Howler

The Prince of Eternia

Hello all.

First and foremost, apologies for taking so long to get things up. Things have been busy of late. Yon Prince is now up in characters for those that want to peruse him--I'm sure I'll run through and fix whatever grammatical errors and such are doubtless on the sheet at some point.

@Fairess And Judah will favor his brother the First Born Prince then, thanks. I'm sure he and his new bird buddy will get along famously.

...though what do I name it!

The Prince of Eternia

Prince Judicael Ollivier

Name: Prince Judicael “Judah” Ollivier
Age: 26
Race: Eternian
Role: The Prince

Appearance:
Appropriately or not, Judah likes to think of himself as something of a swashbuckler and it shows. His features are defined but a bit delicate, he inherited his mother’s sharp chin and and cheekbones more than the prominent jaw and stern brow. He also inherited her slight frame, and though he trains hard and keeps himself fit he works to build muscle and keep it rather than to shed extra pounds. That isn’t to say that he’s not athletic--having tumbled his way through boyhood lessons with abandon and vigor, he has an excellent sense of balance and body that carries through in his bearing. Though he admires the sprezzatura of courtly nobility, Judah himself embodies a certain larger-than-life joi de vivre that makes him stand out amongst an otherwise stern and refined crowd.

While Judah may like to think himself a practical man, in truth he’s a showman and everyone knows it. Though his attendants do their best to keep him in the current fashions there’s always a buoyant air of slightly roguish good cheer both in the way he dresses and the way he presents himself, favoring hardy leathers and flowing, dramatic clothing that accentuates what he likes to think of as his daring charm. That he considers himself a swordsman is readily apparent from the cut of his gloves and boots and trousers, though the warmth that shows through his bottle-green eyes cuts through any pretense of malice like a knife.

Personality:
Much like his clothing suggests, Judah likes to be larger than life in the things that he does. Enthusiastic to a fault and more energetic than your average terrier, he brings a sense of energy and dynamism to the world around him that makes it nearly impossible to be bored around him. Indeed, he spends much of his time doing things rather than talking about them and vastly prefers action to discussion. Cutting his role-models from stories of swashbuckling privateers and debonaire gallants, he strives for a daring devil-may-care air of adventure that helps ingratiate himself with nearly everyone he meets. While many don’t appreciate Judah, finding his energy and preference for ‘winging it’ but few and far between are the people who truly dislike him.

While Judah would like to be a daring and free-roaming seeker of adventure, the reality of the world is a sour note to him that he doesn’t ignore but does his best to cover. Having lived through assassination attempts on his father and the assassination of his mother, Judah’s brave front is as much a cover for his awareness of mortality as anything else. He tries to balance living every day to the fullest with what’s best for the kingdom, and though he plays it off as just another chore in truth he feels the weight of the responsibility on his shoulders both deeply and personally. As a ruler he favors his people and likes to think of himself as one of them, which leads him both to make choices that favor their quality of life and their safety. While he cares little for details he at least understands the broad strokes of ruling and has a knack for both diplomacy and talent acquisition, preferring to find the right person for the right job and let them run things rather than take care of the day-to-day details himself.

The exception for this, of course, is anything that could be construed as a threat or a danger to his people. In true crisis Judah very nearly transforms, putting all of his considerable energy and talent towards whatever display of daring and bravery might slay the dragon or topple the army and ultimately save the day. When there’s something to be done rather than talked about it isn’t at all uncommon to see him doing it himself, whether that’s pulling children out of floodwater or fighting off bandits on the local trade road. A prince to Judah is someone who isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty and inspire his kingdom with personal heroics, and it shows.

Skills:
Judah was a young man afforded every opportunity of education and erudition in Eternia and it shows. A notorious dabbler, he knows a little about almost everything but approaches very few subjects with depth. He can talk with a blacksmith about the quality of iron and a woodworker about what chisels or bits would work best for the project, but much of his knowledge is theoretical rather than applied and in practice he tends to lack a grasp of the specific details to really buckle down on a given task. That said, there are a few subjects he approaches in depth and diplomacy and etiquette is one of them. He may wear his thoughts on his sleeve and approach even most diplomatic problems directly, but his straightforwardness proves a strength more often than not and he’s talented in using the sometimes dismissive view that others with political savvy have of him against them.

Of things that Judah is truly skilled at, both sailing and swordsmanship come easily to mind. Having always loved the waters off the island and the ships that sail them, much of his free time is spent roaming the seaside on either his own or others’ vessel, and the docks and trade cities along the coast are where he tends to disappear to (and get himself in trouble). In keeping with theme, he has studiously applied himself to his dueling lessons since he first picked up a blade and has gained a reputation as something of a bravo. Hardly a knight or a soldier on a battlefield, he instead is a master of the sort of showy dueling that combines panache and presentation with legitimately intricate bladework, footwork, and timing. Though famously able to best three men at a time with his trusty rapier, his style is one of finesse and motion and ill-suited for the battlefield at large and he relies on the magic of his blade to address heavier armor.

Weapon:
Milady, as Judah affectionately refers to his sword, is a long and thin rapier with a cupped guard and length crossguard. Made for dueling and having belonged to his first (and, he considers, best) instructor, it is a surprisingly unshowy weapon for a prince that Judah nevertheless treasures above all others. Appearances, however, can be deceiving, and the blade has been ensorcelled with impossible strength and flexibility. It is said to be so sharp that a proper thrust will slide clean through the breastplate of a man’s armor, though any swordsman will tell you that simply isn’t how sharpness works. That he can never seem to work the tarnish off the cup guard or the wear off the grip is, as far as Judah can tell, a part of its magic. He uses an entirely different and significantly more showy sword for ceremony, a bit embarrassed about his homely weapon of choice.

Armor:
Judah favors boiled leathers and dueling bracers over the plate and mail of the battlefield, and typically accentuates his mobility by eschewing heavier protection. Though on ceremony he may occasionally done the impeccable plate of his station, it has never seen battle and very likely never will.

Notable Possessions:
As a prince, Judah has a number of fineries, trophies, liveries and tomes that many would consider priceless and he considers fancy baubles. In truth the only things he particularly values is a particular ring of his mother’s that she wore before her death (and he now wears, in memorial) and a small brooch that his brother gave him as a young boy.

Brief History:
Judah has always been a vivacious and precocious young man. As a child he was witty and talented, accustomed to discussion and conversation with adults and enjoying their company over that of his peers. While his older brother took after his father, stern and wise and reserved, Judah was far more his mother’s son and she doted on him even as she chided his occasionally obnoxious antics. Eager to learn and more eager to show off what he learned, early attention and success bred in him a confidence and straight-forward approach to difficulty that would serve him well throughout his life. A fan of stories and storybooks, he idolized the swashbuckling bravos and rakishly charming pirate captains told to him by the common children he was allowed to play with over the more noble figures of his ancestry and legend, and it wasn’t at all uncommon to see him playing with training sword on hand on the castle ramparts, leaping from imaginary masts and rescuing young and swooning ‘damsels’. Though he knew that someday he might have to rule with real responsibility, it never hit him until the death of his mother that such a thing might come with costs of its own.

Assassinated by a visiting trader, her death in many ways shocked Judah into the realization of his lot in life. While before he had approached his studies somewhat flippantly, favoring swordsmanship and letting the rest slide, he began to realize that he would need more than storybook courage to succeed as he knew his mother would have wanted. If not a serious young man even then he at least approached his studies more seriously, gathering as he could an understanding of governance and the kingdom, and he was at risk of becoming a more somber individual until, ironically, the assassination attempt on his father that took the life of Sir Sigric Millesol. An unyielding and legendary knight who had dedicated himself to the king and kingdom, his death and the death of the guards in his service made Judah realize how little there really was keeping any of them from the grave. Rather than fall to despair he rose to the challenge, preferring to make the most of his time in the realms and make better the time had by the men and women of the kingdom.

Thus did Judah begin to roam, sneaking out of the castle to visit with what he was quickly learning were the real people of the kingdom. Disguised so as not to be noticed (though often noticed anyway), he became something of a hero for the common folk for his tendency to solve the problems that he found himself instead of allowing others to do it. Though he lacked his brother’s resolve or political ecumen he excelled as the face of his dynasty among the people, and for a time his antics were tolerated in spite of the danger they put him in. It wasn’t until a run in with a local pirate that very nearly took Judah’s life that his father and brother stepped in to put a stop to such shenanigans. Given a province to run and an estate to look after, the hope was that Judah would tame himself for the sake of others and learn to delegate rather than delve in himself.

It kind of worked.

Sort of.

Not really.

Knighthood (Closed)

In Memoriam

Hannya
Day 1, Morning

---

Umemoto Eiishii did not have ‘friends’.

