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W A R D E N
20 | 145cm (4'9") | WARDEN 2nd Class
A P P E A R A N C E
P E R S O N A L I T Y
B A C K G R O U N D
C O M B A T
R E L A T I O N S H I P S
M I S C / T R I V I A
VALERIE "NEPHILIM"
20 | 145cm (4'9") | WARDEN 2nd Class
A P P E A R A N C E
Standing at a meager 145cm (4'9") with a petite, waifish build, one will be wholly justified to assume that Valerie is a young girl who's only a few summers into her adolescence period. Indeed, it may be true depending on one's perspective as it's an established fact that Valerie's growth began to stagnate at around half a decade into her WARDEN education, until eventually, she simply ceased to physically develop, leaving her a grown woman in the body of an adolescent with below-average height, an unfortunate tragedy that she has never quite gotten over.
Furthermore, if someone already knew Valerie from before her enrollment into the Citadel, then they'll be hard-pressed to recognize her current self. Once, she possessed silky hair as dark as a raven's feather, now only bleached gray locks hung from her scalp. Once, the young girl's visage hosted a pair of bright baby blue eyes, now they had mutated into eerie violet irises housing pupils so narrow, they may as well be serpentine slits. All these without even mentioning the "horns" growing from the sides of her skull, in actuality a mutated mass of keratin with horn-like shapes, though they're fortunately benign... so far at least.
In addition, when Valerie engages her mist-fueled personal barrier - with or without the presence of an Aegis device - her body will manifest bio-projections bearing the shape of a halo of thorns above her head and a pair of devilish wings sprouting from her lower back. All of these traits, when combined, gives off the image of a demonic angel (or an angelic demon), earning her the epithet "Nephilim", the offspring born from an unholy union of the divine and the profane. Considering her history, Gaia must've had a twisted sense of humor.
Lastly, when examined under close scrutiny, an observer will be able to see veins with purplish hue underneath Valerie's skin, spread all across her body, including her 'horns'. These very same veins will begin to glow when she uses her Mist-based abilities, the intensity being directly proportional to how far she's exerting herself. On the flipside, they become completely imperceptible in a mistless environment.
As for clothing, Valerie may be many things, but being fussy about fashion isn't one of them. Due to the nature of her powers, the gray-haired WARDEN will wear almost anything as long as it's not harmful to her; a full combat uniform? Sure, casual day-to-day clothes? Fine, a dirty brown rag that'll fit the empire's forced laborers more than a WARDEN? No problem. Really, for Valerie, being rendered Mistless is far more debilitating than a lack of adequate apparel.
Furthermore, if someone already knew Valerie from before her enrollment into the Citadel, then they'll be hard-pressed to recognize her current self. Once, she possessed silky hair as dark as a raven's feather, now only bleached gray locks hung from her scalp. Once, the young girl's visage hosted a pair of bright baby blue eyes, now they had mutated into eerie violet irises housing pupils so narrow, they may as well be serpentine slits. All these without even mentioning the "horns" growing from the sides of her skull, in actuality a mutated mass of keratin with horn-like shapes, though they're fortunately benign... so far at least.
In addition, when Valerie engages her mist-fueled personal barrier - with or without the presence of an Aegis device - her body will manifest bio-projections bearing the shape of a halo of thorns above her head and a pair of devilish wings sprouting from her lower back. All of these traits, when combined, gives off the image of a demonic angel (or an angelic demon), earning her the epithet "Nephilim", the offspring born from an unholy union of the divine and the profane. Considering her history, Gaia must've had a twisted sense of humor.
Lastly, when examined under close scrutiny, an observer will be able to see veins with purplish hue underneath Valerie's skin, spread all across her body, including her 'horns'. These very same veins will begin to glow when she uses her Mist-based abilities, the intensity being directly proportional to how far she's exerting herself. On the flipside, they become completely imperceptible in a mistless environment.
As for clothing, Valerie may be many things, but being fussy about fashion isn't one of them. Due to the nature of her powers, the gray-haired WARDEN will wear almost anything as long as it's not harmful to her; a full combat uniform? Sure, casual day-to-day clothes? Fine, a dirty brown rag that'll fit the empire's forced laborers more than a WARDEN? No problem. Really, for Valerie, being rendered Mistless is far more debilitating than a lack of adequate apparel.
P E R S O N A L I T Y
Calm and stoic even under great pressure, Valerie is in someways similar to her fellow WARDEN 2nd Class, Justice, yet distinctly different in other aspects. Unlike the sardonic and rabble-rousing WARDEN, Valerie gives off the image of a maternal figure, preferring to guide with a firm but gentle hand. She's the type to lace her words with some form of sugarcoating if she thinks it'll deliver her message better and consider white lies aren't necessarily always bad, sometimes it's simply not the right time to tell someone the whole truth. Perhaps it's the Maiden in her that never quite left even after all the grueling training, perhaps she has always been predisposed to be this way, regardless, Valerie believes that her methods are as valid as Justice's. After all, one correct answer doesn't always mean all others are wrong.
Often acting as the gentler, more soft-spoken counterpart to the group's de facto squad leader, Valerie serves as the other side of the coin to Justice's drill sergeant-esque approach to leadership. Together, the two serve as the glue that keeps the squad from falling apart, due to petty squabbles or otherwise.
Deep inside, even though Valerie may not even realize it herself, a part of her is motivated by pure, undiluted spite. Spite against the parents who abandoned her, spite against the warmongering empire that forced her homeland to take desperate measures, and most of all, spite against herself and her existence as a whole, a mockery of who she once was, a 'demonic monster' masquerading as a person. Even against everything that life has thrown at her, she'll rise above it all, for the sake of her loved ones. And if she must perish one day, then she'll be sure to unleash the dark divine fury of the Nephilim upon the empire first.
Often acting as the gentler, more soft-spoken counterpart to the group's de facto squad leader, Valerie serves as the other side of the coin to Justice's drill sergeant-esque approach to leadership. Together, the two serve as the glue that keeps the squad from falling apart, due to petty squabbles or otherwise.
Deep inside, even though Valerie may not even realize it herself, a part of her is motivated by pure, undiluted spite. Spite against the parents who abandoned her, spite against the warmongering empire that forced her homeland to take desperate measures, and most of all, spite against herself and her existence as a whole, a mockery of who she once was, a 'demonic monster' masquerading as a person. Even against everything that life has thrown at her, she'll rise above it all, for the sake of her loved ones. And if she must perish one day, then she'll be sure to unleash the dark divine fury of the Nephilim upon the empire first.
B A C K G R O U N D
An orphan of unknown circumstances, little is known about Valerie's early life other than she was left at the doorstep of a local Maidens of the Mother nunnery at rural Rassvet, the very same cloister that a certain bombastic white-haired girl would find herself in the next few years. As for Valerie, it was rather common for infants unwanted by their parents to be handed over into the care of the church, the lesser of two evils compared to... other alternatives, as such, as far as the brunette knew, the Maidens were her family and the Order her home.
Growing up, Valerie was a child who could be described as a 'good girl'; obedient, diligent, and compassionate, she was a model maiden-to-be, a great contrast to the cloister's resident troublemaker, an explosive - in both figurative and literal sense - girl named Silje. In fact, during their years in the monastery, Valerie would often be assigned to keep watch over the older girl when the nuns were busy. A task that she did without protest, however, despite her best attempts, Silje could never be tamed, even managing to escape after multiple attempts. Such a pair of polar opposites, the notion of the two having a career together was unthinkable, surely a delinquent like Silje would never qualify as a Maiden, unlike herself.
But fate, it seemed, had other plans, one that unraveled when Valerie and Silje were ten and twelve summers old respectively.
As it turned out, the two girls were amongst the hundreds of children qualified to be inducted into the Citadel to temper and shape them into the Rassvet's finest warriors, to become WARDENs. Taken away from what Valerie considered to be her family, she was reluctant at first, but one of the sisters asked her to take care of Silje and told her that after a 'mere' decade, she could return. It was enough to convince the brunette to bear with it, she was doing a good cause, to protect the innocent from the warmongering, genocidal empire. It was her solemn duty...
...only she never truly expected what becoming a WARDEN would demand from her. After several tests, it was discovered that Valerie too held considerable yet unpolished talent at wielding the Mist. Whereas Silje's arcane might projected outward in the form of unleashing elemental barrages like a magical cannon, the opposite was true for Valerie, the brunette's had a knack for using Mist to empower herself and her 'domain', the latter consisting of anything she physically touched via her mist, which manifested in the form of creeping purple vein-like growth.
In practical terms, aside from enhancing her own body well into superhuman territory, she could extend this mist-fueled augmentation to any object she was currently holding, and in most cases, it'd be some form of weapon. Through this ability, she could turn the mundane into magical, pushing them to break their limits; a run-of-the-mill pistol could now fire arcane projectiles, a common steel combat knife into a razor-sharp magical blade capable of cutting through steel with ease, etc. Valerie was ecstatic to discover an aspect of herself that she never knew she had, but over the next half a decade of continuously being subjected to mist-related experiments and exercises, she'd learn that there was a price, there was always a price...
It started subtly at first, an odd lock of white hair here and there, a few tiny specks of violet in her eyes, a minor dull ache on her head, and the strange trend of being physically outgrown by most of her peers, surely all in due course due to the grueling training she had to endure, surely they were nothing more than minor side-effects, nothing that a good night's rest and some medicine wouldn't cure. Oh, how wrong she was.
Before she knew it, years passed, and the... thing facing her from beyond the mirror was supposed to be her reflection. Violet eyes with inhuman pupils, a crown of thorns sprouting from her skull, and locks of bleached gray as if she was a woman well into her senior years, yet juxtaposed against the body of a-... Going by the calendar, she was supposed to be nearing the end of her growth spurt, yet she looked no different than a child in the middle of adolescence, no, not a child, a demon, a monster bearing the facsimile of a person.
Horrified at what she had become, Valerie fell into depression for close to a year, until she decided that enough was enough, she might look like a monster, but it didn't mean she had to act like one. She could still use her powers for good. Fueled by newfound determination, the now-white-haired girl pushed herself to be the very best that she could be, resulting in excellent grades across the board. Even though her body appeared to be stuck from developing further, she found out that she could easily compensate for such mortal limitations with her powers, even surpassing what even the best, but otherwise mundane soldiers could do. As such, when graduation came, being christened as a WARDEN 2nd Class came to no surprise for her.
Now a full-fledged WARDEN after a decade of relentless training, the Nephilim figured she and her peers deserved some respite before they'd be deployed to the frontlines. When the idea came for a short vacation, she wholeheartedly accepted, besides, someone still had to watch over Silje, especially now that the excitable girl could turn a whole block into a smoldering crater, literally.
