Character Description

Name: Christina (Visconti) Ferarri
Gender: Female
Age: 22
Nationality: Calarian
Appearance:

Personal Effects:

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Background:

What is your job Mechanic

Backstory: Born to the Visconti Merchant family, she had been playing with Fosca, the daughter of Nicola Ferrari, local blacksmith and family friend, he had spent time with the merchant fleet. As Nicola was bringing her home, they found her father and mother were being dragged out of the house by the communists, then shot in the street.

Nicola picked her up and whispered in her ear, "Remember, you are now Christina Ferrari, niece."

She began spending time in his workshop, helping him alongside his sons, Vittore and Martino. Then the communists came for the teens, to induct them into the people's infantry.

Christina, like the other men and women, learned to march, to polish her boots, to shoot a rifle, to fight unarmed and with a knife. Then when that was done, their basic training unit was broken up to join other units. Some of the women in their group were sent to become nurses. Fosca and Christina, however, were taught how to drive and repair the people's trucks, built in their factories. Once they were graded as satisfactory, they were granted permission to go home before their next assignment.

Nicola told them they'd missed Vittore and Martino, who had been there the previous week. He, too, was worried about the build-up of soldiers and was convinced the communists intended to invade their neighbor. Christina decided to escape. There was a secret escape tunnel her parents never had a chance to use. She used it to get into the house, inside its hollow walls, and retrieve her father's secret stash. Christina provided half of it to Nicola and Fosca, carefully hiding the rest on her person.

Back at their camp, Christina began driving the relief truck along the line. However, the people's truck would frequently break down. One night after it again had broken down, she sent the men up ahead to continue relieving the border guards, telling them she'd pick them up eventually when the truck was fixed. When they were out of sight, she then snuck across the boarder and surrendered herself to the Inburian soldiers, who were surprised she could speak their language, one of several her father had taught her.

It turned out that she was not the first Calarian to cross those lines to warn them. They took her rifle and sent her to the capital. As it happened, Generoso Rubino, one of the few friends of her father to escape the purge was living there and vouched for her. However, it seemed to her that nobody was taking the threat seriously. Nor could she sit around making idle talk with other ex-pats, that was no longer her life. So she got a job with the company building and maintaining the Inburian Zeppelins and began to prepare to escape should the Communists invade.

Name: Nikos Vassiliou
Gender: Male
Age: 25
Nationality: Inburian Empire
Appearance:
Personal Effects:


Small patchwork button quilt.
Ditty box with his papers, ink bottle, fountain pen.
Rifle
Belt pouches with ammo

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What is your job Boatswain 2nd class, Zeppelin Service. Elevators and helm on rotation.
Backstory: Nikos grew up in a fishing village on the coast and was very much a trouble maker. When he was 16, he was conscripted into the Inburian Navy for two years. Deciding he liked the Navy life, he re-enlisted and wound up on zeppelin duty for four years, then two years on the ground - when he wasn't in the brig for one reason or another. He's been busted down twice but has worked his way up.

Name: Post Captain Hamelin Le Marinier
Gender: Male
Age: 42
Nationality: Favis
Appearance: A taller man and bearded to hide the Scars from his injuries that caused his active retirement. Right eye is glass or an eyepatch depending on comfort and part of his right hand is a mechanical prostatic from a blast injury.

Has a number of miscellaneous scars from said explosion on his right side.



Personal Effects:
.455 Favis Heavy pattern Navy Revolver
Favis Diplomatic papers
Old Riggers Knife and spike.
Silver plated hip flask with Whiskey.
Navy wool overcoat.
1 glass right eye, 1 eye patch, 1 Right partial hand prosthetic
A folded bundle of small maps and a simple small metal compass.

History:

What is your job:
Former active Naval gunnery Officer and Diplomatic mission staffer from Favis..

Born into a long family of sailors from pirates to merchants and even the odd privateer down the family history it was almost expected that he would serve, sail in some way related to the sea. Hamelin did not disappoint and joined the Favis Navy as a junior midshipman when the chance was first available.

Though minor nobility their Title meant little more than a long family history, a coat of arms and a large home that cost too much to heat but they also refused to sell, a sense of pride and also the old stone building had withstood the centuries as their protector from storms, conflict and more unnumbered. It was this family that shaped the officer who rose in the Royal Flavis Navy, showing promise and being assigned first as a navigation officer until his real talent as a gunnery commander was revealed.

Success began to follow success until he was aboard the heavy dreadnought class, Hammer of Vich', a large ship clad in iron and steel, mounting the heaviest and most powerful armaments Flavis Forges and war smiths could craft. It lead the fleet forward befitting its name, fire, fury and wrath where exchanged without mercy or pause.

It was In B main turret an anti armour shell slammed into a plate already weakened by several hits from a heavy cruiser that lingered close exchanging close fire but losing it was when his world went black and his memory only returned aboard a land based hospital after the battle taken away by the the hospital ship Mercy of the Angel then to the main Naval hospital.

Victory came at a price for all, for our noble office it came high. His hand was a mass of bandages, Half his face was too. Shrapnel from the hit that buckled the turret's side sending a wave of steel into space and leaving grievous wounds and death to many. 1 man in 20 got out walking.

Decorated, promoted, His active career was over, honourable service meant he had a choice, a quiet retirement or to take what job was available and serve behind the desk instead of gunplot. Hamerlin chose to stay and soon his command was a desk in a comfortable enough office building trying to learn how to use his new hand and adapt to a single eye after a long stay in hospital.

…

Years passed.

…

Years passed and Hamerlin now held a role in the Embassy to a semi allied nation, their Naval attache, his job was not what he wanted, to have commanded warships, maybe even fleets but he had found at least a life that kept him from getting bored. He still was an expert at reading maps, able to calculate terrain, elevations, and transform the 2D into a 3D puzzle to crack complex tables and calculations easily. Those skills he kept, advising on situations and attending various events on behalf of the nation he served.

