Festive

Smoke and Steel

A M R A L I A W R A E K
A M R A L I A W R A E K

^{"In with the new, out with the old. The Empire needs reform, and the older caste of Elgafolk won't be the ones to bring it."}

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

▅▅▅▅▅

_______________________________ _______________________________ N A M E ? N A M E ? ________ Amra Liawraek R A C E | S P E C I E S ? R A C E | S P E C I E S ? ________ Elgafolk S E X ? S E X ? ________ Female A G E ? A G E ? ________ 174 C O U R T A L I G N M E N T ? C O U R T A L I G N M E N T ? ________ Eastern Empire R O L E ? R O L E ? ________ New Addition to The Elnorin-Liawraek Group Board of Directors

_____________________________________________________________________________ _____________________________________________________________________________ B A C K G R O U N D ? B A C K G R O U N D ? ________ The wave of the Circle Sea are more famous for the lives they have taken beneath the surface of the glossy blue waters, however, in those rare moments, life has been brought forth upon roughness. Amra Liawraek is an example of that rare spawn of life, a daughter of but a temperate and rather chaste parentage, she is but one of only two children of the Liawraek House. Born of a house known for its maritime attachments, she spent her life upon the decks of Galleons with her father Flinar, and godfather Rhistel Elnorin. While born into a family with vast amounts of wealth stored within its coffers, Amra was not subjected to that of a life of simple leisure with every whim catered to. By a young age, her hands had already been dipped in the family trade. Serving the ship alongside both her father and godfather at times while other times among the general populace they employed. Through her times among the lower workers and slaves who toiled, she had gained an understanding of those beyond that of the small Elgafolk. Amra had always had a big heart, and that didn't stop for those of a different race of her own. A calloused hand and tired back were expected of every child Liawraek family, and their princess was no exception. After her quaint coming-of-age ceremony, her father stepped back further into the role of administration and gifted his dear daughter full control of the ship she was born upon, the same ship that began the business her family was built upon. Her days as a captain were that of very little sleep and hours that extended longer than the day allowed. Through the trials she faced at sea Amra built her own reputation. One separate from the shadow of her father, as a captain of compassion yet discipline. Her merits eventually ended in her being appointed control of several other ships owned by the company, which she managed for several decades. In recent times, however, with her father falling out of the limelight and retiring to the family estate, he had propped her up to serve as his replacement on the board. With speedy confirmation from the other members, she quickly relinquished her control of ships and was appointed to the 8th board spot. Amra is a woman with lofty goals, however, with most of the board stacked against their passage is looking grim.

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

▅▅▅▅▅

______________________________________________________ ______________________________________________________ S K I L L S ? S K I L L S ? ________ ★ Bright Eyed and Bushy Tailed: Amra is often toted as overly energetic. A young upstart woman with an ambition matched by those around her, a shining light upon the board when compared to the rather dull Elgafolk late into their 400s. A woman excited to work for a better company, to work for a better Empire one for all not just the upper caste she finds herself a member of. ★ A Certain Way With Words: A silver-tongued sneaky orator is exactly the title bestowed upon Amra. With the skills absorbed from her father, shes a woman who can talk circles around a skilled arguer and present her ideals in a way that makes it hard for anyone to not pay attention to. ★ Born Upon The Seas: The turbulent waves of the North Sea was the place where she was blessed with life upon. And for the majority of her life, Amra has spent her waking days on the seas. From her days of helping her father and Rhistel in their early expeditions to her adult expeditions as a captain for the group, she had learned her way around a ship. The seas are her domain, although, in recent times, she has been on the shore.

______________________________________________________ ______________________________________________________ W E A K N E S S E S ? W E A K N E S S E S ? ________ ★ A Small Web of Connections: Amra has always been a captain. Out on sea for months, sometimes years with the only contact being that of her crew. The connections she holds tend to not reach further than those of other seafarers from within and without her company and the rare merchant, as well as holding little political and military links to count. ★ Stubborn to a Fault: Amra is hardly one to take no for an answer, she will fight for what she desires with an undying passion. Although in most cases, this passion is often misplaced, harmful even. Amra can be stubborn on even the smallest of things only to that of her own detriment. ★ A Green Administrator: The change of scenery for Amra was a grand on. She had traded her sight of the brilliant blue of the ocean for a view of an ornately designed wall from that of a desk. She had but little experience in administrator but she was quick to take the open seat on the board with the recommendation of her father. However, Amra is often discounted for her few years of life and even fewer in her current role.

