Typical

Fire Emblem: Ashes of Sacrifice [Fall of the Empire]

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Branna Naves

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^{Western Street || Lothian Empire: Garleton || Evening}

The new bandit proved no more a challenge than his fallen compatriots, and Mors swung around to a halt as Branna surveyed the state of the street. With only one target left and a few too many people to engage him, having Mors try to maneuver inn for a hit would be like encouraging him to tussle over scraps. That the last target appeared to be the leader of the inexperienced crew, though, came second to Branna’s impatience. Urging Mors closer, she smiled, watching the unfortunate, axe-wielding soul look about the motley crew of empire folk and sellswords surrounding him. He seemed to recognize his situation, recognize that there was little he could do except accept his fate, and that prompted a low, raspy laugh from her. With the lordling beside her threatening further burns, she waited, savoring the moment as the others circled in. He struggled, he fought, and he flailed, his eyes gleaming against the now-burning city as he engaged the spear-wielding mercenary again, spittle flying from his mouth. The scene was almost too beautiful, too raw in its sincerity, but the mood was quickly broken by the swordsman, who sprang out from behind with the obvious intent to deliver a final blow. “Tsk.” She leaned over to look into Mors’ eye. “Still hungry?” The wyvern shook his wings out, the movement rocking Branna but by no means unseating her. “Hm,” she hummed, the note cracking as she watched the ongoing battle. Then, hefting her spear, she patted the wyvern, grinning. “From above,” she croaked, and Mors’ wingbeats brought them up to diving position. Dead or alive, meat was meat, and the bulky chops of a well-toned fighter were probably the best cuts all day. Hence the dive.

_________________________ Status: Snagging a choice bite Class: Wyvern Flier Exp: 15 Inventory: Iron Spear Vulnerary Stats END: D STR: C MAG: E DEX: D SPD: C DEF: E RES: E LCK: D

The Promise - Second Star to the Right, and Straight on 'til Morning.

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Keaton Plasse

---

After the fiasco on the first day, Keaton found the rest of the week pretty tame. In many ways, she picked up right where she left off in university, and though classes were much smaller on the ship, all the college-level basics were available either in-person or via the ship’s seemingly all-knowing AI, Cara, who took online classes to a whole new level. If anything, Keaton was learning more on the ship than she had on Earth, and she wasn’t sure what to feel about that. On one hand, it was great to be taught by an AI program that tailored the class for her; on the other, it was a tally for the running count of reasons why she’d been correct in agreeing to come to The Promise, and she wasn’t so certain that was a good thing.

That aside, the fiasco had left a pretty big mental mark, especially considering that someone had vomited on Keaton’s favorite jacket and then proceeded to turn into some huge lizard hybrid and trash the place before someone else turned into a human fireball and crisped him. Though she’d been tempted to toss it out, it remained a fond piece of home, and she’d been able to get the stains out after some wrangling with the washing machine and the detergents available to her. Wearing it, though, was another matter entirely, and currently it was hanging at the far side of her closet, in limbo until she was able to decide its fate.

Jacket aside, there was the matter of the people Keaton had met the previous week. Well, ‘met’ was a strong word, but the past week had been freshman year all over again, with people introducing themselves at the drop of the hat, hoping to form some type of connection with just about everyone they could. She was on friendly terms with a few of her classmates, but just like in college, it was hard meeting people outside of her day-to-day routine, so when she spotted the boy who’d been turned into a giant lizard last week passing by, she paused to turn and stare. He was carrying flowers—visiting someone, a girl, who he was courting? Uncertain. But, given that the other few people Keaton had seen with him last week were girls, perhaps it was one of them.