Not in the way that most people would mean it, at least, and with good reason. He was not afraid of losing people or hurting them so much as people were understandably hesitant to put themselves in a position to be hurt or lost. Everything in Eiishii’s life was expendable in his pursuit of excellence and, almost by definition, that precluded most forms of significant social relationships. That Alexander Temple, who had long ago assumed a cheery ‘Fuck it!’ sentiment towards his own mortality, had managed something remarkably close with the master swordsman was both surprising and unexpectedly pleasant. It helped that the two worked in very different fields and had avoided any sense of competition, but more importantly the gunner was the social butterfly that Eiishii would never be. Having shared a local haunt and bonded over an appreciation for fine whiskey, their meetings were infrequent but pleasant occasions of compromise between their two very different temperaments.

It was fitting that their last would be far more to Alex’s preference than Eiishii’s. It was, after all, his funeral.

Revelry was not a natural expression for Eiishii, let alone one so fueled and inebriated as this. Brightlance, as he had been known professionally, had been well loved by many. Having started late last night and continued early into the morning, the funerary hall was filled with the lingering remnants of Alex Temple's wake. The ground was sticky with poured out liquor, the air thick with smoke that even the filters of the room couldn’t quite choke down, and someone was throwing up behind one of the exotic-but-tasteful Korvanian Mourning Lilies ( which only bloomed in the presence of a corpse) that had been placed there in the false expectation of a more subdued affair. The funerary hall of the Temple of Stars had seen wilder parties but not by much, its otherwise sterile expanse well and trashed, but this was the first rager that Eiishii had deigned to attend. He was largely ignored as could be expected of a wallflower in such company, taking residence in a corner with a folding chair and a bottle of whiskey late last night. He indulged in neither the weeping recollection of (exaggerated) daring deeds or in the forced exuberance (also exaggerated) that many of the man’s comrades seemed to insist was the proper affirmation of life in the face of death. Dressed in black without even his usual splash of red or white, the master had instead worked his way without haste through his aged liquor one cooled tumbler at a time until a bit more than half remained. Willing to call Alex well and mourned, by this point, he set the remains of the bottle neatly to the floor beside him and ground out what was left of his cigar into the moist earth around the mourning lily.

“Hey,” the woman with the half-shaved head who had just relieved the contents of her stomach behind said flower growled, wiping her chin with her non-prosthetic arm, “you better finish that, motherfucker! Alex never walked away from anything halfway through, he lived life—“

“To the fullest, yes.” Eiishii was already on his feet as he finished the platitude, synthetic fingers rubbing themselves free of any lingering particulates of tobacco. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Perhaps she really had known the man, cared about him intimately and deeply, but Eiishii doubted it. It wasn’t particularly important either way, and certainly not to her—he doubted she would remember their conversation, given the sounds of expulsion and dry heaving she had returned to making.

Alex and Eiishii had maintained their good standing with one another by compromise, a carefully struck balance. With every intention of honoring that agreement in their final interaction, Eiishii had mourned Alex as he would like to have been mourned. As he left the hall with a final tug of his cuffs into place, it was time to do things his way.

Revenge was a much better parting gift than vomit behind a lily.

The Search for Elvarren

DUSK & Stheno

They walk. Another mile. And another mile through the taiga forests.
''Do you hear that?'' Dusk speaks.
''The whispers in the wind... These are not delusions, nor are you going insane. You must've heard them before. They are the Perpetuals -- voices -- of people afflicted with the same thing we are. If you pay attention to it, you can hear them from every direction, and from all corners of the globe. Do not be alarmed by it.''
They walk further, the climate is getting colder and bleaker even in the heart of spring. Why so far north? Why in this no-man's-land of boreal Canada?

''In the meantime, do you perhaps have any questions? I believe now is a good opportunity to ask; I can tell how confused and startled you are by everything you've witnessed. I will tell you what I know, even when I don't know much.''

Did she have questions.

What do you even say to that? Where did you even start? Things like 'who the hell are you' and 'what the hell are we doing in the cold' and 'what the hell is happening to me' all jockeys in her mind, all reasonable thoughts, but with her hands shoved into her pockets and her shoulders hunched together against the cold under her coat Elizabeth could only really bring herself to ask one thing.

"Why Elvarren?" She managed, tugging her cozy knit beanie down over her ears self consciously. She hadn't ever really said it our loud before, she realized, and it sounded stupider than she thought.

Because she was really that self conscious in front of a bloody eskimo.

And the eskimo gives reply:
''Elvarren...''
That same one word, utterly meaningless from the surface, though making you unable to shake off that feeling there's something quite profound to it.
''Humans crave for explanations to their lot in life, do they not? Especially those like us, cast in an unexplainable maelstrom of bizarre fates and fables of mysticism.
Elvarren represents the answer. Or at least, the Perpetuals seem to believe so. Why do we have these powers? Why are the Greymen looking for us? Why us, and not someone else? Elvarren is all we have to go on. Our only clue. The single distant light tower shining from the murky bay.
In fact, by the way the Perpetual is making it out to be, our very lives -- and perhaps those of our species as a whole -- revolves around finding it, now.''

Was that answer in any way helpful or satisfying to Elizabeth? Probably not.
Dusk begins to pant, as in fatigue. There is a visible strain appearing on his face as he lowers his head.

''Sorry. It's not easy, you know... I'm not happy about it either, to be of so little help. And this strain... to find you all before they do. Sometimes I wonder if...''
Dusk shakes his head.
''No, no. I am in too deep now. I must see this through -- we must see this through...!''


He wasn't wrong. If Eliza had any sense that Dusk knew anything more about what the hell Elvarren was than he was saying she would have...well, she'd have done...something, at any rate. Her thoughts flicked back to men smashed into walls and left on airport floors, to the way Charlie's arm looked after--

She wrapped her arms around herself, and not because she was cold.

Meanwhile her little sherpa seemed to he having a little meltdown of his own, which actually somehow made it easier. It was easier to deal with someone else having a hard time than it was to figure out whatever this mess actually meant for her, and even if he was crazy at least they were both crazy. She almost reached out to reassure him, flexing her long fingers tentatively, but he snapped out of it before she could manage. Her hand tucked quickly into her pocket, embarassed.

''Anyway, if you'd have asked me: ''WHERE Elvarren... that's where things get interesting. The Perpetual that enlisted me to its cause seems to be wisest as to its whereabouts, from where i'm standing. He insists it's towards a pole of the planet. That is why I chose this place... that is why I am bringing you all to my dad's lodge deep into Canada.''

"Sounds..."

_{Right, sweetling. It sounds right.}

Thanks, voice in my head. Very comforting, she thought, but then felt silly for thinking it. Eliza wasn't a shrink, but she was pretty sure you weren't supposed to chat with your delusions.

"Better than anything I've got." She finished and admitted at the same time, and felt better for it. It was somehow easier to go with someone's plan, any plan, having accepted that she didn't have one of her own. Then she blinked.

"So when you say 'lodge'..."

''T'is a small place. Not quite befitting of a lady... more of a shelter for dispossessed.... I should warn you, some of the people ther--''
Dusk would have continued, when suddenly an expression of sheer dread formed on his face, and his movement halted abruptly. He sensed something.

''What? What is it?'' With a look like that on his face it had to be something serious, Eliza assumed, and tried to hazard a guess. "Not more Greymen, right?"

''No, no, it's not... There is no way they'd be able to trace us so fast in their current state.''
Dusk mumbles inwardly, enough so for his words to be unintelligible to Eliza.
''How familiar... Is it still alive? It's been a long time; that damned beast. I had half a thought that the Greymen would have gotten it by now. Well. Perhaps it is for the better.''

Listening to him mutter away didn't exactly help her opinion of the guy's sanity, but she knew enough that if something was bothering him like that it wasn't for nothing. It passed as soon as it came, it would seem, but she eyed him up until he gathered himself back together.

''Come on. It's not far now. We'll be safe there, trust me on at least that much.''


And lo, in the clearance amidst the trees appears the ramshackle lodge of Dusk's father mentioned earlier. Almost entirely made of wood, save for some use of lead and metal for the roof. The area is eerily quiet from the surface and shrouded in morning mist still. However, both Dusk and Eliza can sense that there are many people inside at present. Even if some of them are still in a state of slumber, or deliberately try be as quiet as they can, there are the whispers of Perpetuals that will inevitably lead others to them -- others likewise stricken by this ill fate.

Dusk and his new compatriot move to the door, with the Dusk opening it, he and Eliza finally leave the cold behind and move inside.

''People! It's me -- Dusk! I'm back!
Where is Aries? Hello?''

