Abstract Proxy

Blackguards!

The Witchhunter

Zaraste

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Name

Zaraste of House Myndar

Race

Dark Elf

Gender

Female

Age

Some one hundred years old, Zaraste is still a young adult among her kind.

Appearance

Formed from ice and wreathed in star light, Zaraste looks little like a soldier. Concealing her danger, her beauty is a misdirection, hiding the cold touch of the blade that awaits her enemies. Taller than most, Zaraste moves with the otherworldly grace of her elven kin. Her skin is the color of steel, her ashen hair cut short. Her eyes are tranquil seas of violence, lilac waters that glow with a fell light in the darkness.

Personality

Order.

Order, instead of chaos.

That's what she had fought for. That's what she had killed for. That's what she had believed in…

Once.

Now Zaraste no longer knows what she believes in.

Betrayal has poisoned her heart. Bitterness has nourished her. And anger has strengthened her. With the passing of each hellish moment in the Maw, Zaraste has thought only of escape. And of vengeance. Against the Tyrant. Against the Westerlands. Against everyone that wronged her. However, her hatred is no fiery thing roaring with passion, but a chill over her soul that fills her mind with clear purpose. So she bides her time. Zaraste knows that if she is alive, her captors still have a use for her. She learned this long ago. To be useful, is to be valuable. And to be valuable, is to remain alive.

The Maw did not weaken her. It purified her. It revealed the truth to her. Or so she tells herself. It was all just a dream to begin with. She had never been free. Nobody ever had. Resigned to this conviction, Zaraste brims with cynicism, drowning with distrust. Her grim talents have not faded. Ruthless pragmatism now holds sway over her actions. Her words are a tool, a weapon to reveal or create weakness. Affection and intimacy merely means to an end. Joy may have left her. Hope may have deserted her. But Zaraste stubbornly refuses to surrender.

She doesn’t care about honor. She doesn’t care about justice. Zaraste wants to live. Zaraste wants revenge. She doesn’t care what she has to do. And she doesn’t care what price she has to pay to accomplish her dark goals.

Background

Necessity Over Conscience

"Wake up. Wake up, stranger."

"I am awake," Zaraste hissed, pressing the knife against the throat of the robed man touching her shoulder. The darkness was no hindrance to her. She was used to it. She welcomed it.

"W-Wait, wait. Please wait! I mean you no harm! You are among friends!"

"I have no friends, not any longer."

"T-That’s not true. Please, please! Stay your hand, I beg you. Master Maekir sent me to attend to you. Besides, your wounds have not healed yet. You must rest!"

"There is no time. She’s coming."

"Who is coming?"

"The Warden. Who else?"

"The Warden?"

"I can feel it. The heavy weight of magic. Can you not smell it? The night reeks of magic."

"Forgive me, but I smell only the healing powders and poultices we have applied to your wounds."

Zaraste laughed, "Soon, soon enough you will know."

"Know what?"

"It doesn't matter."

"What doesn’t matter?"

"This, all of this," Zaraste said, gesturing at the darkened room around her. "None of this matters."

"I would disagree, but...ah...you have me at somewhat of a disadvantage.

Zaraste shrugged, "What is your name, priest?"

"I am Brother Umbero."

"I see," Zaraste said as she slid the knife back beneath her pillow.

"And you, what shall I call you?"

"Zaraste."

"Zaraste? Strange," Umbero muttered, a thoughtful look appearing on his face that Zaraste did not much like. "I remember hearing that name in an old song, one my grandfather used to sing in the tavern with his old friends from the war. It told the tale of an infamous mercenary that ravaged the lands. Bloodying the Westerlands for nearly twenty years, before she vanished with a king's ransom in gold."

"Few are alive who still remember those days. Before the White Tiger. Before the Temple of the Sun. And before the Unification Wars."

"That was you then?"

"I came here long ago," Zaraste began, "I was younger then, when I crossed the Moonsea to reach these shores."

"Why did you come here?"

"My birthright was stolen from me. And I did not want to recover it."

"What do you mean?"

"I wanted to be free."

"Free?"

"Yes, I wanted to be free. Free from the duties that bound me. Free from the blood that chained me. It was a dream, nothing more. No one has ever been free."

"Are we not free, at this very moment?"

"No, I discovered that here. In the Westerlands, I traded my naivety for purpose. I found war, you see. I saw the people suffering with my own eyes. And I knew then that I must fight, for no one else would fight for me."

"You fought in the Unification Wars?"

"I fought in many wars. Such was my vocation. I chose necessity over my conscience. I learned to steel my heart. A choice that ensured my doom."

"Your doom?"

"I trusted him. I believed in him. I fought for him. For years, I faithfully served the White Tiger."

"I take it your service to His Majesty was not without issue?"

"Do you know how many I hunted down for him? How many I killed?" Zaraste laughed bitterly. "And for what? To be cast aside when he no longer needed me? To be named a traitor?"

"And the truth? Surely, you can prove your innocence?"

"It doesn’t matter what the truth is. Because others believe the lies."

