

Despite her stated preference for Dust casting, Kohaku is almost always in possession of a weathered, curved knife commonly used by the nomadic tribes of Vacuo's desert regions. Details from her entry examination would imply she is significantly more proficient in its use than she is with Requiem.

Kohaku is a product of her environment, as contrary to that as her appearance would indicate. Beyond her significant combat potential, she is surprisingly agile, talented at going undetected in a variety of environments, is a skilled in desert survival, and adept at jury-rigging technology. Her Faunus heritage, beyond earning her scorn from the more traditional inhabitants of the Kingdom, bestows her with incredibly sharp senses of hearing and eyesight. She also possesses a level of grit one would expect from a future Huntress of Vacuo; to call her stubborn once she sets her mind to a task is an understatement.

Her weaknesses are readily apparent upon looking upon her and, if one was so inclined, learning of her background. She is short, and not especially powerful physically, making her unsuited to feats of strength or physical robustness. Her upbringing has made her clannish and distinctly lacking in charisma, and she lacks the greater understanding of technology and academia many of her peers possess—prior to arriving at Shade, she was entirely illiterate. This has not changed much in the interim between the entrance examination and the start of the school year.

Kohaku, for all the resolve she tries to muster, has many fears. Some of them minor, like her belief that she will find no acceptance in this world; that her peers at Shade will shun her for her past deeds should they ever surface, and that her clansmen would never again accept her for the weakness that drove her from them in the first place.

On a higher scale, she fears herself. Her few years in the wastes taught her that properly motivated, she is capable of monstrous deeds, and she wishes never again to engage in them. Equally, she fears that this unwillingness to do what so often must be done—no matter how unpalatable—makes her unworthy to be called a Huntress. The two sides of this struggle wax and wane, making her indecisive at critical junctures. A fatal flaw for those who wish to hunt the real monsters that stalk Remnant.

Cashmere wishes it could be as soft as those ears. Seriously. It's a problem.

Rio Redcliffe

The Mistrali Kid, used earnestly by him and mockingly by his peers

Male

16

Born and raised in Vacuo

Human

A legacy of roguish bravery hangs over the head of this hesitant Hunstman-in-training.

While Vacuo is not as prosperous as the other kingdoms, its people are proud and the Redcliffe clan are a testament to that. Originally refugees from Mistral who fled during the Great War due to Mantle's encroaching influence, Rio's ancestors were quick to become patriotic partisans to their new home. When peace had finally reached the land, the Redcliffes were on the winning side of history and that victory could never be taken away from them.

Yet, their other possessions could be taken away as famine, banditry, and Grimm attacks had left them destitute. Once again finding themselves displaced, Rio's parents and uncles and aunts had moved to the capital city just before he was born, living under a single leaky roof. Through their sheer determination and a couple of lucky breaks, the Redcliffe's were able to provide a stable albeit modest home to Rio and his extended family as ranchers on the city outskirts.

While he did not have many luxuries as a child, he did have his family's legacy that his mother had fondly recounted to him every night just before bedtime. Being a hero was in their blood, he thought, and so it would be that he'd get into scuffles with the nosy neighbour kids, the stuffy schoolyard students, and even his older cousins when they forget to mind their P's and Q's. Naturally, this lead to Rio desiring for more in life and give even more back to his community. He couldn't be a ranch hand forever and so he would try his damnedest to get accepted into Shade Academy, eventually become a full-fledged Huntsman worthy to stand in the same family pantheon as those that have come before him.

What came easy to others did not naturally come easy to Rio. Many nights were spent studying and doing drills on top of the daily chores he had to do after attending school. Yet, this made the day he got his acceptance letter all the more sweeter. He would be the first in his family to ever attend Shade Academy and this just had to be celebrated. Yet, he could not properly enjoy himself for he knew this was merely the beginning of the next great chapter in his life. Come wondrous dark or perilous light, Rio Redcliffe stands ready.

After a week long camping trip in the Vacuan wilderness, Rio's semblance manifested itself during an episode of extreme thirst under the scorching desert sun, which was soon followed by the tallest drink of his life. His mind's eye had visualized an oasis beyond the horizon and its existence was true. Dubbing it Water Wanderlust, the semblance allows Rio to locate concentrated bodies of water. The distance from and the size of the aqueous collections affect his detection ability as smaller bodies require more concentration to keep track of while further whereabouts become nearly impossible to precisely pinpoint.

