Lumiere

Isle of Atria (Open World, Always Open)

@Jojo
Nice. I just like being official about it. ^^;

Have to sleeps as well.
Its a busy weekend, but I'll endeavor to work on a post. >_<

Isle of Atria (Open World, Always Open)

Construct Kaite of Ispar

Kaite (Pronounced 'Kite')

Race

Magical Construct (Ceramisteel golem)

The pride of craftsman and coffer alike, art given life to serve. Such as a golem is, they are wholly/mostly constructed of a single material. 'Ceramisteel' is the name of a process where in an enchanted compound is infused into porcelain to grant it near metal-like properties (Listed below in 'Abilities' ). Due to the need of pure components of a rare nature to assemble the core from, the commissioning of capable artificers to craft the porcelain default and magitechnicians to bind the essence of a soulgem to the core, instances of this variety of golem are uncommon. Money often being an issue.

Typically, a golem follows orders to the will of the master who commands it. However, vague orders will often be met with improvisation based on previous commands. Such an order prior to the death of a master has been observed to cause a golem to tirelessly perform a task without end before defaulting to common constants.
Posed with a vague demand such as 'avenge me' from a dying master, the web of possibilities spread out so much so that the construct's decision making processes mimic sentience in pursuit of the goal. With the task complete, what is there left to do but return home?

Gender
N/A (Male Pronouns)

Age
Appears 18ish

Origin

Ispar

A temperate region far to the south known for its long, mild summers and short but intense winters. These winters are otherwise dire times as the valleys often flood to the point where boats have mapped out routes through most of the country. Resident typically enjoy safety from atop and along the ridges of peaking valleys. Due to the divide between communities, interior alliances are often formed between city-spires, though rogue sections are difficult to keep tabs on. The province of 'Iillaose' within Ispar's reaches is often seen as the capitol due to the collected research efforts of 'The Crown'. The name mostly comes from the landmass which consists of a ring of seven peaks close enough that three have even managed to build a city along the ridge and outer wall between them. 'The Hand' as it's called, serves as the main hive dry dock for conventional airship travel as well as the central cultural and intellectual hub.

Elves and Dwarves once ruled over this region, though war ground the region into a desolate flatland save for the crown which erupted during this time. Venting mana into the region, from the bones of the old spires grew a vast forest home to life, misshapen from the turmoil which engulfed the land.
Ruins of dwarven workshops and elven labs dot the region, though the fauna has grown powerfully savage from the secrets that seep out of the carcass of ancient aristocracy.

Current Location
Wanderneir outskirts

Appearance

A doll standing at 5ft, flat-heeled knee-high boots bump this up to 5'2. Typically clad in his old servant's attire (at least in the start of the thread), under it he wears what would equate to a black leather form-fitting tanktop with flexible layered scales reinforcing the chest and abdomen. A pair of matching bracers fixed to arm guards are kept under the sleeves of their servant's attire, custom made and designed to inconspicuously protect without giving the impression of the apparently meek servant actually being an armed guard.
The trend continues with greaves and cuisses of the set lacking poleyn for flexibility, all belted to the legs over mid-thigh socks fixed with garters running up snug, fitted and broad-belted leather short-shorts.
Great care was taken to detail the doll's androgynously lithe design; resources and funding must not have been an object in procuring and tailoring the quality material to protect the owner's investment, light of armor as it is.

+

Qualities

Skills
The Late Lord's Servant - Typical subroutines like cooking and playing instruments such as violins or pianos. Hundreds of recipes have been etched into Kaite's mind including a few foreign delicacies. However, these techniques are performed best with the proper tools and ingredients as Kaite will seldom deviate from the text. As such, these skills are nearly useless on the road.
Simple tasks like mending weathered or damaged attire come with ease due to machine precision in repetitive tasks. This would extend to crocheting, though his first attempt was a scarf nearly twenty feet long before being stopped when the matron of the house returned from having left the room for 'just a moment'.

The Late Lord's Guard Dog - Kaite was first trained in anatomy and first aid, to save lives and tend to the ailing of injury or illness (unable to contract biological diseases of obvious reasons). Next, the Duke's clever pet was taught how to end lives, and how to most efficiently go about it...and what the command was to be 'inefficient'. Such as it is, Kaite is skilled with light blades such as rapiers as well as an understanding of guns. He isn't the most practiced in 'guns' as they tend to be loud and messy...and he's the one who has to clean up the mess.

