Denizens of the Madhouse

[Lonewolf685]

King Rufus

Name: Rufus.
Title: King Of Hell. The Warped Reality. Creeping Chaos.
Age: Indeterminate.
Gender: Unknown.
Race: Eldritch Horror.
Allegiance: Demons of Hell.

The current ruler of the legions of Hell, Rufus is different from his contemporaries among the leaders in that his rule is constantly challenged by enterprising demons seeking power. Having taken power shortly after Eos and Deva, Rufus is a mystery in how utterly plain and uninteresting he presents himself. It is often proclaimed by boastful demonic supporters of his that Rufus' first words upon taking the throne were "Vini, Vidi, Vici" but in reality he asked for a recliner to be used in place of the uncomfortable throne. Though despite his unconventional rule and frequent attempts on his life, Rufus has had the longest rule of any King of Hell, to the point that the prior kings are all but forgotten.

Those that question his name is 'Not Demonic' or 'Unintimidating' often find themselves experiencing a fate worse than death.

The King of Hell is largely unpredictable and chaotic, taking delight in abandoning his entourage to appear on the battlefield or in the kitchens. The reasoning behind his actions changes by the minute, though if the whim takes him then Rufus may tell friend, foe, or complete stranger that he does it all because "it would make her laugh."

As Seen in: The War of the Three

[Lonewolf685]

Nina

Name: Nina Havarti.

Title:

Age: Appears 28.

Gender: Female.

Race: Human.

Allegiance: Angels of Heaven.

Personality:

History:

Powers:



Weapons:

Equipment:

Other:

[Lonewolf685]

hider=Aqua Regia

Name: Aqua Regia.

Title: Winter's Rose.

Age: 10 Years.

Gender: Female.

Race: Machina

Allegiance: Victoire Bordeaux

Personality:

History:

Powers:

Weapons:

Sub-Zero: A sword of ice with a jagged edge meant primarily for piercing a target via a strong thrust. It injects the liquid nitrogen that comprises it through the edge and tip, freezing from inside out rather than from without. The blade itself is adjustable in length, able to extend to indeterminate lengths, but will lose durability the farther from the default length.

Equipment:

Other:
Theme: WIP

/hider

[Lonewolf685]

Persephone

Name: Persephone

Title:

Age:

Gender:

Race:

Allegiance:

Personality:

History:

Powers:

Weapons:

Equipment:

Other:
Theme:

[Lonewolf685]

Agatha Smith, The Aged Lioness

Agatha Smith

“"Well, better get to working or get to dying. Time ain't with any of us."

_{[ ⛨ ] C A L L S I G N}

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Charon

_{[ ⛨ ] N C O R I G I N}

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Denver-Vegas

_{[ ⛨ ] D - O - B}

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05 / 24 / 2619 (58)

_{[ ⛨ ] G E N D E R}

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Female

_{[ ⛨ ] A P P E A R A N C E}

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Standing at 5’6”, Agatha has sharp features and a smile that could cut an NC to ribbons. Hair once flaxen has long since gone gray, which is pulled into a loose bun. Deep set green eyes and a pointed nose. Some people have told her she has the face of a 1st grade Math teacher who takes joy in assigning homework over the weekend. While not a weight lifter, she has a solid frame from years of hard work on the surface. Tends to wear a faded burgundy vest over an oil stained grey jumpsuit.

_{[ ⛨ ] P E R S O N A L I T Y}

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Agatha is a restless woman who finds there is no worse fate than finding yourself without purpose. Give’s 110% percent to everything she does, and is a strong proponent of clean living, or as clean as one can get outside the burrows. Carries herself with a wizened air of experience that comes with age, not book smarts. Could be described as desperate in search for a cause, desperate enough to come to Anchorage.

Doesn't acknowledge her own bitterness with having settled down and giving up on piloting. Feels like she lost out on something important, but can't besmirch her husbands memory or their daughters to disregard their lives together as unimportant.

Her time in New Anchorage preparing for the Ultimatum had reawakened her maternal instincts, prompting her to attach herself to Stein and be empathetic towards Commander Graham who's past relationship, brief as it was, led to amicable interactions. From her years of experience as a mercenary travelling the world, Agatha has met a wide variety of pilots and had spent ample time in her retirement analyzing her past glory to the point she orders people into 'types'.

_{[ ⛨ ] S K I L L S E T}

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Experience: Unlike the majority of NC pilots who range from the ages of 12 to 24, Agatha has lived a full life inside and out of the NC. Her career sent her all over the world, and in retirement she never stopped operating the Charon, offering up a wealth of experience and comfort operating her Neural Combatant as though it were a second skin. More than that though is the knowledge of how to live without combat, something most of the pilots at New Anchorage lack. Out of the NC, she hasn't been a slouch and allowed her edge to dull too much. Basic fire arms training with D.E.W. hand guns and revolvers, as well as a challenging work out regime, kept her in working order even as she passed the prime of her life.

Junkyard Proprietor: Thirty years of scrambling over heaps of rusted metal and the debris left in her junkyard has given her a knack for navigating obstacles without issue. Her husband taught her how to perform maintenance upon Charon without the need for a mechanic, knowledge that she passed onto her children as well.

In Love with the Lifestyle: Agatha has desperately missed the life of an NC pilot, and understands everything that is required to be apart of it. She follows orders, pushes herself and the others around her, and doesn't possess the naivety that blinds younger pilots to the horrors of their work. Her mothering nature may come into conflict with this at times, but more often then not she is eager to be employed.

Mothering Nature: Agatha gave up her career to commit herself to raising her two daughters, and while they may have gone to live their lives, Agatha can't help but be a mothering sort around young woman. She reaches out to connect with them, as well as finding it easier to empathize with the parents she now works with barring one notable exception.

_{[ ⛨ ] B A C K S T O R Y}

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Born and raised on the surface, Agatha always knew she was a special snowflake. At the bizarrely typical age of 14, she was found compatible to pilot an NC. Like so many before her she was drawn into piloting a bipedal weapon of mass destruction and had many mercantile adventures as an independent NC operator that aren’t worth recollection. The kinds of adventures that blur together but can often be summed up as, ‘Go to exotic locations, meet interesting people, and kill them’.

Throughout her ventures she had a loyal mechanic who would have followed her to hell and back by the name of Albert Smith. He wasn’t particularly handsome or clever, but he was loyal, sweet, and won over her affections through his perseverance. At 27 Agatha was married, by 28 she had a daughter and another on the way. Finding their means of employment too dangerous to foster a family, they decided it was prudent for Agatha to set aside the adventuring for a more sedentary lifestyle. Investing their considerable saving towards setting up shop in a scrapyard, Agatha began a new life as a mother and family woman.

For years, that was good enough. All the effort she had put forth piloting her NC was directed towards running the scrapyard and raising her kids. There wasn’t the same rush that came with piloting a multi-ton automaton, but she was satisfied for a time.

Then the children grew up, and left the nest to find out their own destinies. To be the special snowflakes that have fantastical opportunities all lined up for the taking if they only go out and claim them. Her husband of 29 years had grown ill and passed peacefully in his sleep.

That left Agatha, with a job she didn’t care for and no one relying upon her. Most would have considered this time to retire, settle down and indulge herself before the inevitable end, but she couldn’t. Even with the best years of her life in the past, she knew she had more to give. Firing up the old NC, which had been used as a makeshift crane for the scrapyard, she went out to recapture her lost glory, but found there wasn’t any demand for someone so long out of the game. The only ones as desperate as she was where the good folks down at New Anchorage, and they just so happened to be looking for any pilot that would come their way.

_{[ ⛨ ] T H E M E C H}

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Reference Image

Charon

Moderately armored bipedal NC specialized towards ease of movement and relocation. Meant to be a Sniper who repositions with each shot and endeavors to flank an enemy rather than engage from extreme long range at a stationary position. The armor isn't enough for front line combat, but is sufficient to keep Charon active while exposed during relocation. Strategically positioned thrusters were integrated into the Charon frame to allow the NC to launch itself airborne while maintaining a great degree of maneuverability. Prolonged flight is not possibly, though thrusters can negate the force of most falls or collisions.