"Why would they doubt you?”

"Why not? They hated me. They feared me. I taught them to be afraid of me. I became the monster that the kingdom needed."

"Bounty hunting is said to be a complicated profession."

"To deal in flesh, is to invite condemnation. Mage slayer, the nobles muttered, bristling with disgust in my presence. Witchhunter the commoners named me, making warding signs whenever they saw me."

"They were wrong."

"No, they knew me well."

The Vanishing Starlight

The Warden came as she rested.

A figure cloaked in shattered mirrors and broken starlight. Surrounded by a mist that clouded Zaraste's thoughts, blurring the lines between consciousness and dreaming. She was too slow. Her limbs heavy with impossible weariness. Her blade raged, thirsty for blood. But she could not act. She could resist.

There was no malice or hatred. No mention of an old score to settle. Only sudden confinement and the unspoken promise of grim deeds to come.

Talents

Zaraste is a warrior shaped by grim purpose. Once a seeker tasked with hunting down and killing renegade spellcasters, she is a specialist in quelling dangerous magic. Sensitive to the arcane, Zaraste is a gifted tracker, seemingly sensing even the faintest traces of magic. She fights with a sword and shield, wielding magic from the schools of abjuration, transmutation, and evocation to aid her efforts. Zaraste weaves protective magic to create magical and physical barriers, blocking and dispelling magic, and banishing summoned beings. She casts spells that change the properties of creatures, objects, and her environment. Weakening her enemies and rendering them harmless. Bolstering her strength and the strength of her allies. And she channels powerful elemental effects through her spellcasting.

Flaws

Comprehending her bitter fate. Zaraste is resigned to the inevitable beyond. She does not search the ages. She requires no assurance, no stories of redemption and hope. She is driven by anger. She is afflicted by a bitterness that has poisoned her heart. Burdened by her deeds and marked by her betrayal, Zaraste has become increasingly fatalistic. She holds no expectations of survival. She wishes for no absolution. She wants revenge. She wants to live. She wants to live long enough to have her revenge.

Cunningly wielding her violent passions, Zaraste hides an unwelcome desperation. She longs for pleasure. In moments of quiet, she seeks escape. Accepting anyone or anything that will remove her from herself and allow her to forget her present situation.

Hailing from a distant land, full of places dark and places strange, Zaraste is sensitive to sunlight and prefers to wear covering clothes in daylight. Given her manner of dress and the rarity of drow in the Westerlands, Zaraste is easily observed.

Equipment

Shrouded in gray, Zaraste wears a suit of half-plate armor beneath a hooded traveling cloak. Strapped to her back is a steel heater shield. Sheathed in a scabbard worn on her left hip is a cursed longsword, an evil blade said to contain the soul of an imprisoned fiend. On her right hip, she carries a long, slender bladed dagger with a needle-like point.

Miscellaneous

Take this...

Falling Skies

LT Emma “Misfit” Virtanen

The ceiling above her was the color of a spoon, battered by too many hands, and run through too many dishwasher cycles.

Data pad in one hand, fork in the other, Virtanen sat by herself. The other pilots were elsewhere. And the rest of the crew still weren’t sure what to make of her. She didn’t mind. She enjoyed the quiet. There was plenty of coffee. Good coffee, by her measure,as far as UEE military grade brews were concerned. Better than the food the cooks were serving. The bacon was burned. The hash browns were half-cooked. And the eggs appeared to be composed largely of water. Virtanen accepted these culinary crimes stoically. She’d eaten far worse. She could eat almost anything. A useful talent in the UEE navy.

"General Quarters, General Quarters. All hands to battle stations. I repeat: General Quarters. General Quarters..."

Virtanen sighed. It was a shame to leave behind uneaten food. She knew the INS Roanoke well. It was home. It was her home. She could hear the voice of the ship. Not the AI or comms system. Ships were more than metal, she liked to think. They had their own peculiarities and mannerisms. She suspected they might have souls. But she was no philosopher. It was above her paygrade. She left such matters to others.

"All pilots to strike craft. I repeat: All pilots to strike craft. Prepare for imminent combat."

Coffee still in hand, Virtanen moved quickly. She dodged hurrying crew members easily. Most did not move like spacers. They were too slow, too clumsy, even under artificial gravity. Crowded as the corridors were, with crates and sailors, it was nothing compared to a derelict merchant ship on a decade-long trading run. Sometimes Virtanen almost missed it. The sights. The sounds. The smells. And the machine oil vodka.

Virtanen laughed, remembering, unhesitatingly dodging beneath the arms of an Ultralight MAS that was scrambling to secure giant bins of scrap metal for damage control. Quickening her run, Virtanen darted into the hanger. She saw the others. Moving with the same urgency to their assigned MAS. They had to move. They had to move quickly. MAS stuck in a hanger bay were dead meat.

"No time for coffee, LT," her chief MAS technician chided, taking the half full cup from Virtanen and handing the pilot her helmet instead. Rolling up her flight suit and sealing her helmet, Virtanen shrugged. Suitably attired, she climbed swiftly, racing along the scaffolding that led to the cockpit of her MAS. The Griffin was waiting for her. She could feel it.

