vietmyke

SPIRITUM

Act 1: In Which Strange Occurrences are Begot.
_Music

A battered military cargo truck haphazardly painted a dull gray-blue, its paint chipping off in sections, shuddered along the patchy stretch of highway around the ass-end of Rassvet. The truck bumped and bobbed while barely maintaining its bearings as each wheel on a side fell a pothole. Sparse civilization gave way to rougher terrain, tweedy tan grass and short, shrubby trees that bowed lazily in the breeze, punctuated by the occasional outcropping of chalky stone. Here, there was no sign of the war, just as there was no sign of civilization- other than the rare road stop with its typical fixings. Just some kids piled into an old truck that frankly should've been decommissioned years ago with a roaring diesel engine held together by little more than a few loose bolts and hope, hanging on by straps tied to the rollbars and sitting on their field packs and cases of beer as they headed out for one last howl at the moon together- A road trip around Rassvet, to visit all the places they hadn’t had the chance to before.

Then, after that, they shipped off to the dangerous and very adult business of war. After a decade together, training, eating, fighting, annoying one another, it was almost strange to be apart, since they knew they were going to be broken up from Barghest Squad into replacements for various depleted WARDEN outfits on the front.

_Brrcaa^chh_nnkk

The truck lifted several inches off the ground and the radio scratched, throwing booze and bodies into the air for a brief moment as the truck collided with another pothole at approximately 70 miles per hour. There was another collective round of light-hearted groans as the truck bounced again for what must have been the fifth time in the last 15 minutes.

“For fucks sake, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you were trying to hit every damn hole on the High Road.” Gerard grumbled irritably, his hand banging on the back of the more or less open cabin of the actual truck. Gerard was sat uncomfortably in the back of the truck with the rest of the squad, his dark hair whipping around his face as they had pulled off the tarp for some light and air-flow in lieu of air-conditioning. The sights of the countryside were beautiful to behold though, even for a city slicker like him, if a bit barren. Some passing Wyverns were viewable in the far distance, a flock of a dozen dark-green ones flying out west away from the more occupied lands of Rassvet.

In the center of the truck bed- acting as a makeshift table was a squat crate with a board nailed to it, a big radio in the holding down one corner of a alcohol-stained road map of Rassvet, the other corners held down by a knife, a half drunken bottle, and a few decks of cards that were each likely missing at least one or two cards. Glancing at the map, they were probably less than a half hour away from the nearest rest stop- a small town called Sapple Springs.

“Whose bright idea was it to let Kali drive?” Gerard remarked offhandedly, loud enough for the front of the truck to hear as well as he tossed a bottle of whiskey across the bed of the truck, telekinesis hitting it a moment later to guide it to the next open, waiting hand. Meanwhile, light rock and radio talk show phased in and out throughout the truck amidst crackling static, as the shaking shifted the already wobbly dials on the radio.

"-nd welcome back listeners of RPR and our continued coverage of the Vangar Conflict! There was hard fighting around the border town of Calty yesterday between Vangar and Rassvet forces in the current push to secure Fort Kelgrav. Brave Rassvet soldiers held out for several hours of fighting before making a tactical retreat to the neighboring town of Erret. On the Coastal Front: A supply carrier was sunk in the early hours of the morning a few miles off from Costa Del Sol by what appeared to be a Vangar Navy submarine. And in more hopeful news, Imperial Princess Colette Van Skymning, the youngest daughter of Emperor Léonard Van Skymning of Vangar arrives in Orestia late tomorrow as part of a peace delegation. Hostilities are set to temporarily cease at midnight tonight in preparation for said arrival. More on those talks within the hour."

”Don’t believe that for a second.” Gerard mocked the radio aloud, more to himself than anyone in particular, his hands already reaching for the radio dials. There was a sharp crack as he slapped the radio like one would a misbehaving child and the tune eventually shifted back to the light rock station. Gerard's sentiments weren’t new or uncommon- many, especially within the WARDENs, were rather skeptical about the idea of these peace talks having any particular effect, especially when up against a nation such as Vangar. As one of their own had so eloquently put it: Peace was a hard thing to work out when one country wanted complete and utter dominion over the other.

Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

Galahad Caradoc & Ranbu no Izayoi

As the party returned to the lodge, Izayoi shot Galahad a pointed look, inclining her head towards the roof access. When both of them made it to the small terrace atop the building, she turned to face the dragoon, her mien unreadable.

”Well, then?” She asked, her voice quiet. ”What your father said is most likely true. I do not recall killing a Caradoc during the war, but I would not be surprised if it had occurred. Knowing this, I offer you the opportunity to seek vengeance. It would be remiss of me not to.”

One hand fell to rest on her sheathed blade.

”This is the easiest opportunity you will have. Prior to this, I have not so much as touched a sword since the war’s end. I have not been weaker in the field since I was but a girl. If you seek to exact restitution, take it now or face a far greater challenge in the future. I do not intend to stay in this state.”

”Right to it, huh?” Galahad sighed, his grip around the haft of his halberd tensing. Lying didn’t seem to be in Izayoi’s wheelhouse, she was at her weakest, and Galahad was still young and strong. If he truly wished to avenge his brother, now was the time.

”I don’t even know how he died.” Galahad grunted bitterly, ”He was a healer, not a fighter.”

Were they to come to blows, Galahad wasn’t exactly sure how it would pan out. Izayoi was a duelist by nature, suited to killing people in exactly this sort of situation. Galahad, while having seen his fair share of bloodshed during the war, was at a disadvantage in this sort of combat. Dragoons were trained to kill dragons after all, not people, as the large reach of his halberd might have indicated. Still, Galahad wasn’t a stranger to a fight, his mind briefly running through ways he might be able to fight the samurai and come out alive.

”I guess there’s no sense in asking if you have any remorse. It was a war after all, and strictly speaking, we aren’t exactly friends.”

”I have made my feelings on the matter of the war excessively clear.” Izayoi confirmed with a nod. Her thumb slid up against the hilt of her sword. ”I will not apologize for a single death I was responsible for five years ago, but I do carry remorse for the situation. You may not believe that I regret that they were necessary, but the matter was life or death in our case.”

It felt almost freeing to admit that to someone again. Isshin had known of the matter, but Izayoi had never brought it up more than a few times when the guilt grew too much to bear, not wanting to burden her spouse overmuch with her own problems. But either way, one of them wouldn’t be leaving this conversation alive, barring a miracle.

”If the gods dictate that this is my final sentencing for my crimes, better I die by your hand than your father’s. My sole regret in this matter is that he will derive some measure of satisfaction from this.”

There was a moment of quiet, only still wind between the two. Galahad let it stand for a moment longer, the only sound breaking the silence was the creaking of metal as his gauntleted hand clenched at his weapon.

”I wasn’t old enough to understand the politics of the war. Just old enough to fight in it.” Galahad admitted quietly, ”As was my brother. The fool had barely come of age when the war started.”

The great halberd lifted off the floor, Galahad deftly, but slowly turning the weapon in his hands before he brought it down onto the floor with enough force to pierce the stonework and lodge the speartip into the stone.Not exactly turning his back to the Osprean, but turning away, Galahad took a few steps away, leaning against the railing staring at the mountain ridge that separated them from Osprey.

”I’ve come to understand some of the burdens of leadership.” Galahad awgrunted tiredly, ”The needs of my people have to come first.”

”Perhaps I’m a fool for this- but we have to stop this curse first and foremost. To do that, I need strong allies, and frankly, I don’t trust the other parties to get anything worthwhile done.” Galahad said, his tone even, with a hint of bitterness, obviously attempting to calm itself, ”If and when we’ve put a stop to it, and I find the need to avenge my brother, well, hopefully I’ve improved more than you have by the time we’ve finished.”

