Pragia12

Smoke and Steel

Dimitri Halfelgan, Colonel of the “Bloody Hands of Mitteland”

The Hamlet of Vankdorf had a population of maybe over three hundred, though perhaps a third of that number had left or been taken by Voron’s forces. This was, unfortunately for the remaining population, a grave error to have granted clemency to one army before the other arrived. Women and children were lined up before the burning town center in the mitteland mud. Dimitri had been here before, a mere two years ago when they had accommodated thieves of a different sort.

Which is why they were already intimately aware of what would happen next. Though Dimitri was righteous and forgiving in his judgement that clearly those who remained retained some degree of loyalty to the crown, their unwillingness to prevent their fellow townsfolk from leaving reflected poorly on their character, and their supplies would need to be surrendered to the army of the rightful Emperor Orrian.

This was, of course, met with some resistance, and the corpses hanging from the nearby trees would serve as a reminder to those that cooler heads would survive. The bloody hand would not be without its name, after all, and the remaining townsfolk were lined up outside as the men were looting the township. The Colonel would speak plainly to them as the men walk out with foodstuffs and what little finery the townsfolk had hid from the last army to pillage their homes.

Dimitri’s voice would boom out despite its relatively high pitch “This will be your contribution to the greatest struggle of our time! The Kinslayer who claims the throne has already stolen your best men. If God smiles upon them, they will desert before we meet them in battle.” There would be some cheering from the other men behind the townsfolk.

“If you have any information on where our foes have been retreating, or any indication of their plans, we may restore some of this property to you. You would best consider that should we find any information provided false, there will be a severe cost.” Nobody would come forward, for there was nobody left who could have.

While the regiment would leave with full packs and high hearts, the storm of destruction in their wake would make it clear to many: that this war was not going to be one fought just between armies, but between peoples. So when they began marching south towards the Quinian Realms, runners would splay out before them, and in hushed words many would ask if they would be the next to fall before the Blood Red Hands of the Halfelgan.

Smoke and Steel

Dimitri Halfelgan, Colonel of the “Bloody Hands of Mitteland”

Alveby, Capital of the Haltian Empire

The city of Alveby is a city of conflicting realities: once a place where the Elgan clans would meet to resolve disputes, it had become a settled city of the greatest empire on the planet. Many buildings beyond the heart were pavilion tents that could, hypothetically, be drawn up and taken on a caravan, but had never been so moved. Embellished tapestries wavered in the gentle breeze, and above the palace loomed, made from river limestone it gleamed a beige-gray.

The usually-bustling streets, once packed with traders from every corner of the sprawling state and lands beyond, were empty. The breeze blew, but no voices were heard on the wind. The city had been abandoned by its people, for they knew that another wind was blowing. The wind of war had bid everyone to leave, and they were right to obey.

The victory at Lysfelt was decisive, but the work of the Halfelgan was far from done here. Before the Emperor would take his seat, it was his duty to clear it of interlopers. Such a grim task was to be taken by those who could not afford to have their honor sullied. And so Dimitri found himself in the courtyard, where bodies were being laid out to be taken to burial or the pyres by his men.

At his flank was a single accompanying guard, a Jedgorsy man who petitioned for transfer to his regiment named Boris. He was notably shorter, but also stockier. He had a pair of pistols dangling from his belt, whereas the Colonel had a half dozen spread between his waist and chest. All had been expended multiple times in battle today, but they were loaded and ready nevertheless.

Most of the work had been done: servants and courtiers were ‘encouraged’ to report any potential disloyal individuals by their recommendation. Anyone with multiple fingers pointed in their direction was executed, and anyone with only a couple were exiled. Dimitri would take the time to enter the throne room.

“Seems the Emperor is truly gone.” Boris says

Dimitri would nod, a small shaking of his head “Yes, and the cowardly kinslayer Voron has already fled.” he sighs, looking to that high chair “The Empire is at death’s door, comrade.”