Entering the room, he can see four faces, three familiar and one completely alien to him.
Getting used to the very welcoming embrace of the lodge's warmer temperature, Dusk removes the winter hood that had hitherto covered his scalp, and for some this will be the first time getting a good look at him.
He appears like an ordinary young man, dark blond of hair, slender -- a bit gaunt even, though this is not quite visible under the thick winter's clothing which is indeed reminiscent to those worn by Inuit tribes. His complexion is pale, and his face handsome, even slightly feminine in a way that will make certain Balkan women swoon.
He turns to Fuchsia first. ''Hey. I knew you would make. I'm so sorry for having left you like that. But from now on, we'll stick together. For survival's sake, if nothing else.''

Then he looks over to the unfamiliar man with the beard. ''Where did you come from? ...You found us? On your own? Normally I am the one finding other people. How strange.. But a good pace of change, I suppose.
What is your name? No, not your real one -- your alias.''

For her part, Eliza met the rag-tag band of individuals with as much cheer as...well, no. She was awkward, her hands in the pockets of her black thigh-length coat, her head tucked under the stylishly-knit cream beanie tugged tight over hair that was very nearly platinum. Petite and slim, certainly compared to her parka-wearing guide, she managed a little wave of her fingers from the hip and a quiet "...'lo everbody..." before stepping to the side of the door and taking her place against a wall. What a motley little crew they'd found...

---

_{Collab with @Grijs.}

The Search for Elvarren

Stheno

In The Mirror...

What is your real name?
...Elizabeth St. John.

Make sure no one learns it. So, have you thought of a good alias for yourself?

Alias. I suppose I need one, now, don't I... Pity. I liked being Eliza.

...but call me Stheno.

How old are you, anyway?

Old enough to know better. Pre-thirty, and thanks so much for that little rose, Kyle...

...but I'm twenty nine.

How would you describe your own appearance? Height, hair, clothes, whatever.

I hate talking about myself. You know those people who hate talking about themselves? I'm one of them. I'm pretty, and slim, and I dye my hair more than I'd like but less than you think. I'm not tall. I've grey eyes, bleached white hair and...well, no figure...

...but if you must know, I like my collar bones.

Recently all of us are afflicted with these impossibly unreal abilities. Like Mystics. What is your ability?

'Ability', it says. What, you mean this little talent of mine? The one that means I shouldn't see my son again? Or husband? Or feel normal? This isn't a bloody comic book, you know, this is my life and it's ending in what might as well be bloody Siberia for God's sake. So yes, I suppose, I can take people's essence. Or life, or energy, or...whatever. Whatever it is, I take something from them, and if they're very lucky it comes back. Sometimes it doesn't. Is that what you want me to say?

No. No, of course it's not, because that's not enough, is it. There has to be more, there's always more. Trouble comes in threes, they say, so if you must know I'm... I suppose you could say 'strong', but let me stop you there. When I say that, you're thinking bodybuilders, weights at the gym, Arnold Schwarzenegger, but that's not on. Not quite, at least. I'm... more than that.

Swing-a-telephone-pole-like-a-baseball-bat more than that.

Toss-your-car-over-my-shoulder more than that.

And, while we're at it, my skin is strong too, and my bones. They must be, because that's the only bloody explanation I can think of as to why they don't rip or break or cut like normal. I mean sometimes, sure, but not like they ought to. I've put my hand through a car door without a bloody scratch, I mean, can you believe it? I don't know. I just don't know, sometimes.

...but they told me I was strong, and tough, so there you are then.

What is your voice like? Has he told you anything aside to search for Elvarren?

Oh yes, and thanks so much for that little chestnut. Going on about Elvarren, as if that isn't some made up word. I'd say I've gone mad, but apparently I'm not the only one. Mass hysteria is real, you know, I've read about it on the telly, and maybe that's what this is...

...but it's kind, kinder than I'd like. It tells me it's not my fault.

Where did you come from, and how long have you been looking for Elvarren?

Gloucester. I say 'England' and you all think London, like there isn't a whole rest of the country out there.

...but yes, I'm from Gloucester. I miss it. It was warmer there, though I'll give you not by much.

How did you end up here?

Well I flew, didn't I? I certainly didn't swim! London to Montreal to Saskatchewan to a rental car that I never took back...it ran out of petrol a ways back, and I suppose I...well, walked from there. At least I brought flats.

...but yes, I flew. What would you have done?

Anything else you want to get off your chest?

I miss them. God, I miss them so much. Kyle and...and Charlie. I'm so sorry, Charlie, honey, mommy's so sorry...

...but I had to go, didn't I.

It is good to meet you, friend. You’ll be safe here – for the time being…

Oh yes, I'm sure. Of course I will.

...but will you?

Knighthood (Closed)

Round two. Let's see if the Order needs an explosives/artillery expert; the character got stuck in my head.

Jane M. Doe

Name: Jane M. Doe
Alias/Nickname: Airburst/Jericho Doe
Rank: Artificer, Order of Shadows

Age: 26
Race: Elder Ogeron
Personality:

Jane is what many people might call ‘mousy’. A very private person, slightly paranoid person, she spends a good deal of her time in her workshop with the rest of the artisans and the rest of it skulking about people-watching. Something of a voyeur, she often prefers to watch rather than interact and has on more than one occasions gotten in trouble for her nosy habits. A socially anxious individual, she vastly prefers the company of individuals or very small groups rather than large social situations and in the latter she is often mute unless her opinion is directly requested.

One on one and in her element, Jane can be surprisingly relaxed considering she almost never takes off her blast helmet, drops her various degrees of obfuscation, and intentionally wears baggy clothing that covers up whatever figure she must have under there. Intensely observant and occasionally surprisingly crude, she has a bad habit of both knowing more about someone than they intend her to and referencing it casually without meaning to. She vastly prefers to avoid actual combat and gravitates towards field support on missions, but is known to hold a grudge and have something of a cold streak when it comes to people she feels have slighted her.

Considering how little she takes off her mask, she always seems to be carrying around snacks of some kind of another.

Biography:

Once upon a time, one Lady Blahblahblah of Soandsoshire was a slut and spread her legs a lot until she got knocked up by John Doe of Nothingsham and ruined her fun. As far as Jane is concerned, that’s about all there is to it.

That something happened is obvious enough to anyone who...well, interacts with Jane. She doesn’t like to be touched, she’s replaced her hands, she takes great pains to obfuscate as much of herself as possible, and she likes watching people when they don’t know she’s there. None of that speaks to a great upbringing or traditional parenting, and she’s noticeably bitter whenever the subject comes up. When pressed she lies through her teeth and never tells the same story twice, ranging from plausible-but-unlikely to downright ridiculous stories, though asking her is a good way to get her to not talk to you for a week or so.

Jane joined the order by demonstrating her proficiency both at espionage and explosive ordnance development. To hear her tell it she was on the run from someone or another and the order provided her shelter, but that could well be one of the dozen stories she tells about herself.

A curious colleague once confirmed that her biological father was an Ogeron named Robin Goodfellow, on record for numerous felonies including assault, sexual assault, and currently wanted for treason in Eldrafen. The resultant property damage was halted only on threat of expulsion from the Knights and they haven’t spoken since.

Reason for recruitment:

There aren’t many places willing to both employ explosives and tolerate eccentricity. Jane considers herself lucky to have found this one.

Strength of Will:

Potent

Magic:

Noticeably, Jane’s magic is almost entirely ritual in nature. Skilled though she may be, almost all of her talent requires time and concentration and as such are of little practical use in the field. Of note is her tendency to utilize (and talent with) contingent magic, i.e. stored effects that are triggered under proper conditions. She relies exclusively on Wild Magic rather than Channeled Magic.

• Divination
  Jane is especially talented at divination rituals, specifically those involving scrying or the prevention thereof. She frequently uses this ability to spy on targets, ascertain proper firing coordinates and locations, and to divine proper methods of avoiding detection.
• Abjuration
  Jane is reasonably skilled in abjuration, though she typically amplifies it by technological means when using it for the purposes of her explosives.
• Alchemy
  An impressive chemist, Jane’s talent with alchemy is relatively limited but surprisingly useful in the crafting of her various ordinances. While able to change and manipulate small quantities of matter, she’s skilled at it more in that she knows what changes she needs to make than in her ability to alter things drastically.
• Force
  Jane’s talent with force magic is almost exclusively used for the amplification and direction of explosive energies, at which she is demonstrably proficient.

God Relations:

Jane tends to pay lip service to whatever God may or may not have dominion over her whatever it is that she’s up to, but she isn’t really a ‘faith’ person.