Growing up, Valerie was a child who could be described as a 'good girl'; obedient, diligent, and compassionate, she was a model maiden-to-be, a great contrast to the cloister's resident troublemaker, an explosive - in both figurative and literal sense - girl named Silje. In fact, during their years in the monastery, Valerie would often be assigned to keep watch over the older girl when the nuns were busy. A task that she did without protest, however, despite her best attempts, Silje could never be tamed, even managing to escape after multiple attempts. Such a pair of polar opposites, the notion of the two having a career together was unthinkable, surely a delinquent like Silje would never qualify as a Maiden, unlike herself.
But fate, it seemed, had other plans, one that unraveled when Valerie and Silje were ten and twelve summers old respectively.
As it turned out, the two girls were amongst the hundreds of children qualified to be inducted into the Citadel to temper and shape them into the Rassvet's finest warriors, to become WARDENs. Taken away from what Valerie considered to be her family, she was reluctant at first, but one of the sisters asked her to take care of Silje and told her that after a 'mere' decade, she could return. It was enough to convince the brunette to bear with it, she was doing a good cause, to protect the innocent from the warmongering, genocidal empire. It was her solemn duty...
...only she never truly expected what becoming a WARDEN would demand from her. After several tests, it was discovered that Valerie too held considerable yet unpolished talent at wielding the Mist. Whereas Silje's arcane might projected outward in the form of unleashing elemental barrages like a magical cannon, the opposite was true for Valerie, the brunette's had a knack for using Mist to empower herself and her 'domain', the latter consisting of anything she physically touched via her mist, which manifested in the form of creeping purple vein-like growth.
In practical terms, aside from enhancing her own body well into superhuman territory, she could extend this mist-fueled augmentation to any object she was currently holding, and in most cases, it'd be some form of weapon. Through this ability, she could turn the mundane into magical, pushing them to break their limits; a run-of-the-mill pistol could now fire arcane projectiles, a common steel combat knife into a razor-sharp magical blade capable of cutting through steel with ease, etc. Valerie was ecstatic to discover an aspect of herself that she never knew she had, but over the next half a decade of continuously being subjected to mist-related experiments and exercises, she'd learn that there was a price, there was always a price...
It started subtly at first, an odd lock of white hair here and there, a few tiny specks of violet in her eyes, a minor dull ache on her head, and the strange trend of being physically outgrown by most of her peers, surely all in due course due to the grueling training she had to endure, surely they were nothing more than minor side-effects, nothing that a good night's rest and some medicine wouldn't cure. Oh, how wrong she was.
Before she knew it, years passed, and the... thing facing her from beyond the mirror was supposed to be her reflection. Violet eyes with inhuman pupils, a crown of thorns sprouting from her skull, and locks of bleached gray as if she was a woman well into her senior years, yet juxtaposed against the body of a-... Going by the calendar, she was supposed to be nearing the end of her growth spurt, yet she looked no different than a child in the middle of adolescence, no, not a child, a demon, a monster bearing the facsimile of a person.
Horrified at what she had become, Valerie fell into depression for close to a year, until she decided that enough was enough, she might look like a monster, but it didn't mean she had to act like one. She could still use her powers for good. Fueled by newfound determination, the now-white-haired girl pushed herself to be the very best that she could be, resulting in excellent grades across the board. Even though her body appeared to be stuck from developing further, she found out that she could easily compensate for such mortal limitations with her powers, even surpassing what even the best, but otherwise mundane soldiers could do. As such, when graduation came, being christened as a WARDEN 2nd Class came to no surprise for her.
Now a full-fledged WARDEN after a decade of relentless training, the Nephilim figured she and her peers deserved some respite before they'd be deployed to the frontlines. When the idea came for a short vacation, she wholeheartedly accepted, besides, someone still had to watch over Silje, especially now that the excitable girl could turn a whole block into a smoldering crater, literally.
C O M B A T
Combat Class: Vanguard / Combat Support (Walking Arsenal)
Combat Style:
Taking the form of an HMG-esque weapon longer than she's tall, Haylel is a custom-made armament specifically designed and manufactured to be used by the Nephilim. Unlike normal weapons, Haylel can't function without being infused by Valerie's mistborne power (perhaps aside from using it as a crude bludgeoning stick), but when it is, its true potential is revealed to all. Practically, it's a multi-role magical ranged weapon that can be used for indiscriminate widespread destruction all the way to precision marksmanship. It's as much a mounted machinegun as it is an anti-materiel rifle. Regardless of its current usage, several things remain constant: Haylel fires arcane beam-esque projectiles instead of mundane ballistics and it never needs to be reloaded since it directly feeds off mist infused into it by Valerie to form said projectiles within its meticulously-crafted mechanisms.
Meaning "Lightbringer", Haylel is indeed the bringer of light to all, now whether it's the light of shining hope or divine retribution depends on whether one is on the receiving end of its spinning barrel or not.
Imagine a mighty suit of power armor, everything from its array of weapons to its sturdy armor, then visualize putting all of those properties - weapons, armor, and all - into the figure of a four-foot-something girl. It sounds quite ridiculous at first glance, a hilarious joke even, but no one would be laughing when they found themselves at the receiving end of the Nephilim's unholy wrath. Tis' Valerie in a nutshell, a veritable living, breathing arsenal holding enough firepower to level a city block, with the durability to match. Despite what her diminutive size may suggest, she's no glass cannon, nay, she's a mighty avalanche who’ll roll over her foes in an unstoppable mist-fueled onslaught.
Valerie's mistborne abilities take the form of glowing purple veins that she can command to cover either herself or other objects within her arm's reach. Upon being swarmed, the object is considered to be in her 'domain', within her sphere of influence, these objects can then be subjected to enhancements and modifications, the degree in which is limited by the object's original form.
Offensively, she can turn a kitchen knife into a magical blade capable of slicing through steel or a standard-issue assault rifle into an arcane carbine able to launch photonic projectiles strong enough to penetrate through light combat vehicles.
Defensively, she can augment her own body or any gear she currently wears in the same vein as her weapons, boosting their capabilities beyond their original scope. As such, it doesn't matter whether Valerie is wearing a full combat uniform or tattered rags, as long as she has access to mist, a wise enemy should regard her as if she's wearing a suit of power armor. If Valerie currently has access to an Aegis device, then she can perform a symbiosis with the gadget, conjuring a mighty barrier with robustness that's more than the sum of its parts.
Supportively, Valerie can - technically - exert her influence over a whole vehicle, enhancing them much like her weapons and armor, although it's ill-advised due to the massive constraint the feat will put on her body. If it must be done, the (barely) safe limit is a sports bike or a small car, anything beyond that will most certainly push her into mistburn territory, the degree of which is directly proportional to the size of the affected vehicle.
No matter how Valerie uses her power, one principle remains true, she essentially turns the objects under her mist's influence into an extension of her own body, allowing her to be proficient in using them, regardless of her original proficiency (or lack thereof). For example, though unlikely due to her extensive weapons training as a WARDEN, on the off chance that Valerie encounters a weapon she has no experience in, she can circumvent her lack of skill by exerting her influence upon said weapon.
On the flipside, as with all mistborne powers, caution is always advised. The longer she has to maintain her influence and the larger the object, the more mist she has to manipulate and thus, the more strain she'll have to endure. Mistburn is always a risk even among the best of Wardens and underestimating its dangers is a gross negligence that should never be tolerated.
Combat Style:
Taking the form of an HMG-esque weapon longer than she's tall, Haylel is a custom-made armament specifically designed and manufactured to be used by the Nephilim. Unlike normal weapons, Haylel can't function without being infused by Valerie's mistborne power (perhaps aside from using it as a crude bludgeoning stick), but when it is, its true potential is revealed to all. Practically, it's a multi-role magical ranged weapon that can be used for indiscriminate widespread destruction all the way to precision marksmanship. It's as much a mounted machinegun as it is an anti-materiel rifle. Regardless of its current usage, several things remain constant: Haylel fires arcane beam-esque projectiles instead of mundane ballistics and it never needs to be reloaded since it directly feeds off mist infused into it by Valerie to form said projectiles within its meticulously-crafted mechanisms.
Meaning "Lightbringer", Haylel is indeed the bringer of light to all, now whether it's the light of shining hope or divine retribution depends on whether one is on the receiving end of its spinning barrel or not.
Imagine a mighty suit of power armor, everything from its array of weapons to its sturdy armor, then visualize putting all of those properties - weapons, armor, and all - into the figure of a four-foot-something girl. It sounds quite ridiculous at first glance, a hilarious joke even, but no one would be laughing when they found themselves at the receiving end of the Nephilim's unholy wrath. Tis' Valerie in a nutshell, a veritable living, breathing arsenal holding enough firepower to level a city block, with the durability to match. Despite what her diminutive size may suggest, she's no glass cannon, nay, she's a mighty avalanche who’ll roll over her foes in an unstoppable mist-fueled onslaught.
Valerie's mistborne abilities take the form of glowing purple veins that she can command to cover either herself or other objects within her arm's reach. Upon being swarmed, the object is considered to be in her 'domain', within her sphere of influence, these objects can then be subjected to enhancements and modifications, the degree in which is limited by the object's original form.
Offensively, she can turn a kitchen knife into a magical blade capable of slicing through steel or a standard-issue assault rifle into an arcane carbine able to launch photonic projectiles strong enough to penetrate through light combat vehicles.
Defensively, she can augment her own body or any gear she currently wears in the same vein as her weapons, boosting their capabilities beyond their original scope. As such, it doesn't matter whether Valerie is wearing a full combat uniform or tattered rags, as long as she has access to mist, a wise enemy should regard her as if she's wearing a suit of power armor. If Valerie currently has access to an Aegis device, then she can perform a symbiosis with the gadget, conjuring a mighty barrier with robustness that's more than the sum of its parts.
Supportively, Valerie can - technically - exert her influence over a whole vehicle, enhancing them much like her weapons and armor, although it's ill-advised due to the massive constraint the feat will put on her body. If it must be done, the (barely) safe limit is a sports bike or a small car, anything beyond that will most certainly push her into mistburn territory, the degree of which is directly proportional to the size of the affected vehicle.
No matter how Valerie uses her power, one principle remains true, she essentially turns the objects under her mist's influence into an extension of her own body, allowing her to be proficient in using them, regardless of her original proficiency (or lack thereof). For example, though unlikely due to her extensive weapons training as a WARDEN, on the off chance that Valerie encounters a weapon she has no experience in, she can circumvent her lack of skill by exerting her influence upon said weapon.
On the flipside, as with all mistborne powers, caution is always advised. The longer she has to maintain her influence and the larger the object, the more mist she has to manipulate and thus, the more strain she'll have to endure. Mistburn is always a risk even among the best of Wardens and underestimating its dangers is a gross negligence that should never be tolerated.
