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Reborn in a Fantasy World, This Time I Shall...!

• Name: Yukimura Souji/"Sephily"
• Age: 19
• Gender: Female("what")
• Race: High Elf
• Appearance: Standing at roughly around an intimidating 139 cm.("Why do I have to be so short too?!")
• Personality: Souji is a studious person, but not the type to completely neglect his own free time. A fan of fantasy games and related media, he'd make time for them whenever he could in order to keep himself from burning out. Even after the accident, it's unlikely that Sephily will ever cease to approach things with that mindset. With that being said, it doesn't change the fact that her serious outlook leads to an easily exasperated personality. Her patience quickly wears thin when faced with foolish behavior or aggravating situations. While she deals well with complex problems in studies or in free time, she dislikes having to deal with stupid people and will vocally voice her displeasure. Due to her studious nature, it shouldn't be any surprise she takes well to things involving magic, commonly playing mage characters in games she enjoyed in her past life. Perhaps quite ironically, Souji's taste in female characters tended towards petite, surly types, which certainly adds another layer to her new form. Entirely embarrassed by this situation, she is unlikely to directly introduce her previous identity, though she's rather poor at hiding her awkward feelings about her new body. Why did she have to end up a cute girl, and why did she have to end up so short?! Why did she have to end up her type?!
  Regardless of her temperamental demeanor and awkwardness over her new body, Souji tends to try and do the right thing when presented with dangerous situations even if she might vocally complain about it. She has a habit of keeping new people at arm's length, and is likely to be embarrassed easily be close proximity to others for a variety of reasons.
• History: Prior to the tragic incident that claimed his life, Yukimura Souji's life wasn't particularly eventful. A capable student often sought for assistance with homework, he had a small number of friends that largely shared his own personal interests, and was able to maintain his own hobbies while succeeding well in his class work. Perhaps this induced some jealousy in some of his classmates during Middle School and High School, but he didn't suffer much of the effects from such feelings. Having just recently entered university, he was convinced to visit the US for vacation and---
  Well, that's how things ended up this way.
• Level: 1
• Stats:
  • STR: 1
  • DEX: 2
  • MAG: 5
  • DEF: 1
  • RES: 1
  • AGI: 1
  • LCK: 1
• Skills:
  • Skill Name: Star Mirror
  • Skill Description: A living reflection of the world's stars. A special trait for a mage with an intrinsic connection to starlight. Normally, learning star-based spells would require study of the cosmos, but Sephily has a natural affinity for the stars. The School of Astromancy is a variant of offensive magic drawing on celestial bodies, particularly the stars. It is known for highly destructive offensive spells, with even the basic level spells being fairly potent in combat.
• Other: Souji's favorite light novel is The Elf Mage Doesn't Approve, about a petite and tsundere elf mage and the protagonist's difficulties with her.

Reborn in a Fantasy World, This Time I Shall...!

