OwO

SPIRITUM

Justice

"Am I alright?" Justice looked introspectively at the distance before turning to face Collette. "I'm pretty fucking far from alright. This was meant to be a fun little vacation. I guess I should have known better."

If she was a smoker, now would be the time that she would take a stress induced break. Collette could see the veins across Justice's body surface. As much as she didn't want to, her senses were too trained to not listen to the interrogation.

When Collette went to heal Justice, she shook her head in rejection. Justice was fine with the few scratches she collected. If anything, her only ailment was the exhaustion from having to make so many barriers in such a short period of time. Perhaps it was that exhaustion was made her defer the chaotic denouement of battle to her allies rather than begin yelling at them for this mess. Perhaps it was the proposition of free guns when they seemed to attract conflict like flies to dung. Whatever the case was, Justice was willing to let her annoyance seethe. At least for now.

"Trouble usually follows us around. Not usually this awful, though. Though by the sounds of it, the Dunbarton handoff is going to be even worse."

Fun. Collette could see Justice's knuckles white.

"More importantly," she stared down Collette. "Do you mind telling us why you're leaking mist?"

The Things We Fight For

---

The sign to prepare came before Rudis could flex and get Sabine to touch her muscles. It was go time. Walking back to the cobblestone pillar where she once sat, she gave it a nice smile as though it were an old friend. Her hand reached down to grab it, the stone parting like liquid as her hand grasped a hold and slung the pillar--one as large as she was--over her shoulder. Her preparations were much shorter than any of the soldiers or pilots. She just needed her baby and she was ready.

As much as Rudis was unsuited for moments of subterfuge, she was at least decent enough to stay still as the initial waves of beasts passed. The ruined hotel cracked, creaked, and groaned as the abberants passed. Really, they were ugly bastards. Maybe that's why they were so angry all the time. Being flayed at birth didn't quite seem like a nice childhood. Now working in the mines with a mining drill in one's hand? That was a good upbringing. But one that Rudis could barely experience before her training began.

The creaking stopped. Orders came in. It was go time. The pilots leapt into their coffins. Howe and Sabine made offers of transport--one that Rudis wouldn't refuse. "Well don't mind if I do." Rudis replied as a wire latched onto Dunkirk's co-pilot module and zipped her up. Of course, Rudis didn't enter. She couldn't be assed to try to fit her lovely big rock pillar inside. Instead, she rodeo'd the thing as it dragged her out to fight.

---

---

It wouldn't be a milk run. No, they were too slow to abuse any sort of shock and awe tactics. Already, they were beset by the horde--a mixture of chaff, jets, and spears. With a smile and two knocks, Rudis leapt off Dunkirk's large frame to meet the enemy deep in front.

The ground nearly creaked as she landed. Though, her landing was nothing compared to the cratering landing of spear to ground. Already, bullets, lasers, and plasma were flying through the air. It was a familiar scent. The burnt powder. The ionization. The aerosolized dirt and dust. Being a constellation was about days like this. Not sitting on base or in a field hospital. Just a simple goal: to move forward and leave an aberrant corpse-filled wake.

But she couldn't dwell on the feelings of a battlefield. No, not as a spearman charged at her.

But Rudis didn't respond in kind. For someone as hotblooded as she was, it was expected that she'd boldly charge into as many bishops as possible. But she was savouring every moment of this. She was subduing her excitement. It didn't do much good for her if she was a brainless mad dog in combat. No, Jean could at least drill that into her head. Always be thinking. Look at the smallest details. Abuse the smallest opportunities. It was the fighting style of someone born with a brain better than their body. Someone born weak. Someone who was intimate with defeat.

The second nearest bishop approached her in a sprint. It didn't attempt to throw its spear. No, it was better served keeping it on hand. It wasn't like Rudis was trying to pepper it with meaningless shots.

In a flash, the distance was closed. A brutal slash from the side came for Rudis' head. It was a brutally quick attempt to end her, but one met by a simple response. Physical-type aberrants were predictable. They, for the most part, still respected some laws of nature. From its foot to its palm, it had to swing as a human did. But it wasn't sly. No, these bishops were much too strong for that. They had been born with immeasurable strength. Strength had never once been combined with thought beyond an animalistic instinct.

With a step and lean back, Rudis dodged the swing by a hairs breadth. The wind generated by the swing screamed as the spear tore through the air. The pressure cut her from ear to nose. It was shallow. She could deal with scratches. What was important was finishing this as fast as possible.

Without so much as pause, the spearman readied itself for another strike. Its muscles tightened as it redirected the force of the initial swing upwards. It coiled and stretched before springing its spear down, an attempt to crush her to a mixture of paste and mist.

Rudis had taken another step as the spearman began to coil. The beast had missed Rudis by another hair's breath. Its spear collided with the ground. The earth shook. It was enough to send any normal person to the ground. Even a constellation would be unbalanced if not prepared. But Rudis didn't move. She didn't brace for the impact nor did she leap to avoid it. No, she calmly stood her ground as a wave of force cratered where she once stood. As the concrete beneath them broke and indented in a wave, the ground beneath Rudis' feet remained unaffected by the powerful blow. Concrete was merely processed rock, after all. It was simple enough to manipulate.

Again without pause, the spearman prepared a third strike. It leapt back, and coiled its body once more. It was going to be a brutal thrust. With all of the force it could muster, the spearman pushed forward to finally try to skewer Rudis.