The Boatman's Due is a compact, Dust-fed railgun that can transform into a paddle-shaped halberd. Commissioned by Rio's father as his Shade Academy acceptance gift, this weapon is adorned with bronze and treated wood laminates which result in a light yet durable frame that is easy to maintain. The Dust storage compartment bears an ornamental skull to invoke fear in those that face Rio though that rarely occurs.

The emergence of Rio's semblance has largely influenced his approach to combat. While he was always keen on being defensively opportunistic through the usage of cover and consistent movement, the ability to keep track of nearby people's intracellular fluid allows him to plan moves with near perfect intel. The most glaring flaw on this semblance reliance is the innate lack of water inside most Grimm. Regardless, Rio will always play it safe and keep foes at a distance while only going in for close quarters combat when all other options are exhausted.

There is a lot of pressure mounting on Rio to succeed and it has dictated his lifestyle outwardly and on a subconscious level. While having some stress for motivation is healthy, Rio's quest for validation is always seeking for more problems to solve regardless of his ability to handle them. The impact of each failure gnaws at him far longer than it should, piling on to his anxieties that he actively avoids by keeping himself busy. Yet, success doesn't even bring him much reprieve as evidenced by his acceptance to Shade being eclipsed by the worriment of actually being in a prestigious Huntsman academy.

One can only hope that reaching his ultimate dream of being a Hunstman will finally bring him peace.

A smart mouthed cynic with a snarky, dry sense of humour whose bluntness borders frequently on downright insulting. Pragmatic to a tee, Jet isn’t one to leave anything to chance where his own wellbeing is concerned. He’s short fused and impatient around others and doesn’t feel the need to filter his opinions. He has his pride and isn't over eager to prove anything to anyone except himself. In that sense he can be his own worst enemy. Jet will berate the shortcomings of others and himself mercilessly; projecting his own insecurities with little compassion or empathy. That isn’t to say he lacks those qualities, but his knee jerk reaction to most people is to err on the side of caution and scrutiny. There is no beating around the bush in Vacuo; you either get the job done or you perish. Jet remembers this lesson well and will do anything to get what he wants.

A scrappy, unassuming kid standing at an average 5’7” height with a lanky build just shy of 118lbs. His hair is an unruly mop of hickory with bold eyebrows a shade darker, sitting above a pair of pitch black eyes. His nose is slightly crooked from a few repeat scraps in his younger days and sports a black stud on the left side; his right ear also has a silver helix piercing. Jet’s years working the scrap heap under the Vacuan sun has left his cheeks, neck and shoulders littered with freckles and sun spots. He also has a distinct mole slightly to the left of his lips.

His apparel consists of a pair of ripped, tawny trousers that have definitely seen better days, ratty black and grey sneakers with worn, red soles and a beige singlet sporting more than a few oil stains. He wears his brother's hoodie at all times; mostly tied around his waist due to the unagreeable climate. A black leather utility belt fastened around his waist is equipped with his various dust chambers, ammo cartridges and satchel charges. His right hand has a single fingerless glove that is attached to the wrist mounted mechanism in which he keeps his grappling hook. His visor is a dilapidated pair of mechanical goggles where the screen in the left lens flickers on and off erratically.

Jet Sullivan

Slate

Male

Fifteen

Vacuo

Human

Born and raised in the Vacuan wastelands, Jet and his older brother Slate are no strangers to the harshness of their homeland. Their mother left, their father drank himself to death, the young boys were left to fend for themselves growing up. Other members of the settlement took pity on them, but Vacuo was no place for charity; the brothers would have to work to earn their keep. A retired huntsman turned mechanic named Diesel gave them food and board to work the scrapyard. The work was grueling; long days under the sweltering sun, stripping parts for scrap to sell to travelling junkers and tinkers. Jet fondly remembers Diesel not as an opportunistic entrepreneur looking to capitalise on the misfortune of children, but as the only person who was willing to throw them a bone - to give them something to cling to as they toiled day in and day out. He had taught them the ins and outs of his junkyard as well as many other tricks of the mechanic trade. Jet was quite the tinker for his age, taking apart broken machinery and rebuilding them into various tools and devices to help ease the physical burden of their work.