Smoke and Steel

A M R A L I A W R A E K
A M R A L I A W R A E K

^{"In with the new, out with the old. The Empire needs reform, and the older caste of Elgafolk won't be the ones to bring it."}

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

▅▅▅▅▅

_______________________________ _______________________________ N A M E ? N A M E ? ________ Amra Liawraek R A C E | S P E C I E S ? R A C E | S P E C I E S ? ________ Elgafolk S E X ? S E X ? ________ Female A G E ? A G E ? ________ 174 C O U R T A L I G N M E N T ? C O U R T A L I G N M E N T ? ________ Eastern Empire R O L E ? R O L E ? ________ New Addition to The Elnorin-Liawraek Group Board of Directors

_____________________________________________________________________________ _____________________________________________________________________________ B A C K G R O U N D ? B A C K G R O U N D ? ________ The wave of the Circle Sea are more famous for the lives they have taken beneath the surface of the glossy blue waters, however, in those rare moments, life has been brought forth upon roughness. Amra Liawraek is an example of that rare spawn of life, a daughter of but a temperate and rather chaste parentage, she is but one of only two children of the Liawraek House. Born of a house known for its maritime attachments, she spent her life upon the decks of Galleons with her father Flinar, and godfather Rhistel Elnorin. While born into a family with vast amounts of wealth stored within its coffers, Amra was not subjected to that of a life of simple leisure with every whim catered to. By a young age, her hands had already been dipped in the family trade. Serving the ship alongside both her father and godfather at times while other times among the general populace they employed. Through her times among the lower workers and slaves who toiled, she had gained an understanding of those beyond that of the small Elgafolk. Amra had always had a big heart, and that didn't stop for those of a different race of her own. A calloused hand and tired back were expected of every child Liawraek family, and their princess was no exception. After her quaint coming-of-age ceremony, her father stepped back further into the role of administration and gifted his dear daughter full control of the ship she was born upon, the same ship that began the business her family was built upon. Her days as a captain were that of very little sleep and hours that extended longer than the day allowed. Through the trials she faced at sea Amra built her own reputation. One separate from the shadow of her father, as a captain of compassion yet discipline. Her merits eventually ended in her being appointed control of several other ships owned by the company, which she managed for several decades. In recent times, however, with her father falling out of the limelight and retiring to the family estate, he had propped her up to serve as his replacement on the board. With speedy confirmation from the other members, she quickly relinquished her control of ships and was appointed to the 8th board spot. Amra is a woman with lofty goals, however, with most of the board stacked against their passage is looking grim.

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

▅▅▅▅▅

______________________________________________________ ______________________________________________________ S K I L L S ? S K I L L S ? ________ ★ Bright Eyed and Bushy Tailed: Amra is often toted as overly energetic. A young upstart woman with an ambition matched by those around her, a shining light upon the board when compared to the rather dull Elgafolk late into their 400s. A woman excited to work for a better company, to work for a better Empire one for all not just the upper caste she finds herself a member of. ★ A Certain Way With Words: A silver-tongued sneaky orator is exactly the title bestowed upon Amra. With the skills absorbed from her father, shes a woman who can talk circles around a skilled arguer and present her ideals in a way that makes it hard for anyone to not pay attention to. ★ Born Upon The Seas: The turbulent waves of the North Sea was the place where she was blessed with life upon. And for the majority of her life, Amra has spent her waking days on the seas. From her days of helping her father and Rhistel in their early expeditions to her adult expeditions as a captain for the group, she had learned her way around a ship. The seas are her domain, although, in recent times, she has been on the shore.