At this point, the boy turned into the hospital, and the dots connected. There were only so many people sent to the hospital that day, after all, and while the number the boy could be visiting with flowers was around three, only one of them had blown up the cafeteria. Now, she might have been jumping to conclusions when assuming that he was seeing the girl who’d called Keaton ‘Denim,’ but just because she didn’t get confirmation for that didn’t mean it wasn’t true. That the girl was still in the hospital, though, was a little alarming. One week—her injuries had been somewhat serious, then, at least compared to the others in the cafeteria. It made sense, though, considering that she’d literally exploded into flames. Whatever details Keaton hadn't been privy to firsthand were provided to her throughout the past week as the subject of the explosion in the cafeteria was used and reused as a conversation starter, and at this point she figured she had a pretty complete picture of her class' memorable first day.

Despite the fact that she might very well be interrupting some sort of romantic reunion, Keaton elected to follow the boy into the hospital. She’d introduce herself, see if the girl was doing alright, and go from there. Fake it until she made it and all that. Sure the boy had a tendency to transform into a huge lizard man he couldn’t control and the girl appeared to be some sort of living flamethrower, but Keaton was beginning to accept that people with such powers were her version of normal now. The girl, at least, seemed like a good person, and good people were the sort of people Keaton wanted to get to know.

The inside of the hospital was relatively quiet with the bustle limited to the side of the hallway which saw new arrivals. Unfortunately, her delay in following after the boy had caused her to lose sight of him, and after glancing down the empty hallways, she idled in the reception, not sure whether to leave or just head down a random hall.

“Can I help you?” the receptionist asked from her desk.

“No, um,” Keaton said, glancing down the hallways again as she looked for an excuse. Instead, she was surprised to see the boy emerging from a nearby door with a girl in a hospital dressing gown—the fire girl. Their wary glances down the hall and general cautiousness, however, said that they were up to something. Sneaking out. Keaton could help there.

“Actually, yes. I’m meeting a friend here, Amy? She was visiting someone else but I’m blanking out on his name,” she said, pursing her lips as she crossed her arms on the counter.

“Well, can you get in touch with your friend? Or do you know what her friend is in for?”

“A fractured arm I think? Or was it a foot?” Keaton frowned, then shook her head. “Some bone. He got checked in recently?”

“I don’t think we had anyone come in with a broken arm or leg anytime soon but let’s see,” the receptionist said, pulling out a clipboard and looking it over. “No, no broken bones as of five hours ago.”

A glance down the hallway showed that it was now empty, and Keaton fished out her phone.

“Hold on, let me text Amy,” she said, pretending to check it. “Oh, wait... she left already. Damn it.” Keaton flashed the receptionist an apologetic smile. “Sorry about all that, but thanks anyway!”

Just as she turned to leave, though, a crashing sound from down the hall drew her attention, and she watched in surprise as the red-helmeted figure from her first day skated past, waving at her. After taking another few moments to stare at the door he'd left through, Keaton glanced back and, seeing the receptionist on the phone, fled for the exit.

Outside, Keaton found a street that was no longer calm. Freaky-D was what the man had been called, or so she'd been told. Though she'd personally never heard of the name, it seemed he and his exploits were somewhat of a thing online, and Keaton's classmates had readily filled her in on all the pertinent details. His getaways were apparently as much of his brand as his outfit, and she wasn't surprised to find that he was nowhere in sight. This all, she supposed, was another part of her new 'normal.'

Fire Emblem: Ashes of Sacrifice [Fall of the Empire]

@Sho Minazuki I feel like the "last person gets more exp" clause gives people the wrong incentive. Giving everyone who participates the same amount of exp would encourage people to work together to quickly and efficiently take down an opponent rather than trying to position themselves to snag the extra exp.

The Promise - Second Star to the Right, and Straight on 'til Morning.

