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[screaming]
In my tabbing around the operator profiles of who had notes about exposure in their past I forgot to put in the damn zero, thank you


Here's my first crack at a character. Please let me know if there's any systems or lore stuff I've stepped on the toes of and I'll get right on fixing it.

Oh, and sorry it's not an Ozen clone my guy. Was already a bit in motion on this one.
finally, a crossover of armored core and kemono friends, the promised land

If you aren't already calling it a full ship I'd be interested in running a Defender.
Would love to see a character sheet, but I might be interested.
Kirigina retreated back to the easy role of listening as the dancer began to talk openly about their casual disruption of time and space. In a normal conversation she could have had the luxury of just sort of not really understanding how one goes about their normal life when a sneeze or casual mugging could propel them outside the boundaries of causality as she knew it. A humble reminder that a stronger sort of people existed in the world, who faced down existential uncertainty with that kind of nonchalance. "Haha," She laughed along. Ending up naked in front of your work group, crazy stuff, that. This wasn't a normal conversation, the chief artificer beside them was jotting down all sorts of things, examining Xanara's story and assuring her that this sort of thing was dealt with around here. Nope, Kirigina was the odd one out and before long she was just the odd one when Sira strode away.

The mechanic's face took on a quizzical twist as the dancer continued, as if she'd just been made to swallow something only mildly sour. "Ne, I do not know about that last part. You definitely don't need to be special to be a technician, they take everyone they can get their hands on." That didn't paint them in such a great light, did it? She gripped at her wrench. There was a little bit more to it than that, though not much. The machine took the citizens it needed to keep moving, but... "But that has worked out well for me," She shrugged her shoulders. "I think it would be rather sad to have to work at something where my fate was put out by things like talents and sparks before I ever got to try. At least I know why dancing makes me so nervous now."

Wait, was just taking the compliment the better play? She chuckled nervously at the end of her own attempt to keep things light. Her mind began to spin for a way to follow that up but a social creature the Kirigina was not. As the horror of being locked in a conversation between two people with nothing but ostensibly good intentions in common set in, Kress broke through, bringing his bloodstained new friend with him. The circle of cool peeps grew as the strange sudent finally put name to a now unforgettable face: Cormac Hollow. "Wow, so many mages in performing arts. More lively than the scholars I pictured going to work with... Um, in a good way, of course."
Heartening news. It would have been an awful tragedy had Kirigina been sent all this way only to find that the academic artificers of Arkus Academy preferred the study of theory over practice. Not an unreasonable commitment but one she was wholly unsuited for, wrench in hand and textbooks traded for calloused, blistering experience at the front of repair queues. A warm smile spread across the wrench witch's face as Kress went on, and she found herself nodding confidently at the concepts broached. Maybe she was proud to be keeping up with the theory after all, since while the steel constructions of her homeland were titanic representations of the Republic's progress in rebuilding... They were not usually so ornate. "Building sized heat exchangers composed entirely through runes. I cannot imagine how sharp the tolerances must be, or what kind of work went into creating, no, affixing that system to these old structures. Even if the yield were unsteady, the air is very clean here to think a forge might be nearby."

Before either could continue the instructor she'd just been thinking about flagging down approached them. Sleepy eyed fascination shifted from Kress to Sira, glancing back in time with their instructor giving the boy the same lingering glance she had. Artificers were not people people, so much was true across borders at least. Or he just had one of those familiar faces. "Ja," She responded automatically to being called an artificer, bowing her head but only listening to the teacher. The tour proceeded, prompting a long period of polite silence as instructors talked and pointed them around at the buildings. A workshop, a garden, all handy things to be so close to with reasonably unlimited access. Who could have envisioned a center of learning, the focal point where the future was weaved with an unsuspecting and uncaring generation of new hands, could afford to be so comfortable. But, just as soon as she warmed up to the idea of the academy they were done, turned from a tour into a group of meandering students deciding where first to go. That was a new feeling. Giddiness tipped the corners of her lips, "I cannot believe it," She admitted, nudging Kress... but as a growing trend, before she finished the thought they were face to face with more of their kind.