R E L A T I O N S H I P S
❖ Gerard: A spoiled child in the body of a grown man with hubris so deep, it can fill a whole ocean. That much is fact about the noble socialite-turned-WARDEN, but it's also a fact that behind all that arrogance is a well-meaning loyal friend with a heart of gold... except that gold is covered in many layers of snark. Although Valerie is able to see through the muck for the glimmering pearl within, it'll be many years before Gerard can truly learn to no longer hide his feelings behind a mask of ego, if he ever does. Nevertheless, he's still a WARDEN and an invaluable member of the team. She'll attempt to guide him, but ultimately, the decision to change for the better lies with Gerard himself.
❖ Kalina: In a peculiar way, Kalina reminds her of Silje despite the two being polar opposites on the surface level. Beneath the superficial quirks, Valerie can see that both of them are socially-awkward individuals who're not quite adept at expressing themselves. However, whereas Silje expresses that awkwardness by just pressing every button and hoping for the best, Kalina prefers to not even try pressing any. Still, as long as the golden-eyed woman is content with herself and capable of following orders when the time comes, then there's no reason for her to be something that she's not. Having self-contentment at being who you are, that's a boon that many take for granted, Valerie can definitely say that.
❖ Lance: If Gerard is someone who hides his gentler side behind a self-imposed 'tough' mask to not appear weak, then Lance feels like someone who has several masks of lies nailed onto his face. He tries to be a model soldier; hard-working, loyal, agreeable, and brave, and while all of these traits may be who he actually is, Valerie can't help but feel that there's a certain air of impostor syndrome with the ginger, he desperately tries to prove himself to others because he can't do it to himself. As a former nun trainee (who took her duties seriously, unlike Silje), Valerie often volunteered to assist with Order-related tasks in the Citadel, and several times on a regular basis, she saw Lance in deep prayer. She didn't eavesdrop for obvious reasons, but it'd be a lie to say that she never wondered just what deep, dark secrets this 'model soldier' keeps inside.
❖ Justice: A fellow 2nd Class and the group's de facto leader. Valerie respects Justice for her no-nonsense attitude when the situation calls for it, as she knows that it's actually harder to be at the top of the pecking order than otherwise, still, no one's perfect and as good as Justice is, her quirks might rub some of her subordinates the wrong way, and a weak chain of command is a literal death sentence in combat situations. Therefore, as Justice's 'vice-commander', Valerie tries her best to cover for the dark-haired woman's shortcomings; together, they'll amount to more than the sum of their parts.
❖ Silje: The closest thing to a childhood friend that Valerie has amongst the group, amongst the whole Citadel even. Though Valerie technically arrived first in the monastery, she could barely remember a period in her early life where Silje wasn't in it. Between her arrival only a mere few years later, her attention-grabbing antics, and the fact that Valerie was the (un)fortunate acolyte often assigned to look after the hyperactive girl, despite the latter being older by two years. Valerie has to admit that she at times muse about an alternate timeline where they fail the aptitude test, or barring that, the war and the WARDEN program not existing in the first place. Where would life take them? So many possibilities, but out of those endless paths, reality picked the one where both of them must be soldiers, to fight for the greater good of all, yes, but no one in their right mind would prefer this life over a peaceful one.
❖ Morden: While Valerie respects the Mist-powered Juggernaut's loyalty to his comrades and devotion to his country's cause, she can't help but feel... conflicted. There are no tusks without cracks, nothing is perfect, and while she can look at herself for the price the WARDENs had to pay for their superhuman prowess, she'd mostly be referring to physical effects, while Morden's case is an example of the toll imposed on their minds. All WARDENs received mental conditioning as part of the program, to make them fearless and loyal soldiers, but it might have gone horribly right for Morden. The giant soldier's utter devotion to Rassvet's cause borders on blind loyalty, and Valerie's concerned that if he's ordered to massacre a group of imperial citizens - innocent civilians by all rights - he'll still do so without a shred of hesitation.
❖ Kalina: In a peculiar way, Kalina reminds her of Silje despite the two being polar opposites on the surface level. Beneath the superficial quirks, Valerie can see that both of them are socially-awkward individuals who're not quite adept at expressing themselves. However, whereas Silje expresses that awkwardness by just pressing every button and hoping for the best, Kalina prefers to not even try pressing any. Still, as long as the golden-eyed woman is content with herself and capable of following orders when the time comes, then there's no reason for her to be something that she's not. Having self-contentment at being who you are, that's a boon that many take for granted, Valerie can definitely say that.
❖ Lance: If Gerard is someone who hides his gentler side behind a self-imposed 'tough' mask to not appear weak, then Lance feels like someone who has several masks of lies nailed onto his face. He tries to be a model soldier; hard-working, loyal, agreeable, and brave, and while all of these traits may be who he actually is, Valerie can't help but feel that there's a certain air of impostor syndrome with the ginger, he desperately tries to prove himself to others because he can't do it to himself. As a former nun trainee (who took her duties seriously, unlike Silje), Valerie often volunteered to assist with Order-related tasks in the Citadel, and several times on a regular basis, she saw Lance in deep prayer. She didn't eavesdrop for obvious reasons, but it'd be a lie to say that she never wondered just what deep, dark secrets this 'model soldier' keeps inside.
❖ Justice: A fellow 2nd Class and the group's de facto leader. Valerie respects Justice for her no-nonsense attitude when the situation calls for it, as she knows that it's actually harder to be at the top of the pecking order than otherwise, still, no one's perfect and as good as Justice is, her quirks might rub some of her subordinates the wrong way, and a weak chain of command is a literal death sentence in combat situations. Therefore, as Justice's 'vice-commander', Valerie tries her best to cover for the dark-haired woman's shortcomings; together, they'll amount to more than the sum of their parts.
❖ Silje: The closest thing to a childhood friend that Valerie has amongst the group, amongst the whole Citadel even. Though Valerie technically arrived first in the monastery, she could barely remember a period in her early life where Silje wasn't in it. Between her arrival only a mere few years later, her attention-grabbing antics, and the fact that Valerie was the (un)fortunate acolyte often assigned to look after the hyperactive girl, despite the latter being older by two years. Valerie has to admit that she at times muse about an alternate timeline where they fail the aptitude test, or barring that, the war and the WARDEN program not existing in the first place. Where would life take them? So many possibilities, but out of those endless paths, reality picked the one where both of them must be soldiers, to fight for the greater good of all, yes, but no one in their right mind would prefer this life over a peaceful one.
❖ Morden: While Valerie respects the Mist-powered Juggernaut's loyalty to his comrades and devotion to his country's cause, she can't help but feel... conflicted. There are no tusks without cracks, nothing is perfect, and while she can look at herself for the price the WARDENs had to pay for their superhuman prowess, she'd mostly be referring to physical effects, while Morden's case is an example of the toll imposed on their minds. All WARDENs received mental conditioning as part of the program, to make them fearless and loyal soldiers, but it might have gone horribly right for Morden. The giant soldier's utter devotion to Rassvet's cause borders on blind loyalty, and Valerie's concerned that if he's ordered to massacre a group of imperial citizens - innocent civilians by all rights - he'll still do so without a shred of hesitation.
M I S C / T R I V I A
❖ Though she tries her best to ignore it nowadays, the fact remains that Valerie has a complex regarding her mutations, and seeing fully-grown men and women (leaning more into the latter), especially those with well-developed physique, always reminds her of what could've been had she never qualified for the WARDEN program in the first place. A keen observer will be able to notice the tell-tale signs of subtle envious stares, especially in situations where people are expected to wear revealing clothing, such as a beach party.
❖ Along with the initial signs of physical mutations, Valerie also began to develop an addiction to Mistburn-suppressant drugs, one that steadily got worse over the years up until she fully "transformed" into her current state. As of now, she can be classified as a high-functioning addict, able to function day-to-day with little to no issues as long as she receives a dose of Astral Reducer every few days. Ignoring this will result in withdrawal symptoms that'll gradually progress from mild annoyances to life-threatening. There’s no permanent cure, only temporary control measures. Valerie is very self-conscious of this affliction, more so than her stagnated growth and 'demonic' traits, and mocking her about it is a foolproof method of burning bridges with her.
❖ During her life in the monastery, the nuns discovered that Valerie has latent musical talents, particularly in singing and playing the piano, though they're never developed further after her recruitment into the WARDEN program.
❖ She has a sweet tooth and her favorite dessert is a slice of mille crepe layered cake.
❖ Theme:
❖ Along with the initial signs of physical mutations, Valerie also began to develop an addiction to Mistburn-suppressant drugs, one that steadily got worse over the years up until she fully "transformed" into her current state. As of now, she can be classified as a high-functioning addict, able to function day-to-day with little to no issues as long as she receives a dose of Astral Reducer every few days. Ignoring this will result in withdrawal symptoms that'll gradually progress from mild annoyances to life-threatening. There’s no permanent cure, only temporary control measures. Valerie is very self-conscious of this affliction, more so than her stagnated growth and 'demonic' traits, and mocking her about it is a foolproof method of burning bridges with her.
❖ During her life in the monastery, the nuns discovered that Valerie has latent musical talents, particularly in singing and playing the piano, though they're never developed further after her recruitment into the WARDEN program.
❖ She has a sweet tooth and her favorite dessert is a slice of mille crepe layered cake.
❖ Theme:
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"Dialogue"
Thoughts
Color Code: b93bc2
OP
--Rassvet - Tanker Crash Site--
"..." When Kalina fished out what was inside the box Gerard gave her, the motivation behind Ivan's actions was no longer a matter of speculation. Amongst the Barghests and even the WARDEN corps as a whole, it could be said that Valerie was one of the more empathetic ones; her vow to not let her mutations define her certainly played a major part in her personal mission to not end up like... well, Morden, and WARDENs like him.
However, even the Nephilim had her limits, while she'd rather die than turning into an unfeeling weapon of mass destruction, she wouldn't call herself a compassionate pacifist either. In the end, she was a soldier and her job would inevitably involve deaths, both suffering and causing them. This... Ivan, this two-faced conman was attempting to pilfer essential war assets for his own gain. Even disregarding Mylo's gift for his daughter, the man was a parasitic vermin; he was an enemy of the state and the people, and while he technically wasn't a combatant, Valerie couldn't shake off the thought that a leech like him would be better off dead.
...and it seemed Kalina had the exact same idea.
"Good riddance."
Should she feel bad? ...no, no she shouldn't, parasites like Ivan were like gut worms, the world could only be better off without them in it.
With Kalina handling the "evidence", Valerie decided to assist Gerard and the others with recovering the stolen supplies. Meanwhile, she heard something about Collette producing her own mist? Now that was unheard of; nature produced mist and people manipulated what was already there, that's how it usually goes, but Rassvet was but a small country in a big, big world, a world full of wondrous and terrible things both, her... self being a good example. In other words, Valerie was intrigued, yet unsurprised.