Ah. Galahad was reasonable. Something she wasn’t. At the very least, Izayoi hadn’t chosen poorly when she’d nominated him to be the party leader two nights ago.

”A part of me is disappointed that this will not be my final judgment.” Izayoi said calmly, removing her hand from the scabbard of her sword. ”Though I suppose I ought to thank you for giving me leave to continue pursuing mine own vengeance. As I said before, so long as our interests align, you have my sword. And I believe we’re both very aware that they’ll likely stay as such.”

She turned towards the direction Galahad was facing, following his gaze. Home wasn’t so far away now. Or what was left of it, at least.

”Still, in the event that our interests are no longer mutual, my offer to you remains open. I trust we can keep our matters professional otherwise?”

”You are, perhaps, worryingly candid about what amounts to a duel to the death.” Galahad commented uneasily, ”But yes, things will remain as they are.

”I have little to live for these days.” Izayoi replied blithely, turning to head back down into the lodge. ”If the gods decree that I am to die, better it be at your hands than Valheim’s, much less your father’s.”

SPIRITUM

@Dead Cruiser how goes things? Any updates?

For the rest of us, I plan on getting us started relatively soonish!

SPIRITUM

Alrighty folks, just cannibalizing one of my old servers, but here's a discord

SPIRITUM

@Dead Cruiser sounds good! Seems like the training squad will be a veritable guerilla unit of its own. Nice art nowadays is indeed a pain to find.

@Vertigo More misfits for the mayhem, looks good! Go ahead and move her over

Everyone should go ahead and start deciding what sort of relationships they want to have with each other while we're waiting for the last few of us to join. I guess that also begs the question, do people want to keep OOC chatter to this OOC thread, or should I boot up yet another discord channel and clog up everybody's likely already crowded discords?

@WXer sad to see ya go if that's the case, but best of luck to ya!

SPIRITUM

@Vertigo WARDEN battlemages unlike regular mages are still trained soldiers. They are generally more than physically capable, especially compared to your standard soldier, but not as much as more physically inclined WARDENs. They're also versed in things like rifle marksmanship, hand to hand combat, etc at least to the level of a regular soldier

As far as power scale goes, something akin to a DnD cantrip that a battlemage can expect to use regularly like a 'basic' spell, would be shooting a small bolt of fire or propelling a chunk of metal with the force of a bullet. Generally, imagine Battlemages to be the WARDEN equivalent of Anti-Tank soldiers or a one-man mortar team, you can blow up a tank or a small building with a decent amount of effort, and if you really tried you can cause an amount of destruction akin to a heavy artillery piece or missile.

A WARDEN battlemage will typically supplement their niches with a variety of other spells and abilities, they can feasibly dabble a little bit in everything since they have the Mist capacity for it- but its generally a less practiced ability. They probably took a basic course in stuff like healing magic or barrier creation, but it isn't their focus.

SPIRITUM

@OwO another maladjusted malcontent to add to the party. Definitely fits for a leader role in our group of misfit headcases. For reasons that may come up in the RP, I will need her legal last name, even if she refuses to acknowledge it, edit that in- or PM me, and then consider Justice good to go!

@Yankee the unfortunate son returns. Are the party aware of his true identity, or is he still Lance to them? Surely nothing bad can happen from fraudulently entering the wrong son into the state super-soldier program. Accepted!

The Envenomed: Military Science Fiction Deniable Operations

ECHO DOMAIN - PLATFORM #2884

Report. Gunship elminated. came the mechanical voice of Echo through the squadnet, crackled and distorted from all of the interference occurring on the battlefield. Moments later, a flurry of point defense beams raked across the sky in an attempt to intercept the last bits of incoming ordnance. Unfortunately for Echo, having just fired its main cannon, its energy capacitors had yet to resupply the energy needed for full powered beams, striking down only one of the incoming missiles as the other two landed squarely into its armored carapace, sending shards of metal plating flying in what would've been deadly patterns had any of its squad mates been close to the warform. As the smoke cleared, sparks flew from the base of the Unztadtlige's cannon, along with some wicked looking scoring across its 'faceplate'. Luckily for Echo, its main hub in the Endoform was safely out of the Warform's 'skull'.