He rose to Post Captain on both seniority and merit, he was unlikely to make a flag but he had risen as far as a land based officer likely could. His rank also came with responsibilities and pressures that he had not shouldered before but privilege was never freely given.

…

Fire came.

…

Forts, defence lines and established defensive plans expected to hold the enemy for weeks, months if not drive them to utter stalemate buckled and broke far faster than anyone could have believed and soon the Capital rang with guns before even people could move to escape. The armies of the Red tide could not be held back as they began to pound the city, their batteries and heavy siege armies now able to dig, bombard and break the final defences before all was consumed.

Expecting no such army to obey the Diplomatic niceties, he grabbed what he could, his pistol and so from his drawer, stuffing ammo where he could, his knife and a few other things before he left. He would find his own way out and he believed he saw one last do or die plan in his eye. He was likely dead anyway so a small chance of success was more than none.

He had carefully studied the city and its plan, its maps, layout and what he helped would save his life. He made for his desperate plan, avoiding those places he knew would likely be main targets, and navigated his way to the last escape route he could devise.

Name: James E. Carter
Gender: Male
Age: 35
Nationality: Commonwealth of Ardell
Appearance:



Personal Effects:
- Silver pocket watch
- Personal journal booklet
- Clothing he has on
- Model II shotgun (basically an M1898 shotgun)
- Harlan Arms Model 45. Pistol (ye old 1911)
- Pack of Loro Cigarettes he's never opened

Background:

What is your job: Merchant Airship Captain/Pilot
Backstory: James hails from the Commonwealth of Ardell, a nation across the Evig of sprawling plains, winding rivers, large forests and industrious cities. Raised on his family’s sprawling farm in the dust-laden plains of the West Fork he grew up knowing only hard work, clear skies, and endless fields. His life changed forever the day he saw the glide of airships over his small town of West Fork, the airships were ornate back then but the sight of them were a promise of a future far from the soil. From that moment, he knew his fate lay not in the dirt but in the boundless sky.

Upon coming of age, he eagerly joined the Ardellian Defense Corps, seizing the chance for adventure and the possible opportunity to some day pilot an airship of his own. When the Commonwealth sent a force across the river to establish a beachhead on Iktani soil, they were spotted by an Iktani observation balloons. It wasn’t long before the Iktani encircled them, launching a brutal assault to drive the Commonwealth forces back. Despite heavy losses on both sides, the Commonwealth troops managed to hold their position, though without advancing. To bolster the assault the Commonwealth finished building it's first bombing airship, the CBS-11, which came to be nicked "The Screaming Eagle" by the crew, and Carter was part of that crew which was dispatched to bomb a key Iktani city believed to be a staging ground for reinforcements.

The bombing mission was chaotic. From the altitude required to evade anti-air defenses, it was impossible to gauge where the bombs would land, but Carter knew they weren’t hitting the intended rail yard. The mission left him feeling conflicted and disillusioned, as he sensed that innocent lives had been lost without clear military gain. The Iktani's reaction was immediate and fierce, swelling their ranks with reservists who had lost homes and families in the bombardment.

The Commonwealth troops fought to preserve the beachhead but were soon overwhelmed by the wave of Iktani reinforcements. Forced to retreat, the Commonwealth began negotiations, ultimately withdrawing their forces and suing for peace. As The Screaming Eagle headed home, it was caught in a storm it wasn’t built to withstand. Fire spread through the vessel, sending it crashing into the Gulf. Carter was one of the few survivors, rescued days later by a Nordisle patrol. Returning to a hero’s welcome in Ardell, he felt only grief and guilt. Requesting discharge, he left the military to join The Evig Traders' Guild, a merchant company offering steady work far from Ardell.

Carter spent years with the Traders' Guild, shipping goods across the continents. His journeys took him from the rugged (rumored to be haunted) mountains of Bayn Alain to the icy reaches of the northern seas of Brendahl, where the airships had to navigate treacherous winds and frigid salt spray. He has traversed jungles, deserts, and even the mysterious islands of the Southern Archipelagos where he witnessed skybeasts and all kind of otherwise fantastical creatures most couldn't even fathom. Yet, despite the thrill and freedom that the open skies brought him, he found little peace. The memories of the war, the fallen friends, the burning wreck of the Screaming Eagle, and the lives lost from his own actions followed him wherever he went, a weight on his conscience that no distance could lift.

Through it all, he led his small crew with a steady hand, navigating his ship through occasional ambushes, violent storms, and encounters with beasts that haunted the southern seas. Despite the money and respect he had earned the sense of unease gnawed at him, a reminder of the past he couldn’t fully leave behind.

Carter and his ship now find themselves in Inbur, a city under siege. Originally, he’d come here on a rare but necessary assignment for The Evig Traders' Guild: transporting high-value artifacts and essential supplies from the embattled Inburian forces as they braced against the Calarian advance, the only reason why he accepted this task was the company offering to pay him double the bonus, triple if he brought everything unscathed. Inbur’s Imperial Palace held a trove of relics and important documents, treasures deemed too valuable to risk falling into enemy hands. The mission was simple enough; arrive, load the goods, and leave before the Calarian forces could fully encircle the city.

But the situation has spiraled faster than anticipated. Enemy forces have pushed through the defenses faster than anyone had expected, cutting off traditional supply routes. The Inburian command is in disarray and scrambling to evacuate its highest officials and essential personnel. As the city’s defenses crumbled, the military base near the palace was abandoned in the rush to withdraw. In the chaos, Carter's airship was targeted by Calarian artillery, now with his airship burning and his crew missing Carter must make his way back to the homeland he's avoided for years, how he will do that only fate may tell, for now though the large unattended airship in the imperial palace seems to be his only hope for escape.

Name: Zoe Spyrou
Gender: Female
Age: 23
Nationality: Inburrian
Appearance: 5'5'' tall with dark hair and eyes



Personal Effects:
- Nothing but the skirt, blouse and jacket she is wearing. All of which look expensive.