Tech:

Jane utilizes a variety of technological items, mostly crafted either by her or by other artificers of the guild. Of note:

• Sinskin
  Produced by another Artisan from the Order of Shadows, Sinskin is a techno-illusory collection of nanites that uses the same technology as the Mistress of Shadow’s cloaking nanosuit applied instead as a layer of active camouflage over an otherwise normal outfit. It protects against most forms of magical and technological detection while rendering the wearer largely invisible to the naked eye. Jane keeps it on her at all times and often uses it more casually than she ought to.
• SS-IV Surveillance Scrambler
  While not running her Sinskin, Jane is almost always running her surveillance scrambler. The small device distorts both audio and visual recording processes, effectively blurring her figure and her words to unintelligibility (though notably still visible as a patch of active pixelation or distortion). While it can be an issue for those with technologically augmented eyes, it provides no benefit against magical or visual sight.
• TODS Mk.2.2 “Arbalest” & Accompanying
  Jane’s primary weapon and method of fire support while in the field, the Arbalest is functionally a techno-magical mortar largely of Jane’s own design. Billed as a teleported ordinance delivery system, it is essentially a large and heavy cylinder inscribed with both runes and coordinate calculating entries for manual use. Utilizing stored magical charges that Jane creates via her rituals and the targeting coordinates she is able to gather via various integrated or her divination magic, the Arbalest teleports a given form of ordinance to a target location moments prior to detonation, resulting in near instant delivery of its given payload. Even more useless than most mortars in a direct confrontation, it can provide varied and effective fire support from distances of up to 5 km with proper targeting information. Jane has a variety of magical and mundane “shells” that she can utilize with it, ranging from high-explosive charges to alchemical healing tinctures, and typically bases her carried payloads based on mission parameters.
• UAC “Hornet” Automatic Flechette Pistol
  Jane’s most typically used self-defense weapon, the Umemoto Arms Corp. “Hornet” flechette pistol utilizes a magnetic chambering system to shave slivers out of its base ammunition and a standard rail system to fire them at tremendous speed. Firing at a rate of nearly a 1,000 rounds per minute, these minute darts are excellent at carving apart unarmored and lightly armored targets at close range but ineffective at anything beyond that due to a lack of rifling and the minimal projectile weight. Of specific note is the system’s ammunition capacity, which is substantial--a single block of ammunition can last for more than a minute of prolonged firing, allowing for sustained fire. Next to useless against any form of significant armor, it provides a decent enough distraction in a pinch.
• Mk. III “Boxer” Grenade Pistol
  A more personal method of ordnance delivery, Jane’s Boxer is a modified breach-loaded grenade pistol designed to accommodate various smaller-scale ordnance at limited range. As with her Arbalest rounds, Jane often utilizes custom shells for various effects based on the mission at hand.

Skills:

• That Sneaky Little...
  Jane's sneaky. She's good at getting in and out of places without being caught or leaving a surveillance record when she wants to, though sufficiently advanced sensory equipment or magic still provide significant barriers for her.
• Cour, petit lapin, cour
  Faster than she ought to be, Jane's primary defense is to run. Naturally graceful and balanced, she isn't a trained parkour expert but can function pretty well at it regardless at getting where she needs to go to deliver her payload (or getting away from whatever's trying to stop her).
• Living Bombard
  Jane's true talents lie in ordinance generation and delivery. A brilliant chemist well-versed in various methods of making things explode and the best way to have them do it, Jane is well known for her skills as fire-support in the field and for providing custom devices to specific specifications when required.
• Not an Ace, Not a Dummy
  Jane is a reasonably skilled hacker, familiar enough with most security systems to get in and out undetected. Her repertoire consists of a good deal of surveillance and anti-surveillance software, however, rather than any capacity to do real damage to most systems, and military grade networks are still difficult for her to address.

Misc.:

Jane is almost never seen without a helmet and heavy clothing on that covers the entirety of her skin. She typically uses a vocal distortion software that makes her voice deep, obviously synthetic, and nominally female.

Knighthood (Closed)

Umemoto Eiishii

Umemoto Eiishii

Alias: Hannya, The Traitor

Y'know, most people are afraid of Hannya. Not afraid like he's some big ass dragon or some giant demon or something, but the guy wears suits that cost more than an education and looks like he owns the investment firm that bought the real estate company that owns your house. He's just got that way about him, y'know, like he's abso-fucking-lutely sure of everything he does, and that's kinda intimidating, y’know? But when you start talking to him, he's actually a really grounded guy. Sure he smokes the kind of cigars I couldn't buy without a mission's pay, but he's pretty good at giving you the whole 'sage wisdom' bullshit without the bullshit, y’know? And then you start to get to know him a little more, hang out around the towers a bit, and you learn that most people aren't nearly as afraid of him as they ought to be.

- Alex "Brightlance" Temple, Paladin of the Temple of Stars

Age: Unknown
Race: Unknown

Rank: Knight Captain

Biography/history:

It's hard to imagine what possible history someone like Hannya could have. He acts as though he sprang full formed from the earth, constant and singular, as he will no doubt someday return to it. The truth is substantially less dramatic, and a surprising amount of it is actually public record if one cares enough to put together the timeline.

Umemoto Eiishii was born to a prominent corporate family out of Lorrath. Manufacturers of arms and armor, he grew up wanting for little and receiving the best of everything from education to magical tutelage. Given his heritage and his position in his family, the only son of the Umemoto Arms Corp. president and chairman, it was assumed from an early age that he would take up his father's position at the head of the company, find a woman to have a son with, and retire to luxury and backseat corporate espionage like his father's father before him. The only real surprise is that none of that happened.

The only real secret in Eiishii's past is what changed. That something did was self-evident, but what it could be was anyone's guess. There was no horrible fall out, no awful tragedy that anyone is aware of. As far as most people are concerned, Eiishii simply woke up one day, put aside every weapon and lesson and aspiration he'd been working towards, and began focusing solely on his swordsmanship. Day in and day out, until his muscles ached and his fingers bled and his instructors had long ago left, Eiishii practiced his swordsmanship. At first his parents assumed it to be a hobby, a kind of phase, but as months stretched by and the rest of his studies declined it was clear enough that something was amiss. Ultimatum after ultimatum was provided and ignored, his family unwilling to follow through with actually cutting him off. Eventually, as far as his parents were concerned, he was written off as a waste--his 'little hobby' wasn't expensive enough to be a bother when it came right down to it, and so they let him have it. Better than losing their son, and to their credit they could (and did) have another.

In a year, Eiishii cleanly defeated his master.

In two years, Eiishii cleanly defeated his master.

In five, he had ended a slew of schools, academies, and training grounds single handedly.

It becomes difficult to track him through public record, at this point, because by then rumor of his prowess had begun to escape. A monster swordsman, an impossible prodigy had begun to work his way through school after school, learning techniques like most people drink water, before defeating its greatest masters and moving on. The more difficult it became for him to move between schools unnoticed, the more guile he began to display in his dedication to do so. There are stories still told about the friends he betrayed, the women he seduced, the wizened masters he bargained or threatened or cajoled out of their secrets, all under different names that only a careful historian could begin to put together as being Umemoto Eiishii himself.

By the time he emerged as himself again, he was a changed man. Having long been assumed dead by his family, who hadn't heard word from him in more than a decade, he returned to their household with his thanks for raising him and a simple warning that it was time for them to leave. Confused, he made it clear in no uncertain terms that it was no longer safe for them to remain in the city and that now was the time for them to take their belongings and go. He would be staying, himself, and he would be just fine without them.

In less than a month, the Second Stygian War broke out and his family’s holdings were decimated. Having refused to heed the ridiculous warning of their absentee son, his remaining family perished under the Stygian assault. Eiishiii had more important things to do--he had joined the Knights of Star and begun, for the first notable time in decades, to apply his trade under his own name.

With the Knights of Star fighting on both sides of the battle, Eiishiii began to acquire something of a reputation. The contracts he took were almost always those with a Knight of Stars counterpart on the other side of the battlefield, whether fighting for or against the Stygians. He himself showed no loyalty to either side, and instead took the battlefield against those most distinguished Knights with neither fear nor concern. To this day, no member of the order has been confirmed to have killed as many of their own as Eiishii the Traitor, earning him no small amount of enmity within the organization. An inquiry was held after several prominent Knights of the time fell, but the short of the matter was that he technically hadn't done anything wrong--he hadn't sought out his opponents, merely placed himself in their path as a natural extension of his contract. Though the charges of treason were dropped, it was not a satisfying victory for many and the notion of it lingered. With the actions of the Knights during the war pardoned, however, Eiishii...stopped.

Not doing missions, but he stopped searching out new schools of swordsmanship to best. He had, in his not-inconsequential perspective, become the finest swordsman alive. It was not a boast so much as a simple fact, demonstrated when needed either on missions or in defense of his title, and though he may have been bested on rare occasions by the capabilities of his foes it was never a failure of his skill that lost him the battle. The sole duelist to survive Lilliana Highfell’s infamous challenge, it was then that Eiishii realized that his body was simply unable to keep up with the demands of his technique. He could see through the blade mistress’ gambits, knew where and when and how to strike, but his body was simply unable to keep up.

So he sought to fix that.