Settling into the armored cockpit of the Griffin, Virtanen strapped herself into her seat before closing the heavy hatch with the push of a button. Taking a deep breath, she ran a hand over the controls, patting the main display panel affectionately. No more simulation runs. No more exercises. No more pre-mission rehearsals. This was it. The real thing. The only thing that mattered. The only thing that had ever mattered.

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> Confirming Pilot Assignment: LT Emma Virtanen _
> ...Pilot Confirmed
> Initializing systems…

"Herää, it's time to go, we have work to do," Virtanen said, fondly addressing her MAS as battery powered systems began to light up the cockpit.

> Reactor: Online_
> Life Support: Online_
> Shield Generator: Online_
> Weapon Systems: Online_

Virtanen could feel her hands begin to shake. A good omen, she thought with a smile. It had been too long since they had fought the Coalies. She didn’t want to lose her sharpness. She watched her reactor readings cautiously. A fistful of plasma required certain precautions. The commander was worried enough as it was with their flying circus of MAS. An additional unplanned explosion was unlikely to temper his concerns.

> All Calibrations Complete
> All Systems Nominal
> Standby for Launch

Parsing the information the sensors of the Griffin sent to her, Virtanen smiled. She felt complete again. She felt whole. She had her entire body back again. Satisfied with the automated diagnostics and her own manual checks, Virtanen keyed her mic.

<<Tower, preflight completed, Misfit ready for launch.>>

Listening to the squad comms, Virtanen shook her head. It amazed her that Rabbit and Hex could talk so much. They didn’t seem to need a bottle of vodka to loosen their tongues like she did. Commie was business as usual and Virtanen could guess that he was itching to redline his reactor. Rhino seemed at ease, he was an anchor for the unit, and Virtanen appreciated his composure. Vulture’s words woke Virtanen up from her social musing. He was right. The old man was solid, although she’d never call him old man to his face. To live as long as he had, a MAS pilot had to be smart and more than a little lucky.

<<Misfit reporting all systems green. Ready to launch, Commander.>>

Compared to Ensign Braide’s fiery comms Virtanen's voice was a breath of cold.

Blackguards!

Love the characters posted.

I'll endeavor to wrap up my character sheet today. :D

Blackguards!

@Zeroth I'm open to characters with unnaturally long lifespans, no problem.

@Red Wizard

That is good, because I went with the fantasy trope where elves/drow live for a long time. XD

Will prob have my character sheet ready today or tomorrow, but no later than this weekend.

Concept so far:

A drow sellsword, an eldritch knight, infamous for her service to the king. Feared, she earned a grim reputation for her deeds. For all her years of loyalty, she was named a traitor, and promptly discarded by the Tyrant. Following a lengthy rebellion, she was ambushed and captured by the Warden. Left alive, she was thrown into the Maw to languish.

Falling Skies

Pilot Dossier: Virtanen, Emma

EMMA 'MISFIT' Virtanen

D O S S I E R : I D #478240199

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Name: Virtanen, Emma
Callsign: Misfit
Rank: O-3 Lieutenant
Kills: 27

Gender: Female
Age: 25
Height: 5'7''
Weight: 137 lbs

S E R V I C E R E C O R D

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Psychological Analysis:
An honor bound deep spacer, Virtanen is a gifted MAS pilot, and military officer steeped in an esoteric culture that most in the 101st Special Operations Group still don't halfway understand.

Accustomed to violence and bloodshed, small and great, Virtanen dutifully fights for the UEE. The line between life and death is razor thin in space, leaving Virtanen dismayed only when resources or lives are needlessly wasted. There’s no place for emotion on the battlefield, as far as Virtanen is concerned, and she aims to keep her blood full of ice. Virtanen values aggression in combat above all else, having learned early on that if you hit hard and fast, things tend to go your way.

Schooled by the heterodox instructors at the UEE military academy orbiting Jupiter, Virtanen embodies the determined, flexible style of soldierly expected from the notoriously harsh MAS pilot program established at the ends of the solar system.

Trained to operate autonomously with other MAS pilots, Virtanen is comfortable operating under enemy fire and deep behind enemy lines. Burned into every fiber of her being as a MAS pilot is the singular idea that the only truly mortal sin is to hesitate. Steadfastly devoted to her adopted clan, the 7th MAS Squadron, Virtanen believes that orders can be disobeyed, rules can be broken…as long as the mission is successful and the squadron lives to fight another day.

Fond of socializing, Virtanen can drink vodka with the best of the 101st SOG and is infamous within the unit for the amount of strong spirits that she can consume in one sitting. In more quiet moments, Virtanen is fond of sharing exceedingly dry jokes and clever music. Offered enough to drink, she has on occasion been known to grace her comrades with a song and delicate strum of her guitar.

For all her many admirable qualities and talents, Virtanen has a small number of disciplinary incidents on her military record. When queried about these demerits, Virtanen explains with a shrug and bored look that they were simply the result of unfortunate cultural misunderstandings.