---

Keaton Plasse

---

Adjusting her grip on her suitcase, Keaton looked around, the action more out of habit than anything. With ship was setting off soon, as announced by intercom, this empty period of time where she was forced to think about her father was. thankfully, coming to an end. Soon, she’d be tens of thousands of miles from him—farther than she could ever be on Earth. ‘The Promise’ had been as much as a choice for her as her choosing to let the black-suited people into her apartment when they arrived, but she wasn’t scared. Wary, perhaps, and too anxious to think about much else at the moment, but not scared. Sure there was plenty to be afraid of on the ship she’d been slotted to live on, but the system had checked them for this long. There was no reason it wouldn’t continue to perform as it had, and though she had doubts as to whether she even belonged with the rest of the parahumans, the line between ‘her’ and ‘them’ was getting thinner by the day. As normal as she felt, there was no denying the interviews she’d had or the ‘procedural tests’ she’d taken, just as there was no denying the sheer number of people in this ship with her.

“Keaton Plasse,” she said when she reached the head of the check-in line.

The attendant with the clipboard gave her a once over, checking her against the screen before nodding and motioning to her left. By her outfit—a different color of the same uniform Keaton and every other student had been instructed to wear—she was a staff member of the Promise program, or at least something of the sort. No powers though, or at least none of note. Otherwise she’d have had a more important job than checking in students.

Lifting her suitcase, Keaton hefted it onto the conveyor belt into the ship underbelly, walking away as it moved down the belt. The luggage had been checked when she entered the building, but down the belt were a few people in uniforms that were more than just standing guard. While Keaton didn’t know what exactly they’d been posted to do, by the looks of it, it seemed they were probably parahumans, which lined up with what The Promise had promised. Parahumans teaching parahumans how to use their powers, or so she’d been told. While she didn’t have any reasons for her trust in the half-promises she’d been told, she was willing to give the ship a shot. Maybe she’d like it there, and maybe she didn’t. Either way, being able to improve her power—or at least begin to figure out where it ended and she began—was a start.

With her luggage was stowed away, Keaton moved on to her seat in the ship, sitting down and buckling in. As she clicked the seatbelt in place, wondering what the point of it was, the seat beside her creaked. A girl sat down, adjusting her red-blonde hair, the gold chains around her neck jangling against the zipper of her black leather jacket. Her hair was probably dyed—or not. Odd color if it wasn’t dyed, Keaton supposed. Judging by the haphazard way she wore her jewelry, Keaton would have guessed that she was the punk rocker type, but Keaton wasn’t getting a yes for that either.

Adjusting her feet, Keaton glanced out the window, then at the girl again, giving her a smile through pursed lips when their eyes met. The girl smiled back, her dark lipstick starkly contrasting her pale features, but Keaton wasn’t paying attention anymore. Was she not naturally pale either? Not blue-eyed like she looked? There was no way those gold chains were real, right?

Keaton exhaled, fidgeting with her hands as she again averted her eyes. Then, glancing around, she stopped on a girl because—it was a boy, right? There was no way that wasn’t a boy. He fit the preppy jock type perfectly, yet she still wasn’t getting an answer. What was going on?

Her eyes skipped over a few members of the crew, and she frowned, her grip around her thumb tightening. Was this what it felt like to be powerless? To be ‘normal?’

“Yoo-hoo, you good?”

Keaton blinked, meeting the eyes of the red-blonde girl again. Then, sighing, she nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good. Just, well, jitters. Never been blasted into space before, you know?”

“Same,” the girl said, her smile almost coy. Although Keaton couldn’t guess the intentions behind the girl’s smile at the moment, it looked friendly enough. The lack of confirmation in Keaton’s gut, though, irked her enough to have her shift her legs again, hooking one ankle behind the other. Was this what life on the ship was going to be like?

Soon enough the countdown started, and Keaton met her seat neighbor’s grin with reluctance written across her face.

“Hopefully this just feels like a strong roller coaster,” Keaton said.

The girl laughed, and the liftoff sounded, the din of the ship making up for the silence in Keaton’s head just before she was wrenched upwards by the force of the ship. Where she’d imagined a roller coaster, it was more like some crazy elevator starting upwards, the feeling of her insides shifting except exponentially stronger. For a moment, Keaton genuinely thought she might die, be sick, or worse, but that passed as cheers faded into existence along with the continued laughs of the girl beside her.