She dove forward with pillar in hand. Fearless--she was meeting the aberrant head on. Their weapons screeched as she deflected the thrust with one of her own, the alien metal scratching the rocky surface as she rode the inside lane underneath the thrust. Twelve feet were bounded in a single stride that had left her briefly untouched platform of concrete shattered. She now stood feet away from the spearman and dug in. Still carrying the momentum from her leap into danger, she thrust the pillar directly at the torso of the spearman.

It was a cannonshot. Louder than whatever guns the pilots were using. The ground that Rudis stood on cracked and crumbled, her footprints leaving shallow indents in the concrete. Her muscles screamed and strained as she drove the pillar into the barrier. It shattered immediately, a devastating shockwave emitting perpendicular from the strike. Revealing half of a sword, the pillar instantaneously became a tornado of shrapnel that launched at the now defenceless aberrant.

The spearman was still standing.

On a technicality.

Its entire upper torso had vanished, leaving behind a pair of legs that stood in a cone of dust, debris, and destruction.

"One."

Holding the pillar in a brief moment of respite--if one could ignore the gunfire flying overhead--concrete and stone flew and coalesced back around the exposed blade. She'd already begun to work her appetite back up.

SPIRITUM

Justice

Her plan did work. It stung her skin as the barriers could barely contain the explosive force, but Justice did manage to ensure that nobody had been turned into a vacation casualty. The shark slunked back into the ground, but had then given up as even its large form couldn't handle losing half its mass to a living goblin.

With a deep breath, Justice shook her hands. It felt nice to get that out of her system. A little bit of carnage and destruction always made people feel better.

"Everyone good?" Justice yelled as her ears rang. Though, she didn't really care for any responses. Everyone would probably be fine. Though, if Gerard hadn't thrown a box to catch Silje, Justice or Morden would had to catch the falling mage. Morden would probably shrug off the catch. Justice would have had to sacrifice her knees. Luckily, she avoided that.

With a quick flick of her hand, Justice snatched the tooth out of the air by its root. She'd had properly lost a few fingers were she not familiar in handling knives. "I do what I do." She said as Gerard gave out the rare compliment.

"Huh." Justice murmured as she inspected the tooth. It was interesting indeed. She flicked it in the air a few times. It was weighted decently. Though, awful to try to use as an actual knife. Such was a blade without a handle. With another quick toss, she threw the tooth and her war axe back into her pocket to save for the next fight.

Unfortunately, the afterglow of combat didn't last long. There was an unwanted survivor in their midst. The goal had been to simply escort the princess. Now? The Barghests were getting involved in arms smuggling. Even worse? It was someone that someone knew. As though she had chosen to reject reality to save her temper, Justice grabbed the princess by the shoulder, immediately turned around, and lead her to the other side of the truck so Kalina's old acquaintance couldn't get a good look.

"Ten minutes." She said without elaborating further what the deadline was for. Though, given that Kalina had occupied herself with the interrogatorture of the survivor, the rest of the Barghests could surmise what she meant.

The Things We Fight For

---

"Hels yeah." Rudis said with a smile as Selene gave her another ration bar--one that she had immediately opened and scarfed down.

When Ahkari gave her sincere motivational speech, Rudis wasn't that impressed. Though, she wasn't daft--she knew it was a difference in culture. Forgeship speeches were considerably more... rousing. They were filled with such motivational lines as "If you don't die, you're going to live forever!" if you could hear the speech over the audience's profanity-laden cheers. Still, Rudis could only raise an eyebrow with the short speech.

Though, once she went off to the communications staff, Rudis promptly stopped paying much attention--her chewing out an underling was very much ignored. In fact, that's how most communication on a forgeship was. She wasn't one for the details, nor was she someone ever meant to lead in a formal hierarchy. She just did what command told her and, more important than that, did what she thought was the right thing to do.

When Sabine pointed at one of the ration wrappers, Rudis waved back at them. As she finished her last ration--the one that Selene had given her--Rudis rose from her stone throne and walked over to Selene and the two pilots as she sensed it was time for introductions.

"Rudis here." She said as she approached. "Or Rho Ophiuchi. But ain't nobody calls me that 'cept paperwork. I don't got gifts on me right now unless you're a little bold, so gifts gotta wait 'til we get spaceside."

SPIRITUM

Justice

With most of the beasts hewed, Justice would have liked to say that things were calming down. Unfortunately for her, things wouldn't be simple. Kalina had history with a bystander carrying armaments. Really? Couldn't it have been something simpler was the only thing
Justice could think about. Something like someone on vacation. Maybe a nurse? Instead, they were someone running small arms. Fun.

Her annoyance was cut off by the reality of the fight. The mother shark and what little remained had went after Silje when she turned herself into a human flare. Morden used some roadside frags and his gun to try to blind the mother shark. The fact that he used his teeth actually baffled Justice. It wasn't like opening an MRE. Grenade pins weren't meant to be easily torn out. Thankfully, Val had dealt with the sharks attacking the princess and Gerard.

Then Justice felt it. The winds of the mist were condensing and shifting around Silje. It was different from all of their attempts to distract. No, Silje was up to something. That was never good. It didn't take Justice much time to realize what the mage was up to.

"Ah shit."

Hexagonal barriers formed a cone around Silje's future explosion. The purpose was simple: to shape the explosion so that it would only sublimate and shred the mothershark; the Barghests and company would, hopefully, not be harmed..