Boris too would eye it, taking steps towards it “Which is why we should hurry with this and run them down. Please sir, we could already be on their rearguard.”

“We could.” the Halfelgan nods, a small scowl on his face “But Emperor Orrian has said to secure the city.” he says sternly.

“With respect to the Emperor, he is wrong. We could have had that traitor in our grasp.” he says, reaching the top of the steps and standing before the throne.

Dimitri’s words were firm “Careful, Boris. There is a plan to this, and the symbols of empire must be respected.”

The heavier man would grunt “Please. Orrian doesn’t have what it takes to kill his brother, and he couldn’t have a /human/ be the hero of his cause.” he’d take a seat in the throne.

No sooner than he had seated himself, the taller man was upon Boris, tearing him from the seat and throwing him to stairs without an utterance of exertion. The soldier would begin trying to scramble, but the jackboot of the Colonel would crash into his side, and he would remain down, groaning. “You see Boris, time is on our side. The pretenders are making their moves, and Voron will die surrounded by failure and misery.” he says sharply.

“What the fuck are you doing…” another boot to the softer flesh of his kidney.

“If we were in a less perilous time, I would have beaten you to death for taking that throne. Consider this my mercy.” He would plant his other boot on that pistol, and continue pummeling him. By the time Boris was unconscious, Dimitri would raise it off the weapon slowly and regard that seat, so much smaller now that he stood at eye level with it.

“Please forgive the foolishness of my man, he knows not what he does. He will become one of us soon enough in your service.” He spoke to an emperor that was no longer there.

“I did not expect to lose you in my lifetime, O’ Eternal Conqueror, subjugator of nations, King of Kings. Immortality is a blessing granted to the children of El’Mokosh, and it has been wasted on your firstborn. Your death shall be avenged, and if the gods and fates will, it will be by my hands that your people are delivered as well as my own.” He speaks aloud, just below a normal speaking voice, a solemnity dancing on his tongue as he speaks in Elgan.

“I may not be granted immortality by grace, but I will gain immortality in the only way a Man can: on the battlefield.” He would give a firm salute before taking slow, deliberate steps back out of the throne room. There was work to be finished.

Smoke and Steel

Alberto Grosso "Grand Prince of the Main

Character Description

Name: Alberto Grasso “Grand Prince of the Main”
Species/Race: Human (Calarian)
Sex: M
Age: 42
Court Alignment: The Black Court
Role: Rogue Merchant Prince, Fat Bastard
Appearance: Appearance: A massive man, bloated with excess and ambition, Alberto was once athletic and powerful in his youth but that was some time ago. His brown beard is well-maintained. He clads himself in finery and jewels, often adorned with precious metals.

Strengths and Weaknesses

Skills: Knowledge of Exotic Goods, Well-Connected Tradesman, Tremendous Wealth, Physically Strong
Weaknesses: Gluttonous, Lecherous, Greedy, Wrathful, Slovenly, Vainglorious, Prideful

Background:

Backstory: Alberto was born third son to an enormously wealthy trading family in Calaria, one of the first to make the great voyages to the spice islands far afield. This reputation instilled a strong interest in shipbuilding and far-afield trading. But for a young Alberto, such luxury was merely a comfort rather than an interest at first. Being a third son, little was expected from him, and when he raised his own company of mercenaries, few objected to such an endeavor.

He was a strong man, and while more than a little arrogant, he was an adequate leader of men and master of coin even as a young man. Hiring more competent captains to understudy from, he was a decently fast learner, if not the best practitioner of war. Seeing battle on the sea as sell-sails and hired muscle hardened him, even taking his wife Julia from an Inburian noble house after his taking of a Haltian Vessel on their behalf.