“I wish this was a coaster. I’d do that again!” she shouted over the rumbling of the ship.

“Agree to disagree!” Keaton shouted back. “Ticket prices would be insane!”

“Free ride here! Not my choice though!” the girl shouted, grinning.

Keaton paused, then grinned as well. “You too?”

“Yep, bunch of hosts these uniforms are!”

“Yeah, baggage check lady gave me some real attitude earlier!”

The idle chatter—or, rather, shouting—continued until the ship stopped, and a glance out the window showed that they’d arrived. With a click, Keaton’s seat belt unhooked itself and retracted, leaving her clutching her seat as she tried to feel her toes.

“Upsy-daisy,” the girl beside her said, shooting up from her seat. She stumbled, catching herself on the head of her seat just in time. “Oops. Probably took that too fast there.”

“Yeah,” Keaton said, pushing up on the armrests to rise shakily to her legs. “Woah.”

“Yeesh, least they could’ve done was warn us,” the girl said as they made their way shakily towards the ship’s connecting door. When they reached it, they found that the corridor was filled with struggling students.

“Hold on, I need to get my suitcase,” Keaton said, reminded by the sight of some students inching along with their own rectangular rollers. “Feel free to go on ahead though.”

“This where we part ways then?”

“Yeah. I’m Keaton, by the way,” Keaton said. The girl had been nice, and she seemed like someone Keaton could see herself getting along with despite the entire situation and all.

“Jeira,” the girl said, holding out a hand.

“Nice to meet you, Jeira,” Keaton said, shaking her hand with an amused smile. She hadn’t put the girl down to be a hand shaker. If anything, it was more likely that the girl was—

Keaton snapped her hand back, freezing, and Jeira’s smile inched wider.

“Say, Keaton, let’s be friends. You don’t know anyone else here, right? But I do. I’ll introduce you to them and everything. How about it?”

Keaton stared at her. Her powers—what were they? Mind reading? That was a rare one, apparently, but Keaton wouldn’t be surprised.

“Oh, don’t answer me now. Sit on it. Give me an answer next time we meet,” Jeira said, waving. “See you around, Keaton.”

---

Keaton fiddled with the sleeve of her jacket as she walked into the cafeteria. She wasn’t hungry—far from it, in fact—but the last time she’d eaten was breakfast and she was due for a meal. Though she’d taken a bit in her room to change and shake off the ride, she was still a bit jumpy, and as soon as she was in the student-filled hall she grabbed a plate and filled it with some essentials before making for an edge seat. After all, the ride had reminded her of something very important: She was dealing with parahumans now, abnormal people, and there was no telling what their powers were.

Sitting down, she picked at her food idly, then looked around. There were plenty of conversations being struck up around the place, and she was stuck here for the foreseeable future, so might as well try and talk to someone else. Second time’s the charm, right?

Fire Emblem: Ashes of Sacrifice [Fall of the Empire]

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Branna Naves

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^{Western Street || Lothian Empire: Garleton || Evening}

With a cry, the new bandit announced his arrival, heading straight for the lordling who was only moments earlier preoccupied with the bandit leader. While Branna’s smile didn’t leave her lips, her delight had vanished, and she watched with vague interest as her future coin supplier struggled. It seemed she’d been hired to play bodyguard as well, which had never been a particularly nice job for her skill set. Killing was easy when compared to trying to keep someone alive, especially someone who was a target like the lordling, and Branna wondered briefly whether it’d be easier to just sit back and let things play out. While she’d lose a large job, no job was a guarantee, and in her experience it was often easier to stack many small jobs instead of spending forever on a long one. That said, the lordling wasn’t all helpless, and Branna was already bored waiting. The swordsman from earlier drew closer, mouthing something. Though Branna didn't bother trying to catch it, she got the message well enough, with him being a fellow sellsword and all. So, shooting a grin at the guard closest to her, she hefted her spear and patted Mors. “The smaller one,” she croaked. Mors pushed up and swooped towards the new bandit with a growl, and Branna lined her lance up, her eye flicking to the bandit head right before her spear struck home. Hit hard and run was her tactic, after all, not taking hard hits.

