Ithradine

Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

Mentions: N/A

Arton's mind was on his former master's words as they journeyed to their companion's home. It had already been some years ago when he set out on his own, to experience the world and understand the struggle of lands foreign to him. There was never an intent to return to his birthplace and the promise made to Cyth was an empty one. There was nothing left for him. No gilded estate of marble. No family arms passed down from generation to the next. No inheritance of any kind. Cyth had imposed it was his responsibility and duty to return. The instability in Skael had risen drastically in the past few months and from Cyth's words it was clear it was soon coming to boiling point.

The wandering swordsman did his best to straighten his back and present himself somewhat properly. His armor lacked the polish and art of the guards around him, but at least he managed to get it clean before they had set out. The more the walked through the estate the more Arton began to understand more of Galahad's upbringing and his own responsibility.

It was impossible to ignore the weight of the air between the two Caradocs, this was unlikely the first time Galahad had butted heads with his father. Arton remained silent, knowing it was not his place to speak out of turn. However, the vitriol in which Artorias spoke of Izayoi had his muscles tense. How little he knew of their history. Arton was surprised in Galahad's bold riposte, bending the decree of the king against his father's wishes. It seemed politics took place even amidst family for those in higher standing.

Arton simply nodded when Galahad had referenced him. He had fully expected this reunion to blow up in smoke when a older woman emerged from behind the commotion. It was not hard to assume her relationship to the two Caradocs. As uncomfortable as it may be, a free meal would be a shame to pass up and his stomach guided his next words "What do you say, Gal?" There was a slight hopeful tone in his voice. Uncomfortable or not, Arton would do anything to share one meal with his parents.

Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

Mentions: N/A

"I'll be sure to try it." Arton replied, not entirely sure what this flan looked or tasted like. The name itself was not all that appealing to him but he trusted Galahad's word. He courteously held the door for the entirety of their party but a man approached him just Arton was about to enter himself. The expression that appeared on Arton's face made it clear that it was someone he recognized. They exchanged a brief conversation, the words muffled between the noise from the street. The man soon left and Arton turned to the rest of the party inside the cafe "I'll..have to try the coffee some other time. See you at the lodge." He then walked after the elderly man with a brisk pace.

---

Arton arrived at the lodge just in time to see someone running off in the opposite direction. His ears caught the tail-end of Eliane speaking as he rejoined the party. The brief look of confusion faded as he surmised what must have happened "I can't imagine this is going to be pleasant..." His voice sounded drained and devoid of the usual enthusiasm he had. The conversation with Cyth had taken a greater toll on his mentality than he hoped it would. It seemed Skael was facing an increase in civil unrest combined with nobles disputing a patch of contested land.

Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

---

Arton shared a sentiment to a certain city in Skael, one which he luckily hadn't travelled through in sometime. He expected their reasons for such feelings were drastically different. What caught his attention more than coffee was the mention of repairing equipment. He wondered if there was a local smithy that would allow him to use their forge. The rest of the group seemed intent on travelling to a cafe and the idea did seem appealing with the coming storm. A warm drink tasted better with the sounds of rainfall he believed. Arton had to agree with Leifur on the timeframe they were to spend here. Every day that they wasted was lives lost to the blight. However, he understood that they were still relative strangers that would soon depend on each other to finish their quest. This was a chance to forge bonds that would carry them through the darkest of nights.

He looked over to the shop that Neve had been drawing attention to. The atmosphere was inviting and it was not as though they were going anywhere immediately "Well I did say that I'd buy somethin' for the capt'n and that place over there seems like a good start to our tour of Midgar." He suggested strongly to the party. The distant crackle of thunder boomed in the skies above them "Come on, I'll go grab us a table on the second floor." Arton enthusiastically waved for them to follow, walking ahead to the building so that he could hold the door open for the party. Arton's eyes scanned all over the street as he made his way over, taking in the vibrant appearance of the city. He felt and looked completely out of place, more so than he had back in Balmung.

The wandering swordsman had spent the better part of five years camping out and fighting fighting blight-beasts in the countryside of Edren and along the border of Osprey. There were rare nights where a generous family let him sleep in a spare room but those were far and few between. His company most days were farmers and local artisans, imparting a bit of their culture on him little by little. The sights, smells, and sounds of the city came nearly to overloading his senses. He hadn't made his mind up yet whether he found the crowded streets oppressive or exciting.

Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

Mentions:@Click This@Ambra

Arton's hands gripped the reigns of his chocobo as the party trudged past the thick fields of tall grass. A unknown anxiety gripped his heart as his bold-blue eyes scanned for signs of movement. His mind felt clouded as he tried to grasp his surroundings. A concerned Galahad trotted up to him and asked him what was bothering him. The only reply Arton could give was of utter silence, eyes darting around confused as his words failed to come out. The concern in Galahad's face grew and then even the dragoon's words faded into a dull ringing. The scene drew the attention of the other members of the party but he could no longer reply or hear them at all. Before he realized it, the convoy had stopped and he found himself surrounded by Izayoi, Galahad, and Neve. Aelphis was missing while Leifur and Eliane appeared to keep watch.

As soon as they stopped, he immediately saw movement in the tall field in the group's blind-spot. The sharp crack of a gunshot echoed through his ears, before he could even gesture a warning. Leifur dropped to the ground that was quickly becoming saturated with his bloods, the life vanished from his eyes already. He felt his chest tighten and his whole body felt a few tons heavier as the rest of the party tried to respond. Several more gunshots cut through the grass from all directions with deadly accuracy, severely wounding Eliane, Galahad, and Izayoi. Figures wearing a familiar uniform emerged from the darkness and quickly set about dispatching his wounded friends. All save for Eliane.

Arton had thought she had gotten hit in the crossfire but she was pulled to her feet by the uniformed men with a sinister glint in her eye and smirk on her lips. One of the figures rushed in from his side and smacked the side of his head with a heavy, wooden buttstock knocking him to the ground. His attacker kicked him over while a number of his associates restrained Neve and dragged her into the grass. No amount of force would let Arton scream out as his heavy body sank into the mud that formed around him. Shakily he turned his head to see if Izayoi and Galahad were still breathing. Their faces had ceased to be theirs but they were well known to him. Father. Mother. His eyes squeezed shut at the insanity. A cold, dry wind stung at his face as he reopened his eyes. Gone were the green fields now replaced with jagged rock formations and sheets of snow. Eliane stood in front of him with her rifle aimed down at him. Her finger clutched the trigger and pulled, igniting a bright flashed before his eyes.

---

Arton snapped awake drenched in a cold sweat as his staggered breathing attempted to calm him down. What was it about encountering blight-beasts that always seemed to exacerbate the nightmare? He groaned lowly as he wiped the sleep from his eyes and coaxed himself into standing. It was just another night plagued by the same scene over and over. There was no changing it. He had more pressing matters at hand and if he delayed any longer he'd not be able to help pack up. He was curious to see how Neve slept given how intense yesterday was. Arton dressed himself quickly in his full kit and exited prepared to get rolling once more.

The swordsman seemed as bright and energetic as typical as left the Stormseas, maintaining a closer distance to Neve and Goug. He noticed the white mage's aversion to the smells of industry and smiled as he inhaled deeply through his nose. Arton had grew up around a smithy so the smell was almost nostalgic for him. He, unfortunately, underestimated the strength of the scent and found himself coughing soon after "Arhgh...Ah..smells...like home." He tried to play off his blunder, straining to speak the words and avoiding eye contact with Neve. His resistance to such smog had clearly diminished from not having smithed in some time.

He avoided any more shows of bravado as they approached the city of Midgard, a place he had only passed by and never visited. His eyes bounced from sight to sight as they got closer despite the unease he feel about big cities. The city folk had the same air of fear as Balmung, rushing from place to place to take their minds off the current crisis. The only difference between them and the villagers in the rural areas was that here they could hide behind their walls. A couple of passing children stopped on the side of road, gawking at the traveling adventurers. Arton gave them his signature smile and waved to them to which they eagerly waved back before running off. One more reason to add for figuring out the cause behind this whole calamity before it turns into the apocalyse.

His chocobo slowly trodded up close to Neve's with Arton staring up the sky as well " I rather like a good storm. There's a certain beauty to it." He casually remarked looked down at Neve before hopping off his mount and hitching them to the available post. Arton tied a simple, yet sturdy, knot and gave a two-finger salute to Goug "Thanks, Capt'n. I'll make sure to bring you back a couple sweets." Arton's eyes caught hold of Eliane pulling as he turned and he felt a shiver run the course of his spine. The figures were always so vague in his nightmares before. He quickly turned his head away hoping to avoid being calling out for staring.

Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

A potential second character/npc

Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

Ciradyl Ianthyra - FF Lightseekers

"I will do whatever it takes to see us to our journey's end."

GENERAL INFORMATION

Name: Ciradyl Ianthyra

Age: 27

Gender: Female

Race: Faye

Origin: Osprey

COMBAT INFORMATION

Class: Bard

Weapon:
Heart-String
Heaven's Chorus

Inventory:

• A few potion flasks.
• Quiver & Arrows
• Spare bow strings
• Swimsuit
• Elegant Dress
• Plain clothes
• Dried Fruit

Materia:

• Sense
• Long Range

Limit Breaks:
A Dreamer's Requiem - A soothing, captivating melody is played on the violin that reinvigorates the stamina of nearby allies. This increases their speed, strength, and resistance to mind-altering effects for a short time. The song may be played for longer to increase the duration of its effect.

PERSONAL INFORMATION

Appearance Details:
Ciradyl possesses an hourglass-like figure and is somewhat short for a Faye at 6'1". Her snow-white hair is often kept up in a ponytail when she is travelling but will leave it down when resting at a town or city. She has mint-colored eyes that are normally the most expressive part of her features. Ciradyl's skin nearly matches her hair and only serves to make her typically vibrant choice of clothing more distinctive. She lacks the muscle definition of a typical soldier or adventurer but is in good, general fitness.

Personality:
Ciradyl is a melancholic Faye that rarely shows her true feelings through expressions or pitches in her tone. The hints of emotion are subtle and require a keen eye or some time spent with her. She is a confident speaker and has no trouble acting as the center of attention. Despite her typical coldness, Ciradyl easily dons any type of mask to suit her purposes though she will not do so around those who have earned her trust. The nature of her actions has led this trust to be hard to acquire.

The best way to understand Ciradyl is to listen to her play. When not performing in front of a crowd, her music is a reflection of her very thoughts and feelings. She feels as though there expressing them any other way is a waste of energy and willpower. Ciradyl is skeptical and pessimistic of most situations leading her to be cautious and plan her movements several steps in advance. There is nothing she detests more than being surprised.

Biography:
The only child of a wealthy merchant family, Ciradyl's parents immigrated to Osprey from Draanu Asnaeu shortly before she was born. They were quite strict with the young Faye, especially her father, about retaining the culture of their homeland. Countless sunrises were spent in the woods learning how to track and take down prey with a bow. Ciradyl fondly remembers these hunts despite the harsh methods in which she was taught. Her mother instructed her on proper etiquette befitting their position and pushed her to pursue the arts. One such trip to theatre in Kugane. It was her first true taste of the culture of Osprey and the performance ignited the spark that would push her to become a musician.

Her parents were quick to recognize their daughter's gift, a blessing from the heavens they came to believe from Etro herself. The mere act of listening to her singing seemed to imbue those who listened with a deeper and more acute understanding of their surroundings, as if the sound of her voice opened up their minds. Ciradyl first performed near a street closest to her house and quickly drew in a crowd. She performed music from Osprey and Draanu Asnaeu at first but as time went on she began to blend the two cultures into her own unique style. The performing arts became her main obsession and she learned many techniques from various masters to elevate her performances.

Taverns across Kugane began to hire her to perform which allowed her popularity to snowball. She would pack every tavern that she performed as they all tried to see the Faye Beauty with the voice of a goddess. Ciradyl continued to hunt with her father as her free time grew shorter and shorter. She shared everything with him and was her way to relax and unwind. Her mother attended nearly every show and was not afraid to gush about her talented daughter to anyone that would listen.

The war with Edren broke out shortly after Ciradyl landed a contract with a notable theatre. She performed as normal at first, the crowd often hosting a number of warriors either returning or leaving for the frontlines. Ciradyl poured her heart and soul into every performance, feeling as thought it was her duty to alleviate the worries of her patrons. This tranquil period did not last as the war began to turn against Osprey's favor. Her shows became less frequent and she began volunteering at hospitals to assist in the war effort, giving her insight into just how ugly the world could be.

The depression that fell upon the kingdom after their defeat at the hands of Edren tore at her heartstrings. Valheim's invasion soon after shredded them. War that had felt like a distant horror was now running amok in her home. Ciradyl did not think such acts of evil could be done but the Valheimians showed her the error of her naivety. Her parents were both killed in the collateral damage and most of their fortune was pillaged by Valheim save for what Ciradyl could carry. Osprey had lost before it had known it was under attack. She, however, would carry on the fight in her own way.