With the Umemoto Arms Corp. and the money from his missions funding him, these days Eiishii spends much of his time appreciating the finer things in life when he isn’t exploring newfound options to expand his capabilities. Known on occasion to take on a student or two, his rank as a Knight Captain is reflective as much of the infamy he gained with the Knights during the Second Stygian War as it is by his own disinterest in taking a more prestigious position. There are some who are curious why he didn't leave with many of the others in search of Christian Highfell, and he refuses to comment on the matter, but most assume he was unwelcome in their company.

Reason for recruitment:

A predator hunts where his prey lays its head.

Strength of Will:

Greater

Magic:

Channeled from Norforandus, Eiishii’s magic is extremely powerful but entirely localized. Eiishii has a single driving focus, a point to which his every effort goes to, and that is to truly master the art of killing men with a blade. To that end, he has developed significant supportive magic for himself including the following:

• Alchemy - Eiishii has become a master alchemist, learning to transmute and alter the physical properties of himself and his armaments to further refine their capabilities. In particular he has mastered the manipulation of his unique blade and the various augmentations that have been made to his body, increasing his reaction time, speed, and stamina to impossible levels.
• Divination - While largely unskilled at foreseeing the future or scrying different locations, Eiishii channels minor divination as part of his cocktail of combat magics to allow him to see the motions and movements of his opponents slightly before they happen. The effect is minimal, less than a second in advance of the action, but more reliable than most divination thanks to its limited scope. Eiishii also utilizes divination in his conjuration of The Marble to prevent opponents from hiding from his sight.
• Abjuration - Long ago having learned that those who fight only with blades can still die to plenty of other things, Eiishii has devoted a significant amount of effort into ensuring that he dies to nothing but a better bladesman, namely via his use of The Marble.
• Significant Spells:
  
  • The Marble
    One of Eiishii’s most powerful abilities, The Marble is what he calls the cocktail of battle-magic effects he uses when he serious about an engagement. A mixture of abjuration and divination, The Marble is functionally an intensely powerful spherical barrier that surrounds Eiishii and prevents a truly stupendous amount of incoming nastiness from having much effect. In truth a form of channeled alteration of reality, it is one of two proper gifts granted to him by Norforandus in that it is far and away more powerful than it has much right to be. Within the confines of The Marble Eiishii is absolutely aware of everything that occurs, a powerful divinatory effect combined with an alchemical alteration in the surrounding environment that allows it to function as something of an extended nervous system. Combined with his implants and augmentations, Eiishii’s reactions to events that occur within it are very nearly prescient and limited almost entirely by the capabilities of his (admittedly augmented) physical body.
    
    The catch, of course, is that this ability’s range is explicitly and exactly limited to the length of his sword extended from his arm. Yes, it varies depending on the weapon he’s using, but when it comes down to it the ability is simply a manifestation of Eiishii’s impossible desire to be the best at what he does. When you’re serious about fighting Eiishii, you fight on his terms.
  • The Blade
    Eiishii’s second true talent from Norforandus. If The Marble is a manifestation of his need to die doing what he loves, The Blade is a manifestation of his need to kill with it. Another alchemical-abjurant effect, The Blade cuts. It cuts well. Functionally, it creates a two-dimensional, frictionless plane of abjurant energy along the edge of a blade that Eiishii wields while reinforcing and slimming the actual metal of it sufficiently to prevent it from shattering or deforming. Physical armor is almost useless against it, as it slides through matter at a literally molecular level; magical barriers prove more effective, as the actual force of the swing is rarely the true danger of it depending on the technique used at the time. More sinister, however, is Norforandus’ blessing--wounds made by The Blade do not go back together. Period. They may be cauterized, replaced, healed around, healed independently, and many other variations involving the word ‘healed’, but what they don’t do is come back together. The two parts are, for all intents and universal purposes, no longer part of the same creation and no longer meant to be a part of one another. Significantly, much in the same was as The Marble, The Blade works only and explicitly along the edge of a knife or sword wielded by Eiichii. While he can create an edge on almost anything with alchemy and abjuration, it just isn’t the same and both he and Norforandus know it.

God relations:

Insofar as Norforandus has clerics, Eiishii is one of them. Long ago the God of Hunger looked into the soul of a young man and saw in him a singular, driving, impossible desire to embody the act of killing men in this world. It took pity on him, and Eiishii honors his end of the bargain every day.

There are also rumors of something...else. Though Eiishii does not speak of it, there is a solemnity and a forced calm that he approaches in certain discussions. Ruin comes to those walking the path that Eiishii walks,
and that he is a man on borrowed time is not as hard to see as he might like.

Tech:

The main technology Eiishii uses is the augmentations to his physical and neural form that allow him to surpass his human limitations. A combination of bio-alchemical alterations and straight cybernetic enhancement, almost all of Eiishii’s functioning system has been enhanced and streamlined up. In particular his neural system and the attending muscle groups have been adjusted to an incredible and alarming degree, tuned up with the best medical, magical, and technical knowledge that money can buy. More than being able to run faster than a normal man, Eiishii can react faster with short-twitch muscle movements boosted by anti-friction and anti-gravity nanites employed in a secondary nervous system to reduce impediments to his technique.

Aside from his general adjustments, Eiishii’s main form of magi-technology is the degree of shielding that goes into said implants and nervous systems. Eiishii values his mind and his techniques and isn’t about to let anyone with an EMP or decent Enchantment skills play havoc with either.

Possessions/items/property:

Money. A lot of money. Outside of that, Eiishi’s eschews permanent holdings and prefers temporary things, such as hotel rooms, eating out, and otherwise purchasing what he needs in disposable goods. He does, however, have a single significant possession that he keeps on him regularly:

• Nanite Sword
  Eiishii's primary weapon, concealed in carefully constructed channels in his arms is a series of nanities affixed with graphene monoblades. With a proper electric charge from an adjustable hilt the nanites emerge and configure themselves into an almost unlimited variety of blades.

Skills:

• The Blade
  Eiishii is arguably the best bladesman alive. He is relatively sure that he is the best technical swordsman alive, having mastered every known technique (including a great number of secret ones, at no small cost and expense to himself and others) in Galendar. This knowledge extends to knife combat as well, and to relative degrees other hand-to-hand bladed weaponry such as axes and spears, but he makes no bones about the fact that he is a swordsman first and foremost.
• The Marble
  Eiishii is a master of close-quarters abjuration and alchemy. Though not particularly talented in grander applications, when it comes to arm’s reach there are few more skilled at both offensive and defensive application of barriers and reinforcing magics than Eiishii.
• Intelligence
  Eiishii is reasonably intelligent about most things that he has an interest in. His deductive and inductive reasoning skills are significant, and while he isn’t a genius he’s not a dumb brute.

Misc:

Eiishii enjoys the finer things in life, and he is unrepentant about it. Money is meant to be spent and comfort is the reward of the living. He’s also a bitch for aesthetics and more than a little vain, taking good care of his appearance.

In truth, his live-for-today mentality is a simple result of the fact that he is doomed. People like Eiishii don't live and die well, and the sacrifices he has made to become who he is are beginning to weigh on him. While it may not appear physically, those sensitive to the ebbs and flows of fate and death magic receive a clear sense of foreboding from him, a foregone conclusion from the waiting dark.

The only question is what it could be.

Jane M. Doe

Name: Jane M. Doe
Alias/Nickname: Airburst/Jericho Doe
Rank: Artificer, Order of Shadows

Age: 26
Race: Elder Ogeron
Personality:

Jane is what many people might call ‘mousy’. A very private, slightly paranoid person, she spends a good deal of her time in her workshop with the rest of the artisans and the rest of it skulking about people-watching. Something of a voyeur, she often prefers to watch rather than interact and has on more than one occasions gotten in trouble for her nosy habits. A socially anxious individual, she vastly prefers the company of individuals or very small groups rather than large social situations and in the latter she is often mute unless her opinion is directly requested.

One on one and in her element, Jane can be surprisingly relaxed considering she almost never takes off her blast helmet, drops her various degrees of obfuscation, and intentionally wears baggy clothing that covers up whatever figure she must have under there. Intensely observant and occasionally surprisingly crude, she has a bad habit of both knowing more about someone than they intend her to and referencing it casually without meaning to. She vastly prefers to avoid actual combat and gravitates towards field support on missions, but is known to hold a grudge and have something of a cold streak when it comes to people she feels have slighted her.

Considering how little she takes off her mask, she always seems to be carrying around snacks of some kind of another.

Biography:

Once upon a time, one Lady Blahblahblah of Soandsoshire was a slut and spread her legs a lot until she got knocked up by John Doe of Nothingsham and ruined her fun. As far as Jane is concerned, that’s about all there is to it.