Unfortunately for the Endoform, it clocked a pair of missiles on a trajectory towards it. Unlike the massive Warform however, the Endoform was mobile and nimble- not quite as maneuverable as dedicated infantry, but a hell of a lot faster in a footrace. Dirt kicked up as the Endoform sprinted for cover, diving and rolling as a pair of explosions vaporized the ground just behind him, blast wave and shrapnel scoring its side, but leaving little more than cosmetic damage to its plating. The Warform was not so lucky- while not out of the fight quite yet, the missile strikes had damaged its lateral motor, meaning the Unztadtlige would have to rotate its head and body in place of the turret.

Damage report. Damage to main cannon. Mobility limited. Repairs needed. Be advised: Warform falling back.

There was no place for repairs until the battle was won however, and to do that, the Envenomed needed to sweep the board. The Warform began to back its way to their advance's relative rear, its remaining autocannon opening up to lay down a suppressing wave of semi-guided shells across the enemy position. It was not exactly out of the line of fire, but back enough that their direct threats would hopefully feel the need to engage with the more pressing matters first. Pressing matters such as the 7 foot tall, hulking Endoform, tearing through the tent with the remaining automaton and Ilshar- making an already crowded location suddenly increasingly crowded, the heavy Endoform caving in the robot's chest with a kick to send it to the ground, before swinging its heavy maul at the automaton's head as though they were at a casual driving range.

For good measure, in case it hadn't fully ceased functioning, the Endoform shouldered its maul and picked up the offending automaton, wrenching its ammo belt off of its body before tossing the robo-carcass in the general direction of the closest pack of infantry.

Report. Applying suppressive fire to enemy infantry.

SPIRITUM

@Psyker Landshark looks good to me! Gublades never go out of style. Accepted.

@HeySeuss I like Tony a lot, reminds me a bit of Setzer in that he's a big ole slab of muscle. Let me know when everything's finalized, but basically accepted!

I've also added my own character to the Char tab. People can either wait until everyone's been established to start writing relationships/impressions, or they can use my character for the first part of that section

SPIRITUM

Gerard Biserus

_{W A R D E N}

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Gerard Biserus

21 | 5'10" | WARDEN 3RD CLASS

_{A P P E R A N C E}

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Lean and lithe Gerard bears the appearance of one who is used to continuous physical exertion, without some of the bulk of his fellow WARDENs. His physique is in excellent shape, and his frame is akin to what might be expected of an athlete or career soldier. His olive skin is relatively unscarred and his jet black hair is meticulously maintained. Gerard generally wears well fitted, fashionable options, mirroring the style of most Orestian socialites, and regularly chooses style and fashion over comfort and practicality. A pair of crystal lens spectacles obscure light hazel eyes.

_{P E R S O N A L I T Y}

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Arrogant, cocky, self-centered, vain, these are all words used to describe Gerard, all with the air of a man constantly reminding others that "Your life is in my hands". Snarky and flippant, Gerard is a casually confident and self-assured individual, and while usually not the most outspoken, has a dim view towards cowardice. His casual demeanor is often mistaken for a lack of care and his aforementioned traits and often haughty attitude does little to change the opinions of others. He has a penchant for sarcasm, throwing snide jokes and platitudes around whenever he sees fit like a flip of a coin, but is able to take things seriously when needed.

Not quite as vapid and self centered as he portrays himself- though still some measure of each- Gerard does possesses a well developed moral compass, and is strongly loyal to those he cares about, though his tone and callousness might suggest otherwise. He's the first to appear and patch up an injured comrade's wounds, while still managing to make a quip or remark at their expense. He thoroughly enjoys creature comforts, but in dire situations will put the well-being and needs of others above his own- complaining about it the whole while. He cares deeply about those he would consider 'his own', in his own way of course, though one will rarely hear him admit such in open conversation.