Personal Record:
Emma Sofia Virtanen was born the youngest child and third daughter in a middling merchant family known to traverse the stars in a motley collection of rust bucket ships. A spacer from the moment of her birth, she grew up with little concept of a permanent home beyond the gently humming crew quarters of her parent's ancient ship. Entire planetary systems were stopping points for fleeting bursts of time. Two weeks was a lengthy stay and half-year an eternity.

Known as the VAKAYA, her kindred lived in an ever-changing and ever-shifting mercantile fleet that sought to acquire new profits amidst the stars. Loosely governed by a confederation-style council, true power resided with one of the thirteen familial clans that made up the fleet population. The Virtanen family, as a lesser family, sellswords turned merchants, were widely seen as a newer, more brutish caste of traders. Related, one and all, by blood or adoption, every member of the fleet was bound to one of these thirteen great houses, the clans that had journeyed into the uncharted reaches of space.

These ties meant honor and more to the denizens of the mercantile fleet. Subterfuge was a matter of each precious breath of recycled air, as each rival family vied for more power and greater standing amongst their peers. Assassins and assassinations were expected, provided the proper forms were adhered to. Inter-familial and intra-familial violence was seen as no less just. Attacks, once discovered, were settled though coin, duels or lengthy blood feuds. However, these duels and vendettas followed strict rituals, long recorded and remembered. Any breach of these time honored decrees was punished with harsh brutality.

Steeped in such a culture. Raised to value the honor of her clan. Taught to stay true to such paradoxical principles, Virtanen bloodied her knife before she could read. Still, her people were traders. Her parents dealt in the resources required to create and sustain life. Water and Oxygen were their chief wares. Sensitive to the needs of the warring factions, the UEE and Coalition, Virtanen’s parents sought out rare metals when it was feasible. Faced with plenty, they would seek out consumer goods, chasing projected demand in nearby systems. Adhering to their own particular brand of honor, her family did not shy from the transportation of contraband…be it drugs, harvested organs, or battlefield souvenirs.

Holding that breaking the law was no moral failure so long as profits were secured and the security of the familial fleet was maintained, the VAKAYA maintained a soft view of crime across. Consequently, all thirteen families and their ancillary vassal clans cultivated generational ties to various criminal syndicates found throughout human inhabited space. Smuggling, particularly of weapons and munitions, became highly profitable in times of heightened conflict between the UEE and Coalition. Such…profitable years seemed increasingly certain as Virtanen grew into her adolescent years.

The Virtanen family grew richer as the war raged endlessly onwards. Her parents taught her to be a survivor and Virtanen accepted their stern lessons unquestioningly. Night was dark, and space was so cold. Living to measure the passing of another day was victory enough.

Spending her formative years in the hulking cargo holds of trade liners, Virtanen began to pilot mobile suits before she had fully launched out of her childhood. Twelve solar years was old enough to pilot according to her esteemed father. She was old enough to defend her honor. She was old enough to stand for her family. She was old enough to die…and therefore she was certainly old enough to learn.

The first MAS she piloted was a refurbished CMS-110 Gowser M. A civilian grade MAS designed and produced in Coalition space, Virtanen had watched her uncles assemble it piece by salvaged piece. Barely functional, the battered mobile suit had been seal-checked and reinforced with hastily welded armor to protect against space debris. Virtanen remembers the moment fondly. The darkness of space. The silence of nothingness. It remains her most cherished memory. The feeling of oneness she felt with the MAS. How the controls felt like her own hands. How each movement, each firing thruster felt as if she was moving her own limbs. It was the pivotal point in her existence, the event that changed her life. The experience that guided her forever forwards. She was a pilot then, she knew, and nothing else.

With growing frequency, as the war between the UEE and Coalition intensified, Virtanen found herself working with commercial agents of the UEE. Desperate as it was to support the forces it had scattered across the stars, the UEE turned to civilian merchants to transport military materials. If some were lost along the way…well, that was simply the price of doing business. Driven by fear and necessity, the Neutral States and fiefdoms of the FEZ began to pay a premium price for any weapons, munitions, or MAS that could be provided.

In such a time of profit, uncharacteristically for one of the VAKAYA, Virtanen found herself despairing at the mundanity of her life. She grew tired of the venerable rust bucket she called home. Piloting civilian mobile suits did not fill her with as much joy as it once did. Listening to the council of a distant aunt, a fearsome woman who had once fought the Coalition as a member of a mercenary company, Virtanen sought out an old friend.

Through discrete methods, she reached out to a shadowy agent of the UEE. Commander Nyman, they called him. A half-chrome graybeard, he had been a soldier, a MAS pilot before he lost half his limbs and as much of his body to the Coalition. She trusted him little, but he knew her, he was a man who knew that she could pilot. He was a man who had seen her pilot Gowser through space more deftly than pilots with training and years far beyond hers.