_________________________ Status: Bodygaurd Duty, kinda Class: Wyvern Flier Exp: 15 Inventory: Iron Spear Vulnerary Stats END: D STR: C MAG: E DEX: D SPD: C DEF: E RES: E LCK: D

[GUTS+] You Awake in a Dark Room

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Pebble “Pebs” Meyers

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^{@Alamantus@Vertigo}

It wasn’t until the blinding light hit her that Pebs realized that she should have braced herself. Somehow the lights here always seemed to be too bright, but as soon as the momentary adjustment passed she figured that didn’t matter.

The room ahead looked as innocuous as the first room with its empty space and clean surfaces, and it was because of the lack of substance that Pebs’ eyes were drawn first to the potted plant in the far corner. While it was far from out of place, the room had no other decorations, and that was what made it all the stranger.

At Duncan’s prompt, Pebs nodded, fishing the speaker out of her bag, then the wires out of her pocket for good measure. Handing them over as Duncan opened the drawer, she paused, then fished out the pliers and handed them over as well.

“Funny how these things all connect,” she said, pulling a face as she peeked into the drawer. The remote inside didn’t do much to convince her that the situation was doing better, and she picked it up and looked it over, frowning.

“This for the car?” she asked, giving it a shake. No rattle, but seeing how light it was despite the battery compartment on the back, she figured it was probably missing its battery.

A moment of fidgeting saw her pop the compartment lid off, and a glance later Pebs was fishing out the C-type battery in her bag. When she found it, she popped it into the remote, then slipped the plastic lid back onto the now-filled compartment.

“Right, that’s both batteries used.”

She frowned, glancing back at the plant, then walking over to it.

“This thing’s the only thing alive other than us, but what’s the point of having it at all,” she muttered, bending down to check over the pot.

Thought Check

2d6 = 2,5

Fire Emblem: Ashes of Sacrifice [Fall of the Empire]

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Branna Naves

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^{Western Street || Lothian Empire: Garleton || Evening}

Stroking Mors’ flank, Branna listened to Alnard speak, her eyes focused on the flecks of red on the ground as the wyvern tore pieces from his meal. As it was her employer who was speaking, she listened, but listening didn’t mean agreeing. Frankly, organizing forces sounded like a waste of time. The bandits were weak, easily dispatchable by any trained weapon-wielder. The imperial forces were focused on evacuating the town, yes, but what of the others? Why not send the mercenaries after the bandits? Hit them fast and hard while the evacuation was still happening. It wasn’t like a few sellswords would be able to help much with evacuations anyway. Still, considering that it was her future coin pouch talking, Branna didn’t voice her opinions, choosing instead to maintain her smile and watch. She maintained this silence as the lordling moved them down the street, patting Mors so the wyvern knew that mealtime was over. When the bandits came into view, her smile broadened, and she swung her spear so that the tip rested just above her shoulder. Rotating her spear in her hand as she listened to the pointless dialogue between the two heads of the groups, she glanced between the group of bandits, then between her new compatriots. There was no point in fighting over food now that Mors had eaten, so she waited patiently until the others had chosen their targets. Then, grasping Mors’ saddle, she pulled herself up just as the wyvern swung up and forwards so that she could engage the last available underling: the unfortunate archer who was, as shown by Mors’ earlier meal, easy pickings. A laugh floated out of her as she speared him through, the sound as broken as ever.

_________________________ Status: Laughing Class: Wyvern Flier Exp: 10 Inventory: Iron Spear Vulnerary Stats END: D STR: C MAG: E DEX: D SPD: C DEF: E RES: E LCK: D

The Promise - Second Star to the Right, and Straight on 'til Morning.