The cockpit features an optimized targeting suite supplemented by a secondary chest mounted array. It contributes in compensating for the force of Charon's airborn maneuvers so Agatha can fire with accuracy befitting her role, and offers a variety of optical viewing modes such as thermal, night vision, infrared, and advanced magnification. Targeting information gathered by Charon is transmitted to other units of the fire team automatically unless disengaged.

PXS-8.0 'Opticor' Super Heavy Laser Rifle: Charon's primary weapon, a Semi-Automatic laser rifle of considerable firing power. Carries a 12 shot charge before overheating and operates at long to extreme ranges with full efficiency. Being a D.E.W. (Directed Energy Weapon) it is free of the deviation and travel times inherent in ballistic weapons, but has a considerably smaller magazine that must cool down before safe to fire.

Right Arm- Tenormin 44LZ 'Revolver': Stored within the Charon's right arm, the Tenormin is a D.E.W. revolver that packs a excellent stopping power for its size, but it limited to 6 shots before recharging. The original Tenormin design was limited to a single, high powered shot until the revolving power cell was added to the design to create a potent sidearm with a nostalgic flare. Agatha carries a man portable version of this weapon as well.

Left Arm- Smoke Mortar: Stored within the Charon's left arm, the smoke mortar provides concealment for allies and blinds adversaries depending on where it is fired. The Charon's optics can pierce the smoke, allowing it to operate without hindrance. 3 Canisters on board.

_{[ ⛨ ] R E L A T I O N S (Updated as Agatha interacts)}

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Anastasia “Stein” Kalfox: Agatha considers Stein to be the Ace among the pilots at New Anchorage, and has since set her as the bench mark for performance that she should aspire to. The young woman's cold personality doesn't dissuade Agatha from reaching and finding common ground in the pursuit of physical perfection. It was apparent to her that Stein lacked a maternal figure in her life, and Agatha is hoping to bridge that gap over time.

Comm. Michael Graham: A former adversary that now serves as her superior. Ironically the first major battle of his career was the last of hers, an incident that amuses the both of them. In her eyes, Graham is a solid commander and a decent father, so she has no issue with the man. He understands the way the world works and isn't afraid to put an ingrate in their place, which Agatha greatly appreciates.

Elizabeth Jackspar: Not much is known about Elizabeth beyond Agatha's own assumptions of her, but Agatha looks on her favorably. The shared experience of raising a child, even if Vera isn't Elizabeth's daughter, is something Agatha thinks they share and commiserates in it. Would be willing to help her with Vera or anything NC related if asked, and is remarkably impressed how well Elizabeth has done on her own so far.

Percy Moore: Can barely look at the man without waning to rearrange his face. Believes he is a spineless coward who's too weak to stand up for his own children. Wouldn't trust him not to miss and shoot her out on sortie, and is amazed he managed to pass the commander's tests. Believes he is the worst parent in all of New Anchorage for the moment.

Tahlia Styles: Likes the Australian for her blunt nature. Her initial exchange with the deceased Pilot Sky, whose attempted coup became the stuff of legend around the water cooler, has left Agatha feeling she can trust Tahlia to get the job done when they sortie.

Vera Voloshyna and Ana Moore: Can't help but be amazed at how brave the two girls are. Has to resist the urge to hug the both of them, and thinks they are good influences on Stein and Elizabeth. Would offer to give them pointers on NC maintenance and operation between sorties now that the testing phase is complete.

[Lonewolf685]

Ananta

A n a n t a

Title: Binding of the Trimurti
Age: ???
Gender: Female
Race: Naga
Allegiance: Heaven

Personality: Ananta is as Ananta does, a woman who often finds herself taking on the mantle of the caretaker with little prompting. Instilled with wisdom beyond her ages, she acts with the belief that she knows best for those she is watching over or working for. She'd prefer to maintain the status of the kind matron, but those who spurn her or act poorly will be struck down swiftly. Those she serves are looked upon in a similar light, though being unable to chastise them, her reactions are more passive aggressive.

History: When made aware that demons are as real as angels or killer robots, it would not be surprising to learn that the pantheons of other beliefs or those who have never been worshipped also exist. More often then not they are uninvolved with the Nexus and its affairs, but for those with an interest there were often proxies sent in their place. Ananta is within the Nexus as the proxy for three such entities, the Trimurti of the Hindu mythology.

While that very same mythology would credit Ananta with immense in her own right, her presence is suitably limited out of a desire to not to bore her patrons gods, as well as what Ananta would say is "Respect for her host."

Before her sojourn to participate within the conflicts of the Nexus, she had spent much of her existence meeting the various needs of Shiva, Brahma, and Vishnu, more often then not being a nanny for the gods and their children alike. In her interactions she has had the greatest interactions with that of Shiva and Vishnu, as well as Shiva's offspring who is often referred to as 'The Eel.' Ananta is subservient to these beings but also commands a measure of respect for her loyal service, and Vishnu knows better then to upset the woman they sleep upon.

Presented with the choice of faction to align herself with, she quickly dismissed the Demons for the troublesome lot she saw them as, though the decision between Heaven and the Machina had caused considerable delay in her arrival to the Nexus. She makes no secret of holding affiliations with certain members of the machine forces, but ultimately choose the Angel's after High Queen Eos made several remarks which left Ananta more uncomfortable then her interview with the Demonic recruiting office. Heaven was the obvious choice in the end.

Powers:
Ashura Arms: From anywhere upon Ananta's bodies, she can create up to three arms in order to defend herself or strike out against her foes. Damage to the arms does not harm Ananta, as they can be regrown soon after damage occurs and will only be eliminated once Ananta dismisses them or she loses consciousness. Each arm is a master with any weapon they wield, thought Ananta herself has no real skill when forced to use them in her physical arms.

Serpent Body:Possessing the lower half of a large snake confers great advantages over bipedal movement, such as superior speed and strength through her tail. Ananta favors using her tail as a weapon sooner then she would her swords. Her fangs feature poison glands which release a mind altering sedative to quell resistance from unruly adversaries. One bite into the veins or vital organs will debilitate most humanoids.[/

Weapons:
Rakshasa's Blades:Three straight swords kept sheathed along her lower back. Intended to be used by the Ashura Arms when no other weapons are found. Ananta herself would rather leave them undrawn then use them through her own strength.

Ofuda:While the Ashura Arms are meant to slay her adversaries, Ananta is more inclined to disable and apprehend then she is to eliminate wholesale. Ofuda, slips of paper inscribed with symbols of magical power, serve to restrict movement when thrown onto or around a target. When arranged into geometric patterns, their effectiveness increases with the number of ofuda used (A pentagon being more effective then square.), though if sufficient numbers are thrown to cover a target then that will work, albeit less efficiently.

Equipment:
Shawl of Brahma:Blessed cloth from one of her patron deities. While it is durable and self-repairing, the shawl is indeterminate in length and width, allowing Ananta to bind something regardless of its size if her tail was unusable. However, it's more often worn for aesthetic appeal then direct combat.

Equipment:
A fantastic cuddler.
Can carry three people upon her tail before being encumbered.
Fond of sunbathing.

[Lonewolf685]

Nika Strobel

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"Does no one believe I'm 18?"

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Nika Strobel

Personality
Nika is, in a word, focused. If there is a goal before her she shall dedicate herself fully to it's completion, even at the detriment (or benefit) of her health. Long hours will gladly be spent stoking the coals of the forge if only to work through the night and complete a bulk order. Satisfaction is drawn from being able to deliver a finished product and knowing it will enrich the lives of both swordsman and craftsmen, as one is preserved through martial might and the other receives the boon of wealth and experience. Her dedication to the craft has come at a detriment of lacking a social life, though when removed from the forge and mingling among her peers, she has the tendency of being clammed up until comfortable with a person due to the long ingrained habitual silence she picked up from weathering her abrasive mentor. Nika does have a soft spot for children and festivities, both having the effect of making Nika far more sociable as the upbeat atmosphere relaxes her wound-up personality.