Enlisting in the UEE Navy shortly after she turned eighteen, she was sent to the UEE Jupiter Military Academy. Fast tracked for pilot training, Virtanen took to military life easily, finding the structure and stern, some would say unforgiving, discipline of the Jupiter Academy a familiar reminder of her previous life. Graduating at the top of her class, despite two disciplinary incidents, Virtanen was assigned to the 10th Light MAS Division. Learning from the veterans in the unit, Virtanen participated in a series of security operations intended to secure UEE space bordering the Free Economic Zone. The culmination of Virtanen’s time with the 10th Light MAS Division was her participation in Operation Ruffian.

A large-scale military operation involving no less than three full MAS divisions, Operation Ruffian targeted an increasingly powerful pirate kingdom, the Republic of Placidia. Ruled by an infamous pirate, Thrice-Hanged Thomas, the ironically named corsair republic had begun to threaten trade critical to the continued supply of vital raw materials from the FEZ to the UEE. Utilizing three entire MAS divisions, the UEE military forces simultaneously invaded five pirate infested systems in a lightning attack that caught the Republic of Placidia by surprise. Unprepared, the pirates nonetheless fought desperately and UEE casualties were higher than the operation planners had predicted.

Along with the other MAS squadrons of the 10th Light MAS Division, Virtanen fought to capture the pirate havens that permitted the unwelcome raiders to survive. Although the capture of these settlements was prioritized, their destruction was deemed acceptable. Targeting space sports and orbital stations, the 10th Light MAS Division helped to cripple the offensive capability of the Placidians. Fighting across the planets claimed by the pirates, Virtanen received a crash course in urban warfare. She learned to fight between buildings. She learned to hide in rubble. She learned to fight under horrendous conditions. She saw what she decided was the true face of war. In the ruins, she experienced the horrific nature of battles conducted in the midst of civilians. Fighting street to street, building to building, and tunnel to tunnel. The grinder never stopped churning out meat and metal. Confronted by an enemy force willing to do anything to survive, the 10th MAS was forced to improvise in order to minimize casualties, both their own and civilian.

To cap off Operation Ruffian, Virtanen and her comrades launched an attack on a mining asteroid turned pirate stronghold. Pushing beneath the pocked surface, the 10th MAS fought in giant corridors carved out of rock to allow the movement of industrial machinery and mined material. Scrambling in the dark, Virtanen’s squad was ambushed. Critically damaged, her squad leader was forced to eject. Temporarily outnumbered due to shifting tides in the battle, Virtanen held her own. Conducting an aggressive counterattack, Virtanen charged, destroying two repurposed civilian Ultra-Light MAS and several combat vehicles before the pirates could react. Taking modest damage, Virtanen managed to protect her squad leader until reinforcements could arrive. Afterwards, Virtanen received a brief mention in daily dispatches for her bravery.

Following another promotion, to Lieutenant Junior Grade, was then transferred to the 25th MAS Commando. No longer relegated to the position of a pirate hunter, she was posted with her new unit to the front line. Taking part in regular fighting against the Coalition military forces. Fighting from battlefield to battlefield, she participated in rapid raids deep into coalition space. Raiders, the 25th MAS Commando were tasked with risky operations that targeted manufacturing facilities located deep within Coalition controlled space. Her new enemies were far from pirates. The Coalition military forces were well-trained, well-equipped, and well-motivated. Virtanen learned quickly to respect their pilots and the high powered MAS they piloted.

A notable moment in her military career was her participation in a strike aimed at crippling Coalition munitions manufacturing in the Brahe system. Having inflicted significant damage on the facility, the 10th MAS was faced with a superior enemy force of Coalition MAS. Cut-off from their supporting ground assets, Virtanen and her unit were forced to fight a running retreat from the rapid response force that chased them. Engaging leading elements of the pursuing Coalition forces, Virtanen found herself facing a Coalition Ace, Herman "Madcap" Weber. In the desperate fight that followed, Virtanen took near fatal damage, recovering only by the smallest of margins. Channeling her remaining strength and utilizing every ounce of aggression, Virtanen succeeded in destroying Madcap and his souped up MAS with a flurry of beam sabre cuts.

Promoted again, Virtanen was permitted a short R&R, before being reassigned to the 101st Special Forces Group. Almost two years have passed since then and Virtanen has established herself as a critical asset to her squadron. She's a gifted MAS pilot. She's a good shot. She follows orders well. She fights hard. She doesn’t quit. She rarely complains. And she can sleep practically anywhere, no matter the noise or light.

VAKAYA

Vapaa kauppiaiden yhteiskunta → Free Society of Traders

Personal Skills:
A Spacer’s Spacer - A child of the void, Virtanen is right at home operating in space. She is comfortable operating in all three dimensions, handling unexpected spatial orientations and high G’s remarkably well.
Once a Merchant, Always a Merchant - Despite her current professional activities, Virtanen hasn’t forgotten her mercantile origins. She can barter. She can haggle. She can appraise. And she can probably tell you where to acquire whatever it is you are looking for, legal or not.
Duelist - Virtanen is a skilled duelist, showing a marked aptitude for single combat inside or outside of a MAS. Unarmed, with rocks, with sticks, with edged and bladed weapons, with firearms…it matters not to Virtanen.