His successful campaigning would come to an end just short of ten years from when he had started, reaching the age of 27 before the grave news of the passing of both of his brothers. Being recalled, Alberto was pressed into a role he was never meant to take; the heir to immense wealth and status. His father was similarly displeased with this arrangement, but strained himself to try and press his own machinations on his son. This unpleasantness would only be compounded with the death of his wife in childbirth. This combination of factors would make Alberto a much more unstable man.

Taking up command of his family’s operations in this new land, Alberto had an ambition for his own work: that his family would be able to transport more goods across the seas than any other power of the time, be it their rivals in Calaria or from other lands. In order to do this, Alberto began a shipbuilding race that would springboard his own personal prominence, building ever-larger carracks and galleons to traverse the treacherous seas.

By the time his father died, Alberto had a growing reputation as a master of ships and an audacious trader. Despite this, his projects had not yielded the domineering position he had hoped, with other parties being able to match the rate of his construction. As his ambitions grew, so did his appetites and dreams. It would be the construction of the Pride of the Main that would be the final word upon this race to glory, and one that would cut into his tremendous fortunes considerably.

Consumed by his own desires, he took command of the Pride and began operating it as his own personal trading ship, eschewing his operations to his nephew and younger brother back home. He has crossed the ocean on an ostentatious monument to his own hubris, and profited greatly in the face of increasing hostility from pirates. Backing the Pirate Queen, he was quick and eager to exploit her potential for personal gain, all while protecting his own business. Over the course of their work in the new world, he would be whispering in her ear to propel her own ambition alongside his own.

Smoke and Steel

Colonel Dimitrius “Half-Elgan”

Character Description

Name: He calls himself Dimitri, we call him half-Elgan because the man is as brazen as a royal lancer, and born in the saddle all the same.

Species/Race: Many call him Jedgorsy, but no-one knows what host he hails from, and he has never been very clear on the subject. Some say he may be Sahalky when not in his presence, he has dealt with those who have accordingly.

Sex: He is most certainly a man.

Age: He appears to be in his late twenties, though he has attested to being closer to forty years old than thirty.

Court Alignment: He is a sworn rider of the Western host and, despite being human, he is welcomed among the elgamen and many serve him eagerly.

Role: He is a butcher, pillager, raider, and a hundred other curses on a man who engages in such activities. He is a leader of men, and his regiment numbers a few hundred lancers of incredible bravery.

Appearance: He is a tall and lean man, which reinforces his “Half-Elgan” image, as well as his sharper facial features. He keeps some well-maintained facial hair of a sandy blonde color, and pale blue eyes that pierce you when he regards you. He wears a greatcoat in the forest-green of the royal lancers, and always has his saber at his side.

Strengths and Weaknesses

Skills: He is a brilliant tactician, stunningly capable in the field and a fearless leader of men. He knows how to track men, and his skills with his sword and pistols are the envy of duelists in the high court. He is a lover of music, and plays his Viol often at camp.

Weaknesses: Though it has yet to fail him, his aggression is legendary and his bluntness earns him only love among the similarly brutal aristocracy of the West. He is self-absorbed and cruel as a man, deeply entrenched and stubborn in his thoughts and actions. This combination results in a short-sightedness and strategic vulnerability

Background:

Backstory: He is a man who hides his truths in myth. While he claims he was born among the northern hosts, he will not cite a village, nor a family name even when pressed by a superior. He describes his upbringing as sparse and brutal, but he knows how to read and write both Jedgorsy and Elgan script like an aristocrat. It is a worrying combination of things, and camp whispers suggest he may be of the house of an Ataman either shamed or dishonored.

He had made himself known first among the riders of the Sahalky Caravan guards, single-handedly running off bandits in his own mad charge after his fellows abandoned their posting, and collecting their hands for the local magistrate. Following this, he was recruited into a cavalry regiment in Mitteland, and his stranger proclivities made him very popular among the officers there. Dimitri knew the old Elgan gods, and worshipped them intensely enough to impress the more ancient of his fellows. He was touted as more of an elf than many of the junior officers, which began to chafe them.