Biography
Swords have long been the building block of human society since the day man decided to melt the first ores or attach obsidian to a wooden paddle. They've deterred as many threats as they have ended upon their edge, and for that Nika believes it is a worthy ambition to dedicate herself to creation of these tool. Born into a city strategically positioned on one end of the most travelled pass through a sprawling mountain range, Nika has long been accustomed to the sights and sounds of tradesman at work, processing the wealth of materials that pass through their gates and out into the world.

It was through the designing, manufacturing, and selling of all manner of tool that they prospered, a feat that Nika would endeavor to replicate since she was a young girl. She apprenticed herself under a hard, old man who was getting on in the years, a veritable treasure trove of experience wasting away in a failing body. This would result in Nika often serving as his hands, forcing her to develop her body to handle all the rigors of forging for herself and her mentor, which resulted in a musculature she appreciates immensely in her craft.

She came upon the fake cat ears which are ever present upon her head one day while manning a stall her mentor's wares, attempting to sell a set of kitchen ware she'd fabricated with spare materials laying around the forge. A mother and her daughter had approached and looked interested in purchasing, but lacked the funds for everything she desired. To the buyer's surprise, her child tried to offer up her cherished hair clip to cover the bill. Unwilling to rebuke the generosity of a child and stifle it, Nika accepted what they could offer and continued to wear those ears in the same manner a smith might hand their first sword upon the wall as a memento.

Her mentor would never let her hear the end of it in regards to her new ornament, his verbal tirades only surpassed by added workload placed upon her, but he was not long for the forge anyway. Knowing he'd either retire or drop dead sooner rather then later, he ordered Nika to leave for Seishun Academy to broaden her horizons before he even considered passing on the forge to her. Nika thought the old grouch just didn't want anyone to see him wither away any further, but allowed him his solitude and left to further her education in sword smithing.

Specialty
Nika is suited towards the creation of 'modern' Damascus Steel, also known as billet welding, a term referring to layering slabs of steel and iron onto a billet and compressing it, resulting in metal that is more durable and possesses an iconic wave pattern that is unique in every metal forged with this process.

Favors making two handed weapons and bastard swords, though she does dabble in cooking implement work for extra funds.

Wood and bone are preferred handle materials.

When on expedition, relies upon curved great sword and heavy steel gauntlets for hunting. Plate mail covers her chest, back, and outer thighs, but otherwise is not present so she is not too encumbered to carry herself and her armaments with some speed.

[Lonewolf685]

Master - Richard Montag

Richard Montag

Age - 38 | Height - 164cm | Weight - 186

Personality
Richard has always been a grounded man among the idealists of the moonlit world with their grand aspirations for the Root. He has the interest to pursue his magecraft, but it is not the all consuming desire the dictates the lives of his contemporaries. His interests are often more inclined towards the practical aspects of supporting a fourth generation magus household, often through making small, sensible loans to upstart businesses catering to the Magus community as well as enterprising students with little funds of their own, in exchange for compensation, monetary or academic, further down the line.

This has earned Richard no love from his betters whose paranoia might lead one to believe he were laying the framework for a grand scheme to influence the young and prosperous of the moonlit world, but he doesn't mind the wild speculation and in fact takes no small measure of amusement from it. Bearing the visage of a modern businessman alongside the scars of a magus who has pushed against the borders of his favored craft once or twice, most who talk to him find Richard pleasant, but harmless to them or their interests. He converses with a welcoming air about him, sometimes revealing glimpses of a self depreciating sense of humor oft unseen in prideful magi. Believes that he has averted more attempts upon his own life, limb, and research through dialogue then any duel of mysteries.

Abilities
Element:Wind
Origin:Gas
Number Of Magic Circuits: B
Quality Of Magic Circuits: B
Od:B

Structural Grasping:Due to the nature of his magecraft as well as his employment, Richard has invested a great deal of time into the basic magecraft related to the understanding of materials compositions, Structural Grasping. Not to say he has wholly mastered the art and all its secrets, but is skilled enough to grasp the chemical composition of the air around him for twenty meters in all directions.

Alchemy: While the Clocktower is not as reknowned for its Alchemists as another prestigious institution is, there are more then enough magi who are proficient in the magical chemistry. Alchemy pertains to the re-arranging of substances and materials into different forms through means of combustion, distillation, prana infusion, etc.

Manipulation of Matter's Third State: By suffusing any sufficiently understood gas, smoke, or airborne particulates with his own prana, Richard can thus manipulate it to his will as though an impromptu familiar, though the gases have no will beyond what Montag makes of it. Note, this does not confer control after changing from a gas state to a liquid or a solid, even if Richard is capable of performing that transition.

Voice of Influence: By forcing prana through the vocal cords, Richard can use magecraft to add weight to his words and influence the perceptions of those around him if he so chooses. The effectiveness of this skill is greatly diminished when used against those who are aware of the power, though this can be surmounted under certain circumstances if Manipulation of Matter's Third State is used in conjunction with Voice of Influence. Richard has kept this magecraft a closely guarded secret and sparsely uses it in order to preserve its effectiveness.

History
Born to a family of respectably moderate age and enough holdings not to be deemed destitute by their peers, Richard was expected to be the one who would provide his family with something to distinguish themselves among the moonlit world. To the families chagrin, he did nothing of the sort. Entering into the Clocktower at a reasonable age, unlike those child prodigies who had their first research grant at 10, he labored well enough to succeed in all his classes though never excelling enough to be singled out by instructors for special attention. There was a hope that he would find his spark of genius among the more cut throat departments of the Clocktower or seclude himself in isolation like the mad Magus' who concocted grand machinations away from prying eyes.

Then he joined the Archeology Department (Researching the levels of ambient prana found in the air through the ages), the department known for being so far removed from an Magus Association conflicts that they didn't even shoot their trespassers on sigh, and the family promptly abandoned all expectations for their heir to put them on the map. Richard was delighted by this news, and continued to work in relative peace and fostered connections among the very department noted for also producing Touka Aozaki, Souren Araya, and Cornelius Alba.

Other
For someone of his age and lineage, it is peculiar to find he is lacking in a spouse and heir, though Richard would answer any inquiry with a slight quirk of the lips and tell them it wasn't for lack of trying.

[Lonewolf685]

Caster: Tamamo No Mae

Personality
A bright, cheerful young fox girl. Searching for love every time she’s summoned, she only responds to those who have good intentions. Puts on a brave face detract from her own loneliness. Due to having the perspective of a divine being at one point, she is apathetic to killing.

Devoted to a fault, she has a singular focus upon the Master who summons her and will act in their best interest in all matters. Of course, this often leads to a complete ignorance of common sense as she acts in exceedingly bizarre ways to achieve what she deems to be reasonable goals in the pursuit of her master's love.

Abilities

Strength: E
Endurance: E
Agility: B
Mana: A
Luck: D

Witchcraft EX:
The Dakini heavenly methods. It includes methods to discern one's time of death and secret arts to obtain influence, such as methods to attain status and fortune (for men) and methods to gain the favor of influential individuals (for women). By lamenting harshly learning from experience in the past, Tamamo-no-Mae does not feel like making much use of this.

Shapeshift A:
Refers to both borrowing bodies and appearance change. A method used by the millenary spirits of foxes and badgers of China that are put on par with Tamamo-no-Mae. A method used by Daji of the Shang Zhou Revolutionary Period (see Fengshen Yanyi), but Tamamo-no-Mae does not feel like making much of an use of this due a trauma of the past.

Spell Tags:
The ability for Tamamo to create a limitless supply of spell tags, or Ofuda, from her own mana. These tags can be imbued with the powerful magics typical of a Caster class Servant, often instilled into elemental effects released in an explosion of power, though exceptional tags can be created when certain specific scenarios are present.

Noble Phantasm:

Name: Eightfold Blessing of Amaterasu D
Description: A mirror worn by Tamamo no Mae. Because of a curse, it is a bounded field which isolates one in the Land of the Dead. Inside this bounded field all mystical power uses' cost is zero. Because the spiritual rank of the person has dropped, the rank also dropped. Originally EX rank Anti-World. The EX ability's scope is able to cover one country.