Background:

What is your job: Refugee
Backstory: Zoe Spyrou is a young Inburian aristocrat. Though the Spyrou name is not one which is particularly well known, Zoe has the accent and education (knows quite a few languages) to suggest that she either went to an expensive girl's school or was possibly privately tutored. Despite having grown up with wealth and privilege most people do not enjoy, Zoe has railed against this most of her life, finding the conceits and expectations of nobility rather stifling longing for the (largely imagined) freedoms of the lower classes.

While it is not especially likely that her family would be targeted by the Communalists, at least not initially, there is still plenty of reason to be nervous - in Calaria, senior nobles and members of the Doge's Government were executed, often along with their family members with little discrimination for age or political involvement.

Zoe has never had a job and was, rather, expected to marry into another noble family and run the household. Which is not at all uncommon for Inburian noblewomen. While Zoe does not appear to have any skills to contribute to a zeppelin crew, apart from, potentially, acting as an interpreter, she is reasonably intelligent and, unlike most Inburian nobles, is very happy to get stuck in doing basic tasks. In fact, she rather likes the idea.

Name: Itzamatul ‘Itzi’ Ku
Gender: Female
Age: 30
Nationality: Kingdom of Hunyunak
Appearance: Of both average stature and build, with dark brown eyes and jet black hair, Itzi is not uncommonly mistaken for Inburian, at least until she speaks; then her ‘foreign’ accent tends to give her away. With her hair generally in a single thick braid and the hands of someone used to manual work, she favours simple and practical pants and long sleeves. If she happens to be wearing anything that exposes her arms, legs or any of her torso, she’s fairly covered in traditional Ikitani tattoos from collar to wrist to ankle.

Personal Effects:
Necklace (A gift from her parents when she left home)
Brass pocket watch
Boot knife
Harlan Arms Model 32.
Wallet

• Work permit for the Even Giver (General Crew)

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Background

What is your job: Pilot/Helmsman by choice, General Labourer by necessity

Backstory: One of many children born to her large family on a farm outside the Hunyunaki capitol, Itzi grew up like many children in her situation did, with little to no formal education and learning to ‘work’ on the farm as soon as she was old enough to be trusted with at least simple tasks. It was a tough life, but not a bad one; the family didn’t have much but they cared for one another and their friends and neighbours as best they could.

One day when she was about 7 or 8 she accompanied a couple of her older siblings on a market trip into the city to sell their produce at market; their father usually did this but he’d taken ill. During that trip she saw her first Zeppelin, a lumbering bulk of a cargo hauler waddling its way into dock; the sight fascinated her and from then on, whenever possible she took to accompanying her father (or whoever else) on sporadic trips into the city. When she was there, she did all she could to talk with Zeppelin crews, asking them not just about what they saw, but just how they did their jobs. Some were less than enthused to be pestered by a child and expressed themselves as much, but others were more forthcoming and humoured her…usually until one of Itzi’s family had to come and drag her away. At fifteen she told her parents of her intention to join one of these crews, not only to fly off to see the world, but so she could send money back home; the only other real future available being staying here to work the farm until being married off to one of a handful of uninspiring local boys; not something she was willing to consign herself to.

At first her parents were more than a little hesitant to let her try, but she pointed out that from her questionings, a basic crewmans wages were better than what the farm made and by now her oldest siblings had children of their own old enough to help around the farm. Eventually they agreed, but only if she could find work within the next few months; Itzi accepted the stipulation and set off to the city a week later.

From friends and contacts in the city she’d already known of an older freighter the ‘Valdez’ that had come into port, with the crew complaining at the bars about running short handed. Bold as anything when she got to the city, she headed straight to the ‘Valdez’ and marched up the gangway to see the captain. While he was understandably hesitant to take on a random girl that’d marched in to see him, he agreed to at least hear her out. Up front, she told him that while she couldn’t read or write, she could cook and clean, was used to hard work and long hours and was willing to learn anything that was asked of her. Eventually he relented and agreed to take her on when the ‘Valdez’ shipped out in a few days; from there she rushed home for a tearful goodbye to her family before setting off.

In the years since she’s proven that despite no formal schooling she is quite smart; learning to read, write and speak several languages, both Zeppelin and aeroplane flying, general Zeppelin maintenance and a host of other duties that are common to ship’s crew. She’s also managed to both keep sending money home and even returns there from time to time, though the Kingdom of Hunyunak isn’t exactly on any major trade routes.

In their opening attacks, Calarian shells struck several warehouses in the commercial port including one next to the Even Giver the Zeppelin she was currently crewing aboard. Unfortunately the warehouse must have been storing volatiles of some kind, as when it was struck it exploded rather spectacularly, with debris sadly shredding the Even Giver and setting the wreckage alight; the only thing that save Itzi was that she ways away enjoying shore leave and was in the process of making her way back (thoroughly broke) when the attack happened. Now like so many others, she finds herself trapped and looking to escape the besieged city of Inbur.

Character Description

Name: Giogoula "Giogio" Giorgiou
Gender: Female
Age: 25
Nationality: Inburian
Appearance:


Personal Effects:
- Snubnose revolver
- Pocketwatch
- Inbur City Police Department Badge

Background:

What is your job: Policewoman
Backstory: Giogoula "Giogio" Giorgiou was born to a working class family of four in the city of Inbur. Her father, Yiorgous Giorgiou, was a sergeant in the city police and worked hard to ensure his family's safety and well being, even going as far as teaching his wife and children self defense lessons. Growing up, Giogoula never felt that she was in a struggle despite her working class background, she attended and completed public schools by her late teens and enrolled in a women's college.

After college, Giogoula would follow in her father's footsteps and join the city police, due to her looking up to her father's tireless work in trying to keep the city safe before retiring. Despite her father’s initial opposition due to the possible dangers of police work, he would eventually relent and put in a good word for her to his colleagues. Giogoula's initial work with the police was limited to handling domestic disputes and interviewing female and juvenile witnesses and victims. Overtime, however, she would be assigned to taking part in investigations, particularly in infiltrating criminal activities.

