Xiro Zean

The Things We Fight For, A Science Fantasy Space Opera

Well damn, didn’t expect this much interest so fast, but fuck it we ball.

OOC will be up within the week. This is also my formal warning that when it goes up, players will have two weeks to draft up their sheets and post them. After the two weeks, or after I hit 12ish CSs (or whenever I feel like it’d be disingenuous to wait longer), I’ll cherry pick the ones I think I can plot story beats around and draft up a finalized group of around 6-8, but more than likely eight.

If you need me for more info if you’re interested, just write something in the forum. It’s 2 AM and I’m BEAT

The Things We Fight For, A Science Fantasy Space Opera

If you know, you know 😁

The Things We Fight For, A Science Fantasy Space Opera

The year is 3098, 286 on the Interstellar Calendar. Humanity has spread across the stars, settling on hundreds of planets in dozens of galaxies, exploring the cosmos far beyond what they once believed was possible... and combatting an enemy that threatens their entire species.

Aberrants, an alien force technologically evolved to annihilate the human race, corrode the planets they settle upon, using both the soil and the beings upon it as fuel for their unceasing crusade.

And yet, in a universe where the encroaching darkness seems set to consume everything, a light continues to flicker desperately to survive. Those willing to fight against it.

---

The Things We Fight For is a Science Fantasy roleplay (with some emphasis on “Fantasy”) centered around humanity’s struggles, both against the dangerous alien race and their own internal strife.

Players will be dropped in the middle of an intergalactic war as either a Constellation, a member of an elite force that use unique but sparce weapons to combat the most dangerous units of the alien threat, or a Pilot, members of the military that use mechanized units to protect their allies and annihilate their foes.

They face the Aberrants, a race of bio-technical, usually humanoid lifeforms that are both inexhaustible and numerous. Everything, from their infantry to their artillery, bases to ships, are sapient with various levels of intelligence, their military force greater than humanity's in nearly all aspects. Their dominance is possible through the Cores naturally formed in every Abberant, requiring fairly little in return for a high energy yield, powering their weapons, forms of transportation, and near-impenetrable barriers for their upper class soldiers that most forms of human firepower are incapable of penetrating.

Only with the use of a scarce anti-barrier material, utilized in the form of melee weaponry, can the elite force of humanity stand against them. Constellations. Prodigies among prodigies, talented even among the talented, they are a highly trained special forces that can battle toe-to-toe with the Abberant's strongest units, supplemented by defensive clothing that resists radiation from laser weaponry and technological augments that allow their bodies to perform superhuman feats. Some even possess abnormal powers, Anomaly, passed down through their bloodlines capable of phenomena beyond human comprehension.

Even with such powerful fighters at their disposal, however, they are only so many Abberants they can fight at a time. Specialized in one-on-one fights to terminate elite units, Constellations struggle to deal with the hordes of lower-grade Abberants that constantly get in their way. Pilots fill in this weakness, their mechanized suits both mobile enough to keep up with Constellations and equipped to mow down crowds of alien soldiers while also able to whether through enemy fire. Yet, without a Constellation to deal with the barriers on high-ranked Abberants, they are little more than heaps of metal, creating a symboitic bond of sorts between Constellations and Pilots.

Together, they engage the Abberant threat, clearing the path for the military to liberate the lost planets, and protect those still untouched by the persistent swarm. A light in the darkness, leading the rest of humanity toward a brighter future.

---

• Looking for around six to eight players, with a 50/50 ratio between Constellations and Pilots or leaning Constellations.
• Posts will be expected at least once every two weeks, with GM posts coming as soon as posting cycles are completed or the time period hits the deadline.
• Expect setting to be fairly bleak, with the situation in the alien’s favor at first, becoming more hopeful as victories pile up, and for victories to come at a price.