He maneuvered well through the political nature of peacetime units, and earned his commission over a decade before now. Politically connected, he rose rapidly, especially after winning a handful of duels and deterring a less martial sort from questioning him. When his regiment went on to destroy a slave revolt north of Grendel, he distinguished himself in his brutality and initiative, successfully routing the entrenched and armed rabble with minimal losses. This show would earn him his chance to become the commander of the regiment, and he would enjoy this title for the last six years.

In that time, he has cultivated a group of eager and strong riders, and they have earned a reputation as one of the most practically-experienced groups of soldiers outside of the Grendel garrisons. His regiment, entitled the “Bloody Hand of Mitteland” would become legendary in the open fields outside Lysfelt, wherein his four hundred and fifty nine lances were the first to make contact with the enemy line, and largely credited for breaking them. Orrian would honor the human, though for political purposes his recognition was limited. Despite this, every unit commander in the field that day will long remember the elan of the Half-Elgan.

Now, the Bloody Hand is set to move forth from the capital, bolstered by recruitment from other regiments and locals alike. Dimitri has declared his first aim is to bring Mitteland back into line with the Emperor, and provide a show of force to the Quinian nations not far away to either recognize the Western claim, or be cowed into non-involvement. Time will tell if his legend will continue to grow as the war rages on, but he has found comfort in battle, and men such as the Half-Elgan are sure to thrive in these mad times.

Empire of the Clouds

“G(ren)D(e)L C(o)M(man)D, T(his) I(s) A(ir)S(hip)27 FR(o)M INB(ur), E(n) R(oute to) C(us)T(o)S(pada) 4 TR(ea)S(u)RY G(o)LD, R(ou)TE 2 G(ren)D(e)L 4 D(eli)V(e)RY. FOR(eig)N P(ersonel)L AB(oa)RD, R(e)Q(uire) R(e)L(ei)F”

The radiotelegraph room had become Yuri’s second room over the past day and a half, the glasses remaining out but the handle still hidden away. Despite this, it was hardly the place he stayed during the shift, seeing as there wasn’t much for signals to listen in on. He had been remaining on general frequency to pick up reports, that ticker tape moving along with the energization of vacuum tubes.

For the meantime, he was taking up duties in the engine room while making sure to keep track of the course charted and making corrections for windage. The large amounts of taken gold he helped haul in had limited their ceiling, and so their path needed to be more considerate of the hilliness near the Morktree. It left them relatively exposed to the ground, but less

When he returned to his duty station, the tape was splayed out from the roll, marked with activity that was not read or decoded. The lieutenant was very quick to get to it, drawing out the roll and writing on a clipboard. He decoded quickly, the numbers and letters shifting in his mind as he went digit by digit onto the page.

It read something to the effect of “Confirm, report to Grendel under fair skies, else report to nearest imperial ally in Mitteland. If ready from there, report to the front.” This message had Yuri furrowing his brow as he double checked the transcription for his own sake. He was unsure about taking so much of the foreign treasury to a foreign land, but who was he to challenge orders?

Well, he supposed, he was the ranking officer nominally, though he had quickly and eagerly withdrawn from such a duty. There was a slight pang of shame at that, but this was not something he was prepared to lead. They were a motley crew, and to take charge of such a mess was a fools errand… but it was his duty to do so. He would need to keep a stiff lip and continue to present himself as the capable and reliable junior officer while they were low on men and supplies.

Empire of the Clouds

Yuri Kasrikos

Yuri was in the landing field of the Aerodrome as some began arriving, fleeing from the growing chaos. He wasn't surprised, base security had deserted for the most part yesterday. Lucky for the lieutenant his chosen getaway vehicle was not untethered early, he had already loaded and squirreled away his things there so he could lay low. Unlucky part was it was going to be untethered soon, and was rising from the ground.