Using various disguises and identities, she was instrumental in the police busting some underground activities. Soon, she was tasked in infiltrating a suspected communalist cell that may have been cooperating with Calarian agitators. It was an joint operation with the military in busting the fifth columnist as the threat of war looms, and she was willing to take part in it, having no love for communalists.

Giogio would continue her police work even as war seems more likely. Her family had moved north but she remained, seeing it as her duty to keep the peace in the city. Plus, Inbur is pretty far away from Calaria. Eventually, the Chief of Police wants her to stay away from infiltrating the communalist cell; there was ample evidence that her cover could be blown if she continues her work and that the Chief was worried that there is a traitor within the police department giving informations to possible insurrectionists. The decision to have her move north happened right when war broke out between the Empire and the Calarians.

The Inburians were set back by insurrections within the fifth column, despite the best effort of the empire's intelligence agency, and a surprise attack in the east by Xak-Shariq. Even the police was involved in the defense of the city, albeit they too were getting overwhelmed. Trapped in the city and knowing what fate becomes to the military and police informants, Giogio and some of the others were ordered to flee the city alongside many of the other civilians for their safety.

Name: Zano Mirazdar
Gender: Male
Age: 24
Nationality: Sakh/Addonian
Appearance:
Personal Effects: A set of goggles, a pocket watch, two journals with two pens, a wallet with money in it, and a satchel with papers and other items in it.

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What is your job Inventor/Engineer
Inventions Automated tea maker
Possible wireless remote control
Motor-driven vacuum cleaner
Stenotype machine
Valve amplifier/triode

Backstory: Zano hails from the city-state of Mina-Sakh. Born the youngest of four in a wealthy family. Zano did not have many prospects initially by his family's standards but was still given an education worthy of their status. But as time went on, it became clear that Zano had a creative mind and a knack for engineering. Combining them led Zano to create some interesting creations that caught the attention of his parents by the time he was eighteen. Seeing the potential in them, they enrolled him in a prominent engineering college in the city, and by the time he graduated. Zano now had the knowledge to pursue his interests.

After graduating, Zano, with his family's help, set up a workshop where he could work on his inventions and sustain himself. While Zano did invent and patent some of his inventions, they were not as major as his parents thought they would be. That and Zano did not like his parents looking over his shoulder, as it were, when it came to inventing. Plus, not wanting to be solely dependent on them for financial support. After a fight he had with his parents over what he should focus on, he threatened to restrict him financially if Zano did not listen to them. That was the last straw, and Zano would find himself after defying his parents without their support. But, a friend of his who lived in Inbur offered to help him out and give him a place to work, which he would accept, so he moved to Inbur.

There, with the help of his friend, he went to work and made some more inventions, which were gaining traction and catching the eyes of people. His latest invention became popular, and Zano started to have more ambitious ideas and started to have an interest in airships and would learn more about them. However, Zano was growing concerned about the events happening in Calaria and the rise of the Communalists. Still, he went on as usual and was working on something big when the Calarians invaded.

Zano was in his workshop when the Calarians reached the city, and he managed to save his notes and other important papers. But, as he and his workers were packing up, artillery shells struck the workshop, and while Zano managed to escape with little injuries. Most of his workers and his friend were killed as a result, along with his big invention.

So, with the city falling, Zano ran as fast as he could and felt like today might be his last day on Earth. Then, as he ran past the Imperial Palace, he saw his salvation. A sole Zeppelin was still docked, and an idea came to mind. Perhaps this is his way out of the city. So Zano ran to the Zeppelin, hoping that it would be his ticket out of the city. If not, then he would be truly dead.

Name: Arkadios Andreaou
Gender: Male
Age: 49
Nationality: Inburrian
Appearance: 6'1'', dark eyes and rapidly greying hair



Personal Effects:
- A single Makarios C94 Pistol.
- A sepia photograph of his family.
- A slightly grimy Captain's uniform

Background:

What is your job: Captain in the Inburian Military
Backstory: Arkadios Andreaou comes from a family of gentry and as the second of three sons, (and two sisters), Arkadios was not expected to inherit the family estate but rather was groomed to enter the military and, having completed his studies was sent to the Officer's Training College at Grendell, where he graduated without any particular merit or failings before being assigned as a 2nd Lieutenant to the East Morktree Regiment of Foot.

For the last 28 years, Arkadios has remained with the regiment. He married, and has four children of his own, three boys and a younger daughter, Elodie, whom he dotes on. During all this time, the Regiment has seen no action aside from quelling the occasional outbreak of communalist unrest in the central provinces of the Empire. Aside from the odd border skirmish with Xak-Shariq, the Empire has remained peaceful.

Arkadios rose through the ranks slowly as other officers retired, eventually reaching the rank of Captain, Commanding one of the Regiment's Companies.

When it became clear the Calarians were mobilising, Arkadios and the East Morktreee were given transfer orders to the border, though the Calarians attacked before the regiment was in position, breaking the Inburian lines and driving towards the capital of Inbur itself. The East Morktree fought an action to delay the Calarian advance at the bridge at Picmylos, which was a gallant but ultimately costly defeat with only 70 men of the East Morktree escaping the field to join the retreat towards Inbur.

The survivors arrived with the enemy hot on their heels and with some units joining the Communalist uprising and the Inburian command structure in a shambles, orders were received for all units to retreat North to Grendell. Arkadios relayed the orders to his troops but was shortly separated from them during an artillery barrage.

Arkadios is a worried man. He is worried for his troops, for his family but also for his own neck. The Calarians are nearby, Communalist rebels are in control of some quarters of the city and everyone remembers what happened to the Nobles during the Calarian revolution. There has to be a way out...