Ciradyl spent the next years establishing a network of spies and informants within the city of Kugane and establishing herself as a popular figure among the occupation force. Officers to foot soldiers came to see her performances with some attempting to court the Faye. This proved to be a useful source of information that Ciradyl expanded upon with time. Her fight would be one of subtlety and subterfuge, waiting for the day when they could overthrow their occupiers under a true leader.

Traits:

• Loves the outdoors
• Meticulous and organized
• Tea-connoisseur
• Habitual reader.
• Hopeless romantic
• Broken optimist
• Often lost in her own thoughts

Relationships:

Feron Ianythra - Ciradyl's father and main instructor for the bow. He was killed during the defense of Kugane after refusing to surrender his home.

• Irella Ianythra - Ciradyl's mother and number one supporter of her music. She was slaughtered after refusing to allow a Valheimian officer to take over their manor.
• Ciradyl is well-known in Kugane and surrounding areas, thought her name is not well known outside of Osprey

Ithradine's Character Storage

Ciradyl Ianthyra - FF Lightseekers

"I will see us to the journey's end. No exceptions."

GENERAL INFORMATION

Name: Ciradyl Ianthyra

Age: 27

Gender: Female

Race: Faye

Origin: Osprey

COMBAT INFORMATION

Class: Bard

Weapon:
Heart-String
Heaven's Chorus

Inventory:

A few potion flasks.

• Quiver & Arrows
• Spare bow strings
• Swimsuit
• Elegant Dress
• Plain clothes
• Dried Fruit

Materia:

• Sense
• Long Range

Limit Breaks:
A Dreamer's Requiem - A soothing, captivating melody is played on the violin that lifts that reinvigorates the stamina of nearby allies. This increases their speed, strength, and resistance to mind-altering effects for a short time. The song may be played for longer to increase the duration of its effect.

PERSONAL INFORMATION

Appearance Details:
Ciradyl possesses an hourglass-like figure and is somewhat short for a Faye at 6'1". Her snow-white hair is often kept up in a ponytail when she is travelling but will leave it down when resting at a town or city. She has mint-colored eyes that are normally the most expressive part of her features. Ciradyl's skin nearly matches her hair and only serves to make her typically vibrant choice of clothing more distinctive. She lacks the muscle definition of a typical soldier or adventure but is in good, general fitness.

Personality:
Ciradyl is a melancholic Faye that rarely shows her true feelings through her expressions or pitches in her tone. The hints of emotion are subtle and require a keen eye or some time spent with her. She is a confident speaker and has no trouble acting as the center of attention. Despite her typical coldness, Ciradyl easily dons any type of mask to suit her purposes though she will not do so around those who have earned her trust. The nature of her actions has led this trust to be hard to acquire.

The best way to understand Ciradyl is to listen to her play. When not performing in front of a crowd, her music is a reflection of her very thoughts and feelings. She feels as though there expressing them any other way is a waste of energy and willpower. Ciradyl is skeptical and pessimistic of most situations leading her to be cautious and plan her movements several steps in advance. There is nothing she detests more than being surprised.

Biography:
The only child of a wealthy merchant family, Ciradyl's parents immigrated to Osprey from Draanu Asnaeu shortly before she was born. They were quite strict with the young Faye, especially her father, about retaining the culture of their homeland. Countless sunrises were spent in the woods learning how to track and take down prey with a bow. Ciradyl fondly remembers these hunts despite the harsh methods in which she was taught. Her mother instructed her on proper etiquette befitting their position and pushed her to pursue the arts. One such trip to theatre in Kugane. It was her first true taste of the culture of Osprey and the performance ignited the spark that would push her to become a musician.

Her parents were quick to recognize their daughter's gift, a blessing from the heavens they came to believe from Etro herself. The mere act of listening to her singing seemed to imbue those who listened with a deeper and more acute understanding of their surroundings, as if the sound of her voice opened up their minds. Ciradyl first performed near a street closest to her house and quickly drew in a crowd. She performed music from Osprey and Draanu Asnaeu at first but as time went on she began to blend the two cultures into her own unique style. The performing arts became her main obsession and she learned many techniques from various masters to elevate her performances.