The signalman was sprinting across the open field towards #27, his air service fatigues rippling in the not-ignorable crosswinds. He was shouting over "Hey! Wait! Wait!" as his lungs burned and legs thundered in urgent bounds. He lept up to the lowered ladder, the lift hadnt put it out of reach yet, but it would be soon as the bouyancy began to shift. He was a fit man, and pulled himself up the ladder with a ferocity.

He would not be left to the Calarians, he had the closest thing to a front row seat to the collapse of the Imperial Army as someone in the capital could have had, reports of broken lines, airship reconnaissance, and confused commands crossed his wires for the last two weeks. He knew only death and chaos would come for him, and as he made it to the top of the ladder, he had a small smile between heaving puffs of breath. He had survived, he had escaped... he had deserted.

The significance of that was not lost on Yuri as he found himself regarding an army captain, his expression evening in a brief lull. He wasn't sure who this man was, but he would raise a salute "Captain." In acknowledgment "Lieutenant Kasrikos, Imperial Air Service Signal Corps, sir." He'd offer sternly in introduction, waiting for acknowledgment even now. Clearly this soldier did not believe the chain of command ever truly failed.

"Glad you had good taste in escape method, wasn't sure if she'd ever take off again."

Empire of the Clouds

Yuri Kasrikos

Character Description

Name: Second Lieutenant Yurios “Yuri” Kasrikos
Gender: Male
Age: 23
Nationality: Inburian
Appearance:

Appearance

Prim and proper, the young lieutenant has a ghost of a pencil moustache and aquiline features. Only a small amount of fat in the face and lack of muscle keeps him from looking truly imposing. Blonde hair and blue eyes are pale and slightly dull. He carries himself with firm posture and presence. He stands at 5’9” and 160 lbs
Personal Effects:
Maps and Compass
Several IAS Uniforms
Deck of Playing Cards
A Dozen Handles of Rum
Stavros Mk VI Revolver

---

Background:

What is your job Staff Officer/Communications Officer
Backstory: Son of an Inburian banker and a daughter of a Pobryn merchant, Urios was born into the lap of luxury. Unfortunately, this blessing was very quickly blunted by the sudden suicide of his father when he was 10 years old, with the cause being fairly apparent when him and his mother needed to sell his childhood home and move into the slums of Inbur. Taking up work for the telegraph office, Yuri would take quickly to social climbing. By the time he was 16, he was operating the telegraphs and providing for his mother. This clawing for his own wealth and prominence from a young age would only be rewarded with tragedy for the young man, whose mother would die of tuberculosis shortly before his 17th birthday.

Set adrift, the young man would begin spiraling into depression and alcoholism. It was at the insistence of the stationmaster at the telegraph for him to sign himself into the Imperial Air Service. He needed discipline he never really had, and people who would have his back. Yuri did not agree, but when he was threatened with being fired, he relented. With a letter of recommendation and a sharp mind backed with impressive test scores, he entered the Signal Corps as an officer cadet.

In the Service he was quick to learn the tools of his trade, they felt natural and familiar to him, just as much, he was able to blend in with the proper manners of a gentlemen officer, which was able to cover for his less gentlemanly proclivities and half-foreign heritage. He made a good group of friends among them, and graduated officer training school with honors. His first station was appropriately illustrious: the Inbur Aerodrome was the greatest posting one could reasonably expect for a signals officer, short of the intercontinental cables and royal stations which were beyond the reach of a relatively unconnected lieutenant.

When the invasion began, Yuri was eager to prove himself and asked to be rotated to combat service aboard the airships, but his request was not acknowledged in the chaotic collapse of lines. When the revolutionaries arrived, and his CO was missing, he decided to take up his new station with those fleeing the chaos. Having now seen his home overtaken and his family gone, the young technical officer finds himself abandoning his post and entering a life that his own to define.