SPIRITUM

Justice

Of course, Justice managed to feel something. Things always had to go wrong, didn't they? At the very least, she was ready. But for what? Things that were rapidly approaching underground? Really, that meant one thing.

"Four more under!" Justice called out to the others with authority.

Without an ounce of hesitation, Justice sprinted off of the truck bed. Everyone could feel it, even those who were only weakly attuned to sensing the mist. She was utterly radiant. For Silje, she was a blaze of rapidly changing waves of colour that reflected upon the ground and each other. Hundreds of patterns formed as the waves collided, dispersed, and merged.

As she soared through the air, there wasn't a moment of pause. She had already readied herself by she manifested a large two-handed axe above her. As she descended, Justice cleaved the axe towards the earth in a display of brutish might. Crack. The earth shattered. The truck shook. What the bullet shark had met was not a delectable morsel, but an axehead cleaving directly against its nose.

Bone crunched as sinew split. Carapace shattered while hide stretched. Her axe had not bisected the beast. It had internally dissected its skull and brain as it emerged. As it lay in the rubble-filled hole it created, there came more cracking. This time, it was louder. The earth shook. Knocking the back of the truck into the air with its force, a massive bullet shark emerged--far larger than the one that Justice had immediately buried.

It was as though a church bell rang as the mother shark collided with a barrier. The reverberations were deafening, only muted by Justice refusing to stand her ground. The collision sent Justice sliding away, the barrier being far too large for the massive beast to swallow.

She heard the words of the other Barghests. Weak underbellies. Weak insides. Simple enough. With a deep breath, Justice prepared as the mother shark prepared for another charge. The church bell rang again. This time, Justice stood her ground, her barrier instead meant to deflect the shark. With a razor thin margin of error, Justice leapt to the side of it as she dragged her axe alongside the beast's underbelly. A spray of gore and viscera covered her--an inordinate exsanguination. But it would appear size was important after. It was just a surface wound as the mother retreated back into the earth.

The Things We Fight For

---

Rudis was worse for wear. In fact, she was half a month off of being feral. Her hair was knotted and frayed. The end of her ponytail had been scorched and burnt into a frazzled black end--really, it was closer to a donkey tail. Dirt caked nearly the entirety of her skin; the clean parts had been sanded down by road rash. The only part of her that wasn't worn down was her cloak. It wasn't for a lack of trying; it was just a fortunate timing of her having to recently replace her completely demolished one. One could easily mistake her as a beast already. Her current attitude didn't help either. As she rested sitting on a telltale slab of rock, a large pile of ration wrappers had formed by her feet. Though, perhaps littering in a warzone wasn't exactly the most pressing issue at the moment.

Any downtime that Rudis could manage had been filled with shoving her gob full of whatever calories she could find. In most cases, it was the rations that they were supplied with. Now was no different. While others had partaken in sunbathing, stimulants, and stoicism, Rudis had already eaten enough for four constellations. When the commander approached, Rudis hadn't even bothered to stop shoving rations in her mouth to listen. She could multitask. Not very well, but she technically could.

Rudis' answer to the commander's question was obvious. Even though a month's fighting had worn her down, she still had enough gas left for another month. Whether that was in brutal inch-by-inch attrition or to be burnt away in one final glorious strike was of little importance to the blattidaean Constellation.

She still let the others speak first as she ate more rations. Most--their ramshackle pilots, rather--were in simple agreement. Odessa went further and crafted a strategy. She was infinitely better than Rudis at crafting a strategy and the entire thinking thing. That, unfortunately, didn't stop Rudis from chiming in.

"That's your opinion." She refuted with an overdone smirk. "I got all the resources we need to get into the nest right here."

In one fell motion, she stuck her ration bar in her mouth and flexed both arms. It was difficult to tell if she was earnestly joking or jokingly boisterous. After all, Rudis could--in theory--be uncharacteristically subversive in an urban planet. Concrete and cement were simply another form of earth. Of course, her awful efficiency made getting through more than a handful of walls that way an exercise in endurance even for her. Also knowing her, she was moreso thinking of running through walls and going in a straight line.

A brief moment of gravity came over Rudis.

"No but uh--probably what Odie said. I'm ride or die, not a stratestician."