______________________________________________________ ______________________________________________________ W E A K N E S S E S ? W E A K N E S S E S ? ________ ★ A Small Web of Connections: Amra has always been a captain. Out on sea for months, sometimes years with the only contact being that of her crew. The connections she holds tend to not reach further than those of other seafarers from within and without her company and the rare merchant, as well as holding little political and military links to count. ★ Stubborn to a Fault: Amra is hardly one to take no for an answer, she will fight for what she desires with an undying passion. Although in most cases, this passion is often misplaced, harmful even. Amra can be stubborn on even the smallest of things only to that of her own detriment. ★ A Green Administrator: The change of scenery for Amra was a grand on. She had traded her sight of the brilliant blue of the ocean for a view of an ornately designed wall from that of a desk. She had but little experience in administrator but she was quick to take the open seat on the board with the recommendation of her father. However, Amra is often discounted for her few years of life and even fewer in her current role.

Smoke and Steel

R H I S T E L E L N O R I N
R H I S T E L E L N O R I N

^{"I believe what we are is more than simply a sum of our environment, but a reflection of our experiences."}

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

▅▅▅▅▅

_______________________________ _______________________________ N A M E ? N A M E ? ________ Rhistel Elnorin R A C E | S P E C I E S ? R A C E | S P E C I E S ? ________ Elgafolk S E X ? S E X ? ________ Male A G E ? A G E ? ________ 549 C O U R T A L I G N M E N T ? C O U R T A L I G N M E N T ? ________ Eastern Empire R O L E ? R O L E ? ________ Chair-Director of Elnorin-Liawraek Group

_____________________________________________________________________________ _____________________________________________________________________________ B A C K G R O U N D ? B A C K G R O U N D ? ________ Frankly, as a little over energetic younger Elgafolk, Rhistel sought for more beyond simply that of the clan life. Born as the eldest child to a smaller family by Elgafolk standard, Rhistel spent most of his younger days on grasslands with his father tending the herd which kept their family afloat. Shepard stick in hand, the boy would spend his free hours swinging the tool around as he likened it to a sword in his mind. He lived this life of solitude with but his mother and father for decades, until a raid upon the lands the called home took the life of the two older Elgafolk from his life. Alone, without those who had given him life and destitute with no way of survival, Rhistel had joined up with the gathering horde after hearing of the news of the captain's call. His years within the ranks of the horde were but all Rhistel would describe as abject survival. A land where although upon the backs of horses they slaughtered, the strength of the human ingenuity still managed to take a couple of the men he would call his friends to the world beyond. The bonds he formed with the men who in the horde were ones that wouldn't be broken in the coming century as they conquest came to an end with the founding of the empire. Although the war had ended, it had left a mark on his soul which would never leave his side. Rhistel floated around odd jobs in the Empire for decades with appointments from his former captain, now emperor, before settling upon the Empire's almost non-existent navy. Working with one established Officer Flinar Liawraek to build up the branch from practically the ground. The two men worked tirelessly upon enhancing the Navy in which they had made strides, but it was soon that Liawraek would suggest the two create their own shipping company, one separate from that of the empire's government. Thus was the day the Elnorin-Liawraek group was born with pooled together coin of the two to purchase but a single ship to begin their business. In only but the span of a 100 years the company had grown into the size it is at present. A shipping company that deals in trade between several countries around the Circle Sea with a fleet of ships that challenges some navies. A company Rhistel now fully runs after Liawraek stepped down years prior, one who hands that of the Empire's contracts with deep connections within the state. Elnorin-Liawraek group follows where the money flows, yet as the days pass it seems more and more like the Empire's coffers are lowering with every year.

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

▅▅▅▅▅

______________________________________________________ ______________________________________________________ S K I L L S ? S K I L L S ? ________ ★ Once a Soldier, Always a Soldier: A fact seldom known by those outside the reaches of his inner circle, Rhistel was one of the many Elgafolk who rode under the command of the man he once considered a friend, Voron Corfina. Under the grand leadership of Voron, Rhistel served as but one of the many people who carved out the empire into what it stands as today. Although in modern times he has taken to the sea rather than the horse, his ability upon a stallion's back with a sword and blunderbuss has yet to diminish over the centuries since. ★ There is Wealth in Knowledge: To be educated is to be but only at an advantage over those among you. This was a reason learned by even the juvenile Rhistel in his 50s. While within his nomadic community, he sought every drop of knowledge that could be afforded to him, and with the advent of the empire this thirst for knowledge only grew. Rhistel is a learned man, not only in the field of academics but in the secrets that float in the background. ★ A Pair of Well-faring Sea Legs: Rhistel is but a captain by trade, back in his early 100s the Elnorin-Liawraek group was but only a single ship managed by him and his co-captain. Some say the man spends more hours upon the seas than he does upon land, Rhistel knows the water around the empire like the back of his hand.