Empire of the Clouds

Yuri Kasrikos

Character Description

Name: Second Lieutenant Yurios “Yuri” Kasrikos
Gender: Male
Age: 23
Nationality: Inburian
Appearance:

Appearance

Prim and proper, the young lieutenant has a ghost of a pencil moustache and aquiline features. Only a small amount of fat in the face and lack of muscle keeps him from looking truly imposing. Blonde hair and blue eyes are pale and slightly dull. He carries himself with firm posture and presence. He stands at 5’9” and 160 lbs
Personal Effects:
Maps and Compass
Several IAS Uniforms
Deck of Playing Cards
A Dozen Handles of Rum
Stavros Mk VI Revolver

---

Background:

What is your job Staff Officer/Communications Officer
Backstory: Son of an Inburian banker and a daughter of a Pobryn merchant, Urios was born into the lap of luxury. Unfortunately, this blessing was very quickly blunted by the sudden suicide of his father when he was 10 years old, with the cause being fairly apparent when him and his mother needed to sell his childhood home and move into the slums of Inbur. Taking up work for the telegraph office, Yuri would take quickly to social climbing. By the time he was 16, he was operating the telegraphs and providing for his mother. This clawing for his own wealth and prominence from a young age would only be rewarded with tragedy for the young man, whose mother would die of tuberculosis shortly before his 17th birthday.

Set adrift, the young man would begin spiraling into depression and alcoholism. It was at the insistence of the stationmaster at the telegraph for him to sign himself into the Imperial Air Service. He needed discipline he never really had, and people who would have his back. Yuri did not agree, but when he was threatened with being fired, he relented. With a letter of recommendation and a sharp mind backed with impressive test scores, he entered the Signal Corps as an officer cadet.

In the Service he was quick to learn the tools of his trade, they felt natural and familiar to him, just as much, he was able to blend in with the proper manners of a gentlemen officer, which was able to cover for his less gentlemanly proclivities and half-foreign heritage. He made a good group of friends among them, and graduated officer training school with honors. His first station was appropriately illustrious: the Inbur Aerodrome was the greatest posting one could reasonably expect for a signals officer, short of the intercontinental cables and royal stations which were beyond the reach of a relatively unconnected lieutenant.

When the invasion began, Yuri was eager to prove himself and asked to be rotated to combat service aboard the airships, but his request was not acknowledged in the chaotic collapse of lines. When the revolutionaries arrived, and his CO was missing, he decided to take up his new station with those fleeing the chaos. Having now seen his home overtaken and his family gone, the young technical officer finds himself abandoning his post and entering a life that his own to define.

Wild Beasts of the Earth (Gothic Horror)

Nikolai Freiherr

Character Description

Name: Nikolai Freiherr
Gender: M
Age: 37
Nationality: Russian (Baltic Germanic)
Appearance: A rugged but surprisingly scrawny man, Nikolai has unruly blonde hair and blue eyes. He is pretty tall, well over six foot and borderline lanky. He keeps himself moderately well groomed.
Personal Effects: Mauser Pistol, A journal, 3 hardcover books without titles, couple changes of clothes, dress uniform and sabre, some fine jewelry, and opium

---

Background:

What is your job: Soldier turned Socialite, Nikolai has been trying to carouse his way into the graces of the Junkers to limited success.
Backstory: Nikolai has been a man whose life has always been a bit supernatural. Born a lesser Estonian Noble in Austria to a German Mother, he was raised in an island castle with pseudo-medieval outlooks with pseudo-medieval sensibilities. Their militarist stylings resulted in Nikolai going to military schooling, where some minor sociopathic tendencies presented themselves in terrorizing his fellow students before going to university at St. Petersburg, where he was introduced to Theosophy and Mysticism, something that would remain strong in his life. His studies were interrupted by the Russo-Japanese war, which he enlisted for when his school refused to send him as an officer.