The Things We Fight For

DOSSIER: RHO OPHIUCHI

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx B A S I C I N F O [Name] Rudis Saint-Saëns [Callsign] Rho Ophiuchi [Gender] Female [Age] 28 [Rank and Designation] Main-Class [Place of Birth] Forgeship Papillon [Official Statement] "It's just duty, baby. Born into it. Gonna die out of it." C O M B A T A B I L I T Y [Anti-Barrier Sword] #44: Hard Luck [Anti-Barrier Quotient] 80% [Physical Description] The 44th sword is cursed--that's what anyone who worked on it would say. No matter how they constructed it, the blade was a failure. Dozens of reworks made little headway. The more they had attempted to fix the sword or recycle the materials, the more issues it had. All attempts were failures. Even reclaiming the material and utilizing it in other blades was impossible; anything that had even touched the raw material seemed to fail. In a last ditch effort, its final incarnation was formed: a beyond simple zweihander, if you could even call it that. It would be more accurate to call it a sharpened cross. Of course, that's only its base form. When utilized by Rudis, the blade is little more than a core designed to crack barriers. Buried within layers of pyretic stone, the goal of the weapon is simple: to create the ultimate defense and offense. A single blow that, while revealing the brittle core, is designed to annihilate anything ahead of her. [Attributes] None. [Armaments] Acceleration Kit - A set of various mental stimulants designed to push mental processing and reaction time to their absolute limits. A simple answer to combat the more evasive aberrations. Kept on her left hip. Anchor Wire - A system of high-tensile microchains integrated onto her right arm. Allows for the rapid deployment of a grappling wire for rapid transit or retrieval. [Anomaly] Tectoniconesis [Origin] Symtropantos [Phenomena] Fundamentally, Rudis can melt down, collect, reform, and supercool nearby stone and earth. Simply put, she can form durable barriers around her weapon and herself. These stones can easily vary in temperature. Typically, Rudis uses her phenomenon to cover her weapon. However, she can also form larger barriers of stone nearby to both limit movement and defend against attacks. These barriers can, with some effort, stop most attacks from bishop-class aberrants. However, more focused attack require constant unkeep as Rudis must constantly rebuild the defensive layers around her weapon. [Limitation] Ultimately, their phenomena requires earth and stone. Rudis is significantly weakened when outside of these environments as she's forced to recollect the stones that typically cover her blade. As her phenomena focuses on the collection rather than acceleration of mass, she is extremely limited in range. In addition, her power consumes a significant amount of energy. It's not uncommon to see her completely on the verge of collapse whenever she goes all out, nor is it uncommon to see her devour enough food for three constellations.

Profile [Surface-level Impression] Rudis is a simple person to understand. She's someone who wears her heart on her sleeve; that heart also happens to be beating hard at all times. While hot-blooded, she's a woman of inscrutable will. When she needs to achieve something, she'll risk life and limb to achieve it. To her, dealing with risky situations comes just as easily as breathing. There is no subtext to her actions; to do so is cowardly. She'll openly state what's on her mind regardless of tact. Emotionally, it's rare to see her angry or sad. She's more commonly some mixture of excited, joyous, and satisfied. Only during the most dire situations does she ever opine a more serious nature. Like her people, she has a great pride in keeping with tradition--especially with the traditions of her people. Also like her people, she has a characteristic denseness to her understanding. Playful remarks are seen entirely at face value. [Personal History] The sole daughter of her parents, one would expect a sheltered upbringing for such traditional ideals. Unfortunately, this was not the case. Her father had passed early, so the typical upbringing of someone of her lineage was abandoned. Born into a Forgeship, Rudis had spent her learning of the duties of the ship. She practiced operating the hammers and played in their few training mecha. However, her duty was not of the ship. No, being from a warrior family, she was tested like all other constellations. They found her aptitude was enough. It would appear that her duty would be among the stars. She had easily taken to conscription. It was her duty she was born to, so it would seem. Her training was noticeably harsh even for a constellation. She pushed herself to collapse every night. Not a single word of complaint came from her lips. She endured--no, she enjoyed it. No matter how much she sweat, no matter how much she bled, she pushed further. Her training was accelerated to the point of early combat merits. She had seen and participated in battles long before her training was completed. Her career as a constellation was built on this same determination. However, her career was not one of pure success. No, her failings were obvious. Her weaknesses were apparent. But no matter what, she'd always return home. Ending a mission with critical vitals was common for her. When on the verge of collapse, she'd shatter the aberrant before collapsing. Even when nearly bisected, she'd hold her guts in until medical arrived. One thing was clear throughout all of her missions: not a single constellation or pilot had died while fighting alongside her. And such was her career. Not one of mounting success and accolades, but one of survival and narrow victories. Home World Home World [Planet Description] Penal flagships. Forgeships. Planet crackers. No matter what you call them, their role is the same: to support the war effort. The forgeships move through the stars with this single goal in mind. Forgeships are honoured for their contributions. Without them, the war effort would be crushed under megacorps. Of course, forge ships were not always this venerated. Long ago, they had a simple purpose without honour. They were penal labour. Debtors, exiles, and other such rabble were sentenced to mine the stars without regard to their health. That wouldn't last forever--especially when convicts sought any comfort available. As generations of children who had only known the metal and stars lived and died, they began to seek determination. The right to grasp their freedom. Thus began the rebellions. With no regard to their life, they staged mutinies and raised their own flag. Few were convicts. Most were born on the ship. They fought with mining equipment. To call it a losing battle would be an understatement. One thing stopped their simple annihilation: aberrants. With a newfound common enemy, their former wardens had decided that perhaps a mutual solution could be found. The children only knew of the forges and stars. As such, they'd continue their work. But they'd have their freedom. The Papillon was the flagship of the rebellion. Industrial and utilitarian, there are few besides the star born who could call it home. It's a brutal ship, but the children of the forge have an intense pride for it. It's their home among the stars. With grand forges and mining, the ship traverses space to ensure that their war effort is fulfilled. [Culture] Filled with the descendants of exiles, criminals, and debtors, the mining clans are highly influenced by their past. Fragmented and anachronistic, their culture is filled with artifacts of their convicted heritage. Those of forgeships are driven by duty: an inalienable purpose given by one's birth. To not fulfill one's duty is to lose one's purpose. Remnants of their criminal past remain at the forefront of their culture. While explosive collars have long since been outlawed as apart of the Forgeship Accords, those of the Papillon still wear a variety of strings around their neck. Their recreation is typically mind-altering. Those of the Forgeships are known for their consumption of narcotics and booze--and their ability to carry them on any restricted planet. Their culture, while not formal in the slightest, is highly traditional. They prefer doing things the old ways, good and bad. Their beds are hard as stone. Children are raised in the opposite of safety. How they strip planets bare for rare ores, ensuring that no terraforming will ever be conducted, is never questioned. Their drive to complete their duty at any cost is dogma. Traditional arts had long since been abandoned. Instead, focus had been put on the quality of one's creation and ability. Performance had been replaced by athletics. The only painting they conduct is on their mining mechs. Their philosophy focuses on the relationship of body and reality rather than mind. As a result, those of Forgeships are often considered even more of dullards than those the frontiers. Society on Forgeships is highly stratified in accordance to their duties. One is born or conscripted into a job and barring exemplary service, are expected to retire and die in the same role. Few will ever leave the Forgeships, but fewer wish to leave. However, their society remains communal. All of them understand the necessity of each other's role. [Warrior Family] One would not typically expect a warrior family on a Forgeship. But, love finds a way. The Saint-Saëns had married into the Forgeship Papillon. The young master of the Saint-Saëns, a weak and timid man, was immediately beset with infatuation upon seeing his future wife. Of course, his attempt at noble courtship and romance had been met with a quick response as she (quite literally) swept him off his feet. The Saint-Saëns are itinerants known for their logistical support of the war effort. Though, their lifestyle is not of choice but instead a requirement to understand the logistical needs of the frontier first hand. As such, they have a reputation of being warrior-academics. It was once said that there is no greater planetary administrator than a Saint-Saëns who had decided to settle--someone who could ensure prosperity in times of peace and war. Notable Contacts Contacts [Name] Jean "Okab" Rasker [Relation to Subject] Retired constellation, trainer. [Analysis] It was a surprise when the infamously reclusive Jean Rasker had chosen to train a recruit. A retired Red Giant-Class constellation, Jean had been known for his sheer combat intelligence and agility. His career was devastating. It was expected that he would become one of few Supernovas, if not for his first failure. An unexpected attack on a frontier world that had served as a logistics hub. Jean was permanently disabled. Even the best medical technology could not return his agility and his intelligence could not compensate. He's a harsh and stern mentor. Brutal, but with foresight and acting in Rudis' best interests. While he had taught Rudis his fighting method using anchor wires, he quickly adapted it to be more suited towards his trainee. In truth, Rudis' ever timid and cowardly father had passed saving Jean. [Name] Dr. Arvi Malvis [Relation to Subject] Personal Physician [Analysis] It's no surprise that a constellation would have a personal physician, especially one that gets as injured as Rudis. Dr. Malvis is likely one of the few doctors who can properly deal with people from Forgeships. Curt, rude, and uncaring, Dr. Malvis isn't exactly the picture of a good doctor. Despite this, her talent and skill make her a useful. A hobbyist pharmacologist, Dr. Malvis often develops concoctions to be utilized by Rudis to shore her weaknesses. [Name] Odessa Ulani Thaddeus Isabella Samara [Relation to Subject] Comrade [Analysis] A damn good fighter. On the field, Odessa is someone Rudis can leave her back to. Off the field, it's fairly hard for a constellation to find a good sparring partner considering that most of their expertise revolves around the usage of specialized techniques and weaponry. Finding someone whose modus operandi is to pummel the shit out of things with their fists? Now that's something that Rudis likes. Of course, Rudis takes no issue with her personality. Sure, she ain't like the roughnecks Rudis can call family. But she's nice and is willing to spare a snack from the occasional meal kit. Though, the fact that Odessa is younger is something that always catches Rudis by surprise, no matter how many times she hears it.