Keaton

Keaton Plasse

_______________________________________________ Keaton Rebecca Plasse _______________________________________________ September 9th | 19 | Caucasian _______________________________________________ Single | ♀ | Heterosexual _______________________________________________ High School Diploma | Student: College Sophomore _______________________________________________ Physical Profile ___________________________________ [+] //Basics: • Height | 5’4" • Weight | 125 lb • Build | Slender Hourglass • Hair Colour | Brown • Eye Colour | Dark Brown Miscellaneous Items ___________________________________ [+] //Every Day Carry: • Backpack | Keaton’s trusty blue bag is an oft-found item on her back and carries what she thinks she’ll need. This usually entails a notebook, a sketchbook, and a few pencils and erasers as well as her trusty fountain pen, which was an early birthday gift from her father before she went off to college. Though well-used, the pen maintains its reliability, and she’d consider it her lucky item if she bought into superstition. • Smartphone | A must for today’s students, especially those away from home. Cell service in space might be dependent on the ship itself, but a pocket computer is a keeper computer, especially when it takes and stores all sorts of information so easily.

A p p e a r a n c e D e t a i l s Favoring a casual, practical sort of outfit, Keaton owns a fair amount of denim, and her go-to outfit consists of a pair of jeans and some color t-shirt, most likely a neutral or graphic print one. When it’s chilly, she pulls out a jean jacket, but otherwise she doesn’t have much by the way of coats, which she figures is a result of living in an environment that’s warm year-round. As for piercings, she has five, which is her version of pushing boundaries. First were two lobes, then two more after a year of college and thought, then a cartilage piercing after a few drinks and some encouragement from her friends. Regret, however, was not part of the equation, though sometimes Keaton wonders whether it should be. On the day to day, Keaton sticks with studs, maybe throwing on a necklace when she finds herself with some time in the morning. As she subscribes to the “too much makeup makes you look older” ideology, she sticks with a simple look that comes off as natural when not scrutinized. On her wrist is often an analog watch, and her nails are on the short, uneven side as a result of her picking at them. She’s been trying to get rid of the habit, but it always seems to creep back when she gets stressed, and recently she’s been pretty far from calm.

_{P e r s o n a l i t y}

While Keaton was born a shy extrovert, the city she grew up in trained her up to have a spine and a mouth, and she’s now a mixed bag of traits. Though she’s a definite people person, having always liked company over silence, she also values her privacy and space, and the concept of too much company does exist for her. As much as she enjoys being around people, she has a hard time meeting and connecting with them, and as a result she prefers to stick with the friends she has. This has branded her as the reliable friend in the past since she’s often the first to lend an ear or shoulder when the occasion arises. She cares for those close to her, and, being a worrier, she tends to spend too much time dwelling on things past and future. This, along with the fact that she’s somewhat of a perfectionist, doesn’t help much with staying calm. Having lived a life where she’s able to stay largely in control, it’s when things spiral out of control that Keaton starts getting anxious, and she can wind up being overly critical of both herself and others in such situations.

Keaton’s also someone who believes that being truthful is the best policy. While this does make her come off as harsh, even a bit rude or uncaring at times, she doesn’t shy away from telling it like it is, especially to friends and family. In the bustling city where she grew up, confidence was a must, and Keaton learned to supplement what she lacked with brute honesty and a poker face. In a similar vein, she’s not one to cut others too much slack if they go wrong, mostly because she wouldn't cut herself much slack either, and she does her best to hold true to her standards and beliefs. Call her a stiff, but she feels comfortable with the person she is.