Armaments
"Samsara" Ceramisteel Frame - Compact and durable, damage to the material will eventually heal with chunks broken off from the core slowly dissipating into mundane sand while voids fill. The process can be expedited by collecting and piecing the damage back together, though this is a tedious process that only Kaite truly knows the solution to. Regardless, it makes the difference between regrowing an arm and fusing a crack. Due to the composition of Kaite's frame, most piercing and mild slash attacks are negligible in threat, while heavy impact, especially blunt, can be devastating.

"Liminality" Hextech Heart (Core System) - A binding of precious metals and soul gem sections, the vaguely heart-shaped object anomalously beats in Kaite's chest. The lone psuedo-organ processes all thought and grants the ceramisteel frame locomotion. The heart links to leylines and absorbs ambient essence from the environment to feed itself and power subsystems. The heart can shield itself from a limited amount of damage, but damage is critical in any instance. While the qualities of the frame carry over onto the core, cognitive processes are a delicate thing that required decades to hone, and heals much slower...if at all.

"Olos" Arcana Cannon (Combat Subsystems) - An allowance of energy collected by Kaite's heart is transferred into his left arm over time such that it is always charging if possible. The design is grossly inefficient such that it expels a nearly a full charge in as many as three powerful bursts of immolating force with a max reach of 5m. Each caseless shot fires in a spike-shaped emission from the palm, resulting in a concussive vacuum around the point of origin. Shot power is gauged with inhibitors aware of Kaite's structural integrity to prevent the unit from possibly blowing its own arm off with the force of firing off all shots simultaneously or in rapid succession.

Mental Description
Kaite was built and trained to be polite and eloquent to the letter, though unwisely prompted to function on logic and read organics for cues, ideally to take initiative. This has led to him being a bit poor at dealing with romantics, though patient with ranting outbursts that he'd bore witness to a fair share of. However, there is no telling how much he 'took to heart' in a number of instances over the years of serving the family when confronted about his machine-like nature. Because of the changing tastes of the Sinclair lineage, Kaite has grown proficient in feinting emotions, preferences and even dispositions for the sake of pretending to be more human. The recent decades have instilled an almost sultry string, learning to be subtly manipulative mostly in the way of discouraging radical action or even reasoning. Still, words alone do not slay trespassers, and only sentient souls feel remorse for their actions or hesitate on orders conflicting with common morals. At the very least, most would not do so with a hauntingly pleasant smile.
Kaite is highly inexperienced with the outside world and how people work without direction. At the very least, he endeavors to be adaptive and accommodating.
Years of decommissioned entombment while rebuilding themselves has caused a number of errors to crop up and Kaite can occasionally behave in unstable manners.

Background Information
Kaite was commissioned by the Sinclair family roughly one hundred years before the war as a display of wealth and influence. This thankfully resulted in a well spent investment which would go on to save the duchess from a gang of malcontents, later that same week while returning from a political arraignment. Through the years, Kaite served as everything from an advisor to a surrogate mother figure to an executioner. This life spent adapting to the twists and turns of expected unquestioning obedience was not often the easiest, but it was still life and it was genuinely worth it to serve.
{Content Corrupted}
-the swamp, and the silence that followed thereafter reinforced the notion that their loss was inconsequential at best. The dull lights of the local civilization in the distance called to Kaite's curiosity and it seemed like as good of a place as any to get his bearings and potentially secure more efficient travel.

Isle of Atria (Open World, Always Open)

Construct Kaite of Ispar

Kaite (Pronounced 'Kite')

Race

Magical Construct (Ceramisteel golem)

The pride of craftsman and coffer alike, art given life to serve. Such as a golem is, they are wholly/mostly constructed of a single material. 'Ceramisteel' is the name of a process where in an enchanted compound is infused into porcelain to grant it near metal-like properties (Listed below in 'Abilities' ). Due to the need of pure components of a rare nature to assemble the core from, the commissioning of capable artificers to craft the porcelain default and magitechnicians to bind the essence of a soulgem to the core, instances of this variety of golem are uncommon. Money often being an issue.

Typically, a golem follows orders to the will of the master who commands it. However, vague orders will often be met with improvisation based on previous commands. Such an order prior to the death of a master has been observed to cause a golem to tirelessly perform a task without end before defaulting to common constants.
Posed with a vague demand such as 'avenge me' from a dying master, the web of possibilities spread out so much so that the construct's decision making processes mimic sentience in pursuit of the goal. With the task complete, what is there left to do but return home?