The Things We Fight For

Hider

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx B A S I C I N F O [Name] Rudis Saint-Saëns [Callsign] Rho Ophiuchi [Gender] Female [Age] 28 [Rank and Designation] Main-Class [Place of Birth] Forgeship Papillon [Official Statement] "It's just duty, baby. Born into it. Gonna die out of it." C O M B A T A B I L I T Y [Anti-Barrier Sword] #44: Hard Luck [Anti-Barrier Quotient] 80% [Physical Description] The 44th sword is cursed--that's what anyone who worked on it would say. No matter how they constructed it, the blade was a failure. Dozens of reworks made little headway. The more they had attempted to fix the sword or recycle the materials, the more issues it had. All attempts were failures. Even reclaiming the material and utilizing it in other blades was impossible; anything that had even touched the raw material seemed to fail. In a last ditch effort, its final incarnation was formed: a beyond simple zweihander, if you could even call it that. It would be more accurate to call it a sharpened cross. Of course, that's only its base form. When utilized by Rudis, the blade is little more than a core designed to crack barriers. Buried within layers of pyretic stone, the goal of the weapon is simple: to create the ultimate defense and offense. A single blow that, while revealing the brittle core, is designed to annihilate anything ahead of her. [Attributes] None. [Armaments] Acceleration Kit - A set of various mental stimulants designed to push mental processing and reaction time to their absolute limits. A simple answer to combat the more evasive aberrations. Kept on her left hip. Anchor Wire - A system of high-tensile microchains integrated onto her right arm. Allows for the rapid deployment of a grappling wire for rapid transit or retrieval. [Anomaly] Tectoniconesis [Origin] Symtropantos [Phenomena] Fundamentally, Rudis can melt down, collect, reform, and supercool nearby stone and earth. Simply put, she can form durable barriers around her weapon and herself. These stones can easily vary in temperature. Typically, Rudis uses her phenomenon to cover her weapon. However, she can also form larger barriers of stone nearby to both limit movement and defend against attacks. These barriers can, with some effort, stop most attacks from bishop-class aberrants. However, more focused attack require constant unkeep as Rudis must constantly rebuild the defensive layers around her weapon. [Limitation] Ultimately, their phenomena requires earth and stone. Rudis is significantly weakened when outside of these environments as she's forced to recollect the stones that typically cover her blade. As her phenomena focuses on the collection rather than acceleration of mass, she is extremely limited in range. In addition, her power consumes a significant amount of energy. It's not uncommon to see her completely on the verge of collapse whenever she goes all out, nor is it uncommon to see her devour enough food for three constellations.