The Eightfold Blessing of Amaterasu is a mirror that Tamamo-no-Mae wears on her body. It is the temporarily released form of the Tamamo Shizu Ishi a sacred regalia among sacred regalia, which was enshrined at Izumo after being brought from heaven by "Takehinateru-no Mikoto." According to the descriptions of the Nihon Shoki, it was taken from Izumo at the order of the Imperial Court and then later enshrined at Kawachi. It possibly later came to be known as the Yata no Kagami, the divine repository of Amaterasu, and it is thought to be the prototype of the Tokusa-no-Kandakara of the Mononobe clan, which holds the power to revitalize souls and life-force.

The mirror levitates around Caster in battle, which she uses it to hit enemies in close combat.

[Lonewolf685]

Margarita Reynard

Name:
Margarita Reynard

Age:
56

Personality
Long lived and considered matronly by her peers, Margarita is a solid fixture in a turbulent world. Through the merit of surviving as long as she has, many find themselves drawn to her for everything from critical information on Enforcer duties to casual conversations. A natural people person, Margarita is more then eager to socialize under her own initiative with the air of experience that carries with it no small degree of warmth. Of course, being in the line of work she is, Margarita isn't one to be bogged down by lose nor will she let her sentiments get in the way of completing the mission laid out before her. Decades of experience has instilled a strong work ethic into her which is unwavering in the pursuit of her goals.

Abilities

Enforcers Toolkit: A broad term to describe the basic magecraft any Enforcer should know, usually pertaining to bounded fields, reinforcement, spiritual surgery, scrying, and formal craft sealing rituals to detain dangerous magi or magical creatures. While nothing particularly special, they are still the fundamental skills any magus would be better enriched to know. Most importantly, Margarita knows how to perform botched formal craft and not be killed in the resulting explosion.

Mystic Code - Haute Couture : A custom made outfit commissioned by a wealthy noble heavily whose fortune laid in the production of latest fashions for magical high society. The families head personally saw to its creation and enchantment in recompense for Margarita repeatedly saving the life, and dignity, of his inept heir. A bribe it may be, but it boasted considerable enchantments that enhance Margarita's overall durability and strength. As expected of garments worthy of a noble, they are self cleaning and self repairing if given ample time.

Mystic Code - Fox & Hound: Twin muskets are Margarita's original mystic code and the focal point for her magecraft. The form, while perhaps cumbersome, has been found to be the best possible use a magically conductive metal while providing surface area for subsequent enchantments to be ingrained in the metal. Swords could have suffised, but Margarita finds the idea of a ranged option to be infintely better suited for her constinued survival. Rather then firing a physical projectile, complex arrays etched into the barrel collect ambient prana and form a musket ball of Ether. When fired it is noted for being more effective against a more prana rich target, and the recharge process can be drastically accelerated by introducing Margarita's own prana or using a substitute prana store (Gems, Fetishes, etc.).

History
As Margarita sees it, Enforcers have long been considered a necessary element in regards to maintaining the secrecy of the moonlit world, though those who do follow the path are not looked upon too kindly. Dedicating themselves to pursuing errant Sealing Designates, Dead Apostles, and any other threat to the hidden nature of magecraft, they live perilous lives without the opportunity for persuing the social and academic circles of others. This means they must either seek to ingratiate themselves into the service of an influential Lord, like the private battalion sworn to the Vice Director, or you commiserate among your own.

For forty long years, Margarita has lived and breathed her work, and she couldn't have imagined things any other way. There wasn't the time to pursue academic or social interests outside the Enforcer ranks, but they found that one could make ample progress in their craft through practical experience. Margarita may not have had the easiest life, the magus creed never more evident then when confronted with empty bar stools or cleaned out lockers from those who did not return from their hunts, it left her fulfilled.

She had been ready to keep at the hunts till the day she expired, but as was usual for anything related to the Wizard Marshall, things had not gone according to plan.

[Lonewolf685]

✦ Roma Bhakti ✦

Roma ✦ Bhakti
^{Height: 143 cm ✦ Weight: 62 kg ✦ Age: 16 Years}

"My pokemon have such expressive eyes."

✦ Name: Roma Bhakti
✦ Age: 16
✦ Gender: Female

✦ Nature: A reclusive young woman with a magnetic attraction towards normally dangerous pokemon. Lacks any sense for the personal space of others and enjoys close proximity with pokemon and people alike, leading to a habit of leaving her pokemon out of the ball when feasible. While she enjoys contact with others, a staunch dedication to being deadpan and invasive leads to many being disturbed by her presence. There have been a few exceptions to this rule, and these people are often showered with dead pan affection.

✦ Dex Entry: Born in Castelia City, Roma left the monument of modernity to travel towards the mecha of Trainers, Kanto. Her first and oldest companion was indomitable Tynamo she came to call Weaboo, a pokemon she came across bringing boundless grief to a fishing contest where every participant failed to wrangle the willy eel. Roma hadn't even intended to participate before the Tynamo slipped into the sleeve of her kimono and was intent to stay. Finding it rather cute and sporting the grand prize for the contest, a Super Rod, Roma took her Tynamo and went off on the road to Viridian Forest.

✦ Other: Due to constant exposure to an electric eel, poisonous baby squid, and fungus infested insect, Roma has been afflicted with a great deal of illness. By naturally overcoming her affliction, she has developed something of a resistance to the paralysis and poison her pokemon naturally spew when left out, though Spore has been insurmountable so far.

✦ Tynamo ✦

✦ Name: Weaboo
✦ Gender: Female
✦ Ability: Levitate
✦ Moves: Tackle, Thunder Wave, Spark, Charge Beam

✦ Nature: A pokemon that could only be referred to as absurd. Despite its small stature, Weaboo causes irritation and debilitation head aches in everyone it interacts with, Roma excluded. It is remarkably chatty, though gives the impression that the listener should be glad they don't speak pokemon, or they may be liable to cut off their ears. Her actions don't seem to be malicious, but it is very irritating for anyone not named Roma.

✦ Dex Entry: Was playing around with a large group of fisherman when she saw an odd girl walking by. Leapt into Roma's clothes to see her jump out of her skin, but when Roma failed to do so, decided to make herself comfy.

✦ Tentacool✦

✦ Name: Tentacool
✦ Gender: Male
✦ Ability: Liquid Ooze
✦ Moves: Poison Sting, Constrict, Bubble, Supersonic.

✦ Nature: A newborn freshly hatched from the egg, this Tentacool is either resting in Roma's arms or clinging to her with its developing tentacles. It doesn't have the best control of its abilities and may act immature, but it does its best to make Rama proud. Is a powerful swimmer even at a tender age and delights in carrying Roma through the water.

✦ Dex Entry: The yet unnamed Tentacool came to Roma as a pair of abandoned egg from a daycare she passed by once. Over burdened as they were and with the trainer long since having moved on, they gave the Eggs to the only traier with an interest. Tentacool was the second to hatch, though the first pokemon had been gifted to one of Roma's travelling friends when it seemed enamored with the amnesiac woman.

✦ Paris✦

✦ Name: Truffle
✦ Gender: Male
✦ Ability: Dry Skin
✦ Moves: Fury Cutter, Spore, Stun Spore, Absorb

✦ Nature: Due to its Dry Skin, Truffle shares in Tentacool's fondness for the water. Truffle was originally found when the baby Tentacool mistook Truffle for something it could eat, though luckily it was still too young to accomplish any harm to the bug pokemon lounging in the river bank. Thanks to its ability, the Paris was as good as new without Roma's intervention in seconds, and paid them for their disturbance with a shower of Spore to the face. The party fainted, only to awaken some time later with a very Bug type now roosting atop Roma's head.

✦ Dex Entry: Lacking in the irritation of Weaboo or the childish innocence of Tentacool, Roma considers Truffle to be much like the mushroom she named him after. Buried under dirt and grime, but worth the effort to weasel out. He's a curmudgeon to work with, and tends to try and crush Weaboo beween her pincers, but the Tynamo is as elusive as Mew in that regard.