Gender
N/A (Male Pronouns)

Age
Appears 18ish

Origin

Ispar

A temperate region far to the south known for its long, mild summers and short but intense winters. These winters are otherwise dire times as the valleys often flood to the point where boats have mapped out routes through most of the country. Resident typically enjoy safety from atop and along the ridges of peaking valleys. Due to the divide between communities, interior alliances are often formed between city-spires, though rogue sections are difficult to keep tabs on. The province of 'Iillaose' within Ispar's reaches is often seen as the capitol due to the collected research efforts of 'The Crown'. The name mostly comes from the landmass which consists of a ring of seven peaks close enough that three have even managed to build a city along the ridge and outer wall between them. 'The Hand' as it's called, serves as the main hive dry dock for conventional airship travel as well as the central cultural and intellectual hub.

Elves and Dwarves once ruled over this region, though war ground the region into a desolate flatland save for the crown which erupted during this time. Venting mana into the region, from the bones of the old spires grew a vast forest home to life, misshapen from the turmoil which engulfed the land.
Ruins of dwarven workshops and elven labs dot the region, though the fauna has grown powerfully savage from the secrets that seep out of the carcass of ancient aristocracy.

Current Location
Wanderneir outskirts

Appearance

A doll standing at 5ft, flat-heeled knee-high boots bump this up to 5'2. Typically clad in his old servant's attire (at least in the start of the thread), under it he wears what would equate to a black leather form-fitting tanktop with flexible layered scales reinforcing the chest and abdomen. A pair of matching bracers fixed to arm guards are kept under the sleeves of their servant's attire, custom made and designed to inconspicuously protect without giving the impression of the apparently meek servant actually being an armed guard.
The trend continues with greaves and cuisses of the set lacking poleyn for flexibility, all belted to the legs over mid-thigh socks fixed with garters running up snug, fitted and broad-belted leather short-shorts.
Great care was taken to detail the doll's androgynously lithe design; resources and funding must not have been an object in procuring and tailoring the quality material to protect the owner's investment, light of armor as it is.

+

Qualities

Skills
The Late Lord's Servant - Typical subroutines like cooking and playing instruments such as violins or pianos. Hundreds of recipes have been etched into Kaite's mind including a few foreign delicacies. However, these techniques are performed best with the proper tools and ingredients as Kaite will seldom deviate from the text. As such, these skills are nearly useless on the road.
Simple tasks like mending weathered or damaged attire come with ease due to machine precision in repetitive tasks. This would extend to crocheting, though his first attempt was a scarf nearly twenty feet long before being stopped when the matron of the house returned from having left the room for 'just a moment'.

The Late Lord's Guard Dog - Kaite was first trained in anatomy and first aid, to save lives and tend to the ailing of injury or illness (unable to contract biological diseases of obvious reasons). Next, the Duke's clever pet was taught how to end lives, and how to most efficiently go about it...and what the command was to be 'inefficient'. Such as it is, Kaite is skilled with light blades such as rapiers as well as an understanding of guns. He isn't the most practiced in 'guns' as they tend to be loud and messy...and he's the one who has to clean up the mess.

Armaments
"Samsara" Ceramisteel Frame - Compact and durable, damage to the material will eventually heal with chunks broken off from the core slowly dissipating into mundane sand while voids fill. The process can be expedited by collecting and piecing the damage back together, though this is a tedious process that only Kaite truly knows the solution to. Regardless, it makes the difference between regrowing an arm and fusing a crack. Due to the composition of Kaite's frame, most piercing and mild slash attacks are negligible in threat, while heavy impact, especially blunt, can be devastating.

"Liminality" Hextech Heart (Core System) - A binding of precious metals and soul gem sections, the vaguely heart-shaped object anomalously beats in Kaite's chest. The lone psuedo-organ processes all thought and grants the ceramisteel frame locomotion. The heart links to leylines and absorbs ambient essence from the environment to feed itself and power subsystems. The heart can shield itself from a limited amount of damage, but damage is critical in any instance. While the qualities of the frame carry over onto the core, cognitive processes are a delicate thing that required decades to hone, and heals much slower...if at all.

"Olos" Arcana Cannon (Combat Subsystems) - An allowance of energy collected by Kaite's heart is transferred into his left arm over time such that it is always charging if possible. The design is grossly inefficient such that it expels a nearly a full charge in as many as three powerful bursts of immolating force with a max reach of 5m. Each caseless shot fires in a spike-shaped emission from the palm, resulting in a concussive vacuum around the point of origin. Shot power is gauged with inhibitors aware of Kaite's structural integrity to prevent the unit from possibly blowing its own arm off with the force of firing off all shots simultaneously or in rapid succession.