Pariah Online

Hustle

H U S T L E
H U S T L E

^{"Your mind was more fragile than your body. Where’s your determination to sink or swim?"}

C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T _________________________________________________________ C H A R A C T E R D A T A C H A R A C T E R D A T A _________________________________________________________ True Self Kei Takahashi Persona Hustle Pathos Thyrien Role DPS Weapons of Choice Katana and Magitech Sidearm Domains Wind Enhancement Manifestation Illusion Playstyle & Attitude Hyper Mobile Burst Damage; Hit & Run; Showoff

K E I T A K A H A S H I: S T A Y - H O M E N E R D K E I T A K A H A S H I: S T A Y - H O M E N E R D ________________________________________________________________________________________ Kei’s life could be summarized as easily as his living conditions, a solitary bubble where his only interaction with the world outside was through food deliveries to his apartment, strangers on the internet and the occasional work calls by his employers. The clacking of fingers on a keyboard and the hum of electrical appliances were the only sounds he was familiar with, his own voice foreign to him during the few and far between times he was required to use it. If pressed, he couldn’t even tell someone what he looked like, doing the bare minimum for personal upkeep and entirely focused on his hobbies. There was no decisive incident that caused him to shut himself inside, no traumatic or inciting event where he’d withdrawn from the world. It’s simply what happened after he’d graduated college, with no lasting friendships to keep him engaged nor family that cared enough to coax him out, Kei simply found no reason to leave the comfort of his home. Social interaction was a draining process, and while there were times he felt despondent over his lack of meaningful relationships, scrolling internet forums and conversing with fellow users was able to stave off the feeling. It wasn’t necessarily a fulfilling life, but with time it became his normal, and he wasn’t too hurried to change it. If there was one thing to remember of him, it was that Kei was a cinephile for western cowboy movies and antique media. Early into his self-imposed solitary confinement, he had been emailed a zipped folder of files accidentally by a client during their correspondence, which instead of holding required documents was filled with video files dated at least a century old. Though at first it was only curiosity that made him watch the first, interest pushed him to watch another, and soon he'd completed the whole collection and ask the client for more. Stories of a wandering hero, a lone gunman freeing a town and riding off into the sunset, the tense duels where a single quick draw decided the matter of life or death. For the bored shut-in, who had already forgotten what the sun's rays felt like, they were like an injection of morphine into his flatlining life, and he'd quickly become obsessed with the ideals and virtues of the western gunslinger. But in the recent years, another hobby had grabbed hold of his attention, and had taken over his life just as quickly. A VR Deep Dive game that promised a unique experience that no other platform could emulate, allowing the user to live a fantasy life as their ideal self. Spending his spare cash that did nothing but rot in his bank account, Kei quickly began to grind the game as soon as he realized it’s potential. Why watch a movie when he could live one? Going on larger-than-life adventures, not as a spectator, but as the protagonist. His already tenuous grip on the real world slipping away with each dive, it was a wonder that he still remembered to log off and feed himself when his body needed it. H U S T L E: L O N E W A N D E R E R H U S T L E: L O N E W A N D E R E R ________________________________________________________________________________________ Even in a world where you could live as the ideal self, Kei found many difficulties with overcoming his personal issues at first. Though his virtual body had none of the physical deficiencies he allowed to ruin his real one, the mental disconnect held him back, many of his first conversations in Pariah ending as the other party couldn't take his constant stuttering and inability to continue basic back-and-forth. His appearance couldn't make up for the deficiencies of the person behind it, and eventually he realized he had to change his approach. While he wasn't well-versed in the subject, his time surfing the web made him knowledgeable of the roleplaying hobby, and he thought of no better way to embody the ideal his mind had crafted. Using a caricature of a personality to distance himself by a degree from other people, it became easier to interact with them, and with practice it became second-nature to slip into the role of Hustle. Hustle was nothing like Kei. Kei was a nervous wreck who had difficulty looking delivery workers in the eye, someone who looked over everything meticulously at least five times before doing so five more, scared of even the slightest bit of conflict between people and unwilling to take risks. Hustle threw himself into problems without a second thought, bravely staring down both monsters and rival players with self-assured confidence, helping both NPCs and players no matter the risk before walking off toward the sunset. Emulating the western gunmen he idolized. Though of course, he couldn't completely shed who he was at first, breaking down into incoherent stammering each time he messed up a line or froze up at the sight of something even remotely resembling an altercation between people. It took him several days before he could meet someone's gaze without flinching, and even more to finish a conversation without making a mistake. But thankfully, the NPCs were almost more lifelike than regular people so he had ample opportunity to practice during side quests, and the more he divorced himself from the character the easier it became. Something quite easy when his appearance wasn't even the same race. By the time he'd fully developed the Hustle persona, it became simple to chalk up anything he did in the game as simply something he was observing. Like watching a first-person movie. But even after all his effort, Hustle settled with solo play more often than not. The personality he crafted was abrasive at times to other players, and no matter how good he got at faking his expressions, it was hard keeping up an act while being berated by someone who was annoyed by the archetypal quicks that came with his persona. Clearing dungeons took longer, and it took many weeks and nearly months before he figured out a playstyle that suited it, but eventually he began being known for completing content near entirely solo. With a flashy playstyle that looked good in replays, a unique themed attire adapted to the game's fantasy setting, and his strange internet persona he never let break while online, clips of his gameplay became viral on certain internet forums. Whether that be praising his highly technical gameplay, or as a warning to other players as to what an efficient but impractical build looked like. Yet, completely unaware of his own infamy, Hustle continued to play the game as he liked, living up to the fantasy of a person he couldn't dream of being in the real world.