• Name: Yukimura Souji/"Sephily"
• Age: 19
• Gender: Female("what")
• Race: High Elf
• Appearance: Standing at roughly around an intimidating 139 cm.("Why do I have to be so short too?!")
• Personality: Souji is a studious person, but not the type to completely neglect his own free time. A fan of fantasy games and related media, he'd make time for them whenever he could in order to keep himself from burning out. Even after the accident, it's unlikely that Sephily will ever cease to approach things with that mindset. With that being said, it doesn't change the fact that her serious outlook leads to an easily exasperated personality. Her patience quickly wears thin when faced with foolish behavior or aggravating situations. While she deals well with complex problems in studies or in free time, she dislikes having to deal with stupid people and will vocally voice her displeasure. Due to her studious nature, it shouldn't be any surprise she takes well to things involving magic, commonly playing mage characters in games she enjoyed in her past life. Perhaps quite ironically, Souji's taste in female characters tended towards petite, surly types, which certainly adds another layer to her new form. Entirely embarrassed by this situation, she is unlikely to directly introduce her previous identity, though she's rather poor at hiding her awkward feelings about her new body. Why did she have to end up a cute girl, and why did she have to end up so short?! Why did she have to end up her type?!
  Regardless of her temperamental demeanor and awkwardness over her new body, Souji tends to try and do the right thing when presented with dangerous situations even if she might vocally complain about it. She has a habit of keeping new people at arm's length, and is likely to be embarrassed easily be close proximity to others for a variety of reasons.
• History: Prior to the tragic incident that claimed his life, Yukimura Souji's life wasn't particularly eventful. A capable student often sought for assistance with homework, he had a small number of friends that largely shared his own personal interests, and was able to maintain his own hobbies while succeeding well in his class work. Perhaps this induced some jealousy in some of his classmates during Middle School and High School, but he didn't suffer much of the effects from such feelings. Having just recently entered university, he was convinced to visit the US for vacation and---
  Well, that's how things ended up this way.
• Level: 1
• Stats:
  • STR: 1
  • DEX: 2
  • MAG: 5
  • DEF: 1
  • RES: 1
  • AGI: 1
  • LCK: 1
• Skills:
  • Skill Name: Star Mirror
  • Skill Description: A living reflection of the world's stars. A special trait for a mage with an intrinsic connection to starlight. Normally, learning star-based spells would require study of the cosmos, but Sephily has a natural affinity for the stars. The School of Astromancy is a variant of offensive magic drawing on celestial bodies, particularly the stars. It is known for highly destructive offensive spells, with even the basic level spells being fairly potent in combat.
• Other: Souji's favorite light novel is The Elf Mage Doesn't Approve, about a petite and tsundere elf mage and the protagonist's difficulties with her.

Reborn in a Fantasy World, This Time I Shall...! (Interest Check)

Hello I'm here.

Qlippoth Shift: A Supernatural Action RP About Combating Otherworldy Anomalies

This wasn't just a force of Sengoku-era military phantoms any longer. The appearance of the komainu made that clear enough. Just what was this samurai ghost here for? Not only were his efforts seemingly entirely defensive, but on top of that the use of the two guardian dogs to bolster them meant that---

There was no further time to think it over. Arisa gritted her teeth as the enormous komainu bore down on her, jaws snapping as it lurched forwards.

Fleeing would only keep it chasing her, something she couldn't afford to do if she wanted to reach the samurai in time and deliver a critical blow. Even if it made all the other enemies vanish, she had to guarantee she could deliver that blow rather then being crippled or killed before she could reach her target.

So she'd take the legendary guardian head on. Quickly, efficiently, and without wasting a single moment!

Magical energy poured down the redhead's arms, flowing down her fingertips and igniting lines of light visible through her skin. She was forcing as much power into her arms, reinforcing her limbs as much as possible, as quickly as possible. If she didn't do this, she would almost certainly be injured just by what she was attempting.

In fact, Arisa wasn't sure she'd escape injury regardless. But she had to remove this obstacle as fast as she could.

Ifrit tore through the air, and found its target, slamming between the jaws of the komainu as they clamped down on the blade. Her whole body rocked, her teeth gritting as the impact reverberated up her arms and throughout her whole body.

She poured more magical energy through her arms, feeling like a fire was igniting inside of them. But instead, flames flowed across Ifrit's blade, the enormous sword burning brightly.

But she wasn't just trying to weaken the stone by superheating it. Doing some damage was ideal, but her real goal---

"Get out... of the way---!"

The enormous amount of magical energy pouring into her arms blazed even brighter, further light pouring down her limbs as she abruptly yanked her blade sideways, in a bid to knock the stone beast off balance or even cause it to topple over.

The instant she was attacked, the naginata-wielding spirit twisted her body, sending the soldiers following along behind her ahead as she spun in place. While she didn't respond swiftly enough to make a counter-attack of her own, she used the shaft of her weapon instead, intercepting the first strike and in the same motion leaping back to gain distance, before swinging the naginata down in an arc.