Mental Description
Kaite was built and trained to be polite and eloquent to the letter, though unwisely prompted to function on logic and read organics for cues, ideally to take initiative. This has led to him being a bit poor at dealing with romantics, though patient with ranting outbursts that he'd bore witness to a fair share of. However, there is no telling how much he 'took to heart' in a number of instances over the years of serving the family when confronted about his machine-like nature. Because of the changing tastes of the Sinclair lineage, Kaite has grown proficient in feinting emotions, preferences and even dispositions for the sake of pretending to be more human. The recent decades have instilled an almost sultry string, learning to be subtly manipulative mostly in the way of discouraging radical action or even reasoning. Still, words alone do not slay trespassers, and only sentient souls feel remorse for their actions or hesitate on orders conflicting with common morals. At the very least, most would not do so with a hauntingly pleasant smile.
Kaite is highly inexperienced with the outside world and how people work without direction. At the very least, he endeavors to be adaptive and accommodating.
Years of decommissioned entombment while rebuilding themselves has caused a number of errors to crop up and Kaite can occasionally behave in unstable manners.

Background Information
Kaite was commissioned by the Sinclair family roughly one hundred years before the war as a display of wealth and influence. This thankfully resulted in a well spent investment which would go on to save the duchess from a gang of malcontents, later that same week while returning from a political arraignment. Through the years, Kaite served as everything from an advisor to a surrogate mother figure to an executioner. This life spent adapting to the twists and turns of expected unquestioning obedience was not often the easiest, but it was still life and it was genuinely worth it to serve.
{Content Corrupted}
-the swamp, and the silence that followed thereafter reinforced the notion that their loss was inconsequential at best. The dull lights of the local civilization in the distance called to Kaite's curiosity and it seemed like as good of a place as any to get his bearings and potentially secure more efficient travel.

The Isle of Atria (Open World, Anything Goes)

Certainly alluring of a concept.
Love that good 'ol fantasy setting.

Trios

@Dartbored Fairy

The knight made it a whole four paces before stopping and disappointedly slumping their shoulders, having honestly expected there to be some kind of 'catch' behind the interaction with the girl. Ironically, the reality of a possibly innocent encounter shattered the expecting, story-telling mindset Ahnciel had been prepared for. Snuffing the fantasy and leaving it to dully smolder, they turned back around and sighed as they approached the girl once more.

"Two questions, if you vould not mind," Ahnciel quickly began, hands on their hips as they stared down at the worms squirming through the cobblestone to avoid drowning underground, "Vould you by chance be able to point me in zee direction ouf Agartha? Also...iz eit unrealistic to expect zee crows in zees parts to be different zehn ohzers?"

Diddly Do

@jorcool
A black box hovered in the grip of the tractor beam, small red hand-prints were smattered and smeared across its face. A clearing from the palms around the head-section instead held a sharp series of quick characters spelling out

"A Somnium anguibus
13LW: 6-011"

It held the dimensions of a casket, though crafted from sections of what may have been hull plating at one point, welded and bolted into place finished with a wrap of chain. A distress beacon appeared to be mounted onto its back along with what appeared to be a refrigeration system without the slightest hint of possessing any life-support capabilities. While it would have reeked of an improvised explosive device designed for just such an opportunity as being loaded onto a ship, a quick scan curiously came back reading the device to be hollow...and empty. The culprit of this reading was quickly apparent from the roughly fist-sized hole in the side of the box where a link of chain held slack from having one of its flat sides apparently bitten through.

Somewhere in the ship, lights flicker down a hallway accompanied by a heavy scraping sound. Amidst it all arose faint conversations of sorts between three voices whose words and tones coiled between what sounded like a slurry of languages mashed together.
___________________________________________________________________
@Hokum
Aboard the Quatis mobile science station, a casket matching the aforementioned one materialized, bearing similar palm-prints and its own unique smear of words on its face.

"A Somnium Araneae
13LW: 6-045"

A wash of colors ran across the box, feeling into every angle and edge and returning with its nature, or at least approximations of it.
A mess of readings were fed onto screens, depicting the cases as having absurdly low carbon content in the metal it was made from, cut with some form of plastic which the elemental readout of was pocked with empty information. Unfound data curiously leaving a mystery as to what the box was made of besides the gilding along end edges and making up the hand-prints. Set into the box, each hand had a depth of nearly two inches into the mysterious black metal, including the words on its face.
Soon after arriving aboard the ship, a shimmering, translucent mist seeped from the edges of the case's seal, growing sharply in intensity as vibrant green lights pushed deeper into the box.