[Lonewolf685]

Avatar Class: Warrior | Berserker

Avatar Title: Assault

Avatar Level: 7

Avatar Profession: [color=royalblue] [/color]

Avatar Guild: [color=royalblue] [/color]

Avatar Abilities:

Achieved

Lvl 1- Heightened Reactions:
Active Ability | Duration: 1 Round | Cooldown: 1 Round

Lvl 2-
Active Ability | Cooldown: 1 Action

Lvl 3-
Active Ability | Duration: 2 Rounds | Cooldown: 3 Rounds

Lvl 5-
Active Ability | Duration: 2 Rounds | Cooldown: 3 Rounds

Lvl 6-
Active Ability | Duration: 2 Rounds | Cooldown: 3 Rounds

Avatar Feats:

Achieved

Lvl 3- Power Strike: Increase all damage done by 15%

Lvl 4- Readied Mind: Increases your ability to react to your enemy.

Lvl 5- Atlas Fist: An unarmed attack in which the user unleashes a punch of incomparable power. Deals heavy damage and knocks the foe a far distance.

Lvl 6- Cadet: Enables you to use a two-handed gun.

Lvl 7- Unburden: Your equipment, regardless of what it is, no longer encumbers you or your agility.

Unachieved

Lvl 8- Mirror Edge: Each of your basic attacks acts like two, with the second blow coming from a random but potential angle of your attack.

Lvl 9- True Strike: An activated ability where your next attack pierces through your enemy’s defenses, doing its full damage.

[Lonewolf685]

Avatar Class: Rogue | Assassin

Avatar Title: "Sabotaur"

Avatar Level: [color=royalblue] [/color]

Avatar Profession: [color=royalblue] [/color]

Avatar Guild: [color=royalblue] [/color]

Avatar Abilities:

Achieved

Lvl 1-
Active Ability | Duration: 1 Round | Cooldown: 1 Round

Lvl 2-
Active Ability | Cooldown: 1 Action

Lvl 3-
Active Ability | Duration: 2 Rounds | Cooldown: 3 Rounds

Avatar Feats:

Achieved

Lvl 3- Assassination: Sneak attacks do double damage. Not applicable if already in combat.

Lvl 4- Grim Stride: Your movements make no noise.

Lvl 5- Silenced: Your weapons make no noise.

Lvl 6- Smoke Bomb: You release a blinding cloud of smoke, disabling anyone’s ability to see within except you. You are effectively in sneak mode, but still susceptible to getting hit if someone tries to attack.

Unachieved

Lvl 7- Moar Dakka: Allows you to use two-handed guns with one hand.

Lvl 8- True Sight: Allows you to detect enemies and allies within a large area of yourself. The range is shorter when moving or fighting. Can detect invisible targets if actively searching for them.

Lvl 9- Death Walk: Each time you kill an opponent you can chose teleport a short distance away or to the next enemy nearest, both with a maximum range of 20 feet.

[Lonewolf685]

PFC Fortuna Tullen

---

Height: 161 cm ❖ Weight: 54 kg ❖ Age: 23 years

---

Name:

Fortuna Tullen.

Gender:

Female.

Appearance:

Rank:

Private First Class.

Class:

Engineer.

Weapons and Equipment:

Galian S1 Rifle, Engineer Tools, Ragnaid, B Type M-1 Grenades, Multipurpose Knife.

Personality:

Enterprising and with a keen eye always open for new opportunity. She is a remarkably agreeable person even in the company of people she dislikes, more concerned with maintaining bridges then the catharsis of expressing disgust. Capable of turning a blind eye to some distasteful acts if it benefits her in the long run, though she would think that's a prerequisite to reside in Gallia given its ethnic views.

Can be a remarkably physical person who gives little regard to the personal space of others in pursuit of new contacts. Her efforts can come off as disingenuous when she attempts to interact with people her associates may actively despise without concern for their opinion.

Bio:

Born to the proprietors of a modest shipping company along the Gallian coast, Fortuna was raised with a deep love for the sea. Not just for the literal bounty of resources it offered or the comforting smell of salt on the air when she would tour the warehouses at her mother's heels, but for the unmitigated power to connect people over vast distances in common interest. Be it trade or the unbridled joy of exploration, the sea it offered it with greater expedience then land ever could, and it was by aboard cargo laden vessels that she herself travelled beyond her home nation and saw bustling ports in the Atlantic Federation as well as the industrial wonder of the East European Imperial Alliance.

Considering the families wealth hinged upon securing contracts with people across a wide range of nations, ethnicities, and opinions, Fortuna found her youth dominated by practical lessons in negotiation. The first of which was realizing her presence was as much a tool of emotional leverage as it was to educate her. Children were a universal subject of conversation when both parties have them or have interest in them, a topic that can engender more sympathy then people consciously realize.

Her days were spent watching her elders at work under the expectation she would follow in their foot steps, a path which Fortuna was wholeheartedly in favor of. She would be disheartened to find her practical education interrupted by the Gallian mandatory military training, but consoled herself with the knowledge that an education in tankery and general engineer training wasn't too far from her nautical roots.

While in the midst of her basic training, a freak storm in the Atlantic had cost the business it's small fleet along with the cargo and all hands aboard. Perhaps greater then the loss of life- At least to the client- was the cost to reimburse the intended recipients. Lacking the means to ply their trade, a sizeable debt, and no time to recoup their lost assets, bankruptcy was a foregone conclusion.

Emerging form the Gallian basic training with the necessary skills to disarm a land mine, she also found herself without an inheritance.

RP Sample:

[Lonewolf685]

RP Rough Idea

---

Like spears hurled from the greater landmass into the roiling waves, a trio of slender, steel craft churned a wake miles long towards a pinprick resting just beneath the peaked cap of a wind swept captain. Standing atop the exterior walkway wrapping around a raised command bridge towards the prow of the lead most vessel, the captain was battered by rain flying horizontal from tumultuous clouds denying the sailors the light of the stars.

Streaks, strikes, and arcs of lightning tore the shrouded sky asunder for milliseconds at a time while the crack of ionized air resounded firmly over the din of water both above and below. In the infinitesimal flashes of brilliant energy carving up the night there was the glimmer of dauntless barrels jutting from the crafts deck and sides, battlements from which the works of man would tear asunder the horrors of the merciless abyss they now sailed upon.

The captain's countenance was stony, a firm line slashed beneath a stout nose and eyes cast upon the waves yet ahead. In the incandescence of a bolt slamming down upon the lightning rod of the starboard vessel, her eyes narrowed a hairsbreadth as they honed upon a form rising in their path. There was flesh in opposition to their steel, a slimy exterior running a gradiant between mud and ruddy green along the circumference of a serpentine body. Webbed frills crested its head, and even from the distance the captain knew well that deep set eyes like black pearls were locked upon her ship with the same intent as she favored the sea serpent.

Behind her, a hatch opened and out stepped a man concealed in a heavy rain poncho whipping frantically amidst the storm while his alarmed voice fought to rise over the wind.

"Captain Fortuna! A Raja has been spotted-"

"I am aware," Fortuna said with a heavy air and turned to follow the sailor inside to an airlock, whereupon the hatch was sealed and she proceeded through the next hatchway to be met with a far more frantic storm then what occurred outside the walls of metal around them. There were no windows with which to see the course before them, but monitors set into each manned station had a hundred and one ways to depict the sea and what moved within and upon it, and they all concurred upon the danger before them. Taking it all in with the same steely calm, she strode to her post and settled upon the grand chair with nary a thought involved. At this stuff, uncomfortable seat, a monitor rested on a swiveling stand mounted to the armrest and was repositioned over Fortuna's lap, providing her the most pertinent information available that her senior officers had deemed appropriate to transfer her.

"Ma'am, we're picking up signs of two targets approaching at high speed from bearings 120* and 210*, respectively. Judging by the size and speed of the targets, we believe them to be Tortuga class." The poncho clad sailor reported, pulling back his hood to show a young, unmarred face holding traces of fear over what was to come. Fortuna favored him from the corner of her eye, and he was quick to marshal himself under his superiors gaze

"ETA?"

"Faster then we can turn to face them, but slower then the Raja will be upon us. By all accounts, it's a textbook ambush."