______________________________________________________ ______________________________________________________ W E A K N E S S E S ? W E A K N E S S E S ? ________ ★ A Man of His Years: Despite the shine of outward appearance Rhistel is but a soul older than the empire itself. His mind is often stuck on the norms of days past and resistant to change that disrupts the known flow. ★ The Sight Never Leaves You: Rhistel rarely mentions his days upon horseback for a reason. Although the war was a success, he'd rather not talk about those days at all. His hands have played a role and his eyes have bore witness to scenes none be inclined to see or act within. ★ Lost in Time: Rhistel frequently loses track of the time within a day, often staring out into space for hours believing only minutes have passed. Being late to events and meetings has become the norm for him because of his age. It seems to Rhistel that the day rarely seems to feel like it's 24 hours.

Smoke and Steel

Character Description
Name: Rhistel Elnorin
Species/Race: Elgafolk
Sex: Male
Age: 549
Court Alignment: Eastern Empire
Role: Chair-Director of Elnorin-Liawraek group
Appearance:


Strengths and Weaknesses
Skills:

- Once a Soldier, Always a Soldier: A fact seldom known by those outside the reaches of his inner circle, Rhistel was one of the many Elgafolk who rode under the command of the man he once considered a friend, Voron Corfina. Under the grand leadership of Voron, Rhistel served as but one of the many people who carved out the empire into what it stands as today. Although in modern times he has taken to the sea rather than the horse, his ability upon a stallion's back with a sword and blunderbuss has yet to diminish over the centuries since.
- There is Wealth in Knowledge: To be educated is to be but only at an advantage over those among you. This was a reason learned by even the juvenile Rhistel in his 50s. While within his nomadic community, he sought every drop of knowledge that could be afforded to him, and with the advent of the empire this thirst for knowledge only grew. Rhistel is a learned man, not only in the field of academics but in the secrets that float in the background.
- A Pair of Well-faring Sea Legs: Rhistel is but a captain by trade, back in his early 100s the Elnorin-Liawraek group was but only a single ship managed by him and his co-captain. Some say the man spends more hours upon the seas than he does upon land, Rhistel knows the water around the empire like the back of his hand.

Weaknesses:

- A Man of His Years: Despite the shine of outward appearance Rhistel is but a soul older than the empire itself. His mind is often stuck on the norms of days past and resistant to change that disrupts the known flow.
- The Sight Never Leaves You: Rhistel rarely mentions his days upon horseback for a reason. Although the war was a success, he'd rather not talk about those days at all. His hands have played a role and his eyes have bore witness to scenes none be inclined to see or act within.
- Lost in Time: Rhistel frequently loses track of the time within a day, often staring out into space for hours believing only minutes have passed. Being late to events and meetings has become the norm for him because of his age. It seems to Rhistel that the day rarely seems to feel like it's 24 hours.

Background:

Backstory: Frankly, as a little over energetic younger Elgafolk, Rhistel sought for more beyond simply that of the clan life. Born as the eldest child to a smaller family by Elgafolk standard, Rhistel spent most of his younger days on grasslands with his father tending the herd which kept their family afloat. Shepard stick in hand, the boy would spend his free hours swinging the tool around as he likened it to a sword in his mind. He lived this life of solitude with but his mother and father for decades, until a raid upon the lands the called home took the life of the two older Elgafolk from his life. Alone, without those who had given him life and destitute with no way of survival, Rhistel had joined up with the gathering horde after hearing of the news of the captain's call.

His years within the ranks of the horde were but all Rhistel would describe as abject survival. A land where although upon the backs of horses they slaughtered, the strength of the human ingenuity still managed to take a couple of the men he would call his friends to the world beyond. The bonds he formed with the men who in the horde were ones that wouldn't be broken in the coming century as they conquest came to an end with the founding of the empire.