GTM-39A LP "Griffin"

M O B I L E A R M O R S U I T

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S P E C I F I C A T I O N S

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Designation: GTM-39A LP (Limited Production)
Role: Assault & General Purpose
Weight Class: Medium
Description: The GTM-39A Griffin is a powerful hybrid Medium MAS designed to provide the UEE special forces with an assault MAS combining good striking power, range, endurance, and mobility in one "affordable" package.

Produced in limited numbers, the GTM-39A Griffin was developed from the PTM-2110 Hippogriff, a failed prototype Medium MAS. Rarely recalled, the Hippogriff was an earlier model of UEE MAS intended to compete against the GTM-041 Centurion. Although the Hippogriff’s performance overwhelmingly surpassed that of the Centurion, particularly at medium to long range, a catastrophic failure during the final testing of the Hippogriff doomed the first iteration of the project.

Rising above a bad reputation, the Griffin represents a more refined, easier to pilot design that leverages many of the hard lessons learned from fighting powerful and agile Coalition MAS. A versatile platform, the Griffin is a multirole MAS that can fulfill multiple roles throughout a mission. In its primary configuration, the Griffin has an impressive arsenal of medium to long range weapons centered around a Heavy Plasma Rifle and Modular Missile System.

A R M A M E N T

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• DPW-17 Heavy Beam Rifle (Heavy) - The DPW-17 is a heavy beam rifle, designed to be used where the penetrative power, stopping power, and range of lighter beam rifles would otherwise be insufficient. The DPW-17 is capable of semi-automatic fire using 20 shot battery banks. Two spare battery banks are carried in armored hip compartments on the Griffin, allowing a further 20 shots per battery bank. These battery banks can be charged directly from the MAS engine core, greatly increasing the combat endurance of the Griffin. However, the greater accuracy, effective range, and penetration of the DPW-17 are offset by its greater expense, greater complexity, its lower rate of fire, and its smaller ammunition capacity both in magazine and carriage.
• MMS-27 Modular Missile System (Primary): - Mounted on each shoulder of the Griffin is a MMS-27 Modular Missile System. The culmination of recent advances in weapons installation, the MMS-27 makes use of a modular system to allow rapid loadout changes, rearmament, and repairs. Virtanen currently has her Griffin armed with 6 Claymore missiles (anti-Light/anti-Medium MAS) and 6 Javelin missiles (anti-Heavy MAS/anti-Ship).
• EB-21 Beam Sabre (Primary): - For close combat, the Griffin carries the ubiquitous EB-21 Beam Sabre. Adjustable blade length and a high energy output, ensure that the EB-21 remains capable of cutting through even the thickest Coalition armor. Pre-charged, the EB-21 can be recharged from the MAS core as necessary. The Griffin carries an EB-21 in its right forearm.
• S25 Combat Shield (Secondary): - To increase the combat endurance of the Griffon, the Medium MAS wields a large combat shield that provides limited directional protection from enemy fire. Anti-beam coating allows the shield to remain light, while still allowing it to absorb a few hits from laser and plasma weapons. To further increase MAS survivability, The S25 adopts the same miniaturized C-1 Reflex Shield Generator used with great success on the Centurion as part of the S22i Independent Combat Shield. The S25 shield can be mounted on the forearm, shoulder, or back of the Griffon using a magnetic clamping system. An additional grip is provided to permit the shield to be held by hand.
• Vulcan Gun 20 mm (Secondary): - A pair of compact rotary cannons mounted in the head of the Griffin. Each gun holds 225 rounds of 20 mm ammunition. Developed to provide UEE MAS with a weapons platform capable of destroying lightly armored vehicles and aircraft. Slaved to the Upgraded Smart-Targeting Suite of the Griffin, the Vulcans are capable of providing limited directional point defense against incoming missiles. Although decidedly overkill, the 20 mm guns can also be effectively used in an anti-personnel capacity.
• Upgraded Smart-Targeting Suite (Utility slot): - To ensure the delivery of accurate and deadly fire in all combat environments, the Griffin has been developed around a cutting-edge Smart AI, code named Musketeer, that permits rapid fire on the move.
• C-2 Reflex Shield Generator (Utility slot): - To maximize the time that the Griffin can remain combat effective, the Medium MAS is protected by a Class 2 Reflex Shield Generator.
• Countermeasure System (Utility slot): - The Griffin is equipped with a countermeasure protection system that utilizes flares, chaff, and modulating laser pulses to decoy enemy missiles.

Blackguards!

One dark elf coming up.

A pragmatic, magically inclined knight wearing some sweet plate.

Falling Skies (Mecha, Military, Space Opera)

@Abstract Proxy funky esoteric black market space merchant looks good so far, just waiting on a mech sheet now!

@vietmyke

Yay!

On it, prob today, worst case tomorrow as I do nothing productive.