"No, Todo. The textbook formation would have had four Tortuga. This battle group seems to have been depleted before we arrived." The captain chided the man for his inexperience with a snort, rousing a brief laugh from the attentive crew before they resumed their labors with a touch more surety. "Notify the Bellator and Interdictor they should reduce speed and target the Tortuga before they have to repel an enemy boarding action. We'll handle the Raja ourselves."

A stammering response welled up in the subordinates throat and just as quickly was swallowed down with the slightest turn of Fortuna's head in his direction. She wouldn't begrudge a fresh faced sailor his fear but she'd hurl him into the serpent's maw if he raised a word in insubordination without the chops to back it up. Swallowing the treacherous concern, he clicked his heals together and stood straight at attention to receive orders. Fortuna nodded in approval and waved him off to his station so she could press a button on her console to activate the ship wide intercom.

"All ahead full and bring the batteries to bear at bearing 360 degrees. The Two for Flinching is intercepting the Raja. I repeat, the Two for Flinching is intercepting the Raja. All hands to battle stations.

Even as its sister ships slowed and peeled away to address the enemies swiftly approaching from behind, the Two for Flinching darted forward with renewed vigor. Along the length of the ship, it's armaments bristled to life and adjusted their sights upon the Raja. In turn, the gargantuan monster of the abyss hastened its approach, the length of its body now visible as it churned the water with the slithering of its frilled body. Titans of flesh and machinations of steel lunged forth in confrontation, and when they met it was not to be seen by celestial or elemental light, but by the spark of colossal shells loosed through chemical combustion that sundered nature's unbridled fury with a fusillade of engineered destruction.

Fortuna unleashed this upon the sea and its offspring, an unmistakable challenge that was commissioned with a single word barked through lips drawn taught in anticipation.

"Fire."

---

A man had once said, There are more things on Heaven and Earth then can be dreamed of in your philosophy, and they were more write then they could even know. In the year 20XX, mankind had reached out into the black of space yet still could not grasp the depths of Earth's oceans. Beneath the weight of the world lay mysteries that would ultimately not be unearthed, but reveal themselves to chilling results, as the world was alarmed to find a civilization had developed beyond the sea floor in parallel to the land born mammals, and it had saw fit to reveal itself to world above through bio-engineered leviathans they used to traverse the ocean's depths.

It begin in the spirit of exploration, an uncertain people clawing upwards from the crushing pressure of their homeland to breach the water's surface and witness a land alien to them. It began in ignorance of what was already there, blanketing those rolling landmasses and floating along the surface in ungainly tubs of metal. They'd held legions through the ages of an odd few who made the voyage and witnessed tails of floating wood and cloth manned by alien creatures who had no scales nor could swim on their own, but these had always been considered old folk tales.

Contact was clumsy and marked by fear and reticence, but ultimately mankind came to break bread at the table of peaceful exchange with its aquatic sibling, the Sahagin.

However, hopes of peaceful coexistence were to be ephemeral, when it came to pass that both people were suffering from the same issue only further exacerbated by the other's discovery.

Mankind and the Sahagin were both overpopulated and in dire need of new territory to expand towards. In an effort to save themselves they'd both sought their hopes in the great beyond and, to a great loss of life, would find an answer in the destruction of each other. The Sahagin coveted the seas and land which man had tamed, while Humanity looked down upon the treasures below with unabashed envy. With only the barest of sparks from radical elements on both sides, and all out war was certain to erupt.

The deep sea society of the Sahagin, a hardy people born in conditions beyond the pale most extremophiles could withstand, and with an unparalleled control of their biology to further adapt to changing tides. Mankind sees their Leviathan warships as a deadly foe, yet also a valuable resource if the technology to create them were taken for themselves, and desperately needed food source for its increasingly starved population.

Humanity, a species spread to every corner of the globe and adapted to every conceivable environment regardless of how inhospitable. With an uncanny grasp of tools, they persist in improving upon the works of their ancestors to flourish towards ever greater heights, regardless of the cost. Those from the water's deepest depths are astonished by the sprawling lands and alien resources they could have never fathomed in their home lands, and are eager to spread their people to the lands above.

Thus is born a conflict of necessity, that neither side fully wanted, but could not hold back the tides which clambered for it. It was left to the brave few who dedicated their lives to the defense of others to fight on their behalf, a war on the sea and the shores to determine who alone could live upon the world.

---

Heavenward Descent

A nautical RP centering around a desperate conflict for the future of two great species, and those who now fight on their behalf across the world at large. The navies of the surface world work under a joint coalition defend their borders while mercilessly hunting for the Sahagin forces rising from the depths. Combating creatures seemingly drawn from old sea fables with the tempered arms of thousands of years of inter species conflict, they are more united then ever as they turn their weapons upon inhuman foes.

You, the RPer, will be in command of your own ship and crew from the combined navies of mankind. Given the sheer number of persons which could staff a Destroyer sized vessel, let alone a Carrier, CS's will be largely unneeded for personal and will only be required for the Vessel being used. Ships will be grouped together into fleets to engage with the Leviathan's at sea, or be sending Marines ashore to counter any incursions onto Mankind's sovereign land. (Think X-Com: Terror From the Deep meets Kantai Collection, minus the Ship Girls.)

Can you hold fast against the aquatic people's bid for your homelands? Or will you be sunk by the engineered Leviathan, along with Humanities future? Only your strength of arms and sharpness of mind will decide who pens the record of this conflict in the annals of history.

[Lonewolf685]

.

[Lonewolf685]

Leblanc Farris

Leblanc "Lucky" Farris

Age: 19 years

Bio: One of many children born to a farmer and her lazy husband out in the boonies, Leblanc has always been something of a delinquent whose lack of aptitude with a hoe left her with little recourse but to leave home early like the majority of her siblings. Scattered and with no interest in reconnecting, she settled comfortably into city life and embraces the night life of decrepit alleys and deserted streets readily.

She's always one to have a blade close in hand and has found herself needing to use it on a daily basis, given her tendency to look for trouble just for the hell of it. A hint of blood thirst drives her actions yet it seems to do little to liven the expression of boredom upon her countenance, and very rarely does it abate. Her actions while violent are done with skill and succinct barbarism, the actions of one very comfortable with what they do and have not the slightest regret as they hone their talents.

Despite her troubling predilections for enticing conflict as readily as she draws eyes with her suggestive attire, Leblanc was accepted into Cadenza, if only as a means to restrict the time she's prowling unsupervised. For obvious reasons she is withheld from being invited to any public functions or exhibitions.

Vessel: Blunt and lacking much of anything in the way of sentimentality, Leblanc never named the braid of ebony silk that is the Vessel around her neck. When activated it is drawn out into a choke.

Abilities:
Conscious Control:Activating her Vessel confers Lablanc unparalleled control of her own body. The rate at which her heart beats, each dose of adrenaline, and the elasticity of her muscles are but a few aspects which Leblanc can manipulate as she sees fit, allowing for an impossibly fluid range of movement beyond the most advanced of contortionists as well as a wide range of benefits outside of combat.

Equipment:
Slasher's cutlery:A set of nine knives, eight of which are smaller throwing knives typically hurled or held between her fingers, while the ninth is a larger knife she keeps a firm hold of for slashing up close.
Whetstone.
Floral Extract: A parting gift from her mother in a brief moment of sympathy, Leblanc dips the tips of her blades in the extract to provide them with a localized paralytic toxin which briefly deadens the nerves around the entry site.
Spare Clothes

Trivia:As her tattoos would suggest, Leblanc has a fondness for snakes and does indeed own one, but has since left it on the family farm for safekeeping. Additionally, the peculiar nickname of Lucky, or Better Lucky in even more peculiar circles, is of entirely unknown origin.

[Lonewolf685]

Name: Mathias Montag

Gender: Male

Role/Archetype: Sage

Personal Demeanour: Fond of a challenge and eager to embrace the hardships of life among the rank and file, Mathias has upheld his oaths to the Omnissiah with pride bordering on arrogance. This extends to his nationalist pride, though it may be even wounded with the fall of his home world, he is no less defensive of the efforts of his people and the Machine Spirit which fought for every inch of Cadian soil. His actions come amidst a ceaseless flow of motion, each twitch of the Mechandrite calculated in advance for optimum utility in his work.