This close, it was clear she was markedly different from the other faceless phantoms, eyes, nose, and mouth visible, albeit still composed of inky darkness, beneath her helmet. Additionally, despite her proximity to the smoke, she didn't seem nearly as affected by it...

The hulking figure attempting to attack Agent Mae staggered, stumbling. A combination of the healer's smoke and the arrows striking its body was certainly having an effect, as the phantom was forced to stop its charge in order to adjust his targets, sweemingly aware it couldn't attack Agent Mae without being destroyed first.

Of course, this single moment gave an opportunity between the komainu's arrival for Masaru to land a well-placed shot---!

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

Fanilly and Cyrus Collab

“A-ah, er, yes, I was, I just… we’re done now, you see…”

Fanilly coughed awkwardly, scratching the back of her neck. Somehow, it was harder to talk to the founding knights when they weren’t trying to train. Faced with Sir Cyrus, alone, she found it a little harder to talk, a little harder to get her thoughts together.

Though, at least it wasn’t as difficult as with Dame Sescille.

Ah, that’s right. That’s what she wanted to ask about. Or perhaps it was more accurate to say it was one of the things she wanted to ask about. There were all sorts of questions running around in Fanilly’s head, and since these replicas of the founding knights retained all their memories it was the perfect opportunity.

Focusing on that question in particular, Fanilly took a deep breath.

“Is… is it true that Dame Sescille joined the knights like that? By being defeated by Saint Elionne, after collecting hundreds of weapons in duels?”

“Mostly true!” Cyrus answered, leading Fanilly on towards the kitchens, “It was only a hundred weapons. Still enough to cause us a little bit of a problem but not quite enough that Sescille could outfit an army on her own.

“See, the big problem after the captain had won was what to do with all the weapons she’d already collected. Most of the people that they’d been won from where nowhere in the area even if we could make Sescille give them up and she refused to consider it–she’d gotten attached and given every last one of them a name.”

The blond man quickly ducked his head into the kitchen and called out for… something meaty? It wasn’t a dish below their station, Cyrus had been a knight of the crown even before the Iron Roses, but it was definitely something out of fashion now. Then he took a seat, gesturing for Fanilly to sit opposite.

“So, we had a hundred weapons and a redhead that promised to kick up a fuss if she didn’t get to keep them, and no way to get them to their original owners. There weren’t even that many of us there!”

Fanilly wasn’t sure how to respond to that. It sounded almost like the behavior of a very ill-behaved child being told that they had to give a borrowed toy back.

“What… what happened next?”

He gave a shrug. “In the end, we just carried them back. We couldn’t hang around forever and there was no way Sescille could lug a bundle that awkward on our own. A hundred weapons is more awkward and pointy than heavy, after all.”

For a few moments Fanilly stared. A hundred weapons was still a lot, how did she even carry them all herself? Maybe she just stored them somewhere. At her camp, maybe? Beating a hundred people in single combat in a relatively short period of time after simply appearing out of no-where, too…

“Did… did she ever say why she did it?” Fanilly found herself asking.

She couldn’t help her curiosity, now.

“Oh, she gave some story about how it was to show up the nobility especially, and even the common soldiers in general, and it was probably true for a while,” the blond man shrugged, “‘Cept that by the time we showed up, she was just fighting anyone who came her way with a weapon. She probably just had way too much fun with it; I’m surprised anyone ever kept her on a leash after the captain disappeared.”

It wasn’t exactly a secret that Dame Sescille was a particularly aggressive person. But the idea that she had been fighting so many people just for the sake of her own amusement was stunning. It wasn’t as if Fanilly didn’t understand how duels that ended without a fatality were fun, but so many?

As far as she understood, it hadn’t even taken very much time for her to win that many challenges.

And yet—

“That… that makes sense, honestly, eh-heh…” Fanilly responded. Truely, base on what she knew about the knight, there wasn’t really any other explanation that made more sense than that.