_{B A C K G R O U N D}

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A Rassvet native, Gerard comes from what can only be known as 'old money'. His parents hold title, and are of vaguely noble birth, holding a ranking somewhere in the hundredths for the purposes of royal succession. The Biserus family are most well known for their established name as heads of one of the premier arms manufacturers in Rassvet, Biserus Forgeworks, producing everything from small arms to vehicles for the Rassvet military. While the Forgeworks itself is based out of the Aporia near the west coast, Gerard and his family live in the Capitol city of Orestia. Having spent his childhood in the lap of luxury, Gerard might've been destined for life as yet another rich, vaguely noble socialite had he not met the WARDEN criteria on the national survey. Somewhat unwillingly ripped from his rich and cushy life, Gerard and hundreds of others like himself, found themselves at the Citadel, their lives changing as they knew it as they began their years long service and training in the Rassvet military.

Adjusting to military life from such a height was a bit of a shock for Gerard, and he spent his first few years struggling to adjust to the strict regimen of the WARDENs. While his grades were always excellent, he took poorly to physical training, not hitting his stride until a few years in. It took several years, but eventually Gerard was broken down and reforged into something more proper for an aspiring soldier- though his attitude never really changed for the better, if anything his improved prowess made him even more arrogant, as he now had the bite to match his bark. His excellent control over mist and academic knowledge made Gerard a shoe in for the more magical disciplines of the WARDENs, and his aptitude with supportive magic cemented his role in the WARDENs support and battlemage corps.

Gerard built up a reputation for being a bit hot and cold- those that he liked, knew he liked them, and those he didn't like were also very aware of his disdain. Not quite a bully, but not above putting others in their perceived place either, Gerard surprisingly found himself getting along a lot better with what his family would consider 'common folk'. What they lacked in social disposition, they often made up in honesty, and Gerard found that refreshing when compared to the more politically minded students, whom he could never be sure if they were actually friendly, or just merely trying to gain ties to his family's businesses.

War on the horizon seemed to change something within Gerard, with the threat of Vangar looming over their shoulders, he seemed to throw himself wholeheartedly into his training and studies. Whether it was for nationalistic pride or just a desire to survive the coming days remains to be seen. In his last few years of training, Gerard seemed to leap and bound through the rankings, though still didn't quite make the cut for WARDEN 2nd Class.

Graduation came and went, and Gerard was now officially a WARDEN. The years of training had done a number to their training class, but they'd survived. With the business of war at hand, Gerard was all too happy for a break, and decided to join what few friends he made on one last trip together across the country, while they were all still whole.

_{C O M B A T}

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Combat Class:
Combat Support/Battlemage

Combat Style:
Though lacking in bedside manner, Gerard joins his team in combat as a dedicated Combat Healer. A deep capacity to manipulate mist- competing with even some dedicated battlemages, Gerard is capable of tending to even the most grievous wounds in the field, treating wounds with flashes of blue, healing flames. Short of regenerating lost limbs, Gerard is capable of tending to most common battlefield injuries, though more serious wounds require time and effort that a rapidly shifting battlefield might not allow.

In direct combat, while capable of manipulating most common low-level elemental powers, Gerard's preferred method of fighting revolves around using telekinesis to move and throw objects- and occasionally people- around. The concept is simple, yet effective, and consists of battering foes with all manner of heavy objects. Preferring to save a vast majority of his Mist capacity for healing, Gerard eschews sheer force for a more pragmatic and efficient use of magic, often taking to a fight with a pair of heavy, oversized gauntlets, or a barrage of tungsten pellets. Using his gauntlets to strike from intermediate distances, Gerard moves fast and strikes like a boxer, pummeling his foes with a cascade of lightning fast jabs with a pair of 50 pound slabs of metal.

_{R E L A T I O N S H I P S}

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Specifically, your character's general impressions/relationships with other player characters. This section can stay blank until characters have been accepted.

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