---

Spells & Spell-like Abilities

Lonely Are The Brave
_{The centerpiece of Hustle's kit, a utility spell that allows the user to 'blink' across a targeted distance after a short delay, manifesting his own body at the new location by shimmering
out of and back into existence. With a half-second interval between disappearance and arrival within forty feet, increasing up to three seconds at three hundred feet, the ability acts as both an engage, evasion, and traversal tool for a variety of situations. While able to be used consecutively, and appear and activate even in mid air, he can only activate the spell five times in a row before requiring a few moments to recover from nausea or risk violent vomiting.}

The Long Riders
_{Hustle’s ability to create illusionary copies may seem meager at first glance, materializing shimmering facsimiles of his figure after a moment of concentration within a hundred feet of his line of sight. Their shapes clearly fabricated through magic, the clones’ true purpose is to act as an anchor or a marker, accelerating the process of Hustle’s teleportation to near instantaneous and orienting him in a similar manner to the clone. Effective they may be at the task, they are limited, fragile and transient, only three maintainable at the same time, dispelled by any reasonably strong force and only lasting for half a minute after casting before naturally fading.}

No Name on the Bullet
_{Using a fired magitech bullet as a focus, Hustle can channel magical energy to form copies from wind, turning one projectile into dozens to rain down upon a targeted area. Perfect for suppressing groups of small fry, pinning down a mobile opponent behind cover, or slowing down sizeable foes, but not recommended for use when friendlies are within the line of fire. Limited by the use of high speed projectiles fired from the user's position, as replicating the velocity and uniformity of other projectiles is difficult without a loss in effectiveness.}

They Died With Their Boots On
_{Utilizing a combination of magical and physical force, Hustle can lock down area by executing a sheathed sword swipe at maximum speed enhanced by the aid of wind magic. Powerful wind blades appear within the target red location, assaulting anything within it with several cutting blows with sharpness no different than his own blade. If centered upon himself, the blades of wind instead spread out in a small dome around his figure, repelling close-range opponents and defending from small arms ranged fire. To a lesser extent, the ability can instead affect his crossbow bolts, increasing their speed and subsequentially penetration power by parting the along the projectile's path. Difficult to use in quick succession.}

Lone Star
_{Hustle's dramatic finishing tool. Requiring a long channel time and complete focus, when given ample opportunity the activation of this ability wreathes his body and weapon in a magical coat of wind. In this enhanced state, his body is unfettered by air friction and his usual bodily limits, moving with magnified speed. The swings of his blade strikes multiple times, blades of wind following its course only a moment later, allowing the several seconds the ability is active to become a frightening whirlwind of offense. When the coat fades, however, so does the enhanced abilities, leaving him exhausted and staggered for an extended period of time.}

Character Feats

Keenly Perceptive
_{While never able to check if he was suitable for it in the real world, Hustle's situational awareness during gameplay has proven to be one of his strongest assets, never befuddled by what happens around him during the chaos of combat. Cognizant of everything that happens within his sphere of influence and within his line of sight, perhaps in part caused by his need to constantly keep up his persona, its difficult to catch him off-guard without ample preparation. Similarly, even when his abilities move his body in ways that would disorient most, Hustle is able to tell exactly where and how he's oriented at all times, keeping up his momentum without losing a beat.}

King of Frauds
_{Everything about Hustle's persona is a lie, one carefully crafted by the person behind it and refined to the point of being near unrecognizable as an act. Finding fault in what he says, no matter how ridiculous, is frustratingly troublesome, and figuring out his true feeling on matters even more so. Unless, somehow, the person doing so makes a crack in his guise, coaxing out the human behind the idealized cowboy.}