That something happened is obvious enough to anyone who...well, interacts with Jane. She doesn’t like to be touched, she’s replaced her hands, she takes great pains to obfuscate as much of herself as possible, and she likes watching people when they don’t know she’s there. None of that speaks to a great upbringing or traditional parenting, and she’s noticeably bitter whenever the subject comes up. When pressed she lies through her teeth and never tells the same story twice, ranging from plausible-but-unlikely to downright ridiculous stories, though asking her is a good way to get her to not talk to you for a week or so.

Jane joined the order by demonstrating her proficiency both at espionage and explosive ordnance development. To hear her tell it she was on the run from someone or another and the order provided her shelter, but that could well be one of the dozen stories she tells about herself.

A curious colleague once confirmed that her biological father was an Ogeron named Robin Goodfellow, on record for numerous felonies including assault, sexual assault, and currently wanted for treason in Eldrafen. The resultant property damage was halted only on threat of expulsion from the Knights and they haven’t spoken since.

Reason for recruitment:

There aren’t many places willing to both employ explosives and tolerate eccentricity. Jane considers herself lucky to have found this one.

Strength of Will:

Potent

Magic:

Noticeably, Jane’s magic is almost entirely ritual in nature. Skilled though she may be, almost all of her talent requires time and concentration and as such are of little practical use in the field. Of note is her tendency to utilize (and talent with) contingent magic, i.e. stored effects that are triggered under proper conditions. She relies exclusively on Wild Magic rather than Channeled Magic.

• Divination
  Jane is especially talented at divination rituals, specifically those involving scrying or the prevention thereof. She frequently uses this ability to spy on targets, ascertain proper firing coordinates and locations, and to divine proper methods of avoiding detection.
• Abjuration
  Jane is reasonably skilled in abjuration, though she typically amplifies it by technological means when using it for the purposes of her explosives.
• Alchemy
  An impressive chemist, Jane’s talent with alchemy is relatively limited but surprisingly useful in the crafting of her various ordinances. While able to change and manipulate small quantities of matter, she’s skilled at it more in that she knows what changes she needs to make than in her ability to alter things drastically.
• Force
  Jane’s talent with force magic is almost exclusively used for the amplification and direction of explosive energies, at which she is demonstrably proficient.

God Relations:

Jane tends to pay lip service to whatever God may or may not have dominion over her whatever it is that she’s up to, but she isn’t really a ‘faith’ person.

Tech:

Jane utilizes a variety of technological items, mostly crafted either by her or by other artificers of the guild. Of note:

• Sinskin
  Produced by another Artisan from the Order of Shadows, Sinskin is a techno-illusory collection of nanites that uses the same technology as the Mistress of Shadow’s cloaking nanosuit applied instead as a layer of active camouflage over an otherwise normal outfit. It protects against most forms of magical and technological detection while rendering the wearer largely invisible to the naked eye. Jane keeps it on her at all times and often uses it more casually than she ought to.
• SS-IV Surveillance Scrambler
  While not running her Sinskin, Jane is almost always running her surveillance scrambler. The small device distorts both audio and visual recording processes, effectively blurring her figure and her words to unintelligibility (though notably still visible as a patch of active pixelation or distortion). While it can be an issue for those with technologically augmented eyes, it provides no benefit against magical or visual sight.
• TODS Mk.2.2 “Arbalest” & Accompanying
  Jane’s primary weapon and method of fire support while in the field, the Arbalest is functionally a techno-magical mortar largely of Jane’s own design. Billed as a teleported ordinance delivery system, it is essentially a large and heavy cylinder inscribed with both runes and coordinate calculating entries for manual use. Utilizing stored magical charges that Jane creates via her rituals and the targeting coordinates she is able to gather via various integrated or her divination magic, the Arbalest teleports a given form of ordinance to a target location moments prior to detonation, resulting in near instant delivery of its given payload. Even more useless than most mortars in a direct confrontation, it can provide varied and effective fire support from distances of up to 5 km with proper targeting information. Jane has a variety of magical and mundane “shells” that she can utilize with it, ranging from high-explosive charges to alchemical healing tinctures, and typically bases her carried payloads based on mission parameters.
• UAC “Hornet” Automatic Flechette Pistol
  Jane’s most typically used self-defense weapon, the Umemoto Arms Corp. “Hornet” flechette pistol utilizes a magnetic chambering system to shave slivers out of its base ammunition and a standard rail system to fire them at tremendous speed. Firing at a rate of nearly a 1,000 rounds per minute, these minute darts are excellent at carving apart unarmored and lightly armored targets at close range but ineffective at anything beyond that due to a lack of rifling and the minimal projectile weight. Of specific note is the system’s ammunition capacity, which is substantial--a single block of ammunition can last for more than a minute of prolonged firing, allowing for sustained fire. Next to useless against any form of significant armor, it provides a decent enough distraction in a pinch.
• Mk. III “Boxer” Grenade Pistol
  A more personal method of ordnance delivery, Jane’s Boxer is a modified breach-loaded grenade pistol designed to accommodate various smaller-scale ordnance at limited range. As with her Arbalest rounds, Jane often utilizes custom shells for various effects based on the mission at hand.

Skills:

• That Sneaky Little...
  Jane's sneaky. She's good at getting in and out of places without being caught or leaving a surveillance record when she wants to, though sufficiently advanced sensory equipment or magic still provide significant barriers for her.
• Cour, petit lapin, cour
  Faster than she ought to be, Jane's primary defense is to run. Naturally graceful and balanced, she isn't a trained parkour expert but can function pretty well at it regardless at getting where she needs to go to deliver her payload (or getting away from whatever's trying to stop her).
• Living Bombard
  Jane's true talents lie in ordinance generation and delivery. A brilliant chemist well-versed in various methods of making things explode and the best way to have them do it, Jane is well known for her skills as fire-support in the field and for providing custom devices to specific specifications when required.
• Not an Ace, Not a Dummy
  Jane is a reasonably skilled hacker, familiar enough with most security systems to get in and out undetected. Her repertoire consists of a good deal of surveillance and anti-surveillance software, however, rather than any capacity to do real damage to most systems, and military grade networks are still difficult for her to address.

Misc.:

Jane is almost never seen without a helmet and heavy clothing on that covers the entirety of her skin. She typically uses a vocal distortion software that makes her voice deep, obviously synthetic, and nominally female.

Knighthood (Closed)

A likely controversial draft. Let's see how it goes.

Eiishii

Umemoto Eiishii

Alias: Hannya, The Traitor

Y'know, most people are afraid of Hannya. Not afraid like he's some big ass dragon or some giant demon or something, but the guy wears suits that cost more than an education and looks like he owns the investment firm that bought the real estate company that owns your house. He's just got that way about him, y'know, like he's abso-fucking-lutely sure of everything he does, and that's kinda intimidating, y’know? But when you start talking to him, he's actually a really grounded guy. Sure he smokes the kind of cigars I couldn't buy without a mission's pay, but he's pretty good at giving you the whole 'sage wisdom' bullshit without the bullshit, y’know? And then you start to get to know him a little more, hang out around the towers a bit, and you learn that most people aren't nearly as afraid of him as they ought to be.

- Alex "Brightlance" Temple, Paladin of the Temple of Stars

Age: Unknown
Race: Unknown

Rank: Knight Captain

Biography/history:

It's hard to imagine what possible history someone like Hannya could have. He acts as though he sprang full formed from the earth, constant and singular, as he will no doubt someday return to it. The truth is substantially less dramatic, and a surprising amount of it is actually public record if one cares enough to put together the timeline.

Umemoto Eiishii was born to a prominent corporate family out of Lorrath. Manufacturers of arms and armor, he grew up wanting for little and receiving the best of everything from education to magical tutelage. Given his heritage and his position in his family, the only son of the Umemoto Arms Corp. president and chairman, it was assumed from an early age that he would take up his father's position at the head of the company, find a woman to have a son with, and retire to luxury and backseat corporate espionage like his father's father before him. The only real surprise is that none of that happened.

The only real secret in Eiishii's past is what changed. That something did was self-evident, but what it could be was anyone's guess. There was no horrible fall out, no awful tragedy that anyone is aware of. As far as most people are concerned, Eiishii simply woke up one day, put aside every weapon and lesson and aspiration he'd been working towards, and began focusing solely on his swordsmanship. Day in and day out, until his muscles ached and his fingers bled and his instructors had long ago left, Eiishii practiced his swordsmanship. At first his parents assumed it to be a hobby, a kind of phase, but as months stretched by and the rest of his studies declined it was clear enough that something was amiss. Ultimatum after ultimatum was provided and ignored, his family unwilling to follow through with actually cutting him off. Eventually, as far as his parents were concerned, he was written off as a waste--his 'little hobby' wasn't expensive enough to be a bother when it came right down to it, and so they let him have it. Better than losing their son, and to their credit they could (and did) have another.