Taverns across Kugane began to hire her to perform which allowed her popularity to snowball. She would pack every tavern that she performed as they all tried to see the Faye Beauty with the voice of a goddess. Ciradyl continued to hunt with her father as her free time grew shorter and shorter. She shared everything with him and was her way to relax and unwind. Her mother attended nearly every show and was not afraid to gush about her talented daughter to anyone that would listen.

The war with Edren broke out shortly after Ciradyl landed a contract with a notable theatre. She performed as normal at first, the crowd often hosting a number of warriors either returning or leaving for the frontlines. Ciradyl poured her heart and soul into every performance, feeling as thought it was her duty to alleviate the worries of her patrons. This tranquil period did not last as the war began to turn against Osprey's favor. Her shows became less frequent and she began volunteering at hospitals to assist in the war effort, giving her insight into just how ugly the world could be.

The depression that fell upon the kingdom after their defeat at the hands of Edren tore at her heartstrings. Valheim's invasion soon after shredded them. War that had felt like a distant horror was now running amok in her home. Ciradyl did not think such acts of evil could be done but the Valheimians showed her the error of her naivety. Her parents were both killed in the collateral damage and most of their fortune was pillaged by Valheim save for what Ciradyl could carry. Osprey had lost before it had known it was under attack. She, however, would carry on the fight in her own way.

Ciradyl spent the next years establishing a network of spies and informants within the city of Kugane and establishing herself as a popular figure among the occupation force. Officers to foot soldiers came to see her performances with some attempting to court the Faye. This proved to be a useful source of information that Ciradyl expanded upon with time. Her fight would be one of subtlety and subterfuge, waiting for the day when they could overthrow their occupiers under a true leader.

Traits:

• Loves the outdoors
• Meticulous and organized
• Tea-connoisseur
• Habitual reader.
• Hopeless romantic
• Broken optimist
• Often lost in her own thoughts

Relationships:

Feron Ianythra - Ciradyl's father and main instructor for the bow. He was killed during the defense of Kugane after refusing to surrender his home.

• Irella Ianythra - Ciradyl's mother and number one supporter of her music. She was slaughtered after refusing to allow a Valheimian officer to take over their manor.
• Ciradyl is well-known in Kugane and surrounding areas, thought her name is not well known outside of Osprey

Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

&

Ranbu no Izayoi

Arton's armor was catered for fighting blight-beasts so beyond some bruising and superficial cuts, he came out of the battle fairly well. The party had really come together taking them down but more importantly it showed the young swordsman he still had a long way to go. There was something about the way Izayoi fought that resonated with him, more than the techniques themselves. As they broke for camp, Arton was set on figuring it out.

He had worked hard helping to set up camp and had an appetite to match his efforts. Arton ate with a smile and overall seemd to be in a cheerful mood. It was like a victory feast amidst comrades, meager as it might be. Arton approached Izayoi shortly after they had finished eating and the details of the watch had been decided. There was a slight nervousness in his eyes, unsure how to bring up his request "I don't think I've seen anyone move like that before."

"Hm?" Izayoi looked up where she was sitting, her blade on her lap as she tended to it. From the nervous glint in his eyes, she mentally resigned herself to listening to something most likely foolish again for the second time that day.

"In what manner? You have not seen the effects of a Haste spell before?" She poured a small measure of oil onto a cloth and began running it over her sword.

"No, uh, I have seen it a couple times but..." The look in her eyes reminded him of earlier. Izayoi did not seem fond of wasted time and frivolous words. His chances would fare better if he were direct. Arton lowered himself onto his knees and sat on the heels of his feet, hands resting above his knees "I wish for you to train me."

Of all the things Izayoi had been expecting Arton to say, this hadn't been one of them. The last time she'd even considered taking on a student of her own had been years and years ago, long before the war. And that had been cut short when others realized exactly what training entailed to her.

"An odd decision. We do not use similar armament, and from what I have seen, our preferred styles of fighting are practically opposite. Are you certain you have thought this through?"

Arton nodded once "I'm certain! I know if I can learn from you I can grow stronger." His motivation for which he'd leave unsaid for now. It was uncomfortable to speak so plainly, without some twist of truth in his words. He fought the way he did because up until now he had no other option. His stoic face betrayed the steady increasing of his heartbeat.