Profile [Surface-level Impression] Rudis is a simple person to understand. She's someone who wears her heart on her sleeve; that heart also happens to be beating hard at all times. While hot-blooded, she's a woman of inscrutable will. When she needs to achieve something, she'll risk life and limb to achieve it. To her, dealing with risky situations comes just as easily as breathing. There is no subtext to her actions; to do so is cowardly. She'll openly state what's on her mind regardless of tact. Emotionally, it's rare to see her angry or sad. She's more commonly some mixture of excited, joyous, and satisfied. Only during the most dire situations does she ever opine a more serious nature. Like her people, she has a great pride in keeping with tradition--especially with the traditions of her people. Also like her people, she has a characteristic denseness to her understanding. Playful remarks are seen entirely at face value. [Personal History] The sole daughter of her parents, one would expect a sheltered upbringing for such traditional ideals. Unfortunately, this was not the case. Her father had passed early, so the typical upbringing of someone of her lineage was abandoned. Born into a Forgeship, Rudis had spent her learning of the duties of the ship. She practiced operating the hammers and played in their few training mecha. However, her duty was not of the ship. No, being from a warrior family, she was tested like all other constellations. They found her aptitude was enough. It would appear that her duty would be among the stars. She had easily taken to conscription. It was her duty she was born to, so it would seem. Her training was noticeably harsh even for a constellation. She pushed herself to collapse every night. Not a single word of complaint came from her lips. She endured--no, she enjoyed it. No matter how much she sweat, no matter how much she bled, she pushed further. Her training was accelerated to the point of early combat merits. She had seen and participated in battles long before her training was completed. Her career as a constellation was built on this same determination. However, her career was not one of pure success. No, her failings were obvious. Her weaknesses were apparent. But no matter what, she'd always return home. Ending a mission with critical vitals was common for her. When on the verge of collapse, she'd shatter the aberrant before collapsing. Even when nearly bisected, she'd hold her guts in until medical arrived. One thing was clear throughout all of her missions: not a single constellation or pilot had died while fighting alongside her. And such was her career. Not one of mounting success and accolades, but one of survival and narrow victories. Home World Home World [Planet Description] Penal flagships. Forgeships. Planet crackers. No matter what you call them, their role is the same: to support the war effort. The forgeships move through the stars with this single goal in mind. Forgeships are honoured for their contributions. Without them, the war effort would be crushed under megacorps. Of course, forge ships were not always this venerated. Long ago, they had a simple purpose without honour. They were penal labour. Debtors, exiles, and other such rabble were sentenced to mine the stars without regard to their health. That wouldn't last forever--especially when convicts sought any comfort available. As generations of children who had only known the metal and stars lived and died, they began to seek determination. The right to grasp their freedom. Thus began the rebellions. With no regard to their life, they staged mutinies and raised their own flag. Few were convicts. Most were born on the ship. They fought with mining equipment. To call it a losing battle would be an understatement. One thing stopped their simple annihilation: aberrants. With a newfound common enemy, their former wardens had decided that perhaps a mutual solution could be found. The children only knew of the forges and stars. As such, they'd continue their work. But they'd have their freedom. The Papillon was the flagship of the rebellion. Industrial and utilitarian, there are few besides the star born who could call it home. It's a brutal ship, but the children of the forge have an intense pride for it. It's their home among the stars. With grand forges and mining, the ship traverses space to ensure that their war effort is fulfilled. [Culture] Filled with the descendants of exiles, criminals, and debtors, the mining clans are highly influenced by their past. Fragmented and anachronistic, their culture is filled with artifacts of their convicted heritage. Those of forgeships are driven by duty: an inalienable purpose given by one's birth. To not fulfill one's duty is to lose one's purpose. Remnants of their criminal past remain at the forefront of their culture. While explosive collars have long since been outlawed as apart of the Forgeship Accords, those of the Papillon still wear a variety of strings around their neck. Their recreation is typically mind-altering. Those of the Forgeships are known for their consumption of narcotics and booze--and their ability to carry them on any restricted planet. Their culture, while not formal in the slightest, is highly traditional. They prefer doing things the old ways, good and bad. Their beds are hard as stone. Children are raised in the opposite of safety. How they strip planets bare for rare ores, ensuring that no terraforming will ever be conducted, is never questioned. Their drive to complete their duty at any cost is dogma. Traditional arts had long since been abandoned. Instead, focus had been put on the quality of one's creation and ability. Performance had been replaced by athletics. The only painting they conduct is on their mining mechs. Their philosophy focuses on the relationship of body and reality rather than mind. As a result, those of Forgeships are often considered even more of dullards than those the frontiers. Society on Forgeships is highly stratified in accordance to their duties. One is born or conscripted into a job and barring exemplary service, are expected to retire and die in the same role. Few will ever leave the Forgeships, but fewer wish to leave. However, their society remains communal. All of them understand the necessity of each other's role. [Warrior Family] One would not typically expect a warrior family on a Forgeship. But, love finds a way. The Saint-Saëns had married into the Forgeship Papillon. The young master of the Saint-Saëns, a weak and timid man, was immediately beset with infatuation upon seeing his future wife. Of course, his attempt at noble courtship and romance had been met with a quick response as she (quite literally) swept him off his feet. The Saint-Saëns are itinerants known for their logistical support of the war effort. Though, their lifestyle is not of choice but instead a requirement to understand the logistical needs of the frontier first hand. As such, they have a reputation of being warrior-academics. It was once said that there is no greater planetary administrator than a Saint-Saëns who had decided to settle--someone who could ensure prosperity in times of peace and war. Notable Contacts Contacts [Name] Jean "Okab" Rasker [Relation to Subject] Retired constellation, trainer. [Analysis] It was a surprise when the infamously reclusive Jean Rasker had chosen to train a recruit. A retired Red Giant-Class constellation, Jean had been known for his sheer combat intelligence and agility. His career was devastating. It was expected that he would become one of few Supernovas, if not for his first failure. An unexpected attack on a frontier world that had served as a logistics hub. Jean was permanently disabled. Even the best medical technology could not return his agility and his intelligence could not compensate. He's a harsh and stern mentor. Brutal, but with foresight and acting in Rudis' best interests. While he had taught Rudis his fighting method using anchor wires, he quickly adapted it to be more suited towards his trainee. In truth, Rudis' ever timid and cowardly father had passed saving Jean. [Name] Dr. Arvi Malvis [Relation to Subject] Personal Physician [Analysis] It's no surprise that a constellation would have a personal physician, especially one that gets as injured as Rudis. Dr. Malvis is likely one of the few doctors who can properly deal with people from Forgeships. Curt, rude, and uncaring, Dr. Malvis isn't exactly the picture of a good doctor. Despite this, her talent and skill make her a useful. A hobbyist pharmacologist, Dr. Malvis often develops concoctions to be utilized by Rudis to shore her weaknesses.