“I suppose being half-Serokai might have motivated her at first, but after that…”

The Serokai were loosely-associated clans of hillfolk associated with Thaln’s northern borders, and the border between Velt and Ithillin. Due to some of their clans associating with historic enemies of these nations, it wasn’t exactly uncommon for all Serokai to be painted as ruthless barbarians.

Thinking through historical anecdotes she recalled, there was one that she hadn’t asked Dame Tyaethe about, one that was shrouded in enough mystery that many people weren’t even sure it had happened in the first place.

“Is it true you once faced down the Midnight Hunt?”

“Ahahah…” the man scratched his head, about the same time that their food was brought out. It mostly seemed to be meat, and bread, along with some sauce that was thick and sticky but at the same time not quite familiar. Not that it tasted bad, and he took a bite before continuing.

“It’s true, though the start of the story wasn’t a heroic one. The Hunt had been seen around the Veldt border more often than normal but there were enough churches that it wasn’t a real concern. And what were you going to do, anyway?” Cyrus said. The Midnight Hunt–a motley assortment of angry spirits and the unseelie fey–was the sort of thing where one just had to survive, or seek sanctuary on blessed ground. “But Tyaethe and Sescille had been talking, and not just arguing about cultural grudges for once, and thought that trying to fight the hunt sounded like fun.”

Fanilly stared in mute silence for a moment. Putting aside the comment about cultural grudges, of all the reasons to face the Midnight Hunt—

“It sounded like fun?!” she found herself exclaiming. Certainly, she did enjoy dueling, that was something she couldn’t deny after her extensive training throughout her childhood. But at the same time there was a world of difference between that and facing the cavalcade of wicked spirits and unseelie fey that composed the Midnight Hunt.

“You have spoken to the shorty, right?” he laughed, “Really into slaying or driving off dragons, goes after big monsters all the time?”

“...”

Fanilly considered Dame Tyaethe’s demeanor for a few moments before responding.

“O-okay, you have a point,” she said, finally. If there was anyone in the world who would do such a thing, it was probably the diminutive vampire. And given what she’d heard about Dame Sescille, maybe that wasn’t too shocking either.

Fanilly took a deep breath.

“But, what happened?”

“Someone had to make sure they’d actually run away if it came to it, so I volunteered to go along too. Sescille was happy, since it meant having more weapons available. We spent a while traveling and fixing some minor issues…” Cyrus continued, pausing for another bite, “... and then we found the Midnight Hunt.

“They actually seemed a bit confused at first. They’re a Hunt and aren’t used to their quarry looking for them for a fight. But it’s not like the Knights of the Hunt don’t know how to battle when it calls for it.”

The Knights of the Hunt; unseelie fey with bronze armour, too tall and lanky to ever pass for human, and eerily silent. Not quite the worst of their kind to meet in isolation, but when they all gathered together to form the majority of the host…

“It’s easier to fight back than you might think. The Nithyr tagging along think it’s hilarious to switch sides and ‘keep things interesting’, which at least kept things a lot more balanced. Of course, you’re also fighting fairies, so staying in any one place too long will give them a huge advantage. We spent half the night fighting and half of it just running before the wilds themselves overran us.

“At the least, those two were satisfied with lasting the night, even if we never managed to pin down Lord Rozenalt long enough to defeat him and end it early. Didn’t have to retreat all the way to a church, either, but I was feeling it for weeks,” he concluded.

Through a combination of historical and fictional sources, it wasn’t as if any of this information was all that surprising to Fanilly, at least in terms of the nature of the Hunt. It was relatively well-understood that the most numerous of the hunters were the Knights, though there were other beings making it up. It was well-understood that the Nithyr, the petite yet dangerous and unpredictable female forest-dwelling fey, would tag along with the hunt.

But—

“L-Lord Rozenalt?!” Fanilly cried out it shock when the story concluded.