"Maybe the little spatial anomaly you endured in that ship did something to your genes, who knows, but I won't be surprised if it's the case. Mist storms don't exactly obey the "rules" of nature." The white-haired WARDEN gave her two-cents with a shrug before turning at Gerard, "I mean... don't get me wrong, I'm not being pessimistic for the hell of it, but I do expect we'll encounter more problems later, when that time comes, we do as we usually do: adapt, improvise, and overcome. We're WARDENs, squad, not politicians."
OP
References:
- FFIX Black Magic Spells
- FFT Black Magic Spells
- FFT Geomancy Spells
"... ... ...friend?"
AGE:
GENDER:
RACE:
ORIGIN:
TRIVIA:
- FFIX Black Magic Spells
- FFT Black Magic Spells
- FFT Geomancy Spells
EVE "GRAYSCALE"
"... ... ...friend?"
GENERAL INFORMATION
AGE:
Chronologically unknown, physically looks equivalent to a Sollan on the cusp of adolescence
GENDER:
Female
RACE:
Pseudolon (Pseudo-Eidolon) w/ Sollan genetic template
ORIGIN:
Valheim
COMBAT INFORMATION
CLASS:
WEAPON:
INVENTORY:
MATERIA:
LIMIT BREAKS:
Black Mage
WEAPON:
Eve's weapon (or lack thereof) takes the form of her own body, or at least, the Eidolon half of herself, which essentially functions similarly to a mage's staff. By simply tapping into the arcane circuits inside her, Eve is able to amplify her spells as if she's wielding an arcane focus. Furthermore, while she can technically use any part of her body, Eve most commonly employs her horns, arms, and tail for her spellcasting.
INVENTORY:
❖ Potions, tonics, and salves
❖ Adventurer's kit
❖ Assorted preserved food and rations
❖ Spare clothes
❖ Blue Dragon Scale: Gifted to her by Galahad, the scale taken from the blue dragon that marked the dragoon's first kill.
❖ Adventurer's kit
❖ Assorted preserved food and rations
❖ Spare clothes
❖ Blue Dragon Scale: Gifted to her by Galahad, the scale taken from the blue dragon that marked the dragoon's first kill.
MATERIA:
❖ MP Turbo: When activated, amplify the effects of offensive spells at the cost of increased mana consumption.
LIMIT BREAKS:
❖ Ira Draconis: A Trance-type limit break power. By tapping further into her Eidolon nature, Eve flexes her arcane muscles beyond their limits, causing her to transform into a draconic creature resembling the King of Dragons himself. In this state, Eve's magical output and mana consumption are doubled, she gains free flight, and becomes completely numb to pain. Lasts for a few minutes or until she's incapacitated, whichever happens first. In the aftermath, the sheer exertion demanded by this ability will render Eve unable to cast any spells until she recovers her mana reserves back to full.
❖ Mega Flare: The Dragon King's signature breath attack. Though but a pale imitation of the real deal, Eve's Mega Flare still carries enough power to destroy an air battleship or vaporize a city block in one fell sweep. Only usable in Ira Draconis state and using it will immediately incapacitate Eve in addition to the consequences of using her Trance.
❖ Mega Flare: The Dragon King's signature breath attack. Though but a pale imitation of the real deal, Eve's Mega Flare still carries enough power to destroy an air battleship or vaporize a city block in one fell sweep. Only usable in Ira Draconis state and using it will immediately incapacitate Eve in addition to the consequences of using her Trance.
PERSONAL INFORMATION
Standing at a mere 139cm (4'7"), one will be completely justified to assume that Eve is a young girl barely on the cusp of adolescence. However, her unusual looks usually take center stage over her meager height; deep crimson eyes, bleached gray hair, and an albino pale complexion will already be enough to make her stand out as unusual, then once her ivory white draconic horns, tail, and patches of scales are factored in, then height is undoubtedly made irrelevant. Her visage is bizarre, that much is certain, leading to wary and/or distrustful stares from others, which are made doubly worse once they discover that she's a black mage, one of those scum who stole the Divine Mother's Light for their own nefarious purposes, no wonder she's cursed to look like the monster her kind truly are.
However, if one manages to look past her anomalous traits, they'll be able to see that Eve is actually quite pretty, like a girl that'll one day blossom into a fair maiden, but alas, there are simply too many things about her that'll unnerve the common populace.
However, if one manages to look past her anomalous traits, they'll be able to see that Eve is actually quite pretty, like a girl that'll one day blossom into a fair maiden, but alas, there are simply too many things about her that'll unnerve the common populace.
Quiet, taciturn, and unassuming, Eve is the kind of person who prefers to not attract unnecessary attention to herself. Her looks and magical abilities alone are plenty enough reasons for her to avoid the figurative spotlight, prompting her to wear apparel such as hoods and trenchcoats to hide her inhuman traits. She rarely speaks unless it's absolutely necessary or when around trusted comrades. Due to her upbringing as a test subject, it's rather difficult for Eve to truly trust someone, always wary of any ulterior motives, but when someone does gain her trust, then she'll risk life and limb to ensure they'll come to no harm.
On the other hand, behind the demure veil lies the scion of Bahamut, with the ferocity and ambition one should expect from a spawn of the King of Dragons. Fueled by an insatiable thirst to right wrongs and save others from experiencing the same fate as herself. When riled up, the black mage is deceptively quick to resort to violence for someone so seemingly docile. She especially despises tyrants and oppressors; people who coerce, bully, and intimidate those weaker than them, as they remind her of the very scum who made her life hell from her birth up until she escaped.
In her 'Ira Draconis' Trance form, the aloof part of her persona sheds away completely, leaving only the Dragon in all of her righteous fury.
On the other hand, behind the demure veil lies the scion of Bahamut, with the ferocity and ambition one should expect from a spawn of the King of Dragons. Fueled by an insatiable thirst to right wrongs and save others from experiencing the same fate as herself. When riled up, the black mage is deceptively quick to resort to violence for someone so seemingly docile. She especially despises tyrants and oppressors; people who coerce, bully, and intimidate those weaker than them, as they remind her of the very scum who made her life hell from her birth up until she escaped.
In her 'Ira Draconis' Trance form, the aloof part of her persona sheds away completely, leaving only the Dragon in all of her righteous fury.
Most individuals were born from the union of two, through a loving marriage, a brief fling, or something else entirely. Even if one or both parents were absent in someone's life, it's an established certainty that there was once a connection between a pair of individuals; the father who conceived them and the mother who gave birth to them...
...Eve wasn't one such person, or ‘Grayscale' as she once was known. As the titular subject of 'Project Grayscale', Eve was "born" in a test tube, the result of an artificial insemination as part of the Valheimr project to harness the power of Bahamut the King of All Dragons. In doing so, Eve - as an embryo - was continuously infused with the distilled essence of the draconic eidolon, she among several other of her 'sisters', but over the course of the following months, only she survived the process leading to her "birth". As the most stable and promising specimen, the staff dubbed her 'Grayscale' and the project could move into the next stage: Cultivating the Pseudo-Eidolon to be the empire's ultimate weapon, possessing the terrible might of Bahamut and the obedience of a well-trained hound.
Unsurprisingly, life as a test subject was anything but easy, nor even humane, Grayscale was given all the attention in the world, except as an invaluable tool instead of a living, breathing child. Everyone in the facility knew her, she was the reason why they were all here, but she never received any love, nor kindness, nor warmth, well, except from one, Dr. Evangelina Zhidkova, or 'Eve' as she was commonly referred as. Among the endless sea of uncaring darkness, Dr. Eve stood as the sole beacon of warm light, the one who read her stories, comforted her after a particularly grueling experiment, told her that she'd grow up to be a hero for the proud Valheim Empire, and that one day, this would all be worth it, for a greater purpose that no one else but her could achieve.
So Grayscale soldiered on, day after day, year after year, no matter how painful, how agonizing the things she had to go through, it'd one day be worth it...
...that was until she was suddenly awakened from her stasis pod to find a bleeding, dying Dr. Eve smiling at her even as blood dripped from between her teeth, "Go, live!" was all she could say before a facility guard put a bullet through her back, murdering Grayscale's surrogate mother right before her eyes.
At that exact moment, a mighty roar violently reverberated throughout the complex, it was as if Bahamut himself had descended upon the arrogant fools, to make them pay for their hubris. Screams, gunshots, and a whole cacophony of bloody chaos soon followed, and then, silence... nothing but sweet, sweet silence...
..........
.....
...
Emerging from the ruined remains of the facility, her feet set upon fresh soil for the very first time, and though she now hated the empire for what they did to her, for murdering her mother, the Blighted world was proof enough that mother wasn't lying, she did have a greater purpose. Thus, with flames burning in her heart, Grayscale-... no, Eve left her smoldering nest into the whole wide world, a world that might fear or hate her for who she was, but one that's worth saving nonetheless.
...Eve wasn't one such person, or ‘Grayscale' as she once was known. As the titular subject of 'Project Grayscale', Eve was "born" in a test tube, the result of an artificial insemination as part of the Valheimr project to harness the power of Bahamut the King of All Dragons. In doing so, Eve - as an embryo - was continuously infused with the distilled essence of the draconic eidolon, she among several other of her 'sisters', but over the course of the following months, only she survived the process leading to her "birth". As the most stable and promising specimen, the staff dubbed her 'Grayscale' and the project could move into the next stage: Cultivating the Pseudo-Eidolon to be the empire's ultimate weapon, possessing the terrible might of Bahamut and the obedience of a well-trained hound.
Unsurprisingly, life as a test subject was anything but easy, nor even humane, Grayscale was given all the attention in the world, except as an invaluable tool instead of a living, breathing child. Everyone in the facility knew her, she was the reason why they were all here, but she never received any love, nor kindness, nor warmth, well, except from one, Dr. Evangelina Zhidkova, or 'Eve' as she was commonly referred as. Among the endless sea of uncaring darkness, Dr. Eve stood as the sole beacon of warm light, the one who read her stories, comforted her after a particularly grueling experiment, told her that she'd grow up to be a hero for the proud Valheim Empire, and that one day, this would all be worth it, for a greater purpose that no one else but her could achieve.
So Grayscale soldiered on, day after day, year after year, no matter how painful, how agonizing the things she had to go through, it'd one day be worth it...
...that was until she was suddenly awakened from her stasis pod to find a bleeding, dying Dr. Eve smiling at her even as blood dripped from between her teeth, "Go, live!" was all she could say before a facility guard put a bullet through her back, murdering Grayscale's surrogate mother right before her eyes.
At that exact moment, a mighty roar violently reverberated throughout the complex, it was as if Bahamut himself had descended upon the arrogant fools, to make them pay for their hubris. Screams, gunshots, and a whole cacophony of bloody chaos soon followed, and then, silence... nothing but sweet, sweet silence...
..........
.....