garbage zone

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx B A S I C I N F O [Name] Rudis Saint-Saëns [Callsign] Rho Ophiuchi [Gender] Female [Age] 28 [Rank and Designation] Main-Class [Place of Birth] Forgeship Papillon [Official Statement] [url=youtube.com/watch?v=yckDSlo4u3E]"It's just duty, baby. Born into it. Gonna die out of it."[/url] C O M B A T A B I L I T Y [Anti-Barrier Sword] #44: Hard Luck [Anti-Barrier Quotient] 80% [Physical Description] The 44th sword is cursed--that's what anyone who worked on it would say. No matter how they constructed it, the blade was a failure. Dozens of reworks made little headway. The more they had attempted to fix the sword or recycle the materials, the more issues it had. All attempts were failures. Even reclaiming the material and utilizing it in other blades was impossible; anything that had even touched the raw material seemed to fail. In a last ditch effort, its final incarnation was formed: a beyond simple zweihander, if you could even call it that. It would be more accurate to call it a sharpened cross. Of course, that's only its base form. When utilized by Rudis, the blade is little more than a core designed to crack barriers. Buried within layers of pyretic stone, the goal of the weapon is simple: to create the ultimate defense and offense. A single blow that, while revealing the brittle core, is designed to annihilate anything ahead of her. [Attributes] None. [Armaments] Acceleration Kit - A set of various mental stimulants designed to push mental processing and reaction time to their absolute limits. A simple answer to combat the more evasive aberrations. Kept on her left hip. Anchor Wire - A system of high-tensile microchains integrated onto her right arm. Allows for the rapid deployment of a grappling wire for rapid transit or retrieval. [Anomaly] Tectoniconesis [Origin] Symtropantos [Phenomena] Fundamentally, Rudis can melt down, collect, reform, and supercool nearby stone and earth. Simply put, she can form durable barriers around her weapon and herself. These stones can easily vary in temperature. Typically, Rudis uses her phenomenon to cover her weapon. However, she can also form larger barriers of stone nearby to both limit movement and defend against attacks. These barriers can, with some effort, stop most attacks from bishop-class aberrants. However, more focused attack require constant unkeep as Rudis must constantly rebuild the defensive layers around her weapon. [Limitation] Ultimately, their phenomena requires earth and stone. Rudis is significantly weakened when outside of these environments as she's forced to recollect the stones that typically cover her blade. As her phenomena focuses on the collection rather than acceleration of mass, she is extremely limited in range. In addition, her power consumes a significant amount of energy. It's not uncommon to see her completely on the verge of collapse whenever she goes all out, nor is it uncommon to see her devour enough food for three constellations.