In the far east, his occult curiosities were only encouraged, and war proved a natural environment for his newfound practices. He saw combat during the battle of Shaho, and earned some distinction. Returning to Saint Petersburg at the age of 20, he was regarded as a war hero, which while overblown was enough for him to eventually graduate with a little distinction. More distinct was his ties to the occult community in the region, which was growing in the face of perceived decadence.

Upon earning his commission, he volunteered for a station in Manchuria, where he would be able to explore his perverted faith, further develop his occult reputation both locally and back West, and enjoy the privileges of rank. Taking up command of a Cossack unit, he became an enthusiastic and creative cavalry officer. He would advance for nearly a decade to a company rank of Sotnick before the outbreak of a war that was not kind to cavalry officers.

His service in the war and the following revolution became a blur of blood and steel, one he is very guarded about and often contradictory. All that is known is that he served on the Caucasus front until the revolution, where he then joined the white army. He fought until 1921, leaving him one of the last diehard holdouts to eventually break. He escaped Soviet persecution, and returned to the land of his mother.

For the last two years, he has ingratiated himself with anti-communists and freikorps members, and has even managed to restore some ties to his occult fellows who were not purged by the reds. The instability in Germany is of grave concern to him, and he remains a staunch monarchist, which has earned him the somewhat-good graces of benefactors. It is hard to tell how much of the man is a myth, but he asserts himself as an honest man.

Wild Beasts of the Earth (Gothic Horror)

Character App

Character Description

Name: Nikolai Freiherr
Gender: M
Age: 37
Nationality: Russian (Baltic Germanic)
Appearance: A rugged but surprisingly scrawny man, Nikolai has unruly blonde hair and blue eyes. He is pretty tall, well over six foot and borderline lanky. He keeps himself moderately well groomed.
Personal Effects: Mauser Pistol, A journal, 3 hardcover books without titles, couple changes of clothes, dress uniform and sabre, some fine jewelry, and opium

---

Background:

What is your job: Soldier turned Socialite, Nikolai has been trying to carouse his way into the graces of the Junkers to limited success.
Backstory: Nikolai has been a man whose life has always been a bit supernatural. Born a lesser Estonian Noble in Austria to a German Mother, he was raised in an island castle with pseudo-medieval outlooks with pseudo-medieval sensibilities. Their militarist stylings resulted in Nikolai going to military schooling, where some minor sociopathic tendencies presented themselves in terrorizing his fellow students before going to university at St. Petersburg, where he was introduced to Theosophy and Mysticism, something that would remain strong in his life. His studies were interrupted by the Russo-Japanese war, which he enlisted for when his school refused to send him as an officer.

In the far east, his occult curiosities were only encouraged, and war proved a natural environment for his newfound practices. He saw combat during the battle of Shaho, and earned some distinction. Returning to Saint Petersburg at the age of 20, he was regarded as a war hero, which while overblown was enough for him to eventually graduate with a little distinction. More distinct was his ties to the occult community in the region, which was growing in the face of perceived decadence.

Upon earning his commission, he volunteered for a station in Manchuria, where he would be able to explore his perverted faith, further develop his occult reputation both locally and back West, and enjoy the privileges of rank. Taking up command of a Cossack unit, he became an enthusiastic and creative cavalry officer. He would advance for nearly a decade to a company rank of Sotnick before the outbreak of a war that was not kind to cavalry officers.

His service in the war and the following revolution became a blur of blood and steel, one he is very guarded about and often contradictory. All that is known is that he served on the Caucasus front until the revolution, where he then joined the white army. He fought until 1921, leaving him one of the last diehard holdouts to eventually break. He escaped Soviet persecution, and returned to the land of his mother.

For the last two years, he has ingratiated himself with anti-communists and freikorps members, and has even managed to restore some ties to his occult fellows who were not purged by the reds. The instability in Germany is of grave concern to him, and he remains a staunch monarchist, which has earned him the somewhat-good graces of benefactors. It is hard to tell how much of the man is a myth, but he asserts himself as an honest man.