First a snow haired boy who introduced himself as Cormac Hollow and in the same breath declared himself to be possessed of some sort of pact with an Angel. Kirigina raised an eyebrow at that and immediately recognized the nose bleed from earlier in the day. Her hand flinched, the start of a protective reach for her new friend's shoulder in what was surely a trying time that stopped as a second person introduced themselves, and so easily, the first bloc split.

Xanara. I hope that is spelled phonetically. The lively looking girl who spoke with the artificer-instructor about some high concept things a few moments before. Kirigina had overheard the words causality and paradox and promptly checked herself out of overhearing a conversation so far out of her league. It made for an interesting assessment of the sunkissed woman though, spoke to an intelligence one might not have immediately associated with 'one of those dancing girls from the west.' No, even the witches of old had their dancing rituals around the fire. They dressed more modestly because they would have died wearing that skirt in the tundra, but nobody mistook them for prudes. Maybe she was a proud practitioner of ancient, traditional magics and here she was rubbing shoulders with a dusty mechanic from a line of spellcasters who bent to the call of progress.

"I am Tanya. Pleased to meet you." She said, correcting her failure to introduce herself while the tour had been going on. In one motion she shuffled her wrench into the crook of one arm, brushing an already clean hand across the fabric of her coat out of habit before extending it in greeting. "N-next week?" The conversation blew past the little hangup she stammered under her breath. "I am a Technician, which is to say both of those things when they are needed. Slight differences. Aha." She chuckled nervously. This Xanara was disarming in a natural sort of way. If only that did not frequently forecast danger in Kirigina's homeland, and on the witch's face a strange blend of social anxiety and ease among comrades played tug of war while she watched the closest thing she had to a friend spirited away over the dancer's shoulder. At least it wasn't the scythe mob.
"I fix these sorts of things." Kirigina followed the young woman's gesture, beaming at the Cresian vessel. "Well, Verholtan ones. Machines are deceptively simple once you know their language. Maybe like dancing, once you understand the swing of things it gets easier?"
"... Weird." Kirigina toyed with the edge of her hat, looking away from the front of the procession as the two of them wrote off the strange nosebleed sufferer. Given everything she'd seen so far it was indeed greatly comforting to be told that there were in fact healers - wonderful ones! - nearby for the certainty of magical mishap. Any second now someone would turn too fast or jostle the wrong way and poke their eye with a scythe tip. Or sneeze fire into someone's cotton. Or upset their extradimensional patron into gracing them with their incomprehensible creepingly chaotic presence. She just wanted to turn a wrench, and never fet so more clearly as the tour of the airfield had stopped with the chief artificer's brief in indication of the other vessels collected around them. That was the sum of the attention paid to her craft, and with it, they were marched off towards the academy.

What kind of mutant deer grew up white? Some product of the wild magic of this land, no doubt. The old witches would have prospered in such a place, the tundra was so inhospitable as to have shaped much of their craft into devices for survival and medication in their environs. Kirigina raised a hand to point at the animal, but it had already fled from the march of students. Her eyes flitted around from plant to plant, seeking its snowy face once more as the talk turned to undocumented creatures and untold dangers within the greenery's veil. "Was that some kind of deer monster?" She said, mumbling the thought aloud before they were safe. The rest of the tour was through constructions of stone and opulence, full of actual magic to be sure but not as magical as walking through a place of uncategorized life.