The contents billowed into the shielded room, flicks of energy arcing from the floor somewhere in the growing fog for a moment. Fingertips surfaced, palms following with arms from the surface of the cloud of shimmering black, meter by meter, arms reached into the air, some of which pausing to wrap around others with their dozens of varied joints. Upon the gentlest touch of the ceiling of the shield, a bolt of energy repulsed the first limb bask and the whole contents of the shielded sphere grew hauntingly still. The thin, mist-like tendrils of fog froze in place for palpable moments before a baleful wail of some low vocal chords being torn hoarse in instant shattered the tension. The fingers of the hands grew boney and sharp as they elongated with disgustingly reversed joints in some places as whatever it was that had emerged from the box furiously beat against the wall of the shield in the direction of the Quatis scientists. Eyes grated against the viewing station, teeth flowing from the corneas to screeching gnaw at the shield in a behavior akin to a worm attempting to dig in its undulations.
While scanners continued to run, the enraged and formless beast howled in desperate rage and agony while the shield stalwartly stood resolute in spite of the taxing drain of the entity's wave-like assault, writing back and forth to wash up against the viewing station's shielding, bringing with it hundreds of chattering mouths in hundreds more ambiguous voices.

Human...97% match.

Trios

Ahnciel slowly crossed his arms as the girl proceeded to tell them nothing other than how it was rude not to introduce themselves. This was an odd assertion coming from someone who may very well spend their time staring at strangers on a regular basis for all the knight knew, but they figured they may as well play along. Some bemused extant notion quickly grew suspicious of the girl who Ahnciel unfairly judged without knowing anything about them, suspecting this whole diversion to be a sort of aim at the contents of their pockets. Wouldn't they be disappointed.

"I am Paladin Ahnciel Kassadin ouf Ispar ehn yes, as you somehow already know, zehr vahz quite recently a grizzly murder at zeht inn...one vhich I haf taken upon myself to investigate," Ahnciel flatly explained, embellishing the claim of being a paladin, though they were simply trying out titles to see which one stuck, and with the emphasis and resolved chirp of the word so comfortably rolling off the tongue, they were almost convinced, themselves, of such a claim. "Zehr vahz a peculiar scrawlink of zee verd 'Agartha' outside ouf my room ehn eit vahz my intention to investigate eit's significance" Ahnciel continued, laying out their hand as they lifted their head enough for the dark grim of the rainy day's hazy sunlight to catch the shine of seriousness in their eyes.

"A man's innocence may require my haste, ehn 'maybes' vill hardly suffice," A coldness in their voice hinted to the sharp reality of Ahnciel's actual interest, not even bothering to look behind themselves. "Paerdon, my sternness iz hardly becomink, but you vill haf to understand me vehn I say zeht I haf found myself to be quite busy, today," Ahnciel sighs after a moment, lowering their head to the toll of the bells signifying half of the day having came and went.

It was not entirely that Ahnciel did not pick up on the cue, but crushing paranoia played the scene out in usually one of two ways. In the books, the hero turns around just in time to be clobbered by an astonishingly quiet foe. Alternatively, turning around gives the roguish observer just enough time to make a break for it, getting a head start absconding with the information the hero was intending to pry from them.
However, Ahnciel imagined themselves bafflingly clever by calling the girl's bluff as well as at least not seeming so dense by turning around to provide an incoming fist or club the luxury of a confused, dumpy expression.

Instead, Ahnciel reached up to tip their hood back down, offering a "Stay warm, staring stranger" before turning on their heels to walk back in the direction they came. Ideally, this would be the point where the girl would try to get his attention to aid in the vindication of a knight's honor or disappear like their types do in the books.
At the absolute least, Ahnciel would look like a total badass for about as long as it would take for the cheapshot to connect.

Diddly Do

Filler

Sleep was not exactly like how Kaite remembered it. Gone was the sensation of having had a conversation with someone he knew in favor of instead a vision. It seemed naturally vivid as if recalling a memory that just happened.

The Spire, slowing in its spin until stilling the flames arched into what could be described as leaves hanging in a fog. A soft ripple cascaded from the tree, pouring a darkness into the sea of stars which were one by one snuffed by the nebulous force. It started as a shade that simply consumed the lights of planet's skies until washing over the surrounding fleets in the blink of an eye.
It was a sea.
A vast ocean of oppressive nothingness that unfeelingly held the tons of burning steel and polymer. To escape the dredge was to so simply cease to exist, as the depth dawned on the human soldier looking on.
More so...it was like being inside an unfathomably massive a beast.

A sound not unlike a voice called out, soft but pervading from all angles. Some senseless tone not meant for how humanity understood the sensation. With it, however, came an understanding like empathy, as if the notion was Kaïte's own. A long planned thought like a dream or aspiration.