...
Emerging from the ruined remains of the facility, her feet set upon fresh soil for the very first time, and though she now hated the empire for what they did to her, for murdering her mother, the Blighted world was proof enough that mother wasn't lying, she did have a greater purpose. Thus, with flames burning in her heart, Grayscale-... no, Eve left her smoldering nest into the whole wide world, a world that might fear or hate her for who she was, but one that's worth saving nonetheless.
❖ Quite older than she looks. Unlike normal people, Eve was rapidly developed from embryo stage to look how she's now and shall remain forever, physically unchanging just like the Eidolons she emulates.
❖ Eve's physiology is notably different in that she only requires ether to survive, though she still can enjoy food and drinks for pleasure. Furthermore, she doesn't have a set circadian rhythm, she only feels drowsy when exhausted.
❖ Speaking of food, meat is her favorite; fresh, grilled, stewed, you can rarely go wrong with meat.
❖ Has an innate ability to learn and replicate black magic spells just by observing them in action, the arcane equivalent of a pitch perfect musician.
❖ Almost always wears baggy and concealing clothing with muted colors to avoid unnecessary attention due to her appearance; a hood to hide her horns, a trench coat that she can tuck her tail into, and gloves and long boots to cover as much of her scale-patched skin as possible.
❖ Eve's physiology is notably different in that she only requires ether to survive, though she still can enjoy food and drinks for pleasure. Furthermore, she doesn't have a set circadian rhythm, she only feels drowsy when exhausted.
❖ Speaking of food, meat is her favorite; fresh, grilled, stewed, you can rarely go wrong with meat.
❖ Has an innate ability to learn and replicate black magic spells just by observing them in action, the arcane equivalent of a pitch perfect musician.
❖ Almost always wears baggy and concealing clothing with muted colors to avoid unnecessary attention due to her appearance; a hood to hide her horns, a trench coat that she can tuck her tail into, and gloves and long boots to cover as much of her scale-patched skin as possible.
❖ Dr. Evangelina 'Eve' Zhidkova: The person whose name Eve adopted as her own. The only personnel in the facility that actually cared for the test subject and decided to go rogue due to said care. KIA by security personnel after she released 'Subject Grayscale' from containment, sacrificing her own life so the Pseudolon can live free.
❖ Project Grayscale Team: Assorted research, security, and support staff who worked in the research facility, all presumed either KIA or MIA after Grayscale's rampage.
❖ Project Grayscale Team: Assorted research, security, and support staff who worked in the research facility, all presumed either KIA or MIA after Grayscale's rampage.
TRIVIA:
❖ Color Code: d3d3d3
❖ Eve has spent the years following her escape working as an adventurer, mainly in Ibros to avoid dealing with the empire, but then Valheim invaded Osprey, prompting her to head there to help the locals banish those tyrants back to their own continent.
❖ Eve has spent the years following her escape working as an adventurer, mainly in Ibros to avoid dealing with the empire, but then Valheim invaded Osprey, prompting her to head there to help the locals banish those tyrants back to their own continent.
OP
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"Dialogue"
Thoughts
Color Code: d3d3d3
OP
--Artimis - High Seas--
Heavy, much too heavy, she wasn't built for this. While no one was perfect - not even the gods - brawn was undoubtedly where Eve was most imperfect, one could even argue she was defective considering even a Kirin of her size, the feline Red Mage, could noticeably better handle tasks requiring feats of strength. Was this a sign from the heavens that she should consider training with one of the martial-minded Kirins? A matter to ponder later, but right here, right now, she had to do something; with each second ticking by, her grip on the electrocuted, rattled, and exhausted blond was slipping.
Cast a spell? She is the group's premiere offensive spellcaster so might as well play to her talents. An aeromantic blast to propel his form toward the ship would be the most obvious solution.
However, Esben was nowhere in a good shape, how severe were his wounds? Did the Sollan already have one foot in the grave? If so, she needed to adjust the power of the spell, too little and he'd simply fall back into the sea, too much and what'd arrive at the deck would be a corpse.
So many calculations to make, factors to consider, all requiring time that she didn't have-!
-and then the Kirin's very own dragon slayer and dashing heroine made the decision for her as the former propelled them toward the latter, already swinging on a rope, ready to catch them... or to be more specific, one of them. "Tch...!" Now that the die had been cast, the last thing she should do was sabotage it. Fully believing that it'd work, Eve released her hold on Esben's arm, leaving him - somewhat literally - in Robin's arms.
And she made it, of course she would. Robin was a folk hero for a reason after all.
For her part, Eve landed back on the ship just as Valon returned to his. "..." As a dragoon, traitor or no, he should know what'd be coming next, aye? There was a reason why Edren employed his kind, not warships, to hunt dragons. If he had forgotten, then she'd gladly remind him.
Etherous power was already coursing through Eve's body as the tell-tale signs of the distinctive prismatic aura shimmered from her petite frame. Proudclad's Tragedy shall claim another!
...?! Then her gaze widened upon identifying just who was on the turncoat's armored shoulder.
What is the matter, Grayscale? She's already dead, go, do it! Vaporize them, unleash Megaflare!
If she was, then why would Valon bother going out of his way to rescue her? Could it be-...
Thinking does not suit you, you are a weapon, act like one. Simply imagine as you turn these arrogant fools into dust, imagine the pleasure. They're the enemy, they deserve no quarter, no mercy. Hesitate not, Grayscale, ...do it.
"I-..."
”I have to wonder if that would be honoring your mother’s wishes, to exterminate all the others like you. It would be a different matter if they were mindless weapons capable of nothing but mass destruction.”
”Wear it, break it, ponder upon it, throw it in the sea. Do something with it. What I need from you, is to be more than just a weapon.”
"That's right, I-..."
”Are you such an exception that giving such mercy to the others is unthinkable?”
”Don't swear to me. Swear it to yourself.”
"I swore."
"No, I will not."
--2 Days Later, Drana Asnaeu - Costa del Sol--
"Aaah..." Eve droned out an unamused, tired groan at the group of... what were they supposed to be anyway? Guards, mercenaries, random thugs? They dressed fancy and talked firmly, yet politely, so... guards...? Whatever they were, after what Valon, Siren, and their cronies tried to pull a few days ago, Eve had little patience left for people accosting the team.
She, amongst individuals such as Izayoi, knew very well how vexing being hounded was, though the subject being Neve out of all people did slightly take her by surprise. I suppose she's such a precious healer that they want her all to themselves, whoever these Grovemasters are.
Eve's red eyes shifted awkwardly when the head guard called for more of their numbers. Some part of her wanted to quip something along the lines of "I wouldn't do that if I were you", while subtly angling her head toward Izayoi, but another part of her realized that inhospitable as they were, they were still Neve's people.
Fortunately, the ever-reliable Esben had come up with a more... one could say, diplomatic approach than whatever Eve or Izayoi could come up with. After his introduction, one of the guards glanced at the black-clad mage amongst the Kirin and Eve simply just shrugged in response, "what he said" would be an apt phrase to illustrate the gesture.
Though she wasn't sure if picking Rudolf as his "chaperone" was the right move, maybe someone more native to his homeland would do better, such as Elian-... hmm, nevermind, Rudolf would do.
OP
Mèlisande Tearmoon & Kronos
16 / Unknown | Lilim / Dremora | Female / Genderless | 157cm (5'2") / N/A | 46kg (101 lbs) / N/A
Goal: Firstly, driven by a sense of loyalty to her mother, Matriarch Jezebel Tearmoon, and the coven she belongs to, Melisande strives to realize her ambitions of exerting the coven's control over the Glasic Fields by whatever means most convenient, whether through supporting the Wizard Queen or the Duke of Rhinecliff. Secondly, motivated by gratitude to the Dremora of Time, Kronos, who dwells within her, she wishes to search for a way to separate their conjoined souls so it can return to the Shade from whence it came. Thirdly, above all, she wishes to enjoy everything life has to offer before her borrowed time finally ends, whenever it'll be.
History:
At the tender age of sixteen summers, Melisande qualified for a scholarship from the Society of Young Magic to attend Hathforth Academy. There, she could hone her power over chronomancy, the arcane art of space-time and causality manipulation, using the best resources and tutelage the academy could offer. In addition, her mother tasked her with gathering any information that'd help the Tearmoon coven to rule over the Glasic Fields and obtain exclusive authorization to manage it, essentially supplanting the Royal Gardeners, but no one needs to know that... at least not before it’s appropriate to whisk the curtains.
Seed: Gemini - Melisande's Seed takes the form of a gem-encrusted golden star-shaped brooch. Perfectly symmetrical from the vertical axis, Gemini's primary function is to manipulate the fabric of space-time to conjure an identical copy of Melisande's body, including her current apparel, and either Kronos or Melisande herself can focus their consciousness to control said copy, which practically allows the twins to have a separate body each. The clone continuously consumes mana to maintain its existence and when dispelled through one reason or another, it'll simply vanish into fleeting motes of pure mana.
Magic:
Skills:
Faction: Tearmoon Coven - Melisande is affiliated with the Tearmoon Coven, a society of Lilim (and their husbands or more rarely, wives) under the rule and guidance of the Matriarch, chosen by popular vote upon the death or abdication of her predecessor. While there are multiple covens scattered across the world, including Arrowfell, the Tearmoons are the most prominent among them. They're a little over a thousand members strong and host some of the best arcane practitioners in the region.
City: Tearmoon Glade - The patch of land dominated by meadows and rolling hills that the coven claimed as their ancestral home, dating back to centuries old. Though they're mostly self-sufficient due to the Lilim's talents in the arcane, they aren't xenophobic, in fact, it's the exact opposite. Due to how their race propagates, a Lilim can only bear Lilim daughters and as such, they need men of other races to take in as consorts.
Though each coven may differ in their culture and norms, Tearmoons in particular endorse Lilim-focused polygamy in that a Lilim is allowed to have multiple husbands (and/or wives, though husbands are preferred) and they do not acknowledge adultery if a husband or wife of a non-Lilim decides to marry one. The latter in particular is quite a controversial practice amongst outsiders as the Lilim's propensity for alluring comeliness means it's quite common for a married person to be tempted to elope on their spouse with a coven member.
In Tearmoon, only Lilim can become full-fledged coven members and they all share the same surname, which is the coven's name. People of other races need to be espoused to a member to be allowed to live within their enclave. Members who have come of age are encouraged to venture out of the glade, both to gather life experience and find a potential spouse to bring back to the coven.
Aside from providing services related to magic and alchemy, causing marital problems to non-Lilim women and men, and generally functioning as a self-sufficient enclave, the coven maintains neutrality in political affairs... until the Glasic Fields' sudden introduction into the region. Standing at the foremost of this newfound ambition is Matriarch Jezebel and her appointed agent, Melisande.