The Bloody Lord Rozenalt was a stock figure popular as a villain across all sorts of historical fiction. Fireheart included him as a major antagonist. But there was considerable debate over if he was ever real in the first place.

The fact he was verifiably fought, the legend of his shade leading the Midnight Hunt actually true, meant—

“He really existed?!”

Memories of the vivid description of the Red Antechamber, of the Unshackled Men, and the Nine Honored Ones rose in her mind. All of them appeared in Fireheart, and all of them were considered part of the Lord Rozenalt ‘character’.
And on top of that, on top of their already legendary nature, Dame Tyaethe, Dame Sescille, and Sir Cyrus had nearly defeated someone she hadn’t even thought existed until now?!

“Well, the name, the armour, the antlered helm–those were real,” Cyrus said, having gone through his food at a lightning pace and now mopping up some of the sauce with the bread, “I can’t say how many of the stories about his life are accurate, he was a malevolent ghost by our time.

“Of course, that’s not to say there might be nobody around here who can tell you more. Erich Cazt is a bit too old for it, and you’d really want someone from Veldt or Ithillin anyway… you might be best off asking Prince Erion, he tends to keep track of everyone. Or Sescille, if there’s any warriors from around then, she’ll have fought them.”

Given how she already felt about speaking to the legendary founding knights of the Iron Roses, speaking to Prince Erion by herself felt like a completely overwhelming task. She couldn’t even imagine it.

But on the other hand—

Dame Sescille…

Her cheeks reddened. She’d already tried to circumvent having to speak with her for a few reasons.

Taking a deep breath, the Knight-Captain tried to steel herself.

“R-right, thank you, Sir Cyrus,” she began, “I-I’ll… I’ll ask D-Dame Sescille!”

“Don’t worry, she won’t bite. Probably. Unless you ask?” the blond man said, laughing and ruffling Fanilly’s hair… well, as much as her hairstyle allowed for it, “You can come find me as much as you like.”

…

At least, if nothing else, Sir Cyrus really did feel like a comforting presence. No wonder Dame Tyaethe liked him so much. No wonder all the stories spoke about him like that.

Fanilly managed a slight smile.

“Th-thank you!”

From Realms Beyond — An Isekai Crossover RP (Now Accepting)

Youmu took another step back.

These disgusting things wouldn't touch her---!

Green light flowed up Roukanken's edge, shimmering and shifting along the youkai-forged steel as it illuminated the dark, damp forest. This had the unfortunate side effect of illuminating the sickly-looking paleness of the seething swarm of centipedes. It was spiritual energy, power radiating from deep in the core of her body and up her arms, heath spreading outwards and flowing over Roukanken.

It manifested not as a simple aura, but as a mystical extension of her blade, a green light nearly piercing the canopy entirely.

"Danmyouken - Meisouzan!"

The great flashing blade of light was brought down in a single instant, and in that one blow dozens of centipedes were severed apart, their fluids vaporizing on contact with the light coating Roukanken.

And then in nearly the same instant, the light was gone.

By their combined efforts, it seemed as if nearly the entire centipede swarm had been wiped out, only a few stragglers seeming to remain. Youmu took a deep breath, relaxing. While she wasn't frightened of creatures like this, they were still disgusting. Not only that, but such a great presence of centipedes simply couldn't mean anything good at all.

However---

Remilia brushing aside the leaves would make a particularly gruesome discovery. The general sent of rot, decay, meat, and wet plant matter combined together would have made it difficult to detect before, but the carcass of another boar was present.

This one was far fresher, but also almost entirely stripped clean of meat, only glistening strips of red remaining on its stained bones.

Perhaps more importantly was the creature crawling over it.

It was enormous, at least fifteen meters in length, its segmented body glossy black but with a crimson head. Its bloodstained mandibles clicked, antenna twitching as it scuttled over the bones, surging forward directly at the diminutive vampire and the others beyond.