In a year, Eiishii cleanly defeated his master.

In two years, Eiishii cleanly defeated his master.

In five, he had ended a slew of schools, academies, and training grounds single handedly.

It becomes difficult to track him through public record, at this point, because by then rumor of his prowess had begun to escape. A monster swordsman, an impossible prodigy had begun to work his way through school after school, learning techniques like most people drink water, before defeating its greatest masters and moving on. The more difficult it became for him to move between schools unnoticed, the more guile he began to display in his dedication to do so. There are stories still told about the friends he betrayed, the women he seduced, the wizened masters he bargained or threatened or cajoled out of their secrets, all under different names that only a careful historian could begin to put together as being Umemoto Eiishii himself.

By the time he emerged as himself again, he was a changed man. Having long been assumed dead by his family, who hadn't heard word from him in more than a decade, he returned to their household with his thanks for raising him and a simple warning that it was time for them to leave. Confused, he made it clear in no uncertain terms that it was no longer safe for them to remain in the city and that now was the time for them to take their belongings and go. He would be staying, himself, and he would be just fine without them.

In less than a month, the Second Stygian War broke out and his family’s holdings were decimated. Having refused to heed the ridiculous warning of their absentee son, his remaining family perished under the Stygian assault. Eiishiii had more important things to do--he had joined the Knights of Star and begun, for the first notable time in decades, to apply his trade under his own name.

With the Knights of Star fighting on both sides of the battle, Eiishiii began to acquire something of a reputation. The contracts he took were almost always those with a Knight of Stars counterpart on the other side of the battlefield, whether fighting for or against the Stygians. He himself showed no loyalty to either side, and instead took the battlefield against those most distinguished Knights with neither fear nor concern. To this day, no member of the order has been confirmed to have killed as many of their own as Eiishii the Traitor, earning him no small amount of enmity within the organization. An inquiry was held after several prominent Knights of the time fell, but the short of the matter was that he technically hadn't done anything wrong--he hadn't sought out his opponents, merely placed himself in their path as a natural extension of his contract. Though the charges of treason were dropped, it was not a satisfying victory for many and the notion of it lingered. With the actions of the Knights during the war pardoned, however, Eiishii...stopped.

Not doing missions, but he stopped searching out new schools of swordsmanship to best. He had, in his not-inconsequential perspective, become the finest swordsman alive. It was not a boast so much as a simple fact, demonstrated when needed either on missions or in defense of his title, and though he may have been bested on rare occasions by the capabilities of his foes it was never a failure of his skill that lost him the battle. The sole duelist to survive Lilliana Highfell’s infamous challenge, it was then that Eiishii realized that his body was simply unable to keep up with the demands of his technique. He could see through the blade mistress’ gambits, knew where and when and how to strike, but his body was simply unable to keep up.

So he sought to fix that.

With the Umemoto Arms Corp. and the money from his missions funding him, these days Eiishii spends much of his time appreciating the finer things in life when he isn’t exploring newfound options to expand his capabilities. Known on occasion to take on a student or two, his rank as a Knight Captain is reflective as much of the infamy he gained with the Knights during the Second Stygian War as it is by his own disinterest in taking a more prestigious position. There are some who are curious why he didn't leave with many of the others in search of Christian Highfell, and he refuses to comment on the matter, but most assume he was unwelcome in their company.

Reason for recruitment:

A predator hunts where his prey lays its head.

Strength of Will:

Greater

Magic:

Channeled from Norforandus, Eiishii’s magic is extremely powerful but entirely localized. Eiishii has a single driving focus, a point to which his every effort goes to, and that is to truly master the art of killing men with a blade. To that end, he has developed significant supportive magic for himself including the following:

• Alchemy - Eiishii has become a master alchemist, learning to transmute and alter the physical properties of himself and his armaments to further refine their capabilities. In particular he has mastered the manipulation of his unique blade and the various augmentations that have been made to his body, increasing his reaction time, speed, and stamina to impossible levels.
• Divination - While largely unskilled at foreseeing the future or scrying different locations, Eiishii channels minor divination as part of his cocktail of combat magics to allow him to see the motions and movements of his opponents slightly before they happen. The effect is minimal, less than a second in advance of the action, but more reliable than most divination thanks to its limited scope. Eiishii also utilizes divination in his conjuration of The Marble to prevent opponents from hiding from his sight.
• Abjuration - Long ago having learned that those who fight only with blades can still die to plenty of other things, Eiishii has devoted a significant amount of effort into ensuring that he dies to nothing but a better bladesman, namely via his use of The Marble.
• Significant Spells:
  
  • The Marble
    One of Eiishii’s most powerful abilities, The Marble is what he calls the cocktail of battle-magic effects he uses when he serious about an engagement. A mixture of abjuration and divination, The Marble is functionally an intensely powerful spherical barrier that surrounds Eiishii and prevents a truly stupendous amount of incoming nastiness from having much effect. In truth a form of channeled alteration of reality, it is one of two proper gifts granted to him by Norforandus in that it is far and away more powerful than it has much right to be. Within the confines of The Marble Eiishii is absolutely aware of everything that occurs, a powerful divinatory effect combined with an alchemical alteration in the surrounding environment that allows it to function as something of an extended nervous system. Combined with his implants and augmentations, Eiishii’s reactions to events that occur within it are very nearly prescient and limited almost entirely by the capabilities of his (admittedly augmented) physical body.
    
    The catch, of course, is that this ability’s range is explicitly and exactly limited to the length of his sword extended from his arm. Yes, it varies depending on the weapon he’s using, but when it comes down to it the ability is simply a manifestation of Eiishii’s impossible desire to be the best at what he does. When you’re serious about fighting Eiishii, you fight on his terms.
  • The Blade
    Eiishii’s second true talent from Norforandus. If The Marble is a manifestation of his need to die doing what he loves, The Blade is a manifestation of his need to kill with it. Another alchemical-abjurant effect, The Blade cuts. It cuts well. Functionally, it creates a two-dimensional, frictionless plane of abjurant energy along the edge of a blade that Eiishii wields while reinforcing and slimming the actual metal of it sufficiently to prevent it from shattering or deforming. Physical armor is almost useless against it, as it slides through matter at a literally molecular level; magical barriers prove more effective, as the actual force of the swing is rarely the true danger of it depending on the technique used at the time. More sinister, however, is Norforandus’ blessing--wounds made by The Blade do not go back together. Period. They may be cauterized, replaced, healed around, healed independently, and many other variations involving the word ‘healed’, but what they don’t do is come back together. The two parts are, for all intents and universal purposes, no longer part of the same creation and no longer meant to be a part of one another. Significantly, much in the same was as The Marble, The Blade works only and explicitly along the edge of a knife or sword wielded by Eiichii. While he can create an edge on almost anything with alchemy and abjuration, it just isn’t the same and both he and Norforandus know it.

God relations:

Insofar as Norforandus has clerics, Eiishii is one of them. Long ago the God of Hunger looked into the soul of a young man and saw in him a singular, driving, impossible desire to embody the act of killing men in this world. It took pity on him, and Eiishii honors his end of the bargain every day.

There are also rumors of something...else. Though Eiishii does not speak of it, there is a solemnity and a forced calm that he approaches in certain discussions. Ruin comes to those walking the path that Eiishii walks,
and that he is a man on borrowed time is not as hard to see as he might like.

Tech:

The main technology Eiishii uses is the augmentations to his physical and neural form that allow him to surpass his human limitations. A combination of bio-alchemical alterations and straight cybernetic enhancement, almost all of Eiishii’s functioning system has been enhanced and streamlined up. In particular his neural system and the attending muscle groups have been adjusted to an incredible and alarming degree, tuned up with the best medical, magical, and technical knowledge that money can buy. More than being able to run faster than a normal man, Eiishii can react faster with short-twitch muscle movements boosted by anti-friction and anti-gravity nanites employed in a secondary nervous system to reduce impediments to his technique.

Aside from his general adjustments, Eiishii’s main form of magi-technology is the degree of shielding that goes into said implants and nervous systems. Eiishii values his mind and his techniques and isn’t about to let anyone with an EMP or decent Enchantment skills play havoc with either.

Possessions/items/property:

Money. A lot of money. Outside of that, Eiishi’s main possession is the bag of graphene particles that serves as his blade at any given time. By altering the components of them alchemically and electrically, Eiishii can reassemble them to form an extremely durable, powerful blade in any given form or shape required by his current technique.