Assets: Arcane services, alchemical products, and... a popular emigration destination for individuals (mostly men) preferring an easy, docile life as a consort.
History:
The Lilim, a curious race of monogendered people; beautiful, physically delicate, and magically talented, these all-female sapients were said to have descended from ancient nymphs intermarrying with humans and elves. Regardless of the truth, it's clear that the mystical influence of the fey realm runs strong in them, which would indeed explain their peculiar traits. Then, the Dremora, shadowy creatures hailing from the Shade, dreaded and mysterious, they're a subject of innumerable stories and legends, malevolent anathema to the All-Force itself.
One might ask, what if a pair of Lilim and Dremora are forced to coexist? Melisande's very existence is a representation of such a concept.
Born as the first child of the current matriarch - leader - of the Tearmoon lilim coven, Melisande's struggle began right after she left her mother's womb. A sickly infant, the girl's early years were spent mostly bedridden and confined in her room, and even the best of the coven's healers were unable to cure her ailments, it was as if her fate had been set in stone, that she was to suffer through a short life of agony before she'd waste away into an eternal sleep. Something that the matriarch found unacceptable, her beloved daughter would live... by any means necessary.
After exhausting almost every option, Jezebel turned to the forbidden, in place of the so-called benevolent All-Force who couldn't save her daughter, she'd instead embrace the dark gifts of the Shade. Delving into eldritch knowledge was quite achievable for a Lilim of her stature, thus after no small amount of research, the coven matriarch prepared a ritual, one that would summon a dremora from the Shade and use its unlife-force to immortalize her child.
The ritual... succeeded, Jezebel summoned a creature of timeless existence and infused it into Melisande, freezing the progression of the child's affliction. However, meddling with the shade had its price, there'd always be a catch, and in this case, it's the harrowing fact that the otherworldly creature didn't quite disappear, instead its consciousness melded with Melisande's, practically turning them into a conjoined twin sharing a single body. Still, Jezebel deemed that it was worth it.
...and so did Melisande, as she grew up, she learned to coexist with her "twin", her 'other self', one she named Kronos. As for Kronos, it was resentful at first, being imprisoned in someone else's body, but due to the combination of Melisande's warm friendliness, its own curiosity about the material plane, and last but not least, the promise of one day being able to be separated and return home, it grew to tolerate its new life, one might say it might've grown fond of Melisande, though it'll never admit it.
One might ask, what if a pair of Lilim and Dremora are forced to coexist? Melisande's very existence is a representation of such a concept.
Born as the first child of the current matriarch - leader - of the Tearmoon lilim coven, Melisande's struggle began right after she left her mother's womb. A sickly infant, the girl's early years were spent mostly bedridden and confined in her room, and even the best of the coven's healers were unable to cure her ailments, it was as if her fate had been set in stone, that she was to suffer through a short life of agony before she'd waste away into an eternal sleep. Something that the matriarch found unacceptable, her beloved daughter would live... by any means necessary.
After exhausting almost every option, Jezebel turned to the forbidden, in place of the so-called benevolent All-Force who couldn't save her daughter, she'd instead embrace the dark gifts of the Shade. Delving into eldritch knowledge was quite achievable for a Lilim of her stature, thus after no small amount of research, the coven matriarch prepared a ritual, one that would summon a dremora from the Shade and use its unlife-force to immortalize her child.
The ritual... succeeded, Jezebel summoned a creature of timeless existence and infused it into Melisande, freezing the progression of the child's affliction. However, meddling with the shade had its price, there'd always be a catch, and in this case, it's the harrowing fact that the otherworldly creature didn't quite disappear, instead its consciousness melded with Melisande's, practically turning them into a conjoined twin sharing a single body. Still, Jezebel deemed that it was worth it.
...and so did Melisande, as she grew up, she learned to coexist with her "twin", her 'other self', one she named Kronos. As for Kronos, it was resentful at first, being imprisoned in someone else's body, but due to the combination of Melisande's warm friendliness, its own curiosity about the material plane, and last but not least, the promise of one day being able to be separated and return home, it grew to tolerate its new life, one might say it might've grown fond of Melisande, though it'll never admit it.
At the tender age of sixteen summers, Melisande qualified for a scholarship from the Society of Young Magic to attend Hathforth Academy. There, she could hone her power over chronomancy, the arcane art of space-time and causality manipulation, using the best resources and tutelage the academy could offer. In addition, her mother tasked her with gathering any information that'd help the Tearmoon coven to rule over the Glasic Fields and obtain exclusive authorization to manage it, essentially supplanting the Royal Gardeners, but no one needs to know that... at least not before it’s appropriate to whisk the curtains.
Seed: Gemini - Melisande's Seed takes the form of a gem-encrusted golden star-shaped brooch. Perfectly symmetrical from the vertical axis, Gemini's primary function is to manipulate the fabric of space-time to conjure an identical copy of Melisande's body, including her current apparel, and either Kronos or Melisande herself can focus their consciousness to control said copy, which practically allows the twins to have a separate body each. The clone continuously consumes mana to maintain its existence and when dispelled through one reason or another, it'll simply vanish into fleeting motes of pure mana.
Magic:
❖ Swift: Enchants a target with magical vigor, allowing them to perform actions quicker.
❖ Slow: Hexes a target with arcane malady, hindering their movements.
❖ Hasten: Accelerates the progression of an effect, for example, an antidote that'd need several minutes to fully take effect can be manipulated into a single minute.
❖ Hinder: Impedes the progression of an effect, for example, a venom that'd have taken a minute to kill can be delayed to several minutes.
❖ Blink: Manipulates space-time to instantly change the caster's location to another location within sight or a maximum of several meters, whichever is closer.
❖ Reflect: Conjures a barrier that can reverse the trajectory of mundane projectiles, unable to affect magical projectiles.
❖ Vacuum: Generate a localized implosion at a designated point in space, damaging anything within that space with pure force. The size of each implosion can be no larger than an apple. Its destructive power is similar to a Firebolt spell.
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❖ Dimension Door: Connects two separate points of space via a portal, enabling nigh-instantaneous travel between the two. If a portal closes while something is traveling through it, then the subject will either be wholly ejected into one end or if impossible due to one reason or another, severed in two. Can only conjure a single pair of portals simultaneously.
❖ Fate Bond: Intertwines the strings of causality between two separate individuals. If a bonded creature receives an effect, then the same will be applied to its pair. Can only work on creatures with a soul and no more than a single pair simultaneously.
❖ Void: Basically a larger version of Vacuum, this one can affect a volume of space as large as an adult horse. Its destructive power is similar to a Fireball spell.
❖ Slow: Hexes a target with arcane malady, hindering their movements.
❖ Hasten: Accelerates the progression of an effect, for example, an antidote that'd need several minutes to fully take effect can be manipulated into a single minute.
❖ Hinder: Impedes the progression of an effect, for example, a venom that'd have taken a minute to kill can be delayed to several minutes.
❖ Blink: Manipulates space-time to instantly change the caster's location to another location within sight or a maximum of several meters, whichever is closer.
❖ Reflect: Conjures a barrier that can reverse the trajectory of mundane projectiles, unable to affect magical projectiles.
❖ Vacuum: Generate a localized implosion at a designated point in space, damaging anything within that space with pure force. The size of each implosion can be no larger than an apple. Its destructive power is similar to a Firebolt spell.
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❖ Dimension Door: Connects two separate points of space via a portal, enabling nigh-instantaneous travel between the two. If a portal closes while something is traveling through it, then the subject will either be wholly ejected into one end or if impossible due to one reason or another, severed in two. Can only conjure a single pair of portals simultaneously.
❖ Fate Bond: Intertwines the strings of causality between two separate individuals. If a bonded creature receives an effect, then the same will be applied to its pair. Can only work on creatures with a soul and no more than a single pair simultaneously.
❖ Void: Basically a larger version of Vacuum, this one can affect a volume of space as large as an adult horse. Its destructive power is similar to a Fireball spell.
Skills:
❖ Magical Erudition
❖ Metamagic: Silent Spells
❖ Agelessness
❖ Dremora Sense
❖ Nymphish Charm
❖ Diplomacy
❖ Metamagic: Silent Spells
❖ Agelessness
❖ Dremora Sense
❖ Nymphish Charm
❖ Diplomacy
Faction: Tearmoon Coven - Melisande is affiliated with the Tearmoon Coven, a society of Lilim (and their husbands or more rarely, wives) under the rule and guidance of the Matriarch, chosen by popular vote upon the death or abdication of her predecessor. While there are multiple covens scattered across the world, including Arrowfell, the Tearmoons are the most prominent among them. They're a little over a thousand members strong and host some of the best arcane practitioners in the region.
City: Tearmoon Glade - The patch of land dominated by meadows and rolling hills that the coven claimed as their ancestral home, dating back to centuries old. Though they're mostly self-sufficient due to the Lilim's talents in the arcane, they aren't xenophobic, in fact, it's the exact opposite. Due to how their race propagates, a Lilim can only bear Lilim daughters and as such, they need men of other races to take in as consorts.
Though each coven may differ in their culture and norms, Tearmoons in particular endorse Lilim-focused polygamy in that a Lilim is allowed to have multiple husbands (and/or wives, though husbands are preferred) and they do not acknowledge adultery if a husband or wife of a non-Lilim decides to marry one. The latter in particular is quite a controversial practice amongst outsiders as the Lilim's propensity for alluring comeliness means it's quite common for a married person to be tempted to elope on their spouse with a coven member.
In Tearmoon, only Lilim can become full-fledged coven members and they all share the same surname, which is the coven's name. People of other races need to be espoused to a member to be allowed to live within their enclave. Members who have come of age are encouraged to venture out of the glade, both to gather life experience and find a potential spouse to bring back to the coven.
Aside from providing services related to magic and alchemy, causing marital problems to non-Lilim women and men, and generally functioning as a self-sufficient enclave, the coven maintains neutrality in political affairs... until the Glasic Fields' sudden introduction into the region. Standing at the foremost of this newfound ambition is Matriarch Jezebel and her appointed agent, Melisande.
Assets: Arcane services, alchemical products, and... a popular emigration destination for individuals (mostly men) preferring an easy, docile life as a consort.