Although the war had ended, it had left a mark on his soul which would never leave his side. Rhistel floated around odd jobs in the Empire for decades with appointments from his former captain, now emperor, before settling upon the Empire's almost non-existent navy. Working with one established Officer Flinar Liawraek to build up the branch from practically the ground. The two men worked tirelessly upon enhancing the Navy in which they had made strides, but it was soon that Liawraek would suggest the two create their own shipping company, one separate from that of the empire's government. Thus was the day the Elnorin-Liawraek group was born with pooled together coin of the two to purchase but a single ship to begin their business.

In only but the span of a 100 years the company had grown into the size it is at present. A shipping company that deals in trade between several countries around the Circle Sea with a fleet of ships that challenges some navies. A company Rhistel now fully runs after Liawraek stepped down years prior, one who hands that of the Empire's contracts with deep connections within the state. Elnorin-Liawraek group follows where the money flows, yet as the days pass it seems more and more like the Empire's coffers are lowering with every year.

Commencement: A Foundation Institute RP

_{St. Louis, Missouri - August 12^th, 2019}

As the years passed without a word, not an utterance in earshot, and his age ticked down his remaining years but a single thought was held in his mind: was the day told to be that of his birth truly the one in which he gained life or an arbitrary estimate constructed by whoever created birth certificate upon which was his identity. Such a thought had held a veil over the fringes of his mindscape since the day he had first celebrated the concept of a birthday and had first laid conscious eyes upon his birth certificate. Immanuel’s hands fiddled with the wallet held in the reaches of his jean pocket, one by which he was gifted on this day years in the past. A wallet which he pulled out with stresses upon the leather from daily and a lone fragment of paper poking its bent end out from the inner space. The paper his eyes had averted their gaze from since the last time he had bore witness to its contents, to words written upon its surface that heralded falsehood and untruthful confessions of apologies. One in which he hated, hated the words that were written, the ink in which it stood, the paper that was defiled yet in but the same vein a chain from depths of his heart anchored the note to his person, kept it within his hands and not hitching a ride in the back of a garbage truck.

Immanuel’s eyes gazed up from the wallet he held and out onto the open street before him, slipping the leather-lined object back into his pants. His sight was clear, clearer than most even, there was but little doubt upon that fact, but as he watched the car pass and trucks rattle down the road his ears took in but little of it. Small, the most minuscule fragments of sounds so loud it would make another cover their ears. As he crossed his eyes darted both down and up the street more times than he had before, only catching the alert that it was his time to cross due to the blinking white light it present. Life had been a change, but what was his if not one of no constants, not even a natural sense he believed he could rely upon in his trial of life stuck around to see him through the tribulation that stood in store for him. For as his ears abandoned him from the force of another his eyes picked up part of the mantel shattered and shaken up by the loss of hearing. Not a single sound that entered his ears was clear, his world was low, with a muffled filter tied to it that added another layer of unintelligibility to a curse already wicked in its means.

As his figure turned the corner his eyes were met with the all familiar sight of the Blaylock. The only few who deemed it fit to house someone such as himself. Few desired to home a teenager, less one who bore a disability. By no fault of his own the system under which the reigns of his life were held spurred upon him the tag of undesirability. They were the ones who sent him away to a home that heralded tales of misdeeds from those among his peers, they were the ones who hadn’t found the boy a forever home even when he was but an untainted baby, unmarred or scarred by the reality that helped few and benefited fewer. Lady luck had only stood at the side the day Blaylocks sought to take in another child to fill their home, and the kid by which they could teach and mold stood ripe for the picking before the. And now as he stood before their door, fiddling with the lock that never seemed to want to open on the first turn of the key, it stood along a line of moments within his life laced with normalcy. And although he held questions reserved about the date today, the Blaylocks were the first to make the day feel but mixed with an ounce of his own, hinted with a pinch of love sprinkled at the top.