Skills:

• The Blade
  Eiishii is arguably the best bladesman alive. He is relatively sure that he is the best technical swordsman alive, having mastered every known technique (including a great number of secret ones, at no small cost and expense to himself and others) in Galendar. This knowledge extends to knife combat as well, and to relative degrees other hand-to-hand bladed weaponry such as axes and spears, but he makes no bones about the fact that he is a swordsman first and foremost.
• The Marble
  Eiishii is a master of close-quarters abjuration and alchemy. Though not particularly talented in grander applications, when it comes to arm’s reach there are few more skilled at both offensive and defensive application of barriers and reinforcing magics than Eiishii.
• Intelligence
  Eiishii is reasonably intelligent about most things that he has an interest in. His deductive and inductive reasoning skills are significant, and while he isn’t a genius he’s not a dumb brute.

Misc:

Eiishii enjoys the finer things in life, and he is unrepentant about it. Money is meant to be spent and comfort is the reward of the living. He’s also a bitch for aesthetics and more than a little vain, taking good care of his appearance.

In truth, his live-for-today mentality is a simple result of the fact that he is doomed. People like Eiishii don't live and die well, and the sacrifices he has made to become who he is are beginning to weigh on him. While it may not appear physically, those sensitive to the ebbs and flows of fate and death magic receive a clear sense of foreboding from him, a foregone conclusion from the waiting dark.

The only question is what it could be.

The Search for Elvarren

Eliza felt stupid.

Really stupid. Like, ‘just made the biggest mistake of your life’ stupid, because that’s what she’d done, wasn’t it? She’d told Kyle she was going on a business trip, she’d told work she had pneumonia, and where the hell was she? Canada! Alberta bloody Canada! Staring at herself in the mirror, she splashed a bit of water on her face to help cool her down. It was much more important than the integrity of what little make-up she wore, just then, or it would have been if a pair of shoes hadn’t clicked their way into the restroom.

Men’s shoes, dark and brightly shined, and followed by another pair of them. Two men stepped into the bathroom, one of them turning and gently sliding the floor and ceiling locks of the door into place. The other stepped forward and flicked the cuffs of his grey suit, his face smiling in a way that he wasn’t.

_{That he can’t, sweetling. Skin with holes for eyes and teeth does not a face make.}

“Hello.” The man said, his voice dull against the tiled bathroom, almost lost in the flushing from a stall down the way. He stepped towards Eliza easily while the other man--also in grey, the exact same color, the exact same dark shoes--stepped past them to make his way towards the flushing from the stall.

“This is the ladies’ room, you can’t be in here.” She finally managed, her throat dry and her face hot as it had been before the water. Her heart was in her throat, so she swallowed it back down. The whispers of the little voice were more insistent, now, louder than they’d ever been.

_{Don’t let him touch you, sweetling, don’t let him take you. There is no Elvarren with the not-men, and they will take you where I cannot follow. Please, sweetling, don’t let them--}

The voice was interrupted by the grasp of a hand on her wrist, strong but gentle, and the not-face alarmingly close to hers.

“Hello.” It said again, and it showed its teeth. Like a smile, but not quite.

“Get off me.” When she jerked her hand away it came easily and she backpedalled on the ground. She seemed as surprised as the man had been--he kept looking between her and his hand, flexing the fingers awkwardly as if they hadn’t done what they were supposed to. He looked more confused, and a little disappointed, than angry, which made one of them. Eliza was angry now, more than a little fed up with this rubbish, and she marched for the door outside past the man with an insistent step and a squaring of her slim shoulders. “I’m leaving now, and you’d better--”

“Hello.” The man said again, this time with a frown, but when he reached for her shoulder this time Eliza turned and pushed him in the chest. She was going to say something, tell him to back off, but she didn’t have time. As soon as her fingers hit his chest there was a sharp and distinct cracking sound, a bending of the meat in the shape of the body, and the man in grey flew back like he’d been shot with a cannon. He broke through the porcelain sink he’d been standing in front of, shattered the mirror on the wall and split the tile down the drywall and stayed there, hanging in the small crater of his impact. He wasn’t moving.

“Oh...my…” And neither was Eliza. The only thing that was happened to be the man’s partner, who was looking between the two of them with narrowed eyes from the stall he’d just gone to investigate. What happened to the person who’d been finishing up was anyone’s guess. He started towards her with the same frown as his partner, as if he’d flicked a light switch and the lights hadn’t come on.

“Hello.” He added, for good measure, and quickened his step as Eliza shrank back from him. There was water pooling across the floor, now--the fixture had broken, it seeped out from behind the first grey man like blood--and his partner’s shoes splashed in it as he cut through the distance between them. The grey man extended a hand for her, reaching this time for her bicep--

“Get away from me!”

She hadn’t meant to scream, but it came out as a shriek when she did the only thing she could think of. Balling her hand, she brought it down on the creature’s chest in the time-honored but useless defense of the meek against the mighty. Ordinarily, beating on someone’s chest once they’ve grabbed you is little more than a moral protest. It isn’t going to stop anyone from doing anything, or at least it wouldn’t if it hadn’t been Eliza doing it. Instead, the grey man crumpled to the floor with the kind of ‘crack’ that said unpleasant things about what had happened to the bones in his chest.

He might as well have been hit with a sledge hammer.

When she left, he was still wheezing from the floor, trying to understand what exactly had broken to puncture a lung. To her credit, Eliza St. John was not running. She was walking, very quickly and very forcefully, towards the rental lot. And, if you must know, she was crying.

Terror can do that to a woman.

---

By the time Eliza hit the gas station most of the panic had run out of her like blood from an emotional gunshot. There was only just so long the human body could withstand that kind of emotion, and in her regular life--she still thought of it as her ‘real’ life, like this was all some little dream--about the most alarming thing that happened to her on a regular basis was realizing that she’d double-booked dinner. This was…she’d just…

Well.

If she’d managed to calm down to something resembling a normal state of mind, it didn’t mean that her hand wasn’t shaking. She felt tired, the bags beneath her eyes hot and heavy. Her sweater had been warm enough in the shiny little rental car but it wasn’t quite enough for the stiff breeze outside of it, and with her slim fingers tucked under her arms she bristled and rolled her shoulders together for warmth. How much longer could filling up the tank take? It was only a 10 gallon, for Christ’s sake…

She was antsy. She could feel them getting closer, which was ridiculous because she didn’t ‘feel’ things. Still, they had to be coming for her, right? Whatever agency they were a part of, (_{No agency of men, sweetling...} that little part of her whispered) they weren’t about to let something like that stand, right? And this time they wouldn’t be as stupid, get as close. Standing out by the car, she resisted the urge to light a cigarette and waited until the meter clicked to a stop before buttoning the car up and getting in. There were already too many people, too many cars, and she was certain that some of them would be driven by more of those...things. Her heart jumped at a flash of grey, at a long and thin tie, but they were just normal people after all. As she slid back behind the seat wheel of her car, she had the awful impulse to cry again.

‘’Hey. You there! Lady!’’

A young adult with a boyish face and a scar across his lip in a thick winter coat, but there’s something weird about him. She knew that he wasn’t like everyone else--in the same way that she wasn’t like anyone else--in the same way she was starting to know that he was on her side and not theirs. But what the hell did that mean, even?! What were the bloody sides?! Before she could talk, he was weaving between the cars and settling himself into her passenger’s seat. She stared at him, the steering wheel deforming beneath her fingertips with the anxious whine she would have liked to let out herself.

‘’Call me Dusk. I’ve come to help you find Elvarren.’’

‘Elvarren’. That’s the word he used. Already that soft voice in the back of her mind was whispering, trying to get her to move. Elvarren. It didn’t sound like it had when the Grey Men had said it out of his mouth, somehow. It made her want to go.

“We need move, fast! We’ll use your car. But if the Greymen have seen it; I advise you ditch it somewhere in the forest and come with me on foot. We’ll use the train stop a few miles to the east to carry us further. I know you are well in the right not to trust me, but i’ve got experience with these people.’’

“Who the Hell are you people? Us people?” Eliza managed in a strangled whisper, blinking her eyes sharply before coughing past the lump in her throat and starting up. If her world was getting thrown out the window, she was going to have to start playing by new rules somewhere along the way. It would have been easier if he wasn’t quite so young.

Eliza pulled out of the gas station and headed North. She was...and she couldn’t believe she was even thinking this...going to ditch her rental in the woods.

At least she’d bought the extra insurance.

---

_{Collaboration with @Grijs.}

The Search for Elvarren

@Howler I like how sassy your character is. Am only unsure about the ability. Perhaps there needs to be a weakness. However, the weakness might be something only to be discovered as we progress in IC, and may be unknown to Elizabeth as of yet.
Definitely approved, however!

@Grijs

Certainly something I'll think on. I doubt she would know the weakness I have in mind, but in general I don't find super-strength to be particularly difficult to manage in an RP. Her main weakness, I figure, is that she's an architect from Gloucester and not some rough-and-tumble warrior. Yes, she's super strong, but it isn't as though she knows how to throw a punch or conduct herself in a fight.

Also she can't turn it off, which can make things awkward on occasion.