Name: Urses Mallory
Gender: Male
Age: 24
Nationality: Favis
Appearance: Slightly taller than average at 5'10" and well-built thanks to his career of military service, with naturally unruly dark brown hair pulled back into a scruffy ponytail to keep the worst of it out of his grey-blue eyes.
Personal Effects:

• .303 Favis Rifle No.1 MK III (and appropriate ammunition) [IRL Equivalent: SMLE Rifle MK III]
• 7.8mm Favis Pistol No.5 (and appropriate ammunition) [IRL Equivalent: Bergmann No.5 Pistol]
• Leather Satchel containing medical supplies 'recovered' from military stores
• Casual Civilian attire

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What is your job Combat Medical Technician, Royal Favis Army
Backstory: Originally from a lower-class background as the son of a labourer and a nurse, Urses had done what many young men in his position had done before him; he had enlisted in the army to improve his lot in life, leveraging his mother's career as a nurse to get himself into training with the Medical Corps on the idea that skilled positions merited higher pay. He had a fairly unremarkable early career, aside from frequent but minor clashes with officers over protocol vs practicality and moral disputes.

Until recently, Urses had found himself in Inbur as part of a unit of the medical corps sent over to take part in joint training with the Empire's own military medical corps, sharing medical techniques and new technologies in the name of maintaining co-operation between the two nations. He had actually been on temporary leave when the insurrectionists struck and barely had time to get back to his post and recover whatever equipment he could grab before they could overrun his position, before then looking to make his way to the only means of escape he would see: the floating behemoth still docked to the Zeppelin Mast...

Name: Second Lieutenant Yurios “Yuri” Kasrikos
Gender: Male
Age: 23
Nationality: Inburian
Appearance:
Prim and proper, the young lieutenant has a ghost of a pencil moustache and aquiline features. Only a small amount of fat in the face and lack of muscle keeps him from looking truly imposing. Blonde hair and blue eyes are pale and slightly dull. He carries himself with firm posture and presence. He stands at 5’9” and 160 lbs
Personal Effects:
Maps and Compass
Several IAS Uniforms
Deck of Playing Cards
A Dozen Handles of Rum
Stavros Mk VI Revolver

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What is your job Staff Officer/Communications Officer
Backstory: Son of an Inburian banker and a daughter of a Pobryn merchant, Urios was born into the lap of luxury. Unfortunately, this blessing was very quickly blunted by the sudden suicide of his father when he was 10 years old, with the cause being fairly apparent when him and his mother needed to sell his childhood home and move into the slums of Inbur. Taking up work for the telegraph office, Yuri would take quickly to social climbing. By the time he was 16, he was operating the telegraphs and providing for his mother. This clawing for his own wealth and prominence from a young age would only be rewarded with tragedy for the young man, whose mother would die of tuberculosis shortly before his 17th birthday.

Set adrift, the young man would begin spiraling into depression and alcoholism. It was at the insistence of the stationmaster at the telegraph for him to sign himself into the Imperial Air Service. He needed discipline he never really had, and people who would have his back. Yuri did not agree, but when he was threatened with being fired, he relented. With a letter of recommendation and a sharp mind backed with impressive test scores, he entered the Signal Corps as an officer cadet.

In the Service he was quick to learn the tools of his trade, they felt natural and familiar to him, just as much, he was able to blend in with the proper manners of a gentlemen officer, which was able to cover for his less gentlemanly proclivities and half-foreign heritage. He made a good group of friends among them, and graduated officer training school with honors. His first station was appropriately illustrious: the Inbur Aerodrome was the greatest posting one could reasonably expect for a signals officer, short of the intercontinental cables and royal stations which were beyond the reach of a relatively unconnected lieutenant.

When the invasion began, Yuri was eager to prove himself and asked to be rotated to combat service aboard the airships, but his request was not acknowledged in the chaotic collapse of lines. When the revolutionaries arrived, and his CO was missing, he decided to take up his new station with those fleeing the chaos. Having now seen his home overtaken and his family gone, the young technical officer finds himself abandoning his post and entering a life that his own to define.

Name: Three Jaguar of the Resplendent Serpent, Keeper of Sun and Song and Seeker of the Four Winds aka Chamer
Gender: He/Him
Age: 27
Nationality: Iktani Confederacy
Appearance:
Chamer is invariably immaculately groomed and dressed, usually in bright colours that stand at odds with much of Inburian social norms. Standing roughly 5'8", weighing in around 145lbs with long, dark, usually braided and occasionally ribboned hair and dark brown eyes some might call expressive.



Personal Effects: Trust Fund
Diplomatic ID + Immunity
Writing implements,
Iktani Ceremonial bundles, and garb
A travel trunk of fashionably tailored suits
1 manservant - Miquiztli
Writing Implements and several books of poetry and philosophy
Tumi - Ceremonial knife

Background:
What is your job: The Poet-Prince
Backstory:

Name: Puskurunuwa Petrides
Gender: Male
Age: 20
Nationality: Shariq
Appearance:

Years of traveling and training under the sun has left Puskurunuwa's already olive complexion dark, and turned his once black hair sandy. His face remains boyish, and could be considered handsome on the rare days he bothers to shave: otherwise he’s sporting the eternal patchwork stubble that ironically adds to his youthful appearance. Warm brown eyes and full lips add to his charm- until they part into an easy smile that showcases a set of shockingly large, crooked, and brilliantly white teeth. Puskurunuwa owns little in the way of clothing and stains of varying ages mark his trousers and shirt, both sagging on his lithe frame of five and a half feet. Even his belt is fastened by an extra self-made puncture some inches from the proper holes. Working as an acrobat has given him some degree of muscle, but only enough to for the speed and nimbleness such performances required.

Personal Effects:
All of Puskurunuwa's worldly possessions can fit in a repurposed grain-sack, and easily swung over the shoulder. Inside it contains:
- a curved knife half the length of his forearm
- white chalk
- a single spare shirt
- about 15 feet of rope
- a handful of precious gems, most cracked or scratched in some manner
- a box of matches
- an unlabeled bottle of dark brown spirits
- a tin oil lamp, it's glass flame shield long lost

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Occupation: Circus Preformer, petty-thief
Backstory:

Whatever glory was to be found in rebuilding a long dead empire was lost on rural peasant children. All Puskurunuwa knew of Shariq was his family's cursed plot of land and the destitute fishing village miles to the north. There was never the means to travel any further. The family's farm failed to reliably produce, and most years they found themselves short on meeting taxes and their family still larger. Puskurunuwa's counted seven younger siblings by his tenth year, and possessed increasing awareness of their shrinking dinners. Rather than continuing to labour fruitlessly on barren land and watch his family’s starvation, Puskurunuwa packed what little that was his own and headed west, towards the distant grey horizon that was The Inburian Empire.