There is a lingering sense of camaraderie with the Guardsman who can appreciate the efforts of an Enginseer repairing a damaged voxcaster in the midst of an artillery barrage, one not shared by many of the Cult Mechanicus, but it lingers despite the augmentation.

On occasion and to the commiseration of Enginseer and Guardsman alike, Mathias may make odious oaths in regards to the Departmento Munitorum and their nebulous idea of organization when a shipment of blessed oils had been replaced with 4 tons of prophylactics.

It is the aspiration of his compatriots to forsake emotional attachment to achieve advancement on the Path of Knowledge, but to do so would mean abandoning the tender spark of hatred he nurses for the Demon and the Heretic who war upon the works of man and pervert it with Chaos' touch.

Bears a keen loathing for the Thousand Sons and their Rubric Marines, seeing it as the ultimate perversion of the Machine Spirit by subsuming it with a mutated pyskers soul.

Speciality:
Purifying Machina Spirits: As a Techsorcist, Mathias has been availed to the private archives of the Ordo Mallaeus to analyze the records of Chaos interaction with Machine spirits and the ensuing procedures to purge the corruption. Studying the corruption as one does a beast has lead to insight into it's workings and confers the knowledge to operate and liberate machine spirits from the influence of the Warp.

Multitasker: Due to the Cortical Implants required for the operation of Mechandrites, Mathias' mind has additional procession power allowing him to be better suited to operating his extraneous limbs along multiple tasks, presumably while explaining such things in the Emperor's High Gothic to a casual observer and cursing in Binary to any nearby Tech Priest.

Rank: Techsorcist.

Description: His height is difficult to discern with the slight hunch in his stature, the augmentations weighing upon his reinforced spine just an inch or so out of proper alignment, leaving him practically five foot nine at all times. Scarlet robes drape his figure with a broad hood crowning his metal plated dome, a steady gleam of violet emanating from his artificial eyes in honor of his Cadian ancestry. From the nose to the bottom of his chin and stretching across the breadth of his jawline is voxcaster which leaves his voice with a synthetic ring to it.

A trio of pipes lead down from the Vox-caster and disappear amidst the robes where they meet with metal and wind over what little flesh remains to be seen, most notably that of an unaugmented right arm. Callouses, cuts, and burns weave together into a rough textured mesh along the hand, a parallel to the machine marvel of a cogitator gauntlet replacing his left arm. Both legs have received augmentation and leave Mathias with a stiff gait made all the more apparent if he needs to move with haste.

Rising over his shoulders and winding past his waist are a cadre of five mechandrites weaving and whirling about their work without obstruction of one another. Two are dedicated to tools of repair and maintenance, their heads bursting forth like a cornucopia of odds and ends. Another pair are manipulator claws to interact with objects without needing to neglect his cogitator. The last if the badge of a Techsorcist's office, with hexagrammic date gates and electronic safe guards to resist the effect of corruption with machines it interfaces with. A data module inside the Techsorcist Mechandrite stores proscribed documents to aid in restoring the Machine Spirit to it's former glory.

History: Born on a planet considering itself second only to Holy Terra in it's importance to the Imperium's survival, the early life of Mathias Montag was seen through a haze of tactical camouflage and the rigors of a life bound for military service. Cadia, it's very name evoking images of grizzled Guardsman, insurmountable fortress cities, and the yawning expense of Hell itself clawing at the Immaterium beyond their skies.

By the age of 10, Mathias and his peers could field strip and reassemble a Lasrifle. Soldiery was their lifeblood, 70% of the population spending their lives from Schola to grave either drilling their skills across field and tundra or putting them to use across the Imperium. It was the expectation of Mathias he would follow as such, yet a keen mind and a steady hand could provide better use elsewhere. As was to be expected with the Schola Progenium, they produced not only Guardsman but offered fertile grounds for Sororitas, Naval, and in this case, Adeptus Mechanicus recruiting. As great the need for soldiers was, not a one of them would be as great as they were without the wisdom of the Tech Cult and the diligence of its Enginseers.

The rust red robes and the Martian soil they heralded were all Mathias' future held, the weight of mechandrites bearing the familiarity that a Guardsman holds their flak armor. His education had shifted away from the drilling of physical perfection to the pursuit of knowledge and the honing of finer articulation.

In a sense it was a period of constant failure, fumbling in the dark to do that which every Imperial Citizen had been indoctrinated to do otherwise; To question the unknown. Assembling a Lasgun required no knowledge of a forces which produced the charge in a power pack, yet now Mathias mind was compelled to stretch beyond the yolk of dogma and fathom the processes of the very universe from which they were all but cogs in a glorious mechanism of such scale and design he wept before the Emperor visage, and the mechanism he had wrought as the Omnissah's vessel.

Though the very act of observation does the universe change, and as Mathias' knowledge swelled so to did his interests shift and whirl from the building blocks of physics to the maintenance of the Imperium's engines of war, and ultimately came to drift towards a peculiar field of inquiry. In the beginning steps of an Enginseer he was ravenous to understand the workings of a Chimera transport and how to go about repairs of various damages common to use in combat, yet as with all Cadians his thoughts came upon the practical usage of his skills against one enemy in particular. Valhallan's had their nemesis in the Orks, and even Space Marines like the White Scars had a particular grudge against the Dark Eldar.

Mathias thought of Chaos. He thought of mobs of cultists with their flesh profaned with the icons of the Ruinous powers. He thought of treacherous PDF who'd rather turn their guns upon comrades and serve demons then give their life for the Emperor. He thought of their Lasguns once made pure with every solemn incantation of the a Guardsman's litanies and bristled as the machine spirits were turned upon the Omnissiah. Thoughts rumbling beneath the boots of Chaos Space Marines and their Daemon infused Bolters spewing curses without end, of Predator tanks spewing infernal fire as they trundled like wild beasts over Imperial ramparts.

More then any other enemy, Chaos was the one who robbed the Imperium of its glory, who sullied the grand mechanism for which they all spun their lives to the last to keep in motion. The standard procedure was to destroy that which was tainted and free the machine spirit trapped within, yet it was simple to find a path to a far greater victory over the traitor hordes.

Reclamation. Any above the ranks of menials could request induction into the order of Techsorcists, provided they had the aptitude to complete a 7000 question test with only 3 hours of preparation and the approval of the Inquisition. He threw himself upon the task with the fervor of one storming from their trench and crossing no mans land, every step forward possibly your last amidst a tide of opposition.

But he was borne to the Emperor's Light and the Omnissiah's designs. Born to Cadian blood and the most righteous Imperium, the vanguard against terror, and he would remain unbroken against such paltry trials. 7000 questions later and he emerged with his Techsorcist Mechandrite, and went on to finish his studies with all due haste before requesting to return to the Cadian Gate for assignment. He'd hoped to spend his life defending the Imperium from Chaos, and tearing away their stolen technology to restore its Machine Spirit to former glory right before the baleful eye itself.

Yet scarce few years went by, bouncing between regiments and patrol ships, before the 13th Black Crusade changed the face of the galaxy, and Cadia fought to its dying breath before succumbing to the Despoilers final slight against the beleaguered defenders. Mathias was not there to witness a Living Saint fight the Chosen of Chaos, nor did he see Creed's heroism rouse the likes of Astartes and Nobles to new heights. Instead he could only watch from a neighboring planet as they shrunk, then grew, as Cadia shattered before a falling Blackstone Fortress.

There was no respite, no time to mourn, as the warbands of Chaos splintered off to pillage the remaining planets in the system and he was drawn into the street-by-street fighting for his very survival. Mechandrites were more often thrust at the frenzied cultist then was put to use maintaining armaments, and Mathias' quest for Reclamation was paused for a time, till little by little the infighting of Chaos shattered the back of their offensive and some ill-fitting sense of normalcy asserted itself. And it was into this period of transition that he found himself approached by Servo Skull with an unexpected, but wholly welcome invitation.

Finally, there was a challenge worthy of his skill.

Equipment and Armament:
Quintet of Mechandrites (Described above.)