Planescape: Search for Tir na Og

No stress, it's a holiday state side, so take your time. :D

Falling Skies (Mecha, Military, Space Opera)

Here's what I have so far for a MAS pilot, pending some edits when I have time and sleep cashed in to spend.

Concept: A Strange Deep Space Merchant Civilian MAS Pilot Turned MAS, MAS Pilot in the 7th MAS Squadron of the honorable 101st SOG.

Pilot Dossier: Virtanen, Emma

EMMA 'BAGEL' Virtanen

D O S S I E R : I D #478240199

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Name: Virtanen, Emma
Callsign: Bagel
Rank: O-2 Lieutenant Junior Grade
Kills: XX

Gender: Female
Age: 25
Height: 5'7''
Weight: 140 lbs

S E R V I C E R E C O R D

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Psychological Analysis:
An honor bound deep spacer, Virtanen is a gifted MAS pilot, and military officer steeped in an esoteric culture that most in the 101st Special Operations Group still don't halfway understand.

Accustomed to violence and bloodshed, small and great, Virtanen dutifully fights for the UEE. The line between life and death is razor thin in space, leaving Virtanen dismayed only when resources or lives are needlessly wasted. There’s no place for emotion on the battlefield, as far as Virtanen is concerned, and she aims to keep her blood full of ice. Virtanen values aggression in combat above all else, having learned early on that if you hit hard and fast, things tend to go your way.

Schooled by the heterodox instructors at the UEE military academy orbiting Jupiter, Virtanen embodies the determined, flexible style of soldierly expected from the notoriously harsh MAS pilot program established at the ends of the solar system.

Trained to operate autonomously with other MAS pilots, Virtanen is comfortable operating under enemy fire and deep behind enemy lines. Burned into every fiber of her being as a MAS pilot is the singular idea that the only truly mortal sin is to hesitate. Steadfastly devoted to her adopted clan, the 7th MAS Squadron, Virtanen believes that orders can be disobeyed, rules can be broken…as long as the mission is successful and the squadron lives to fight another day.

Fond of socializing, Virtanen can drink vodka with the best of the 101st SOG and is infamous within the unit for the amount of strong spirits that she can consume in one sitting. In more quiet moments, Virtanen is fond of sharing exceedingly dry jokes and clever music. Offered enough to drink, she has on occasion been known to grace her comrades with a song and delicate strum of her guitar.

For all her many admirable qualities and talents, Virtanen has a small number of disciplinary incidents on her military record. When queried about these demerits, Virtanen explains with a shrug and bored look that they were the result of unfortunate cultural misunderstandings.

Personal Record:
Emma Sofia Virtanen was born the youngest child and third daughter in a middling merchant family known to traverse the stars in a motley collection of rust bucket ships. A spacer from the moment of her birth, she grew up with little concept of a permanent home beyond the gently humming crew quarters of her parent's ancient ship. Entire planetary systems were stopping points for fleeting bursts of time. Two weeks was a lengthy stay and half-year an eternity.

Known as the VAKAYA, her kindred lived in an ever-changing and ever-shifting mercantile fleet that sought to acquire new profits amidst the stars. Loosely governed by a confederation-style council, true power resided with one of the thirteen familial clans that made up the fleet population. The Virtanen family, as a lesser family, sellswords turned merchants, were widely seen as a newer, more brutish caste of traders. Related, one and all, by blood or adoption, every member of the fleet was bound to one of these thirteen great houses, the clans that had journeyed into the uncharted reaches of space.

These ties meant honor and more to the denizens of the mercantile fleet. Subterfuge was a matter of each precious breath of recycled air, as each rival family vied for more power and greater standing amongst their peers. Assassins and assassinations were expected, provided the proper forms were adhered to. Inter-familial and intra-familial violence was seen as no less just. Attacks, once discovered, were settled though coin, duels or lengthy blood feuds. However, these duels and vendettas followed strict rituals, long recorded and remembered. Any breach of these time honored decrees was punished with harsh brutality.

Steeped in such a culture. Raised to value the honor of her clan. Taught to stay true to such paradoxical principles, Virtanen bloodied her knife before she could read. Still, her people were traders. Her parents dealt in the resources required to create and sustain life. Water and Oxygen were their chief wares. Sensitive to the needs of the warring factions, the UEE and Coalition, Virtanen’s parents sought out rare metals when it was feasible. Faced with plenty, they would seek out consumer goods, chasing projected demand in nearby systems. Adhering to their own particular brand of honor, her family did not shy from the transportation of contraband…be it drugs, harvested organs, or battlefield souvenirs.

Holding that breaking the law was no moral failure so long as profits were secured and the security of the familial fleet was maintained, the VAKAYA maintained a soft view of crime across. Consequently, all thirteen families and their ancillary vassal clans cultivated generational ties to various criminal syndicates found throughout human inhabited space. Smuggling, particularly of weapons and munitions, became highly profitable in times of heightened conflict between the UEE and Coalition. Such…profitable years seemed increasingly certain as Virtanen grew into her adolescent years.