Izayoi only regarded Arton silently in response, a single brow lifted. Her own misgivings about her training methods aside, there wasn't exactly any reason for her to say no. If they were to continue to travel together for extended periods of time, making Arton stronger would only benefit her own goals. That, and it wasn't as if she'd had anything better to do during periods of downtime.

"Very well. I have no objections to this, though I am obligated to give you a warning: I can only train you as I have been taught. There is a reason why I have never had a student last beyond a month. As I have been told, my methods are 'insane and reckless'. " She lifted her hands from maintaining her katana to deliver the last three words in air quotes before returning to cleaning her weapon.

Arton's went wide as he was hit with a bit of shock, expecting more resistance to his request. The warning did manage to put a brief twist in his stomach but not enough to sway his determination. This training was cleary not for the faint of heart. All Arton had to do was to think of that day and he immediately found his resolve. A day that controls his dreams, steers his choices, and forever altered his fate.

"A month? It seems I have my first goal then." He enthusiastically declared. Everything he had come to understand about Izayoi made it clear that month would be one of the hardest of his life. He was ready to walk through hell if it meant that he could protect those closest to him. That he would not fail them because he was too weak to do anything.

One side of Izayoi's mouth curved up briefly in seeming amusement. The man's eagerness was akin to watching a puppy. It remained to be see whether his enthusiasm remained after even a week of training.

"We will begin when we camp in more secure environs, then. Running you ragged now would be akin to signing your death warrant in the event of another Blightbeast attack tonight. The majority of my techniques are unsuited to the cut and thrust of southron swords, but you will benefit from the conditioning nonetheless. I trust this is acceptable?"

"Of course!" He said with a bright smile "I suppose resting is the practical thing to do tonight. It has been awhile since I've camped without keeping one eye open." His gaze turned idly to the night sky and the stars that had woken from their slumber. Izayoi's training would bring him a step closer to being worthy of his family name. It was only then he could return home.

"Very good." Izayoi nodded curtly, before deciding to give voice to a thought that was still in the back of her mind. "Though why come to me to be trained? Any of our number outside of the mages could have done the same. The gunbladers would likely have swordplay more suited for yourself as well." She removed the rag from her blade, inspecting it briefly before nodding to herself in satisfaction as she returned it to its scabbard.

The question gave Arton pause, and the light expression faded slowly faded form himself "The easy answer would be because it is so different from mine." He stopped for a brief moment before continuing. "Truthfully, I feel there is more to learn than just techniques from you. I guess you might call it a state of mind or...philosophy. I don't know." He shifted off his knees to sit more comfortably.

Philosophy? How quaint. Arton might have fit in well in some samurai circles, as introspective as he seemed to be. Probably better than she had, among some of the more spiritual ones. Her master had never had any use for such thinking, and had never imparted anything resembling such aside from "kill your enemy before it kills you".

"You'll find I have little to offer in that regard." Izayoi stood, hooking her sheathed sword back into her sash. "Derive what answers you will from me, though I have nothing to teach in terms of philosophy outside of aggression and how best to hunt prey. But the hour grows late. Rest. I have the first watch."

That was where Arton had to disagree with his new master. The killer instinct that possesed Izayoi was something he hoped to acquire if not understand. Doubt regarding his methods had planted itself deep in his mind, unable to be dislodged. That may have been why he had been so furious when she exexcuted that man during the castle siege. Clarity on such thoughts would not be gained tonight.

"I'll try to get some sleep before I come relieve you." He stood up as well, fighting back a yawn as his body stretched. "May your eyes remain sharp as your blade." Arton smiled towards Izayoi before he headed off in the direction of one of the tents. He wondered if tomorrow would be as much excitement. Their quest was sure to only get more difficult the closer they got to the answers.

Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

Mentions:

---

Bolstered by Neve's magic, the few gaps in Arton's defence disappeared as sword and shield moved like natural extensions of his body. His shield slamming against one of the monsters was enough to fracture a few bones and disorient them long enough for his blade to finish them. The swordsman favored drawing the enemy in close and overwhelming them with firm defense and raw strength. It was thanks to the artifacts he inherited that he had no trouble trading blows and coming out on top. Arton looked around the battlefield as the fighting appeared to die down and the remaining threats were either fleeing or being dispatched by the rest of the party.