The door he held the handle of creaked open as his eyes were greeted with the same sight of brown furnishings accompanied by cream-colored walls, a warmth permeated the halls of the home as his other sense was greeted by the aroma of a baked good heating in the kitchen only adjacent to where he stood. The Blaylocks themselves were a family consisting of only a single hearing member, his adoptive sister who stood as the only one to greet him at his entrance. Immanuel slung the back off his shoulders and onto the hook beside the door as he spoke out to his sister, ”How long have they been out for, Steph?” his voice had been loud, almost a yell as he spoke forth. Through his time with a worse leveling hearing his control of the sound of his voice waned. Stephany had been the only one within the family he spoke to using his voice, reading lips was a skill with a learning curve he stood at the bottom of the incline for, and practice with his sister was one he needed. ”Not sure, about an hour or so? They stepped out for more decorations I think.” He watched her lips as she spoke, the verbalization of every word he registered within his mind. Although as she spoke he caught the tail end of her sentence.

”What? Can you say that again?” His own voice? He could hear his own voic-

His hands gripped his ears as he fell to the floor.

What was all this noise?

_{Why could he hear?}

_{What was he even hearing?}

He didn’t know. He couldn’t know. All he could do was scream. Air hissed from his mouth as a shrilling shriek pieced his own ears and that of his sister as he continued. His throat lay hoarse and felt like rips were being drawn in its meat as he could no longer extend sound from out of vocal cords. His mind could not comprehend a single sliver of a fraction of the sounds that crossed the border of his ears as his mind burned like the flame of a dagger doused and gasoline and lit ablaze carved into the surface of his brain matter. Tears strolled down his face as his sister ran to his side, gripping her own phone to dial the number of their parents.

“What the fuck is wrong with me.” Immanuel choked as the noise, the static by which there was no differentiating, became louder _{and louder and louder.}

---

_{Location: In the air}

Human #5.051: Vegas

---

_{Interaction(s): Nil}

Previously: Third Contact

Immanuel’s eyes have only been heavier a few times before as his head up from the cushioned section of the head rests. He had never had the easiest sleep in general, much less within a seat stationed in a flying tube of metal with engines that roared with its hissing cylinders moving throughout and the screaming blare of the flames that left the back stood under the sharp whistles of the wind moving against and scratching the metal it passed. It was hard keeping a filter around him with such sounds pushing against his holds and the ungodly sounds of his fellow passengers made little help in his cause for the loving embrace of in slumber’s arms. His eyes looked upon the sleeping bodies of both Cleo and Lucas, as he checked his watch which read well into the AMs. Immanuel’s mind held it unlikely he would see another possibility of sleep upon this flight, flicking up the window to his left to get a sight of the night sky. The tints of purple darkness spread across the expanse as a view he had grown accustomed to during times such as these. Ones spent within his dorm room staring out into the star mind absent of thought. Ones spent staring out his room window in the Blaylock home hoping for a they never would abandon him. Ones spent staring out the window of his social worker’s car after another family had deemed his time finished. If anything, when there was no one left in his corner, but a single soul upon his side, the stars had always embraced his company with arms open unlike any other.

In the stars he found a shelter.

In those accepting he found a home.

Agents of H.E.L.P - A Hyperverse Roleplay [Invite Only]