And there was another sinuous, chitinous form already emerging from the darkness of the forest beyond it.

"Th-there's..."

Youmu trailed off slightly, half in shock as her feet swiftly left the ground.

But this explained the bodies, and the bite marks. The ones they'd killed so far weren't even adults---!

@Izurich@Raineh Daze@PKMNB0Y@Lugubrious@EchoWolff

Qlippoth Shift: A Supernatural Action RP About Combating Otherworldy Anomalies

@Nyahahameha: Oh jeez forgot to look at this again I'm sorry.

I'll get to it tomorrow!

Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

It appeared as if she'd arrived just at the tail end of the battle. The other combatants were strong, Valheim's troops fled from them just like that...!

It was kind of exciting, at least as far a Robin was concerned, but things didn't seem so straightforward. Some of the others had already been working together, while others stumbled across the scene just as she had. It was a varied group of people, to say the least. It seemed as if the others who were introducing themselves to begin with were the other newcomers, like herself. At first she'd wanted to go ahead immediately, but after a moment Robin decided to let the others go first.

Not only was it more polite, but all eyes would be on her if she went towards the end. The two men appeared to have come here together. For a moment, she wondered if they were after the same bandits she had been, but apparently that wasn't the case at all.

The Mystral girl was seemingly incredibly shy, and in search of her brother. As far as she knew, given their culture, such situations weren't terribly uncommon. At least insofar as separated siblings went.

Naturally, it only made sense to assist her goal as well. A hero would never turn her back on anyone who was in need, after all.

But also there were some legitimate war heroes here?! She hadn't even realized until now, but Galahad the Dragonslayer?! Not to mention, was that seriously----

Robin took a deep breath.

No, no, now wasn't the time. She had to make a strong impression!

Heroes always made strong impressions, after all.

Rising to her feet with a flourish, Robin bowed deeply with her right arm crossed over her chest.

"I am Robin Fey, Hero and Adventurer! Wherever evil arises, I too shall appear to deliver justice!"

With her bold decoration, Robin straightened and swept her cape to the side.

"I came here in search of bandits reportedly plaguing the people of this region, but it seems they may already have been dealt with," she continued, "However, be it Bandits or Valheim's would-be conquerors, the blade of justice never rests!"

It wasn't just her dramatic manner of speech, nor the way she swept her right hand aside and made her cape flutter once again. No, the fact that Robin had made herself literally sparkle must have only added to the vision. Tiny lights winked in and out of existence around the uniform-clad girl.

Her appearance and manner of speech, however, may have made it difficult to realize she was a girl in the first place, given her androgynous looks.

Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

She'd accepted the request. It was only natural, she was an honorable and just hero. The sort of person who would never turn down an opportunity to assist others. She would complete a task given to her by those in need with a flourish and a bow.

Only...

While she knew the bandits supposedly lingered around the border, that left a lot of places for her to look. And so far, her exploration had been fruitless.

Thankfully, she had plenty of food and ways to keep herself and her outfit pristine. It wouldn't do to show up looking shabby, after all, even if it was only the people she was meant to put and end to that would see her.

Supposedly, they were holed up in the remains of an abandoned village. It was likely something terrible happened there, but now it was only lingering remnants of whatever tragedy had occurred.

Robin didn't like to think about the past of such a place. But it was the duty of a hero to ensure such tragedies didn't occur again, even if that meant simply taking care of bandits who had been raiding innocent farmers and others who were unable to properly defend themselves.

However---

This was not the bandit camp she was expecting.

There was indeed a ruined village, that much was certain. It looked as if it had been abandoned for a considerable amount of time, as well. But it wasn't unoccupied now.

Far from it.

There was a battle. A furious clash between combatants who... well, some of them she didn't really recognize. But she could tell who the ones they were fighting were.

There was no mistaking the forces of Valheim.