His original intention was to find work in the capital's ever growing factories. The road to Inbur, however, was enlightening. Puskurunuwa, who'd barely met more than a dozen people over his entire life, found entire towns and settlements seemingly crawling with them. He stopped in most, taking odd jobs anywhere that would take him, earning just enough to continue on his journey. The further west he went, the more unwelcome he was. Be it his age, nationality, or class; he was often met with harsh words and slamming doors. By the time he'd toured around the bay to the capital, Puskurunuwa had come to the conclusion that labour, be it on the farm or in the city, did not suit him.

So began his life as a miscreant urchin on Inbur's streets. A few years were spent picking pockets and modest thievery from merchants and visiting nobles on the docks. It just enough Puskurunuwa fed and dry, with plenty of free time to do as he pleased. Most was spent pestering the city's other miscreants; beggars, drunks, and street walkers. All were targets for young Puskurunuwa’s constant yammering and curiosity. Eventually he gained enough of a reputation to approuched for jobs on behalf of others. Most involved light burglary, or a planting, but it paid more than pinching pockets.

It was one such job that had Puskurunuwa visiting Lord Landry's Big Top Circus in 1071. He was working his way into the eponymous owner's safe when some commotion outside lay his plans to waste. Lord Landry returned to his office early, and found Puskurunuwa folded tightly inside his small safe some hours later. He offered the boy employment - as a performer. The following six years were the greatest stability Puskurunuwa had ever known. He became a master at trapeze and contortion - skills that had always come naturally, but little practiced as more than a means to an end before. While he never took to reading or writing, the far and frequent travel uncovered a talent for picking up languages. With the help of his gregarious, almost over-familiar, personality it rarely took more than a few weeks in a new region for Puskurunuwa to begin speaking comfortably with locals.

His fellow performers became his family, constants within a never-ending cycle of changing cities, local hires, and audiences. Xquic, the fire-dancer with a low voice, taught him how to grind grain with stone and turn it into bread with nothing but water and a campfire. A small family from Sakha managed the animals, and they quickly accepted Puskurunuwa into their unit. They took him along on hikes when they found themselves traveling the countryside, showing which plants could be made into tea, and mushrooms that would poison. He tailed the impossibly large strongman, Cllément, relentlessly, always wanting more of the Monchian's improbable stories until the latter's patience wore thin and picked up the boy with one hand and shotput him away. Twins Stelia and Kypros were his siblings in aerial performance acts; their lives in each other’s hands each time.

It was Puskurunuwa's eighth time in Inbur since joining the troupe when the Calarian invasion began. By the time their forces reached the capital, the circus family was scattered. Landry’s available funds, and their collective savings were all quickly spent as the city's tensions grew in anticipation of enemy forces. Puskurunuwa found himself completely alone by the time they arrived. As lost and stranded as when he'd come to the city ten years before.

Name: Volodar Naesandoral
Gender: Male
Age: 450ish
Nationality: Imperial
Appearance:


Personal Effects: 6 Makarios C94 Pistols and web-gear, a Haltian Cavalry Sabre, a bear-skin hat, several books and manuscripts in Elgan, a small collection of jewelry and trinkets from around the world.

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Background:

What is your job: Airship Pilot
Backstory: Volodar was born approximately 200 years before the Hasikos were restored to their imperial throne, and spent most of that time serving in the cavalry of the old Haltian armies that once dominated the battlefields north of the Circle Sea. With sympathies towards the reformist groups within the Empire, he remained within what is now the Imburian Empire after the Haitian defeats during the War of the Five Emperors and joined the newly established Imperial House Cavalry and served the Iburians in various functions, both on the field and in the barracks and palaces.

After a few decades of service with the Hasikos, Volodar resigned his commission with the Hastikos and decided to join the Monchian efforts to settle what would become the NordIsles in the Gulf of Equaterra, and managed to secure a governorship on one of the smaller island, more through conquest than appointment, despite little experience with government. This was arguably one of Volodar’s most productive ventures, as he effectively owned several plantations growing cash crops therefore improving the economic prospects of the island via what he viewed as an innovative workforce retention program and strict discipline of the laborers. He would eventually tender his resignation with grace in face of increasing demands from Vich.

Undeterred in his new situation, he turned his attention southward to the Calarian colonies in Equaterra in an attempt to weaken his old enemy, and found himself swept in with the spirit of revolution simmering through the region. Providing both money and expertise, he helped equip and build the Equaterran cavalry force, and lead a squadron through the revolutionary war. He found himself well suited to the guerilla nature of the war, although he was wounded by shrapnel twice and shot on one occasion. While recovering from his wounds, and a bout of tropical disease, he rested for a few years while enjoying his status as a minor hero and lived on a pension and accumulated plunder. Volodar made a comfortable life on the coast and served in a minor government post, before leaving Equaterra due to a scandal involving the President’s wife and another cavalryman.

From there, Volodar returned home to Imburia and Haltia for a few years due to the demands of certain family situations and to allocate his accumulated wealth towards projects at home. Here, he lived well and lived easy, enjoying frequent social events and balls as he reconnected with old circles and refreshed his lists of human contacts in Inbur. Such calm was not to remain, as his restlessness soon caught up to him again after two decades or so.

An era of increasing industrialization and a second wave of exploration greeted Volodar as he took on the mantle of adventuring again. The first flights of fancy were to the arctic and the ice sheets north of Frosseland. Rumor had it that it may be a navigable passage connecting the two seas, at least during the summer months. To say this expedition was a failure would be an understatement. The ships broke against the ice not long after departure from the northern trading posts in Frosseland, and the survivors of the ships had to make a perilous journey back to civilized territory through hellish colds and ice. They survived on good will from the natives, and whatever meat and pelts they managed to scavenge.