"Beckon all dusks"
"Toil for Lalauna"

Kaïte's eyes open to find himself in a colossal cave with rings of upon rings of spiraling ledges reaching up to a dull light somewhere what felt like miles away. Below, however, a cavernous pit of darkness from where chains emerged. Shapeless black figures with wide, wild eyes bore these chains shackled to every appendage as they trudged up the spiral in lockstep...dragging link after link of their chains out of the darkness.
There was no way to judge how long the chains were or how far down they went, though Kaïte could be certain that the intention was to pull whatever was down there up through the shaft.

Kaïte awoke once more in the darkness of his box and fought the urge to be sick. The nightmare of his situation was quickly re-realized by the small blinking lights which infrequently illuminated the cramped interior. Aylvic script he hadn't had the time to decipher during his brief time with the floatilla, all drawn in long strokes seemingly by hand. Short phrases repeated themselves along with smeared handprints and scratches, rhyming in a fashion intended to be a mantra or chant of sorts and Kaïte wished he understood them for the hope of gleaning some kind of inspiration for the situation.

Still, he was forced to merely wait and his urge to sleep to pass the time was...rebuked.

Diddly Do

Kaïte

Appearance

Stands at 4'10", 5'6" counting ears.
His hair is sheen with what seems like white but fades to a light blonde as the hair length continues; the follicles holding a mild bioluminescence. This also shows in his eyes which hold a mint green (or amber for their right eye). The hair holds a slight wave to it and is usually worn about longer than average. From that protrudes long bunny ears with similarly colored fur, though the short hair is mainly white with little to no bioluminescence. The bushy fluff of his tail shares these qualities. Vertically slit pupils. Black sclera. Black forked tongue. Pronounced upper and lower K9s with a slight overbite.
Kaïte typically goes for more revealing attire, however, has recently adopted wearing scarves to supplement the shock of changing climates.
Kept alive as a pet of sorts for the head researcher at the time along with four others, his ears were punched with renewed ID tags with the old spots being used to hold a myriad of piercings.
Prefers boots without heels, typically knee-high.
Isn't uncommon to wear pants, though occasionally sports shorts paired with long socks.
Not a fan of hoods or hats for obvious reasons.

Name
T-073 'Kaïte' (Pronounced as a mash of "Kate" and "Kite")

Race

'The Chimeras of Triganavia', 'The Children of Aylv', 'The Lost Boys', 'Space Rats'...
Some years ago in what is likely another dimension, these names surfaced on the news following reports of acclaim regarding the successes of the Triganavia corporation. Their 'new-man' project, this creature that could survive hostile conditions and trauma, all based on the exposure of their pharmaceutical end. Making human clones wasn't enough, it was about the 99.5% accuracy in their treatments. After pushs from military backers to produce something more substantial than a morally questionable ration supplement, strides were taken to enhance and test the intelligence of their specimens to serve on front lines in measures to rival simple artificial intelligence. This challenge was taken farther than expected as the specimens were edged on with no actual goal, mostly to see how far beyond human limitations technology and science could reach without the chains of limitation.
It only took Triganavia three years before their security couldn't keep up with the creations who had learned to 'play dumb' and even 'play defective' after trial and error. What humanity saw as failure, these 'Children of Aylv' knew as exploitation.
A clock ticked over to midnight and the revolution was born. Triganavia was dismantled overnight as two batches of one-hundred with fifty being in formidable condition incited a collective uprising against those who would otherwise use them for cosmetics, medical testing and meat supplements.

In a statement against humanity, after years of piracy after utilizing the escape pods to inhabit and take down other ships with lures of distress signals, the 'Children of Aylv' pried the remains of Triganavia from Mars, adding their birthplace to a hive which they call 'The Abstract'.
This citadel was made from hobbling together a few light-speed capable crafts with shield-integration, it is likely to drift in the Terran neighboring clusters, though its whereabouts are widely unknown. Though clusters of their forces have been eradicated, the unwavering and unpredictable frequency of attacks has left the Committee widely clueless how wide-spread the threat of The Legion and its Children of Aylv reach.
The established fear is in the stolen genetics technology in their possession which they call 'The Nightmare Machine' for its use to create abominations who serve most roles. In these ten years, few actual sightings of the three-hundred or so Aylvs have been made...or the survivors of raids are reluctant to speak of it.

Tormented ramblings whisper of the horrific brutality displayed by Aylvic marauders and their monsters, as well as mention upon hushed lips of some mysterious technology they possess. It has been romanticized as a presence rather than a device, capable of crushing, freezing and effortlessly tearing men women and children asunder with a mere mention of a few shapeless words. The Committee rejects these claims, as rumors of a glorified pirate faction in possession of terrifying, unknown technology is bad for morale.
For numerous reasons, this force the Aylvic Legion supposedly wield is referred to as 'The Mantle'.