Cortex Implants.

Vox-caster.

Mechanicus Cog Wheel Medallion

Servo Skull: Originally equipped solely for remote reconnaissance, has been outfitted with an engraving tool and a small data module containing the patterns for hexagrammic seals, allowing the Servo Skull to carve said seal into terrain, vehicles, or flesh- Assuming said flesh doesn't swat the skull away. The brow of the skull has a neatly carved cogwheel resting at the center of a wrought iron gate.

Sacred Oils and Incense.

Cogitator Gauntlet: Grafted to his left arm and fitted with similar seals as Techsorcist Mechandrite, it allows for ease of access with Machine Spirits and additional processing capabilities outside his own cortical implants.

Miscellaneous: Anything you want to mention but haven't been able to cover yet.

[Lonewolf685]

Welcome to Umbra Academy!

---

True evil is not something one can be borne to, but something that is fostered and nurtured within the hearts and minds of each generation! The potential for it dwells within the must mundane mortal, pathetic imp, and the lowest slime, just as deserving of the chance to grow as the most formidable arch-demon and cosmic horror.

Yet in worlds dominated by a blind lust for all things good and pure there are so few opportunities, where can such delightfully wretched souls foster their potential when evil is relegated to the shadows? Why, academia, of course!

A gathering of the most insidious minds and arcane masters drew their powers together and carved out a slice of Hell's abundant, well, Hellscape, to establish a community for the living who were destined but not yet damned to the infernal fires below. It was founded on the principles of the Seven Deadly Sins and encouraged all who congregated their to push themselves to attain their heart's every desire through their own guile, strength, and charisma.

Yet such a libertarian society would ensure a ceaseless cycle of usurpation those in power and ensure the lowest would be crushed without a chance. Even in Hell, laissez-faire can not function. To ensure that the those who possessed the drive to push themselves but did not possess the fortune of position that others would be born or bequeathed, a school was founded.

All may apply at no cost to them, room and board included. Anyone from the Netherworld and beyond can flock to the lecture halls and soak in the wisdom of the venerable paragons of Evil. There is no homework, no mandatory clubs, and no prom dance. A student's only concern is pushing themselves to greater heights, and passing the rigorous tests presented by educators and their own peers.

Because failure could mean certain death, or having your ambitions eternally bound to wills of their betters. But such is the cost of achieving a Greater Evil.

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Welcome one and all to Umbra Academy, an RP about evil people trying to become even better at being evil! Here we're aiming for a relatively light heart-ed atmosphere in the vain of such games as Disgaea or Overlord- The old playstation games, to be specific, but the far more popular anime is just as applicable- where upon you the RPer shall the take role of an ambitious student eager to make their way on the path of True Evil! No wizard gets by without studying, after all, and no hulking brute would survive if they didn't ace Physical Education.

You will all be starting as students in the middle of the school year, having just survived your Midterms and are to enjoy an easy week before going on a Field Trip to reward the surviving students. As such you are reasonably experienced and educated in which ever field you choose to dedicate yourself as one would expect for being half way through the school year. No one is applying as a teacher, and the RP will be directed away from what happens during lectures, leaving the characters open to interact with relative autonomy outside of important occurrences like Tests, Field Trips, and School Wide Events.

You may be asking what is the incentive to join this RP over the scores of fandom or Slice of Life school adventures that already exist. The answer to that is; Being evil for evil's sake is it's own reward. Start weak, grow strong, and rise to new heights alongside or against your fellow RPers and the challenges thrown your way. Whether you kick down or punch up, cooperate or conspire against, the myriad paths to power are open to all who aspire to see their reach equal their grasp!

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The Universe
Good. The Light. That which is Holy. A force which spreads like cancer and robs people of their free will through prophecy and destiny. That which instills a close minded fervor to expel and purge all those whose inquests are not shackled by their narrow morality. Were it not the guiding force which galvanizes most worlds together into functioning societies it would be vilified as the blackest cruelty in all the land!

But alas, Good has really good public relations. Angels. Unicorns. 'Noble' Dragons. It's hard for an honest purveyor of the Black Arts to convince a crowd of medieval peasants of the greatness of personal enlightenment when the doe eyed feather duster flashes her cleavage and extols the virtue of dedicating yourself to cabbage farming. Words are then exchanged, hair is soon pulled, and inevitably feather's are ruffled by miasmic bolts of darkness. Thus was the state of things, till ye old dark lords decided that if the world had no need of them, then they had no need of it.

There had always existed an assumption that raising demons from Hell was some great challenge that required complex rituals, ordained blood moons, and lengthy incantations ripe for a hero to interrupt at the midnight hour. And to an extent there is some truth, but only in one direction. Travel to Hell is as easy as stumbling down the right cave, and for those of an Evil nature they have little to fear of the guardians of such paths. They are scattered all around the world, whether in the wilds or buried in the crumbling infrastructure of urban settlements, and whenever one is closed another shall open to ensure all roads lead to Hell.

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The School
Classes are taught as open forums, lectures dominated by discussion and debate between seasoned lecturers and students sparring with them both verbally and physically. Attendance is not mandatory, and a student is free to ignore or attend as many as they wish, as their ultimate fate rests in how they push themselves to absorb and exceed the offered knowledge of their elders.

Field Trips are a common occurrence, whereupon students are sent beyond Hell where they shall put their knowledge and skills to the test spreading disorder among the world above which is most heavily entrenched in the tenants of Good. Generally the students are free to act to their discretion, and souvenirs are encouraged to be taken.

Tests are where Umbra Academy demonstrates it's sadistic sides, monthly gauntlets to weed out the weakest students in ever escalating trials dead set on killing the unprepared. Survival means growing stronger and living for another month amidst the increasingly rigorous lecture halls, while failure means expulsion from the Mortal Coil.

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The Rules
-If you have any problems, questions, comments, or concerns, please do not hesitate to let the GMs know.

-Keep your IC posts at a minimum length of one or two paragraphs (i.e.: around 500 to 1000 characters), for each character in your post, and please try to write as well as you can. We know that English is not everyone's main language, but that's no excuse to being negligent.

-No Godmodding, Power Gaming, Metagaming, Mary Sues/Gary Stus, and or similar types of characters/behavior. I'm all for going balls to the wall with power levels here, but you need to make the character interesting to back that up.

-All interactions between player characters and outcomes of any them should be handled respectfully between the involved parties. If no agreement can be achieved in any reasonable way, the GMs will issue a decree saying how to proceed.

-If you are going to be inactive for an extended period of time, please advise the GMs of this so we can accommodate.. IRL will always come before RPs, and we will understand if you need to focus on real life issues for a few weeks, but if you do so without a word then we can't be very understanding.

-Post all Character Sheets on the OOC for review before moving to the CS section afterwards.

-If at any time IRL or other outside concerns conspire to make posting anything of adequate length possible, please advise the OOC to your lack of writing opportunity rather then posting a single paragraph. Better to be told there is a delay then receive disappointment immediately.

- Read the rules. This one is a given.

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CS Skeleton

• Appearance: Self-explanatory. Anime/cartoon images are preferred. Text descriptions are also fine.
• Name: Self-explanatory.
• Title: Self-explanatory and Optional.
• Species: What kind of being your character is?
• Abilities: Any supernatural powers that your character has goes here. If you don't have any, you don't need to add this.
• Skills: Any noticeable mundane skills possessed by your character, like cooking, singing, exceptional aim, martial arts proficiency, etc., should be placed here. If you don't have any, you don't need to add this.
• Inventory: Any noteworthy possession that your character may have should be placed here. Commonplace mundane items don't need to be listed. If you don't have any, you don't need to add this.
• Sample Post: Write a small post describing your character overcoming their Midterm in Hell. This can be any test of your own desire, whether one of intellect, might or guile, but use it to show us your character through their actions. Do they struggle bitterly? Excel with ease? Do they overcome some grand challenge or luck out with an easy test? (What you write speaks more to your character then any flat personality / backstory section.)
• Other: Optional. Anything else not mentioned above that you may wish to add goes here.

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[Lonewolf685]

Mathias Montag

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