M O R G A N A R C H A M B E A U
M O R G A N A R C H A M B E A U

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

^{_{"Now you know me." "Now you don't."}}

▅▅▅▅▅

P R O F I L E I N F O R M A T I O N P R O F I L E I N F O R M A T I O N ________________________________________________________________________________________ NAME: | Morgan Archambeau _______________________________________________________________________ STATUS: | Active _______________________________________________________________________ INDEX DATE: | TBD _______________________________________________________________________ DATE OF BIRTH: | 1999/12/21 _______________________________________________________________________ ALIAS(ES): | The Faceless One _______________________________________________________________________ RESIDENCE: | Quebec City, Quebec _______________________________________________________________________ CITIZENSHIP: | Canadian _______________________________________________________________________ CLEARANCE LEVEL: | Special Agent B A C K G R O U N D B A C K G R O U N D ________________________________________________________________________________________ The early life of one Morgan Archambeau lay woven throughout the fragmented delusions from the age of but eight, for they are the tainted remembrances of a life that left only yearning for something better. A child of squalor lay there in the dirt and grime with so little time before a power that would obfuscate their being would appear. Morgan can not quite remember the day but beneath the midnight sky filled with the shouting screams of a mother, a scream through the agony for the safety of her child. A night but so common in their early life scenes tended to meld together into an amalgamated mess they refused to sort. But on this night, the stars sparked something in their mind, a notion to leave, to run, to escape into the city over yonder for a life free of pain, free of the tyranny of a father who released the anger of their sins unto their spawn. And with nothing but the shoes upon their feet and the worn pajamas upon their body, a young soul took off into the night. The stress, the adrenalin, the hope; it spurred forth their curse. As they ran throughout the night a child free from their shackles, that now familiar tingling of warmth spreading throughout their body began as they escaped through the streets of Chicago. They wore a face that changed with every passing second, all unfamiliar, all unconsciously. The next day the child, fearing the woes of strangers on the street and the further wrath of a father when they are found, returned home wearing a skin that was not theirs, met only with confusion and rejection when they encountered that of their mother who could recognize her own child within the skin of another. A moment that began their life alone, forgotten by all those they loved; an unrecognizable figure. For Morgan, their life had held no clear path forward, no light guiding their trek, not a hint of the north star in the night sky. The young child learned through the trials of homelessness and abandonment the art of survival, the path hidden in the grime to make little out of nothing. To scavenge for scraps to feed the ever-growing pit within their stomach was a task often hard to accomplish. As the days passed, the pursuit of more aided Morgan to learn their ability. To shackle the dragon that terrorized their life, and to master its control were endeavors which took years of their life to even begin to start. By the age of fourteen, Morgan, after a stint of several petty robberies using their abilities, was picked up by the likes of H.E.L.P. who had received a tip about a young local hype. After being taken under the wing of the organization, Morgan was enrolled in P.R.C.U. to continue on the rest of their adolescent life under the watchful eye of H.E.L.P. who assisted them gain mastery over their ability. R E C R U I T M E N T R E C R U I T M E N T ________________________________________________________________________________________ Directly following their graduation from P.C.R.U.’s Collegiate program, Morgan continued his education within the institution through the school’s H.E.A.T. program. Through extensive training both within and without the hours mandated by the program, Morgan had continued to develop a mastery of the ability that they had marked as a vex upon their life since its inception. Within the years of their enrollment in the program, Morgan has made several strides in their performance and once again by the same people who had rescued him from his life of solitary survival, eventually being recruited as a probationary agent at the end of his time with the program as a probationary agent in H.E.L.P.’s Enforcement and Response Division. C A R E E R W I T H T H E B U R E A U C A R E E R W I T H T H E B U R E A U ________________________________________________________________________________________ Morgan’s career within the ranks of H.E.L.P. has been one that was dwarfed compared to the likes of their comrades. Quick on their feet, sharp in the mind, and familiar with the workings of the organization, Morgan quickly moved on from their days as a probationary agent. Since their formal induction to the rank of special agent only two years prior, the brevity of their career does not define the accomplishments they have made in such a short time. The pinnacle of undercover investigation within their division, Morgan has contributed heavily to the case in which they are assigned, for who is better at surveillance than who has no set face, no set voice. For when a case gets hot there is no better disguise than that of the people searching for you. Morgan is an agent mostly known only by name and the light-hearted tricks they play upon their comrades. A career laden with an often tense relationship with authority and a stubbornness unmoving its will. Despite their problems with those of higher rank, the effectiveness of their ability and performance on the field has been an undeniable factor of their tenure.