Arton lowered his stances and took a few deep breaths"Anytime." He responded to Izayoi. He took the moment to glance over himself for any wounds that adrenaline might have hidden from him. His clothes were mildly damaged and drenched in the beast's blood but far as he could tell it was the typical assortment of scratches and bruises. The ache in his shoulder was dying down as well which put him more at ease. It was a uncomfortable warning system to put it mildly, not that it was always reliable to begin with.

"No one appears to be missing..." His head swiveled around the field in case anyone was injured and were laying on the ground "Where is Goug?" Arton asked to anyone who might be able to answer, nearly forgetting their caravan driver. With the daylight quickly fading, they would need to find a place to camp soon or they could be facing something worse in the dark.

Ithradine's Character Storage

Augustus Saul, From X-COM 1x1

__________________________________________________________ Name | Augustus Saul __________________________________________________________ Gender | Male __________________________________________________________ Age | 22 __________________________________________________________ Nationality | United States __________________________________________________________ Service | U.S. Military Intelligence Corps __________________________________________________________ Physical Profile __________________________________________________________ [+] • Height | 6'2" • Weight | 182 lbs • Build | Average, if a bit slim. • Hair Colour | Charcoal Black • Eye Colour | Ocean Bllue Extra __________________________________________________________ [+] • Theme • Fond of tabletop games • Exceptional at making sketches • Photographic Memory

Personality ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ • Decisive • Proud • Adaptable • Abrasive • Resourceful • Impulsive He prefers to be called by his last name to the point only very close friends have the right to call him by his first name. Saul has a strong sense of duty but is willing to bend the rules to accomplish his mission. His attitude is typically serious and his sense of humor tends to lean towards the darker side, but he is willing to comfort those he's fought alongside. Anyone who is not part of the GIB he views as outsiders and rarely ever converses with them. Saul handles stressful situation well and adapts quickly to new information, but can sometimes act too quickly. He absolutely refuses to show any signs of weakness even if it is detrimental to himself. It takes a lot warming up to him in order to gain his trust, but he is a reliable ally to have. History ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Saul comes from a long lineage of servicemen dating back to the Continental Army during the United States' Revolutionary War. Every generation since then has served in one of the military branches gaining his family a high reputation and along with it an expectation of excellence. The same discipline taught in the military is adapted to be taught to their children at home. Respect, duty, and honesty are heavily enforced in the Saul household above all other virtues. Children know better than to bully a Saul at school and if they don't they quickly find out why. Just like how soldiers have each other's backs, Saul siblings have the back of their brother or sister. Augustus was born the youngest of four brothers to a wealthy middle-class family. His father was Jacob Saul, a respected officer in the U.S. Marines, and his mother Allison was a intelligence operator in the CIA. Augustus was often a target for his older brothers as he was the weakest of them and he could never win a straight-forward engagement with any of them. That was why he began studying extensively in military tactics, strategies, and defenses in order to turn the tide in his favor. Augustus thus began his long campaign of guerrilla tactics using trip-wires, traps, and even recordings of his voice to outsmart his older brothers. It was not until one such trap, using wire and a bottle of ink, got him into major trouble with his father when he had returned from duty and the ink got all over his uniform. Jacob Saul had a very long talk with his youngest son after that where he was punished severely, but also praised for his ingenuity. His father told him that fighting unconventionally is not a bad thing at all but it is important not to go to far. From that point onward, Augustus's fighting with his brothers decreased significantly and the four became an unstoppable team. It was no surprise to anyone when the brothers all decided that they would all join the U.S. Army Rangers one after the other. A couple years into the Army and Augustus had gotten in trouble more than couple times for breaking protocol and deviating from orders. The only reason he was never properly reprimanded for such actions was that they had saved the lives of his fellow soldiers several times and gotten them out of a bad situation. What finally forced their hand was when Augustus, now in charge of his own team, broke off from his squad in pursuit of enemy forces after a bombing in Bosnia. There was only one survivor besides Augustus after they were ambushed but even he eventually succumbed to his injuries. Allied forces managed to move in and eliminate them and relieve the pinned down Augustus. He was afterwards transferred to the Military Intelligence Corps thanks to his family's influence where he truly excelled. He was approached at his residence in Charleston, North Carolina during his leave with an offer to join a global initiative to protect the world from global threats. Augustus accepted the offer wanting the chance to make a real difference in the world, unaware of what exactly the threats they were talking about were. He packed up a few of things and was sent to the GIB HQ located in an extensive cold war-era bunker in the French Alps.