Profile [Surface-level Impression] Rudis is a simple person to understand. She's someone who wears her heart on her sleeve; that heart also happens to be beating hard at all times. While hot-blooded, she's a woman of inscrutable will. When she needs to achieve something, she'll risk life and limb to achieve it. To her, dealing with risky situations comes just as easily as breathing. There is no subtext to her actions; to do so is cowardly. She'll openly state what's on her mind regardless of tact. Emotionally, it's rare to see her angry or sad. She's more commonly some mixture of excited, joyous, and satisfied. Only during the most dire situations does she ever opine a more serious nature. Like her people, she has a great pride in keeping with tradition--especially with the traditions of her people. Also like her people, she has a characteristic denseness to her understanding. Playful remarks are seen entirely at face value. [Personal History] The sole daughter of her parents, one would expect a sheltered upbringing for such traditional ideals. Unfortunately, this was not the case. Born into a Forgeship, Rudis had spent her learning of the duties of the ship. She practiced operating the hammers and played in their few training mecha. However, her duty was not of the ship. No, being from a warrior family, she was tested like all other constellations. They found her aptitude was enough. It would appear that her duty would be among the stars. She had easily taken to conscription. It was her duty she was born to, so it would seem. Her training was noticeably harsh even for a constellation. She pushed herself to collapse every night. Not a single word of complaint came from her lips. She endured--no, she enjoyed it. No matter how much she sweat, no matter how much she bled, she pushed further. Her training was accelerated to the point of early combat merits. She had seen and participated in battles long before her training was completed. Her career as a constellation was built on this same determination. However, her career was not one of pure success. No, her failings were obvious. Her weaknesses were apparent. But no matter what, she'd always return home. Ending a mission with critical vitals was common for her. When on the verge of collapse, she'd shatter the aberrant before collapsing. Even when nearly bisected, she'd hold her guts in until medical arrived. One thing was clear throughout all of her missions: not a single constellation or pilot had died while fighting alongside her. And such was her career. Not one of mounting success and accolades, but one of survival and narrow victories. Home World [Planet Description] Penal flagships. Forgeships. Planet crackers. No matter what you call them, their role is the same: to support the war effort. The forgeships move through the stars with this single goal in mind. Forgeships are honoured for their contributions. Without them, the war effort would be crushed under megacorps. Of course, forge ships were not always this venerated. Long ago, they had a simple purpose without honour. They were penal labour. Debtors, exiles, and other such rabble were sentenced to mine the stars without regard to their health. That wouldn't last forever--especially when convicts sought any comfort available. As generations of children who had only known the metal and stars lived and died, they began to seek determination. The right to grasp their freedom. Thus began the rebellions. With no regard to their life, they staged mutinies and raised their own flag. Few were convicts. Most were born on the ship. They fought with mining equipment. To call it a losing battle would be an understatement. One thing stopped their simple annihilation: aberrants. With a newfound common enemy, their former wardens had decided that perhaps a mutual solution could be found. The children only knew of the forges and stars. As such, they'd continue their work. But they'd have their freedom. The Papillon was the flagship of the rebellion. Industrial and utilitarian, there are few besides the star born who could call it home. It's a brutal ship, but the children of the forge have an intense pride for it. It's their home among the stars. With grand forges and mining, the ship traverses space to ensure that their war effort is fulfilled. [Culture] Filled with the descendants of exiles, criminals, and debtors, the mining clans are highly influenced by their past. Fragmented and anachronistic, their culture is filled with artifacts of their convicted heritage. Those of forgeships are driven by duty: an inalienable purpose given by one's birth. To not fulfill one's duty is to lose one's purpose. Remnants of their criminal past remain at the forefront of their culture. While explosive collars have long since been outlawed as apart of the Forgeship Accords, those of the Papillon still wear a variety of strings around their neck. Their recreation is typically mind-altering. Those of the Forgeships are known for their consumption of narcotics and booze--and their ability to carry them on any restricted planet. Their culture, while not formal in the slightest, is highly traditional. They prefer doing things the old ways, good and bad. Their beds are hard as stone. Children are raised in the opposite of safety. How they strip planets bare for rare ores, ensuring that no terraforming will ever be conducted, is never questioned. Their drive to complete their duty at any cost is dogma. Traditional arts had long since been abandoned. Instead, focus had been put on the quality of one's creation and ability. Performance had been replaced by athletics. The only painting they conduct is on their mining mechs. Their philosophy focuses on the relationship of body and reality rather than mind. As a result, those of Forgeships are often considered even more of dullards than those the frontiers. Society on Forgeships is highly stratified in accordance to their duties. One is born or conscripted into a job and barring exemplary service, are expected to retire and die in the same role. Few will ever leave the Forgeships, but fewer wish to leave. However, their society remains communal. All of them understand the necessity of each other's role. [Warrior Family] One would not typically expect a warrior family on a Forgeship. But, love finds a way. The Saint-Saëns had married into the Forgeship Papillon. The young master of the Saint-Saëns, a weak and timid man, was immediately beset with infatuation upon seeing his future wife. Of course, his attempt at noble courtship and romance had been met with a quick response as she (quite literally) swept him off his feet. The Saint-Saëns are itinerants known for their logistical support of the war effort. Though, their lifestyle is not of choice but instead a requirement to understand the logistical needs of the frontier first hand. As such, they have a reputation of being warrior-academics. It was once said that there is no greater planetary administrator than a Saint-Saëns who had decided to settle--someone who could ensure prosperity in times of peace and war. Notable Contacts [Name] Jean "Okab" Rasker [Relation to Subject] Insert Relation Here [Analysis] Insert Various Info Here [Name] Dr. Malvis Sancret [Relation to Subject] Personal Physician [Analysis] Stimulants. Curt. Rude. Enjoys experimenting with drugs.