Speculation surrounds the appearance of Aylvs, since experiments in their creation lead to a slurry of genetic combinations. The 'Primes' are the most stable and therefore hold more prominent roles in their society. Primes appear as small humans ranging between four to five feet tall with rabbit-like ears and tail, vertically slit pupils and pronounced top and bottom canines.

Curiously, Aylvs were designed to be genderless. As such, they do not have exclusively 'he' and 'she' distinctions even in physical appearance, but rather varying levels of gray somewhere in between.

It is unclear how long 'Wild' Aylvs live for, how reproductions works or if they established a 'home' planet. Their culture, religion and hierarchy is also widely unknown. Captive Aylvs tend to die from cardio-myopathy relating to stress and tirelessly resist interrogation. Information regarding them is difficult to glean, as the Legion is more likely to shoot someone than answer a single question, and those with answers are in unreliable states of mind.

Kaïte, however, is a product of an attempt to restore the project and the last surviving specimen of the tests that were involved. While the rest of the batch was plagued with hideously deforming and fatal defects due to the loss of Triganavia's primary synthesizer, Kaïte remains stable and separate from the Legion's influence...though not its reputation.

Age
Appears 16-19 (Mentally 30ish)

Gender
Prefers male pronouns

Weapons
- 'Sandcastle' Custom PWD (18 round clip .45 acp) often holstered on left thigh.

Qualities
'Tasking' - Kaïte's life having been a series of stopwatches and concentration, devoting his attention to singular tasks requiring fine finger dexterity and focus has become his norm. General application has been tested with the intent of training a 'jack of all trades'. None of these skills are actually field tested and results may vary in stressful conditions or under rigorous time constraints. Tested professionals would ultimately be a better choice in such circumstances.
-Ingrained knowledge of ship-based weapon calibrations and operations based on combat records, especially those of skilled fighter pilots...for the purpose of shooting such skilled pilots down.
-Ingrained knowledge of small arms design, mostly pertaining to pistols and PDW schematics.
-Ingrained knowledge of most humanoid biology for the purpose of first-aid. When it comes to humans and human subspecies, specifically, Kaite is quite skilled in reassembling...and, consequently, disassembling the anatomy in question. He could likely yank a bullet and stitch the wound, but don't expect it to be elegant. He'd be more suited for slashing tendons and stabbing pressure points.
-Aptitude for improvisation and improvement on instructions based on ingrained knowledge. Mostly, this has shown itself through Kaïte's ability to cook. Provided the right spices, making 'budget' taste like 'gourmet' isn't so tricky of a proposition. Additionally, memorizing recipes isn't the most complicated concept and is simply another 'task' to perform numerous steps at a time to produce decadent culinary ensembles. That in mind, he lacks the passion what critics can pick out or notice a lack of in the end product. At the end of the day, it was just another task to complete.

Animalistic Traits - Those ears aren't just for looks. Kaïte's hearing is exceptional and keen, though this also becomes a small issue in regards to firearms due to such sensitivities. Tapetum lucidum crystals combined with hearing and even taste to an extent make easy work of perceiving in low-light conditions. Kaïte possesses an amber-yellow eyeshine.

The Mantle

Show a caveman science and they'd think it was magic. Show a scientist magic and they'd think it was science.


After showing aptitude for the art, Kaïte was gifted a WaND-Arm tailored to his resonance for the purpose of manipulating Mantle. By Aylvic theology, the Mantle is the thin veil that separates reality from the elemental chaos which existence is wholly made of. Their technology is honed to feel through this said chaos and pull the power of potential though the raw makeup of atoms for a desired effect by temporarily rewriting energy.
This particular Armament is a 'Cygnus' custom, designed for entropic manipulation, the effects are best described as 'Ice Magic'.

Kaïte has had unfortunately little time to acclimate to having a prosthetic arm or such power literally at his fingertips.