To strangers, Keaton often comes off as a bit quiet, though she’s assertive enough when she speaks. Her authoritative voice is a trained one that still needs refinement, but it does the job well enough for now. Though she tends towards holding strangers at arm’s length with a warm smile, she’s developed a strong personality over the years, and she’s not afraid to hold her ground if she thinks she’s right. And, as a result of her often being correct, she’s developed a bit of a stubborn streak to back it all up. As such, though she’s a reasonable person, she’s also not the most agreeable if opinions differ.

_{C h a r a c t e r S y n o p s i s}

Born and raised by a single father in sunny Los Angeles, Keaton went through almost the entirety of the public school track without realizing anything was amiss. After all, apart from lacking a mother and having to stop by a secondhand store every now and then, there wasn’t too much to differentiate her from her peers. The colorful spectrum of the large city left lots of room for her to find her niche, and she made a small group of close friends to whom she was known to be “clever and often correct.” From there, she flitted around, exploring the options available to her until she settled down with an interest in art. A few years experimenting in different mediums saw her tend towards sketching, and eventually her natural talent at replicating and expanding upon existing environments and the structures they held led her to fall in love with architecture, which seemed to come naturally to a girl who had an inexplicable way of knowing what would stand and what wouldn’t.

With her decent grades, Keaton moved easily into community college, transferring into a four-year institution her second year. It was around this time that Keaton first realized that perhaps the ease at which she worked with concepts so difficult for others was unnatural. In her classes, a good design needed calculations and proofs that the structure would hold up under its material weight, but Keaton could forego all the math and work on instinct alone. Unlike her peers who designed and redesigned after painstakingly calculating and mapping out every meter, Keaton never trashed a design, instead operating on a gut feeling that never failed her, never sent her trashing a sketch because the math didn’t add up. Realizing that what she’d always thought of as practiced aptitude was, in reality, perhaps the manifestation of a subtle power was jarring, to say the least. She did her best to go on as if nothing was different, as if no major realization about herself was now causing her to doubt every thought she had and action she took, and she lasted all of two months before she finally broke down and called home, hoping to confide in her father. One call was all it took for her to tell her father, and one hour was all it took for people in uniforms to show up at her door.

_{A b i l i t i e s & S k i l l s}

_//Abilities:

Superhuman Ability | Intuitive Certainty

There’s intuition, and then there’s Keaton’s brand of intuition. “Large logical leaps” would be the easiest way to describe it, but her stream of reasoning is often more like bounding through guesses with blind certainty that’s anything but blind. She intuitively knows which answers are right and wrong based on a gut feeling driven by her power. This comes as a strong hunch that she’s correct, and Keaton has learned to trust such hunches. In this way, her power lends her a Sherlock Holmes level of deduction, and though she doesn’t have the database of knowledge to back it up, she still connects dots with supernatural ease, knowing exactly when she’s correctly deduced something. Instead of thinking something seems likely, Keaton is able to conclude that her assumption is true when she has enough of a foundation to back up her guesses.

For most of her life, Keaton has used this part of her power almost automatically, subconsciously tapping into it to allow her to go about daily life knowing instead of guessing at small things. When she focuses her power, though, she’s able to slightly stretch their limits by forcing a connection between fewer points of information. In addition, actively tapping into her power enables her to stack her intuitive answers, basing one off another if they are well-connected enough, and it also allows her to act as a rudimentary lie detector. Since her power tells her if something she guesses at is correct, if she’s unable to feel a hunch, that means that either her guess was wrong or she lacks sufficient information. While she always needs some form of proof to base her answers on, body language and facial expressions can be enough for her to attempt to tap into her power to read a situation, and at times it can be enough to check for lies as well.

Limitations | Knowledge and Energy Requirements

Keaton’s power is limited by her knowledge. That is, if she doesn’t understand or know how a black hole works, no number of science fiction theories will allow her to guess at how it works. While she’s able to consider possibilities like any other person, her power requires a minimum amount of facts to support the new facts it arrives at. Because of this, Keaton is required to be able to call to mind the knowledge she’s drawing upon, which means that her power is also limited by her memory. And, since her memory is at best a sharper level of normal, she usually relies on getting and working off new information rather than trying to draw from what she knows. Thus, her power is most effective when she’s being fed information to processes on the spot.