The Virtanen family grew richer as the war raged endlessly onwards. Her parents taught her to be a survivor and Virtanen accepted their stern lessons unquestioningly. Night was dark, and space was so cold. Living to measure the passing of another day was victory enough.

Spending her formative years in the hulking cargo holds of trade liners, Virtanen began to pilot mobile suits before she had fully launched out of her childhood. Twelve solar years was old enough to pilot according to her esteemed father. She was old enough to defend her honor. She was old enough to stand for her family. She was old enough to die…and therefore she was certainly old enough to learn.

The first MAS she piloted was a refurbished CMS-110 Gowser M. A civilian grade MAS designed and produced in Coalition space, Virtanen had watched her uncles assemble it piece by salvaged piece. Barely functional, the battered mobile suit had been seal-checked and reinforced with hastily welded armor to protect against space debris. Virtanen remembers the moment fondly. The darkness of space. The silence of nothingness. It remains her most cherished memory. The feeling of oneness she felt with the MAS. How the controls felt like her own hands. How each movement, each firing thruster felt as if she was moving her own limbs. It was the pivotal point in her existence, the event that changed her life. The experience that guided her forever forwards. She was a pilot then, she knew, and nothing else.

With growing frequency, as the war between the UEE and Coalition intensified, Virtanen found herself working with commercial agents of the UEE. Desperate as it was to support the forces it had scattered across the stars, the UEE turned to civilian merchants to transport military materials. If some were lost along the way…well, that was simply the price of doing business. Driven by fear and necessity, the Neutral States and fiefdoms of the FEZ began to pay a premium price for any weapons, munitions, or MAS that could be provided.

In such a time of profit, uncharacteristically for one of the VAKAYA, Virtanen found herself despairing at the mundanity of her life. She grew tired of the venerable rust bucket she called home. Piloting civilian mobile suits did not fill her with as much joy as it once did. Listening to the council of a distant aunt, a fearsome woman who had once fought the Coalition as a member of a mercenary company, Virtanen sought out an old friend.

Through discrete methods, she reached out to a shadowy agent of the UEE. Nyman, they called him. A half-chrome graybeard, he had been a soldier, a MAS pilot before he lost half his limbs and as much of his body to the Coalition. She trusted him little, but he knew her, he was a man who knew that she could pilot. He was a man who had seen her pilot Gowser through space more deftly than pilots with training and years far beyond hers.

Enlisting in the UEE Navy shortly after she turned eighteen, she was sent to the UEE Jupiter Military Academy. Fast tracked for pilot training, Virtanen took to military life easily, finding the structure and stern, some would say unforgiving, discipline of the Jupiter Academy a familiar reminder of her previous life. Graduating at the top of her class, despite two disciplinary incidents, Virtanen was assigned to the 10th Light MAS Division. Cutting her teeth hunting pirates, she was promoted and then transferred to the 25th MAS Commando, being posted on the front lines, taking part in rapid raids targeting manufacturing facilities deep within Coalition controlled space.

Reassigned to the 101st Special Forces Group two years ago, Virtanen has established herself as a rapidly developing pilot and critical asset to her squadron. She follows orders well. She fits in well with her comrades. She fights hard. She doesn’t quit. She rarely complains. And she can sleep practically anywhere, no matter the noise or light.

VAKAYA

Vapaa kauppiaiden yhteiskunta → Free Society of Traders

Personal Skills:
A Spacer’s Spacer - A child of the void, Virtanen is right at home operating in space. She is comfortable operating in all three dimensions, handling unexpected spatial orientations and high G’s remarkably well.
Once a Merchant, Always a Merchant - Despite her current professional activities, Virtanen hasn’t forgotten her mercantile origins. She can barter. She can haggle. She can appraise. And she can probably tell you where to acquire whatever it is you are looking for, legal or not.
Duelist - Virtanen is a skilled duelist, showing a marked aptitude for single combat inside or outside of a MAS. Unarmed, with rocks, with sticks, with edged and bladed weapons, with firearms…it matters not to Virtanen.

I've got the bones of hybrid MAS meant to bring the fight to the baddies (I'd call it something like heavy cavalry, Battle Line + Cavalry). Will probably add some missing details, a picture, and some much needed technobabble tomorrow.

ABC-123 Name

M O B I L E A R M O R S U I T

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S P E C I F I C A T I O N S

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Designation: P (Prototype)
Role: Assault & General Purpose
Weight Class: Medium
Description: A powerful hybrid MAS intended to be used a testbed for a newly developed Hybrid Plasma-Kinetic weapons system.

A R M A M E N T

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• Hybrid Plasma-Kinetic Cannon (Heavy) -
• Missile System (Primary): -
• EB-21 Beam Sabre (Primary): -
• S25 Combat Shield (Secondary): -
• Vulcan 20 mm (Secondary): -
• Advanced Targeting Suite (Utility slot): -
• C-3 Reflex Shield Generator (Utility slot): -
• Countermeasure System (Utility slot): -

Falling Skies (Mecha, Military, Space Opera)

I'm interested!

Dig the lore and the overall vibes. :D