His second venture during this period was to chart some of the jungles far to the south of Finiquia and Sahk in the search for signs of an ancient civilization. Sailing up a mosquito infested river, tropical diseases plagued the expedition while hostile locals whittled down their numbers. It wasn’t all for naught though, because, after a 23 day trek through the jungle, he found a tribe of strange bird-like people, who he bartered with. Trading pelts, guns, and liquor for jewelry, artifacts, and coins, he obtained the proof that he sought and made the trek back home.

Once more, Volodar settled down in Inbur for a few more decades, and took up a rather stereotypical hobby: breeding and racing horses. This was a moderately successful venture for him, although a questionable financial decision as he invested quite a bit of funds but never produced a truly spectacular horse. Such is the nature of passion products.

Then an inventor approached him specifically, touting a new design for a machine. A machine that could enable one to fly like the birds through the heavens above, the airplane that promised heavier than air-flight. The concept enamored Volodar, who had previously been in a hot air balloon several times, and he eagerly funded its development and badgered the man to test fly the design once it had been finished, but the inventor held fast.

Dragged out to a flat along the coast of Inbur, the wooden and canvas craft sat gloriously in the middle of the field, and the crew started up the engine. Volodar watched with amazement as the man’s craft successfully lifted itself off the ground and climbed to about 100 feet, before it spectacularly crashed after the inventor lost control. The coinciding development of the rigid lighter-than-air craft also caught the Elga’s desire for flight, and offered a far safer and practical alternative which he funneled some funds into. Aiding such developments allowed him to take roles in the maiden flights of a few craft, an experience he very much enjoyed from both a physical and mental exercise and a flaunt of his own wealth.

The invasion of Inbur from the Calarians, once it began, posed an existential threat to the rather wealthy Elgan, who soon looked for means to flee the surrounding city. Upon seeing the craft tethered to the Imperial Palace, an idea crossed the old cavalryman’s mind. A bold idea that promised adventure, and gallantry.

Name: Mitunbaal Vasiliou
Gender: Female
Age: 29
Nationality: Inburian Shariq
Appearance:


Personal Effects: A small collection of artifacts and trinkets from the formerly blighted territories, a Shariq prayer book, a few books, an icon of the Dawnbringer and Empress Andronika. She keeps a traditional dagger tucked under her smock.

Background: Academic. De-facto Ship’s medic

Backstory: Mitunbaal was born the eldest child to an upper-middle class Shariq family in Neapol, which she claims she can trace back to a noble family before the blight, and received a quality education due to the privilege. The young woman took to history from a young age, and found herself fascinated with the tales of her people before their exodus from the blight with its dreaded orcs. Better still were the tales during their triumphant return under the sword of the Dawnbringer, the heroics of man and elga against the ultimate evil with a noble and just cause from God himself.

It was half legend, of course, and Mitunbaal knew and understood that well even at a young age. That knowledge did not stop her from seeking formal study on the matter at the university in Neapol, focusing on both history and the archeology of the Shariq’s ancestral homelands. For as much as Mitunball enjoyed combing through tomes and what written accounts survived the collapse, she jumped at the opportunity to go on field expeditions throughout the territory.

While nature did recover from the blight and the orcs are extinct as far as the Shariq know, the scars still run deep in certain areas of the countries. This, naturally, draws curious sorts out to the unsettled, somewhat-unnatural country. It also does an explorer deep in central Shariq well to be armed, advice which one of the archeologists in her party did not heed while on camping. While relieving himself, the archeologist was assailed by a blighted beast. The beast, best described as a rabbit with fangs, the antlers of a deer, and a pair of useless wings had bitten and gored the poor man several times. It was dispatched by a load of shot from a double-barrelled shotgun that had been brought along.

For Mitunball, this served as an awakening. Between the poor man’s anguished cries, and hissing from the beast during the attack, and the wet blood, she felt a power rise inside her as she laid hands on the man. Like a legend of old, she felt a warmth flow from her hands as she wiped down one of the open wounds and, awestruck, watched the wound rapidly knit itself closed.

She had an undeniable gift from God that was almost unheard of in the modern era, the gift of healing magic.

Unfortunately, the remainder of this first expedition was mundane in comparison. They had merely found remnants of pottery. Useful, but not groundbreaking.

Once back in the Inburian Empire, she set off for Inbur instead of returning home. Her plan was to delve into the library of University of Constaninos II in search of books and manuscripts on magic and the blight that may have survived the fall of the city to the Haltians.

Unsurprisingly, the search was mostly an exercise in futility due to a lack of study and the sacks and sieges of Inbur. Additional research would need to be done in the former blighted territory, and pieced together with what records are available between Neapol and Inbur.

Bouncing between the two major metropolises when free also broadened the woman’s circles, and she found herself increasingly engaging with Shariq nationalists when not in the field or researching. Her experience, faith, and research mingled with those types of political rhetoric has since developed peculiar if not mystic views on Shariq nationalism. Their chosen one was Favian, not Shariq, and was a close companion to the Empress during the Hasiko restoration. To Mitunbaal, was that not God’s blessing on the house to rule the Empire and the Shariqs?

Naturally, this pro-Imperial, pro-Hasiko strain of Shariq nationalism proved unpopular with most Shariq nationalist, although Mitunbaal has published some articles in support of her fringe views under a pen-name.

More recently, Mitunbaal has found herself back in Inbur after a trip to mountains in the north of Shariq land, believed to be the starting point of the old blight, with the scarred land and mutated flora and fauna to prove it. Standing at the foot of the mountain where all that madness had started was humbling in a sense. Being at the epicenter of the near doom of her people carried a message of how small she was in the grand scheme that struck home harder than any book.