Though Keaton can sidestep some knowledge requirements by actively tapping into her power, she’s forced to expend a lot more energy this way since whatever doesn’t come naturally probably isn’t going to come easily either. Overuse of her power causes headaches and general nausea for her, which are usually temporary but can become more severe if she keeps going. Abusing her power can lead to permanent damage in the form of fried nerves, but her power will likely shut down or become nearly ineffective long before that happens.

Weaknesses | Deceivable, Human

Certainty is the biggest strength of Keaton’s power, but it can also be her greatest weakness. Her power draws logical conclusions based on existing proof, but if her proof is purposely misleading or wrong, she has no way of knowing. That is, her power provides confirmation, not context. If there is no answer, her power doesn’t work, but if the answer is vague or both yes and no, her power can lead her to a faulty conclusion. For example, if there are two murderers responsible for one victim but Keaton is unaware of this, she may posit that one of them is responsible but will have no way of knowing that there is a second murderer unless she has more facts with which to consider the possibility. Because of this, it’s possible to purposely manipulate and use her power against her since though her power can’t lie to her, it tends to count all grey area answers as correct. If Keaton chooses to stack her answers with a faulty one, she can be led down the wrong road or reach a dead-end where her power is unable to function. And, since her power doesn’t tell her whether it’s unable to proceed due to a lack of information or due to the assumption being false, she can easily be led to believe the latter is true.

Other than her power, Keaton is no different from any other human. She is as easily wounded as the next unsuspecting individual on the street, so other than some fancy dodge tactics or brain games, she doesn’t have much up her sleeves in terms of combat.

_//Skills:

• Sketch Artist | Like many of her peers, Keaton was interested in art long before she discovered her interest in architecture. As a bit of a purist, she prefers pen and pencil over other mediums, and as a result she’s often found with a sketchbook, taking pictures for future reference when paper is not immediately available. Though this hobby has been helpful for her aspirations, she’s put little time into it ever since college started, and she forgets whether she misses it or is just nostalgic about it. Nowadays, her sketchbook is mostly utilized for design-based sketches rather than creative ones.

• Conversationalist | With her powers and a father in the business of event planning, Keaton naturally got involved, and she’s quite familiar with talking, persuading, and negotiating with people of all sorts. It helps that her power clues her into the silver linings and unspoken wants very quickly, and as a result Keaton can be called gifted at making small talk.

• Natural Improviser | Having practice using her power in conversations to read and understand her audience also makes Keaton a skillful story-spinner. Fibber. Excuse-finder. Whatever the term and connotations that come with it, Keaton’s good at making things up for people, and she’s had lots of practice doing it. While she doesn’t enjoy lying, she has done it before, and she’s pretty damn good at it.

• Quick Study | Being highly intuitive and almost always correct in her intuitions means that Keaton catches onto most things pretty quickly. Though the extent of her abilities are limited by a lack of prior knowledge, in events when she’s given and able to retain the necessary knowledge, she can be incredibly fast at picking up new skills.

• Basic Architectural Knowledge | A short-lived college career in architecture has taught Keaton some basics about architecture, to say the least. It’s not much, but when supplemented by her power, she’s been able to get by well enough.

_{O T H E R}

N/A

The Promise - Second Star to the Right, and Straight on 'til Morning.

CS done, lemme know if there are changes to be made.

—Keaton—

Fire Emblem: Ashes of Sacrifice [Fall of the Empire]

@Sho Minazuki Two questions:

1) Are characters allowed to pick up weapons from npcs they kill? (ie can I have Branna pick up an axe)

2) If Branna's a flier and has experience in riding, does she start off at 0 level lance or level 3 like others who use weapons? And riding has no levels, right? So how exactly does learning/improving that work?