Many people would have called it quits right there. Fled in order to preserve their own safety. It was a raging battle, after all. And it wasn't simply bandits, but soldiers of an enemy nation that sought to conquer the entire continent.

But Robin Fey was not simply 'many people'.

She held herself to a higher standard, one that told her that this could not stand.

While she couldn't speak of the motives of the other combatants, she couldn't allow Valheim to push their whims upon the land. It wasn't the job she was requested to do, but...

Well, it wasn't altogether different from taking care of bandits, now, was it?

A gunner leveled his weapon towards one of the enemies. No matter how outnumbered they were, an effort had to be made to kill at least one of them, after all.

However, he wasn't prepared for a pair of boots to collide directly with the side of his skull.

Skidding to a halt, through the aged debris that made of much of the town's remains, Robin drew her thin blade smoothly from its sheath in a flash as her cape fluttered behind her.

It was only natural that the gunner's fellows were stunned.

"Bandits or would-be conquerors, take note!" declared the amateur hero, "I, Robin Fey, shall not simply allow you to do as you please!"

It was a disorganized attack that followed, a soldier's steel blade lashing out to meet her as she only barely finished her introduction.

With a flourish, Robin used the edge of her weapon, grinding it along his own and guiding it away from her body, smoothly stepping close.

Before he could adjust, she had already, just as swiftly, thrust through his upper torso, aiming for the heart.

With one Valheim soldier knocked senseless, and another dead, Robin was already sprinting again, moving to avoid retaliation as swiftly as she could.

Staying on her feet was key to combat, after all.

Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

Robin Fey

"There's no need to fear. I, Robin Fey, have come to your aid!"

GENERAL INFORMATION

Name: Robin Fey

Age: 20

Gender: Female

Race: Sollan

Origin: Edren

COMBAT INFORMATION

Class: Swords(wo)man

Weapon: A spada da lato, broader then a rapier but still quite slender, for swift thrusting and slashing attacks. She also possesses a small side-dagger for emergencies, but prefers the far flashier and larger blade.

Inventory:

• Her spada da lato and dagger
• Potions
• Rations
• Travelling Kit
• Surprisingly Warm Cape
• Spare Clothes

Materia:

• Light(used to create flashes and bursts of damaging light along her sword)
• Cover

Limit Breaks: Flash Rose: A series of swift and near-simultaneous sword-thrusts, four in total targeting the upper right, upper left, lower right, and lower left of the target. The final strike is a vertical slash which briefly lingers as a shimmering line of light before bursting, the end result vaguely resembling a rose for a single instant.

PERSONAL INFORMATION

Appearance Details: At roughly 154 cm/5'1, Robin doesn't stand particularly tall at all. However, her slender build, taste in fashion, and androgynous appearance and voice all result in many who meet her to mistake her for a short young man as opposed to a young lady. Her high-speed and agility-focused swordplay techniques leave her athletic but not heavily muscled, possessing a very slim physique.

Personality: Robin seeks the adoration and attention of the masses. Not by being bard of great fame or other sort of performer. No, she wants her earn the adoration of the people by becoming a hero of the people. Possessed of a deep affinity towards heroic tales of ages past, Robin styles herself as a flashy and heroic figure, intervening whenever possible for the sake of the innocent. In her eyes, she can become a hero by helping others, by stopping those who would engage in wicked acts towards the innocent.

Confident in herself and her capabilities, Robin throws herself wholly into this mindset. When there are eyes on her, she conducts herself in a theatrical and flashy manner, practically impossible to miss. It isn't merely an act, however, this style of heroic figure is entirely who Robin aspires to be. Helper of the downtrodden, defender of the weak, and a shining figure who embraces justice.

However, when she's alone, it may become far more clear that Robin harbors doubts in herself she tries to ignore. Deep inside, a small part of her fears that rather then seeking to be a hero for the sake of others, she instead seeks to be a hero entirely for her own sake. Her love of praise and adoration certainly drives many of her actions. Is it possible that she's simply tricking herself into thinking that she wants to be a hero for genuine reasons?