In the blink of an eye a student had come forward from the mass, engaging one of the guiding teachers in the middle of their tour. Her own initial shock gave way to a sense of relief, at least the instructors were approachable enough to present questions to. Unfortunately that was the one teacher at the academy she would have any questions for. Kirigina looked to Kress once again, gesturing to the many towers around them as she asked. "Comrade Kress, we've passed quite a few buildings but I do not see any stacks here." A long pause as she hoped continued looking would prove her wrong. "Do Cresian academies usually have a forge or do you, erm... industrialize differently?"
I think they meant a rule against open carrying your posse of grim reapers, but same answer.
This is merely the prelude for the shit talking to come.
Kirigina's discomfort only grew as the room they'd been corralled into was packed with more students every minute. The portholes gave a clear enough impression of when their landing would be complete but as she stood there in the jammed-in madness of the crowd she could only wish the end would come sooner. The gate flung open, their exit ramp unfolded, and a grassy airstrip shined up at them. For a second she was happy to distract herself with a musing on the Cresian preference, rather, the privilege of existing in a climate that permitted an unmetalled airstrip to possess manicured grass instead of packed dirt. She was the second, tied with about six other students abreast, to touch the grass after Kress. Not that she was a brave explorer, there was just nowhere else to go since the two had been deposited against the door and now the crowd behind them was unstoppable.

Well, she wanted to get away too. An unsteady gait carried her down the ramp, legs adjusting with difficulty to the sloped surface and the speed she was being pushed at. She did her best to stay close to the first human she'd spoken to in a couple days, and even if they hadn't started out right next to each other she felt it would have been hard to lose track of that much rich blue. Standing at the edge of a crowd made it all so much easier to deal with, and after a glance over her shoulder and a deep shudder she felt pity for those stuck in the center of maelstrom as they all waited to be talked at.

They were all so very colorful, there wasn't even a uniform for the staff here... At least those who didn't belong to the security group. Well, in her homeland, eccentricity was a privilege afforded to the genius. At an academy of this prestige, it went without saying that she was being addressed by some of the brightest minds in the world. It was a little disappointing to not feel more awed. One of the redheads introduced herself as an artificer, and Kirigina's eyes flickered up to find what would undoubtedly be one of her instructors. A rune adorned her face, her attire was sensible, very witchy. Kirigina nodded in approval. She had no idea what there was to even learn in the world of artificery for her, perhaps the precepts of airship design rather than base maintenance, but if there was to be a mentor in her life it was definitely going to be this woman. Her choice had been made for her several days ago.

The wrench girl finally looked around as the academy staff indicated the other airships that sat the lot that morning. Prototypes, production models, craft that she knew only by their reporting names within the Verholt military. Things of mastercrafted bronze and steel that graced the skies of her homeland on occasion, but also creations that the Cresians tended to themselves while in foreign territory. Her free hand's digits flexed unconsciously, clawing up as her mind anticipated the privilege of delving into the metal beasts laid out before them. Her distraction from all the magic around her didn't last long, as a voice, alluring though it was, intruded upon the sanctuary of her mind. Kirigina flinched and looked around, caught halfway to swatting at her ear as the unusual sensation of a voice that seemed to come from the very corners of her mind beckoned her. That was an intelligent way of getting one's words to an entire crowd! Just... Unnerving. She would oblige the siren's call, whenever the crowd started following.

And that wasn't the end of it. A voice whispered to her. Her name. Hadn't she... "Huh? What's what?" She looked to Kress, then to where the boy was staring off at. Immediately her face tightened in a grimace at the sight of a host of demons casually wandering out in the open. Maybe, just maybe, they were here to learn the merits of agriculture, so tooled as they were. She was a witch, and a witch was wont to know when they were looking at some really cursed stuff. Flaunting the imagery of death was tasteless if it was in vanity, cruel if that was the sheer measure of power expected of students of Arkus. All the hope she felt looking out at the inanimate bits of technology on the grass washed out of her as she was once again confronted by how dreadfully out of place she was in all this. But, she was standing next to Kress' enthusiasm. She didn't know a whole lot but he hadn't turned his nose up at her and was apparently really loving the variety in the crowd... Manage the same, she commanded herself. It was worse to look out of place than to be out of place.

"Uh... wow! That is wizards for you, at least I hope those are... leashed. There aren't many ghosts on airships, at least the ones that still fly, I have no clue what that is... and what's that?" Her head turned, somehow, away from the grizzly reapers to the student sputtering out blood and screaming at their instructors. Tanya shot an uncomfortable look to Kress. "Is that, er, allowed?" That was beyond out of line. Forget being the nail which sticks out, that was rebar jutting errantly from concrete. But, new country.
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