P H O T O I D E N T I F I C A T I O N P H O T O I D E N T I F I C A T I O N _________________________________________________________ [STANDARD FORM ONE] _________________________________________________________ [STANDARD FORM TWO] _________________________________________________________ P H Y S I C A L D E S C R I P T I O N P H Y S I C A L D E S C R I P T I O N _________________________________________________________ RACE: | Caucasian _________________________________________________________________ SEX: | Interchangable _________________________________________________________________ HEIGHT: | Variable [STAN. FORM ONE] 5'11" | [STAN. FORM TWO] 5'7" _________________________________________________________________ WEIGHT: | Variable [STAN. FORM ONE] 164lbs | [STAN. FORM TWO] 142lbs _________________________________________________________________ HAIR COLOUR: | Variable [STAN. FORM] Brown _________________________________________________________________ HAIR LENGTH: | Variable [STAN. FORM ONE] Short | [STAN. FORM TWO] Mid back _________________________________________________________________ EYE COLOUR: | Variable [STAN. FORM] Brown _________________________________________________________________ HANDEDNESS: | Right A B I L I T I E S, L I M I T S, & W E A K N E S S E S A B I L I T I E S, L I M I T S, & W E A K N E S S E S _________________________________________________________ H Y P E R H U M A N A B I L I T Y || S O M A T I C A T O M I C R E C O N F I G U R A T I O N __PRIMARY CLASSIFICATION || Esoteric __SECONDARY CLASSIFICATION || Dynamic __POWER SCALE || TBD __THREAT CLASSIFICATION || TBD Somatic atomic reconfiguration is a Hyperhuman ability that allows the user to consciously rearrange and reform the atoms that compose their body. Dr. Leah Reno has documented from observations of the user, one M. Archambeau, that the ability can influence all factors of the human appearance, including but not limited to through current observation: hair (and its facets), eye color, skin color, body shape, height, weight, and facial features. The process by which Archambeau can reconfigure the atoms that construct their body lies through the use of the stored HZE ions concentrated within. These special particles attach to the body's atoms breaking the chemical bonds that hold them together to move them into different orders as well as being the spark that recreates these bonds to produce different combinations in order to achieve Morgan's desired change. If the body does not possess enough mass to produce the desired changes it will use energy to extend HZE ion to pull the elements which the human body is constructed of out of the environment to compensate for the deficit. L I M I T A T I O N S & W E A K N E S S E S || E T E R N A L V O R A C I T Y & O V E R H E A T I N G The process of using their ability requires a vast amount of energy from Archambeau to complete any such rearangment. The amount of energy needed is not uniform however, it is based upon the amount of change to the atomic structure which has occured under their direction, scalling exponentially as Archambeau requires atompheseric atoms to add more mass to their body or is removing mass from their body. The concequences of this facet of their power ignites their motabolism into overdrive, requiring copious amounts of substenence in order to complete a transformation successfully. However the amount of food required heavily relies on the amount of changes to their atomic structure performed as mentions prior. The reconfiguration and build of bonds of the atoms within their body exothermic reactions. Though such a fact, the changing of appereance by Archambeau contiually heats up their body determining how big the changes are. The heat produced is usually negliable for transformations which occur in distant intervals of each other but in situations of which Archambeau manipulates their atom structure multiple times within a short time period this heat will build to levels which become determental spurring symptoms of sickness and in rare occassions even heatstroke.

DIP

Sounds good to me!

DIP

<snipped quote>

Regarding WWII, I have read extensively on many accounts of various battlefields around the world. I know I can come up with something, but I will leave it up to you.

For Vietnam, I would like to go with units of the 173rd Airborne in the Central Highlands in 1967.

For GWOT, if we get that far, I know I can come up with something.

I may just delete the War with Spain in 1898.

@Gunther

I like the suggestions you put forth for the other wars; I believe that they would be great to portray. On the topic of WWII, I suggest that we portray the Second Battle of El Alamein in the African Campaign. This battle, primarily between the British versus the Italians and Germans, saw forces of around 195,000 and 116,000, respectively, fight near the Egyptian city of El Alamein and end with an Allied victory.

DIP

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

▅▅▅▅▅▅

___________________________ N A M E S : N A M E S : - Krokinos (The Battle of Thermopylae) Your memory's a bit hazy of your past lives... ___________________________

___________________________________________________________________________________ P E R S O N A L I T Y : P E R S O N A L I T Y : One damn hard-headed bastard. He is a rough soul. A man who fights for all, one who sports a rowdy and loud temperament, adorned by the aggressive passion that fuels in tandem with thrill-seeking adrenaline, that often coursed through his body, an eternal flame that made his heart pump. Although compassionate he stands as a man often stuck in his own ways, stubborn to the fact of change. When works, no matter how small the task may appear to be to those who watch, he is one who pours his all; his soul, the essence of his being, his passion, and but all that makes him himself. L E S S O N S L E A R N E D : L E S S O N S L E A R N E D : You can't seem to remember the tricks you once knew... ___________________________________________________________________________________