As the two grew older Diesel saw fit to train them as huntsmen. With grimm and bandit attacks on the rise their settlement could use all the able bodied warriors available to them. They didn’t have the formal training of those who attended the academies, but Diesel’s tutelage was satisfactory enough. So much so that Slate was able to pass the entrance exam for Shade with flying colours; Jet hoping to follow suit in a few years time.

A particularly large raid on their settlement had pushed the small town to the brink, but they were just barely able to fend them off. Though it was not without casualties. Among them was Slate, a mere month before he was to head off to Shade academy. Stricken with grief, anger and a thirst for vengeance against those who took his brother from him, Jet packed his things and departed for Shade in the dead of night. A note expressing his gratitude to Diesel was all that was left of the boy. Now attending Shade under the alias of his deceased brother, Jet hopes to train to be a huntsman in his place and have his revenge one day. Equipped with his brother's weapon and Scroll, he isn’t naïve enough to believe his deception will fool anyone for long. He just figures he’ll cross that bridge when he comes to it.

Jet has yet to unlock his Semblance

Ward keeps Jet acutely aware of flanking targets by primarily functioning as an aura fueled trip alarm he can remotely set up on any desired surface or object he touches. He is able to alter the trigger event to either silently alert him of an intruders presence or to create a loud ruckus when tripped.

Wards can also be fixed to devices. Triggering them in this case will cause the affixed device to activate its standard function. Jet uses this as a means to remotely detonate his satchel charges as proximity mines.

Jet can place long ranged Wards on targets by imbuing his sniper rifle’s bullets with aura and an additional dust type (Usually Combustion or Lightning). Whilst these wards do nothing on their own aside from mark their target at the point of impact, a successful strike at this exact point from either Jet or one of his allies will cause the dust to erupt.

Obsidian End, once belonging to Jet’s older brother Slate, is a crudely engineered semi-automatic rifle composed primarily of salvaged parts and that good ol’ Vacuan scrapyard charm. The weapon can seamlessly transition between a standard rifle best for mid to long ranged skirmishes, to that of an unwieldy sniper rifle that ideally functions over great distances. The rifle fires gravity dust enhanced bullets in a three round burst, whilst the sniper furthers the impact of shots fired by imbuing those same bullets with lightning dust. The resulting electromagnetic dust creates a railgun effect to propel rounds with intense velocity.

Jet’s sidearm is Tonitrus, a simple flare pistol that discharges a singular blast of electricity to shock a foe for a few moments. It has to be manually reloaded after each shot by taking the time to divert energy from the lightning dust within his primary weapon - but it is his best option in a close encounter to stun an assailant and create distance. Jet operates best when positioned comfortably away from the front lines, providing suppressive fire and support for his allies. When caught on his own, he favors hit and run tactics whilst whittling down his target with a rain of bullets.

Other tools he uses to help him while on the hunt are his trusty wrist mounted grappling hook - allowing him some extra mobility to stay on his toes or reposition to a better vantage point. He also wields an archaic visor as a way for him to scope in whilst aiming his sniper rifle. He usually brings about half a dozen homemade satchel charges imbued with combustion dust that need to be manually detonated after an arming period of a few seconds.

+ Tinker: He has a knack for engineering and mechanics.
+ Sharpshooter: He's a decent shot.
+ Cautious: He thinks before he acts and rarely makes impulsive decisions.

- Unrefined: Below-average skill level when compared to the other first year hunters.
- Uncoordinated: As good as he is with his rifle, he can barely scrape by in an up close and personal fight.
- Skeptic: He doesn't trust easily and is doesn't like to accept aid from others

His habitual pragmatism and cynicism have ingrained a constant sense of fear and uncertainty in him. As much as he would like to let his guard down and just enjoy himself, he knows from experience how easily everything can be taken away from you. Vacuo has hardened him and turned his heart cold; and he's scared that it'll stay that way for the rest of his life.

His brother taught him how to ride a motorcycle. He used Slate's bike to get to Shade in one piece and treasures it more than any of his other possessions.