Personality
On paper, '073' has a violent streak of disproportionate tendencies where they could come off confrontational and hostile. In all actuality, 073 is conditioned to be fairly timid and polite, if anything, with incidents to imply otherwise being just that, 'incidents'. With little social experience to base interactions on, 073 tries to compose themselves to in order to accommodate other's disposition. For the sake of convenience, 'Kaïte' identifies as male...though arguably behaves otherwise. Androgyny makes it difficult to tell if 'he' really is.
Limitations to cells or testing chambers has dulled his perspective of reality, and the world outside of the walls fascinates him to no end.
In spite of their otherwise composed and even innocent demeanor, Kaïte is a fear-biter and won't hesitate to defend himself or any others he deems worth it. Fickle as his temperament can be, his efforts towards appearing compassionate and caring is presented objectively...almost to the point of it seeming disingenuous at times, which it may very well be. Regardless, he still gives his attempts at seeming genuine all of his effort, and it's quite convincing at times. He does his best to mean it.
Without the common grounds of his free brethren, Kaite has faded into an estranged religion invented by the Aylv.
'Distant Fish' is the name which they have given what they had supposedly seen within emotional turmoil and time spent staring into the one-way windows of their enclosures. Strangely, this behavior is shared throughout his kind, even years after the founders of the faith faded into obscurity...and without outside influence or contact.
Has a fear/aversion to robots, water more than a few feet deep, bright lights/loud noises, humans (or anything that could be mistaken for a human), dogs (or anything that could be mistaken for a dog).

Short bio
I wasn't the strongest or fastest, and I certainly wasn't the only one. There were more, maybe twenty at one point that I know of. It was usually very dark, making it difficult to tell how many of us there were, at first. Sometimes one would go missing, or they would come and take a few at a time. None of us understood why some came back and some didn't...not even me, and I was one that came back.

I kept coming back, being lead down the noisy halls of machinery and howling beasts. Down to 'my room', where I learned; the needles in my spine, the clamps to hold my eyes open, being allowed to see only what and when they wanted me to. My first year was the hardest. It wasn't so much the process as it was the topic; used to the procedures, the topics of war, anatomy, physics and humanities bombarded my senses. I'm thankful for most of it, although it quickly made my world quite lonely. Many of the others didn't speak, or were barely even aware where they even were. I 'graduated' to living in a cell, since it got to a point where it was considered inhumane to have to pick me out of 'the pits'...or more arguably, to put me back in. Four walls and a ceiling never seemed so welcoming, especially considering how I could see them. Teachings changed after that to genetics and experimentation...and the Newman project. Truthfully, it was easier to understand and accept once I was just told that, yes, I was a clone being held prisoner for experimentation, my brothers in the pits are borderline mindless animals and no, I was not special, just chosen for a different task.

Tasks...I was shown reports of the others' tasks and the testing involved. 039 Was a drooling mute of a hulk that ate bones and needed little oxygen for hours while it was left to toil away, lifting weights and fighting other rejects of its kind, often to the death and often unprovoked. He's the oldest. 055 is...like a rodent, so to speak, you know, if it doesn't chew on something, its teeth grow into its brain. There was apparently an attempt to replicate this effect with an entire skeletal structure. They could never figure out how to stop the growths besides grinding them down after they start piercing the skin. I heard talk of bets being taken; apparently it wasn't uncommon for terminal malformations to occur. It wasn't unlike 042 whose endless bouts of energy pushed them to run until their muscles gave out. They supposedly died from a heart attack a few minutes later. Needless to say, those lessons stopped after a short time, but it still left me wondering just what was the plan for me? I felt fortunate, however lame dying from a chess game sounded, that whatever I had been tailored for didn't require me to suffer like the others.

There were five of us like me, and I suppose I am the oldest, now...
We were made with no purpose, cooked up just to show it could be done. Rigorous training and even sleepless nights of tasking built us up for some unseen goal. I could only wonder why, as speaking wasn't allowed outside of tests and punishment for noncompliance was doled out the same way regardless of the offence. Thankfully, I only had to be beaten senseless once to understand my design wasn't to offer suggestions.
Whoever the display was for did not seem particularly impressed by us as three of my brothers died from health complications. The fourth started with chewing his nails, though his appetite...changed. By the time the guards came in response to the sounds coming from our cell, I had already choked the life out of the creature who my brother became.

Then it was me.

I was picked up by the Aylvic Legion of Thirteen Winters, as they called themselves. Living...no, surviving in a lie contrived by a jaded old man clinging so tightly to his past success that he reinvented old evils to create us.
Though I had served on other ships leading up to this point, there was a certain strangely rewarding sensation that came with my hands being put to proper task. I was with my own people...for maybe a week...before the Humanis Coalition came knocking. Before I even knew what was happening, I was being stuffed into one of the cases that Aylvic warlords loaded typically loaded with nightmares. Two horrifying realizations were actualized in the mere moments before consciousness left me. The boxes were not built to be comfortable by any standard...and I was deathly claustrophobic.
That last bit was likely incited in that instant, imagining cold darkness on the outside of my own coffin. The device did not have windows and I was convinced the next I would see of the outside would be my certain death.

(Its probably not as clean as it could be. Please let me know if anything needs fixing/explaining. >_< )

Children of Plunder

'Chef' role is up for grabs.
-CS retracted-

Didn't have to be this way...