Mèlisande & Kronos' Relationships | |
|---|---|
Us Melisande to Kronos and Kronos to Melisande. A pair of existences as distinct as oil and water, yet united together through the machinations of the Tearmoon Matriarch. | ________________________ ________________________ ________________________ "You're the reason I can live, laugh, and love, Kronos, thank you." "Hmph, tis' a burden forced upon me, however, I shall keep you alive until I can be free from this prison. Woe to all who aims to harm Us." |
Matriarch Jezebel Tearmoon The reigning matriarch of the Tearmoon Coven, Melisande's mother by blood, and last but not least, Kronos' abductor. One of the two is obviously more fond of her than the other. | ________________________ ________________________ ________________________ "My beloved mother, she could simply bear more daughters yet she never gave up on me. For her, I'll sail through even the stormiest seas." "... ... ..." |
Headmaster Caveus Ashan Dean of the College of Hathforth and a good friend of Melisande's mother. His sheer arcane knowledge and experience made him quite respected in the coven. It's preferable to have him on our side than against. | ________________________ ________________________ ________________________ "Headmaster Ashan possesses acumen only few others have. I can see why Mother is fond of him, for I am too," "Humans are such short-lived creatures even amongst you mortals. If he's such a brilliant magus, why doesn't he free himself from time's grasp? Or perhaps he can't." |
Court Mage Eirwen Blackthorne Court Mage and Advisor to the Wizard Queen, but more importantly, the founder of the Young Society of Magic, providing scholarships to promising students such as herself. | ________________________ ________________________ ________________________ "I hope I can make Sir Blackthorne proud." "This mortal is capable of recognizing a being of superior power when he sees it, good, he knows his place." |
Duke Laurent Rhinecliff The head of House Rhinecliff and ruler of Odonfield, like Caveus, he's a good friend of Mother. Tearmoon and Odonfield had been neighbors for as long as she knows, long before the reign of either the duke or the matriarch. She prefers if this cordial relationship continue. | ________________________ ________________________ ________________________ "Mother told me the Duke will assist me in my mission, and I suppose he expects the coven to side with him against the Wizard Queen..." "He and the vexatious feyling are of the same flock, you should trust neither. Only we can take care of us." |
Wizard Queen Evelyn Keove The reigning sovereign of Arrowfell, who carved her path to power through blood and death. She appointed the Royal Gardeners to manage the Glasic Fields instead of the coven, the very reason why Melisande was given her mission. | ________________________ ________________________ ________________________ "Can I truly change her mind? Or can this only be done through force?" "I care little for my kin, but knowing she can abduct them at will with her accursed crown... yes, it'll fill me with joy to drag her into the Shade, kicking and screaming..." |
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Description: A Dremora who governs over the concept of time and space. The combination of being territorial yet peaceful makes for a reclusive entity, Kronos cares not for the material plane with its bickering mortals and their mortal problems, and in relation, it too disdains its envious brethren, always craving to consume the light of the All-Force. It does not and will not understand, all it wishes is to be left alone... until a vexatious feyling forcibly dragged Kronos out of its peaceful Shade and into another being's body, and the rest is history.
Though it has learned to tolerate its new lot in life, Kronos remains a cynical and callous entity, it's slow to forget and even slower to forgive. If it sees an orphaned urchin begging for scraps of food, it'd assume some kind of ruse is at play. If it's given a gift, it'd immediately try to deduce what the giver expects in return. In its mind, no good deed goes unpunished. Clearly, it distrusts everyone by default and so far, only its host, Melisande, has managed to foster what can be discerned as affection from it.
Assorted Powers (Spells, Seed, Skills, Artifacts, etc.):
❖ United Souls: Kronos is Melisande and Melisande is Kronos, distinct yet united. They share each other's powers and skills.
❖ Distinct Minds: Melisande is Kronos and Kronos is Melisande, united yet distinct. Mind-affecting conditions that afflict one of them do not automatically beset the other. They're considered as two separate entities for this purpose.
❖ Consciousness Substitution: Kronos can control Melisande's body or Gemini clone as if it were its own, becoming the primary consciousness of the vessel.
❖ Distinct Minds: Melisande is Kronos and Kronos is Melisande, united yet distinct. Mind-affecting conditions that afflict one of them do not automatically beset the other. They're considered as two separate entities for this purpose.
❖ Consciousness Substitution: Kronos can control Melisande's body or Gemini clone as if it were its own, becoming the primary consciousness of the vessel.
Description: The reigning Matriach of the Tearmoon Coven and Melisande's mother. Though she may initially appear like the spitting image of her daughter, their similarities are merely skin-deep. Behind the cordial and unassuming persona lies an ambitious woman of many schemes. She firmly believes that her people are the most suited to unlock the true potential of the Seeds, yet the Wizard Queen unwisely squanders their potential by favoring those incompetent simpletons in the Royal Gardeners instead of her coven. No matter, whether under the sanctions of the Wizard Queen or the Duke of Rhineclfif, Tearmoon will be the exclusive custodian of the Glasic Fields. She’ll see to it.
Aside from being a coven leader, Jezebel is an accomplished magus and scholar in her own right. She's routinely invited to conduct lectures at the College of Hathforth, in fact, she's a good friend of Caveus Ashan the headmaster. In relation, though Jezebel won't hesitate to curry favors and pull strings in order to ensure Melisande's enrollment into the prestigious academy, she doesn't need to do so as her eldest daughter is talented enough to qualify for the scholarship anyway.
Assorted Powers (Spells, Seed, Skills, Artifacts, etc.):
❖ Arcane Appraisal: Through the combination of vast knowledge, experience, and shrewdness, Jezebel is able to instinctively detect when a magical spell in being cast within her vicinity, analyze its methods, and then given time, eventually unravel its purpose. This ability only concerns the appraisal and identification of spells, whether she can replicate the spell or not is another matter entirely.
❖ Counterspell: Disrupts a target's casting process, causing the spell to prematurely fizzle if the target fails to resist. This technique can only be performed to a single target once every few minutes.
❖ Magic Missiles: Conjures and launches a hail of solid magical projectiles to one or several targets, said projectiles possess extraordinary homing capabilities, in other words, they're exponentially harder to dodge than block.
❖ Power Word: Obey: Utters a command laced with powerful enchantment to compel a target's body to perform a single action. It can be resisted through sufficient willpower, resisting targets will instead be paralyzed in place for a brief moment as their mind struggles to regain control of their body. Each target can only be affected by this spell once per day.
❖ Defy Death: The caster engraves a crest upon the target which essentially functions like a dormant healing spell. The mark activates if the host is dying, healing their wounds enough to stabilize them. The crest is invisible to the naked eye and lasts for a week or until triggered, whichever is shorter.
❖ Counterspell: Disrupts a target's casting process, causing the spell to prematurely fizzle if the target fails to resist. This technique can only be performed to a single target once every few minutes.
❖ Magic Missiles: Conjures and launches a hail of solid magical projectiles to one or several targets, said projectiles possess extraordinary homing capabilities, in other words, they're exponentially harder to dodge than block.
❖ Power Word: Obey: Utters a command laced with powerful enchantment to compel a target's body to perform a single action. It can be resisted through sufficient willpower, resisting targets will instead be paralyzed in place for a brief moment as their mind struggles to regain control of their body. Each target can only be affected by this spell once per day.
❖ Defy Death: The caster engraves a crest upon the target which essentially functions like a dormant healing spell. The mark activates if the host is dying, healing their wounds enough to stabilize them. The crest is invisible to the naked eye and lasts for a week or until triggered, whichever is shorter.
Description: The Tearmoon Coven's (self-proclaimed) Alchemist Primus. Hubris aside, the fact remains that Suzanna "Suzy" Tearmoon is one of the best alchemists ever to grace the Province of Arrowfell. Eccentric, insufferable, and yet unquestionably brilliant, she's a walking definition of a 'genius savant'. It's not difficult to see that she isn't right in the head, for good or ill.
Furthermore, in a society where its Lilim members are encouraged to have a husband, preferably multiple husbands, Suzy is a shamelessly asexual rebel. She has zero interest in any sort of romantic relationships as anything and everything that distracts her from her work is simply not worth her time, romance included.
Between that and her unabashed delusions of grandeur, no covenmates in their right mind would vote her to be the next Matriarch, resulting in her niece - Jezebel Tearmoon - to take the throne. Not that Suzanna could care any less, her place is in her workshop with her ingredients, tools, and potions.
Assorted Powers (Spells, Seed, Skills, Artifacts, etc.):
❖ Alchemical Master: Potions, tonics, elixirs, salves, all manner of products produced through glorious alchemy, brewed at a quality matched only by a scant few. The Tearmoon Coven may host many alchemists, but there's only one Alchemist Primus.
❖ Substance Analysis: Through various methods from examining them to outright ingesting the product herself, Suzy can discern the properties of a specific alchemical product, then eventually replicate it.
❖ Drug Tolerance: Being insane enough to imbibe various unidentified solution over many decades, Suzy's metabolism has adapted to her risky lifestyle. She's able to endure the adverse effects of consumables far better than a common person can.
❖ "Begone, Harlot!": The Lilim has no time, nor desire to engage in promiscuity. Suzy is completely immune to any charm effects, magical and mundane.
❖ Substance Analysis: Through various methods from examining them to outright ingesting the product herself, Suzy can discern the properties of a specific alchemical product, then eventually replicate it.
❖ Drug Tolerance: Being insane enough to imbibe various unidentified solution over many decades, Suzy's metabolism has adapted to her risky lifestyle. She's able to endure the adverse effects of consumables far better than a common person can.
❖ "Begone, Harlot!": The Lilim has no time, nor desire to engage in promiscuity. Suzy is completely immune to any charm effects, magical and mundane.
Description: Mèlisande's half-sister on their maternal side of the family. Like Mèlisande, Fidél was born from Jezebel's womb, but unlike her, she was sired by a different father, specifically by the Matriarch's second husband.
In an almost intentional twist of fate, Fidélicia was designated to be a walking contrast to her older half-sister. To start: she inherited her father's looks more than Jezebel's, she was born perfectly fine with no complications, and most frustratingly of all, she's a completely average person as far as her kin goes. Her magical talents are... decent, she has no learning difficulties, yet has no particular talents in any specific school either. While she's a good mage for Arrowfell's standards, that much is to be expected from an individual of a race who practically breathe magic.
All of these combined dooms her to live under Mèlisande's shadow, and yet... she's fine with it. Yes, she's not as unique, or talented, or beautiful as her sister, but thanks to all of that, no one placed any expectations on her. Like an heir ranked fifth in the line of succession, she's essentially free to live however she wants to. After all, for each boon Mèlly possesses, another weight is added onto her shoulders, and Fidél knows their mother enough to realize being her 'favorite daughter' is actually more of a curse than a blessing.
As things stand, Fidélicia is content to be a simple covenmate, a happy-go-lucky Lilim who helps around the Glade here and there with whatever assorted tasks her people need. Her great-aunt - Suzanna - often asks her to forage for various ingredients, and she's also good friends with Nitta Kochimei, a catgirl courier working for the duke of that walled city to the South.
Assorted Powers (Spells, Seed, Skills, Artifacts, etc.):
❖ Aeromancy: Fidél is quite skilled at utilizing spells associated with the wind element; from flying, directing air currents, summoning a miniature tornado, etc. It's quite a handy and utilitarian element if she can say so herself.