Regardless, Robin loves stories of heroism, and is quite a gregarious and talkative person most of the time. Indeed, Robin dislikes being alone, and will become despondent when faced with loneliness. She prefers men's fashion, though this is at least in part because she is very self-conscious of her own appearance and believes she doesn't look good in more feminine wear. She is quite passionate about food, but is a terrible cook herself(much to her dismay).

While she will do her best to charm others, she is almost entirely oblivious to the affects this can have. To put it simply, anyone attempting to flirt would have to beat her over the head with it.

Biography: Robin's first clear memories were of being cold and alone. Not a single eye fell upon her. Few people acknowledged her existence at all. Clad in nothing but rags, she wandered aimlessly, dully, clinging to vague images of barely-remembered smiles. Despite her very young age, some part of her had long since concluded that she likely wouldn't survive much longer.

It was in this state of dull, mindless resignation that hope suddenly entered her life.

A man reached out to her and took her hand, picking her up in his remaining arm, and bringing her to safety. Over the next few weeks, he nursed the malnourished and nearly dead young girl back to health, giving her the first warm food she could ever remember tasting and tending to her various injuries.

Given this was the first kindness she could remember experiencing, beyond vague images of happy smiles, Robin's first words to him were wondering why he had done this.

The one-armed man never explained. He did introduce himself, however, as Ardor Fey, and continued to care for her. During this time, where she could barely leave bed, he regaled her with tales of heroes of ages past. Robin could only conclude that he was one of these heroes as well.

Over time, she grew stronger, and could soon leave bed and explore her surroundings. The small house that she had been brought to was just outside of a large village, where she would occasionally venture to run errands.

Having long since noticed the weapons and armor Ardor kept in his home, with the memories of the heroes of old and the adoration directed towards them filling her mind, Robin begged to be taught how to fight.

Reluctantly, he ultimately agreed, and gave her daily instruction.

With each day that passed by, Robin proved that she took to her adoptive father's training like it was practically her life's purpose. Each night, fantasies of heroism played out in her mind. Of the love and adoration of the people, of never having to face the cold and dark alone.

All these years later, those fantasies have never faded.

Ardor was not a young man when he saved Robin's life, and he had now become quite aged. But he didn't wish to halt his daughter in her desire to do good for other people.

He bid her to lead a life better then he had.

Robin took these words to heart. She would strive to help others, and make a name for herself. To earn the adoration and praise of the masses.

Following a vague trail of 'wherever she thinks she can perform the most heroics' has given her a minor name for herself, but only within a limited area. From chasing down criminals to slaying hazardous creatures, at least some people in the region may know the name 'Robin Fey'.

Traits:

• Prefers men's fashion, in part due to being self-conscious over her looks.
• The military nature of her outfit has no real significance, beyond Robin finding it to be flashy and cool-looking.
• Cannot hold her alcohol at all.
• Has a tendency to use her Light Materia to create small sparkles around her as she introduces herself or enters as scene.
• Criminally incapable of subterfuge, unless it makes her entrance more dramatic.
• Will always take the most theatrical route to doing something, though not to the point of impracticality. She was properly trained, after all.
• Her showboating nature is backed up by genuine skill, Ardor's teachings having instilled his techniques quite thoroughly into her while simultaneously encouraging her to develop her own style.

Relationships:

• Ardor Fey: A one-armed man, now entering his 70s, and Robin's adoptive father. Robin struck out on her adventure to make a name for herself at his urging. Appears to have some form of military background and considerable skill with a blade, but he never explained his origins to his adopted daughter.
• People of Ezta: The townsfolk of the village Robin and Ardor lived just outside of. They know her quite well, as she frequently entered the village to run errands.
• Various people in the Northeast of Edren: Having spent her time doing all she could to make a name for herself, a handful of people whom she has assisted or who saw her fight exist in various locations.