The question of why still gnawed at her, and she pushed herself to move further, to discover, to learn. To understand. Her companions, meanwhile, understood that venturing into or up a mountain that once held a true evil that killed untold people was likely not the greatest idea for their continued existence. With a struggle more verbal than physical, the party pulled Mitunbaal back to camp.

In Inbur, the rising tensions never bothered Mitunbaal’s own little world beyond uneasy dinners and increased political debate, until the Calarians finally crossed the border. Then the university exploded like a bomb. Young students swore for both sides turning the dormitories into brawling rings as quickly formed gangs targeted rivals. Archivists, including Mitunbaal, scrambled to evacuate reference material as the Calarians approached. She was in the libraries as the first shells landed in the city center.

Scrambling out of the building, she joined the mass of civilians trying to leave with what belongings she could carry. Evading the communalists, their infiltrators, and the fighting the best she could. She worked her way through side streets, until she found herself cornered by two insurrectionists. Muttering a prayer to herself, Mitunbaal closed her eyes while the sounds of hoofbeats grew closer and closer. A pistol shot shattered the tension, followed by another scream and the sound of a body hitting the floor.

Without hesitation, she rushed the cavalryman and mounted before he could say a word. With barely a nod of an acknowledgment, he slowly brought his horse back up to a cantor.

Name: Marietta Barbachollo
Gender: Female
Age: 41
Nationality: Calarian
Appearance: Standing on the shorter side, at five foot even, she wears her graying hair in a chignon. She’s a bit on the heavier side due to the relative success of the press. As a result, her rounded face has it's limited angles smoothed out a little further.

Personal Effects: Her typewriter, a suitcase jammed with; papers, hay, a family photo book, a spare set of clothes, and a kennel containing her pet rabbit, Cidric.

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What is your job: Typist

The daughter of a family that sat on the edge of being middle class, her prospects for employment were limited, hampered by her father’s political stances and her family’s size. Wanting a modern profession for her gender. She asked her father to permit her to attend a typist school. Upon graduating, she went to work as a copy typist for a minor notary. Meeting her husband working at the notary, the two got on well and married quickly. She retired from the notary to take up the role of child raiser, keeping up her typing skills by writing for her husband’s right-wing press in her limited free time

During the revolution she fled her home as the fires started burning, fleeing with her husband and younger children while her older sons fought the communalists. They settled in among the fellow émigré population and the pair set their press back up. They were distributing magazines, leaflets, and hawkish texts and finding financial success in their new home due to sales with their fellow calarians, right-wing inburians, and the curious passerby.

The very rapid invasion of the Empire took her and her family by surprise. With her sons taking up arms in a Calarian emigre militia fighting alongside the Inburian army, and her husband being killed protecting her the fifth column with a .32 pocket pistol. With her ways out rapidly being closed off by the fifth columnists and the encroaching army while she’s getting equally desperate, from an apartment she is hiding in to evade shelling, she can see a moored airship...

Name: Aden Robertson
Gender: Male
Age: 22
Nationality: Inburian Nationalized ( Born Favis)
Appearance:
Personal Effects:
- Krausser Firearms R-01M Accuracy Pattern Rifle (Gewehr 98 with x4 Zeiss Optic)
- Krausser Firearms P-15 Trench Pistol (P-08 Luger)
- Fighting Knife
- Compass
- Binoculars
- Silver Lighter (Engraved; " 46th Alpine: First to Fight, Last to Break")
- Four Cigars
- Sketchbook (Functions as diary, range table and..... a sketchbook.)

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What is your job Inburian Army Marksman
Backstory:

Aden originally came from a merchant family that plied the trade routes of the Circle Sea. The Robertson & Robinson Trading Co. having routes that traced all the way back to the days of pirates trying to carve out slices of legitimacy. It was into this legacy that Aden was born in a sleepy costal town after coming a month early.

Schooled and provided for; Aden spent his early years with his paternal Uncle in Vichy. Learning of the logistics and skills needed to keep the Robertson and Robinson Trading Co. afloat and profiting as changes in technology and politics caused the family to try and keep up. When he was old enough he took to the seas and visited the ports of the Old (and occasionally) New World under the watchful eyes of his father. However, a life of the sea and the ports began to grow on Aden as year after year of sailing, balancing books and constant traveling made him start to resent the life of a merchant.

His relationship with his parents began to strain until one day as they made port in Inbur; an argument caused a teenaged Aden to storm off their ship. Originally intent on simply enjoying some alcohol; Aden overindulged and was eventually wrapped up in a bar fight that ended with severe property damage. At first, a mistake of identity had Aden marked as a repeat offender; and the constables taking care of his charges said that he would be heading for a labor farm for hard labor. But the constable said he looked like a good kid and offered another chance; the Inburian Army was always recruiting and his buddy was able to get pardons for minor cases such as Aden's.

A mixture of hangover, sudden hope and resentment to his family caused Aden to say yes. By the time his family figured out where he was and went through the proper channels to contact him; Aden was a private in the Inburian military and in the third class to enter the infantile 46th Alpine Regiment. Aden had no intention of going back when he was both enjoying the new feeling of a unknown world of military service and the uniqueness that was the Inburian Army's new program.

An attempt to leverage the distinct terrain of the Calarian border; the 46th Alpine Regiment found themselves trained in scouting, patrolling, and marksmanship. Perfectly geared for the limited combat Inbur dreamed of occurring. Aden graduated with pride and found himself stationed on the Calarain border. A tense but relatively calm posting.

The invasion took them all by surprise; both in intensity and its modern tools. Most of the 46th died under a hail of gas artillery that Aden avoided by virtue of scouting out Calarian artillery observers. The remnants of the 46th and other border units tried to put up a fight but found it impossible to stem the tide of Calarians and the insurgents that seemed to appear spontaneously.

Having found himself in Inbur after his latest fighting retreat; Aden is currently attached to a rearguard force made up of survivors that managed to make it to the city. Their purposes to buy time for the more intact formations to regroup elsewhere. At the moment, the scout is currently manning one of the gates to the Imperial Palace's military aerodrome as he waits for orders even as the sounds of gunfire grow closer to the base.