❖ Foraging: Honed by experience of gathering ingredients for Suzanna, the young Lilim can be relied on to locate, identify, and collect various herbs, mushrooms, and other materials.
❖ Robust Health: For some reason, Fidél rarely falls ill and even if she does, she'll recover quicker than most others with little to no assistance from medicine or healing magic. Maybe the myth about idiots being immune to the cold has some merit after all...
❖ Foraging: Honed by experience of gathering ingredients for Suzanna, the young Lilim can be relied on to locate, identify, and collect various herbs, mushrooms, and other materials.
❖ Robust Health: For some reason, Fidél rarely falls ill and even if she does, she'll recover quicker than most others with little to no assistance from medicine or healing magic. Maybe the myth about idiots being immune to the cold has some merit after all...
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OP
--Ravenfell- Athroyeaux Coast--
In collaboration with @Estylwen
Off the coast of Arthroyeaux, amidst a cloudy sky and disturbed sea, a lone fisherman's ship was seen over the water. Fishermen could be seen with their nets. But, more importantly, coming up from the lower deck, was none other than Valor Teardrop, standing with a hand on her hip, looking out at the waves.
They were right over the coordinates. Now, it was only a matter of snatching up what was lost. The air, however, felt tense…
The inexplicable tension in the air then heralded itself through an archway-shaped portal spawning on the same deck that the Clandestine agent found herself on, and stepping forward from said portal was none other than She Who Hosts the Shade, Scion of the Tearmoon Coven and Royal Apprentice of the Hathforth Court, Melisande Tearmoon... or at least, an entity that wore her face and voice. It heeded not the various reactions of the fish-harvesting mortals, how could it when it could reunite with its 'old friend' from the castle gardens?
"So... here it lies..." Kronos chuckled, gazing toward the sea before ever so slightly turning its indigo gaze at Valor, "You seem surprised, pawn of the false-shade king." At this point, the Dremora had dropped any pretense that it was the Lilim it masqueraded as, its voice carrying otherworldly whispers through the very air, "Did you really think your mages could manipulate the fabric of space-time in my presence and expect it to go unnoticed?" It sneered, half-amused, half-insulted.
It'd have preferred to devour the Ghost King himself, but for now, one of his pawns would do, a little... entree to the main course. "You see, I'd never have thought I'd sympathize with any mortals, and yet... your king had proven me wrong. Your kind is so vile that I felt pity for those humans you summoned. I've made it my duty to consume every last one of your “people”... starting with you, so come, you unliving mockery of the shadekin; fight and resist, it shall make my meal all that sweeter..."
Valor Teardrop turned and faced ‘Mèlisande’, staring for a moment before scoffing. “So you really are a Shade.”
She gestured with her hands, shrugging. “You can try all you like, King DuFairre's magic is true, and his intent pure. The Ghosts of Ravenfell have little to fear from the likes of you.”
"Indeed, in the shadows, a truekin, which your 'people' mock with your very existence," The Dremora curled an uncharacteristic grin across Melisande's face as it too tilted its head, albeit to such an angle that very much suggested it was no Lilim, "Good, I prefer prey that has confidence." It chuckled lowly as the simulacrum's shadow seemed to part its jaws and lick its lips.
Valor was silent, before she placed a single gauntleted finger on the chin of her mask. “Though, if you really noticed the Royal Symphony's teleportation magic, this is perplexing… You've come alone, haven't you?”
"Of course I had. Why would I share my meal?"
The Dremora lied as easily as it manipulated space-time.
"Kronos, Mother and I are ready to act upon your command."
"Wonderful, Feylings, just as we schemed."
"Be cautious, she might not be alone herself."
"I am aware. If you see one cockroach, there'll always be more lurking nearby..."
Valor clasped her hands together in front of her, “Very well, then. Still no intent to heed His Majesty's words? You know what's coming. A storm that will destroy everything, and a new Arrowfell will sprout from the ashes.”
Her head tilted. “Surely a Shade such as yourself has some amount of self-preservation…”
"Ehehehe... hahahahahaha!!" The Simulacrum's shadow cackled, though its voice was carried through the air all the same, its source mattered not, both its 'body' and the shadow cast by said vessel were of one and the same entity, "You seem to misunderstand... Arrowfell disgusts me, all those mortals and their petty squabbles," It paused, simply to let its words hang in the air, "However, it's not about that at all, what I want is the utter extermination of your kind, I care not what your ambitions are, only your demise..."
Valor listened intently, silently. Before a huff left her chest, short, dismissive. Still, she didn't move to draw her sword. She seemed relaxed, as if she was untouchable.
If the undead wouldn't make her move, then... fine by Kronos, even as they spoke, Melisande and her vexatious Feyling of a mother were working on narrowing the location of the sword and as for the Dremora, it could wait, after all, it had all the time in the world.
Indeed, it was easy to detect with magic that the sword rested at the bottom of the ocean here, gently wedged between two coral beds. Fish unknowingly swam around it, some gazing at the strange, ghostly gleam it gave off.
However, the moment Mèlisande and her mother would begin to seek it with their magic, a gold cage, or shield, encased the sword.
Meanwhile, on the other side.
"Melly dear, tell Kronos that a rather intrusive party is competing for possession of the artifact."
"Kronos, we've located the sword, but someone got to it before us and blocked our access.
On the boat's deck, Valor stood there, casually swaying her weight on one leg, her hand raised and glowing a faint golden hue. She tutted at the Shade.
“Lying like a bad child. Someone ought to teach you some manners.”
A minute shift of Kronos' indigo pupils as it reflected the the dim golden hue, "Ah, I may have identified our culprit..."
"Ehehehe... indeed, so come, punish me."
Her free fingers snapped, and there was a rush of air. In an instance, a lithe man in a billowing cape and white mask appeared in front of the Shade. A slender lance was gripped in his hand, thrown with rapid force, aiming so the tip would pierce Kronos, right in the heart.
Simultaneously, Valor manipulated her golden fingers, and the sword with its gilded cage slowly began to raise.
As both sides expected from each other, neither of them were alone. Thus, the Dremora was quite pleased when another of her ilk finally showed himself. By the end of the day, it might have enough to share with other Shades... no, nevermind, it'd have all of them for itself.
"Feylings, now, they took the bait."
Within the following short seconds, a cascade of events all unfolded at once.
First, Kronos didn't even bother to move the Simulacrum out of harm's way, instead using the chance to silently cast Fate Bond upon Valor and Faith, intertwining their strings of fate and causality together.
Second, a Dimension Door tore through space-time behind Valor, connecting the two locations, revealing a pair of nearly-identical Lilim in a mystical forest by a verdant glade. One of them was keeping the portal open, while the other...
"O' stellar comets, swarm them!"
Third, Jezebel snapped her wand toward Valor as numerous magical bullets burst forth from it, all homing in on the female undead with power and precision one would come to expect from the Lilim Matriarch.
There was a haughty huff as Valor half turned to view the portal, the rush of comets. Instantly, a gold construct, translucent, erected itself in a dome over Valor. Comets impacted the magical barrier, ricocheting off. Fishermen panicked, scurrying below deck to avoid any stray magic.
Valor, however, kept her position, her stance calm and relaxed despite the minor cracks inflecting on the surface. As the Matriarch's attack ended, her dome morphed into pinpoints of gold, like hovering rain. Each elongated into a needle, and shot forward, a shower of needles arcing forward to pierce the Lilims.
"Ah, the little corpse has her tricks~" Jezebel remarked with a chortle, so indeed, there were good reasons why Kronos itself relented to allow Melisande to ask for her assistance, these pawns of the Ghost-King weren't pushovers, "I shall handle her thorns, my dears." The Matriarch declared as she flicked her wand, casting her Magic Missiles once more as swarms of star-shaped projectiles rushed forward, clashing and neutralizing Valor's golden needles.
Meanwhile, the masked Clandestine made disgruntled noise, noticing the weaving of magic the Shade had wrought upon them. Nevertheless, he struck forward with his lance, the Shade unmoving. The lance appeared struck through the Shade's head, before the weapon impacted, a shockwave ripping the Shade's body apart, along with the rail of the boat.
"Ha ha ha ha ha haaa...." Slow, mocking laughter haunted the open sea even as Faith's lance struck the Simulacrum true, ripping it apart as the construct dispersed into tiny motes of mana residue...
The Clandestine stared for a moment, before he hovered on the spot, plucking up his lance again and turning to the Dimensional Door.
...only for Melisande's Seed to glow as Kronos reappeared right in front of the lancer, between him and the Dimension Door. Its shadow curling a mad grin, whispering right into Faith's unliving soul, "Sit, boy..." as it hexed the Clandestine agent with a chronomantic malady, the aptly-named 'Slow' spell gripping his limbs and - due to the Fate Bond - Valor's as well.
"Feyling, I've bonded their fate-strings and cursed them with time-lethargy."
"Duly noted, Kronos."
Meanwhile, the real Melisande was not about to let Kronos' efforts go in vain as she reached her right hand forward... then closed it into a fist. At virtually the same time, the fabric of space-time around Faith trembled and throbbed before violently imploding, courtesy of the silent-cast Vacuum spell.
Before the spell could hit its mark, however, a red sigil appeared under the feet of both the masked Clandestine and Valor. In an instant, space warped, and the two members vanished…
The cage around the sword disappeared, and it began sinking once more into the waters.
"And thus they scurried off like the fleas they are..."
"Do you know where they went, Kronos?"
"You offend me, Feyling, one does not manipulate the fabric of reality before The Dremora of Space-Time and expect it to not notice."
"That is fair. Would you go after them?"
"Good question. As much as I'd like to, they are mere pawns, and we have a more pressing matter to attend to. However, rest assured, upon my immortal soul, I swear that Ravenfell will be truly lifeless sooner than later."
"While you two are having your lovely little telepathic chat, look what I've discovered~" The Matriarch chimed in as she made a flourish with her wand, then a second later, something rose out of the watery surface...
Titanslayer, The One Sword to Rule Them All.
The mythical blade proceeded to slowly descend, finally landing in Kronos' hands.
"Ah... yesss..." Kronos hissed, splitting an ear-to-ear grin as the Simulacrum's hands gripped it tight. Shadowy tendrils licked the air around the Dremora before they coalesced upon the ghostly blade, enveloping it, infusing it with a part of the Shade's own essence.
"With this, you are 'Titanslayer' no longer, I christen thee... 'Shadesbane', slayer of my own kind and leviathans alike."
The very air of the open sea rumbled as if Ravenfell itself was quaking under the realization that their sovereign had just made a powerful enemy, it wasn't enough that he had to declare war against the dukedoms and houses of Arrowfell, but gained the ire of the Shade as well. Perhaps, indeed, twas' time the Ghost-King learned that agelessness did not equal true immortality.
For now, the pair of Lilim mother and daughter watched in silence through the portal...
...as the sky turned black.
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