Obsessively Precise
_{Playing as he does is not easy, nor is it practical, requiring inhuman reflexes far beyond what most people are naturally capable of. Something Hustle doesn't have. He instead relies on observation and numbers to do the job for him, using rapid calculations to determine the speed of approaching variables and acting accordingly. Memorizing frame data or timing, analyzing habits, taking mental notes of everything he perceives until his reactions become terrifyingly similar to precognition without actually being so.}

Library of Random Facts
_{Incredibly cagey about facts about himself, Hustle instead fills the lack of a reasonable answer with incredibly specific, mostly useless trivia he learned while surfing the web. With nothing better to do aside from watching movies during his free time before Pariah, he'd collected so many ridiculously fringe facts in his brain that you could probably ask him about anything and he'd have something to say about it. From insect biology to nautical nomenclature and cultural traditions to space discoveries, he'll say anything if it means staving off any sort of personal authenticity.}

Xiro's Children

H U S T L E
H U S T L E

^{"Your mind was more fragile than your body. Where’s your determination to sink or swim?"}

C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T _________________________________________________________ C H A R A C T E R D A T A C H A R A C T E R D A T A _________________________________________________________ True Self Kei Takahashi Persona Hustle Pathos Thyrien Role DPS Weapons of Choice Katana and Crossbow Repeater Domains Wind Enhancement Manifestation Illusion Playstyle & Attitude Hyper Mobile Burst Damage; Hit & Run; Showoff

K E I T A K A H A S H I: S T A Y - H O M E N E R D K E I T A K A H A S H I: S T A Y - H O M E N E R D ________________________________________________________________________________________ Kei’s life could be summarized as easily as his living conditions, a solitary bubble where his only interaction with the world outside was through food deliveries to his apartment, strangers on the internet and the occasional work calls by his employers. The clacking of fingers on a keyboard and the hum of electrical appliances were the only sounds he was familiar with, his own voice foreign to him during the few and far between times he was required to use it. If pressed, he couldn’t even tell someone what he looked like, doing the bare minimum for personal upkeep and entirely focused on his hobbies. There was no decisive incident that caused him to shut himself inside, no trauma or inciting event where he’d withdrawn from the world. It’s simply what happened after he’d graduated college, with no lasting friendships to keep him engaged nor family to coax him out, Kei simply found no reason to leave the comfort of his home. Social interaction was a draining process, and while there were times he felt despondent over his lack of meaningful relationships, scrolling internet forums and conversing with fellow users was able to stave off the feeling. It wasn’t necessarily a fulfilling life, but with time it became his normal, and he wasn’t too hurried to change it. If there was one thing to remember of him, it was that Kei was a cinephile for western cowboy movies and antique media. Early into his self-imposed solitary confinement, he had been emailed a zipped folder of files accidentally by a client during their correspondence, which instead of holding required documents was filled with video files dated at least a century old. Though at first it was only curiosity that made him watch the first, interest pushed him to watch another, and soon he'd completed the whole collection and ask the client for more. Stories of a wandering hero, a lone gunman freeing a town and riding off into the sunset, the tense duels where a single quick draw decided the matter of life or death. For the bored shut-in, who had already forgotten what the sun's rays felt like, they were like an injection of morphine into his flatlining life, and he'd quickly become obsessed with the ideals and virtues of the western gunslinger. But in the recent years, another hobby had grabbed hold of his attention, and had taken over his life just as quickly. A VR Deep Dive game that promised a unique experience that no other platform could emulate, allowing the user to live a fantasy life as their ideal self. Spending his spare cash that did nothing but rot in his bank account, Kei quickly began to grind the game as soon as he realized it’s potential. Why watch a movie when he could live one? Going on larger-than-life adventures, not as a spectator, but as the protagonist. His already tenuous grip on the real world slipping away with each dive, it was a wonder that he still remembered to log off and feed himself when his body needed it. H U S T L E: L O N E W A N D E R E R H U S T L E: L O N E W A N D E R E R ________________________________________________________________________________________ Even in a world where you could live as the ideal self, Kei found many difficulties with overcoming his personal issues at first. Though his virtual body had none of the physical deficiencies he allowed to ruin his real one, the mental disconnect held him back, many of his first conversations in Pariah ending as the other party couldn't take his constant stuttering and inability to continue basic back-and-forth. His appearance couldn't make up for the deficiencies of the person behind it, and eventually he realized he had to change his approach. While he wasn't well-versed in the subject, his time surfing the web made him knowledgeable of the roleplaying hobby, and he thought of no better way to embody the ideal his mind had crafted. Using a caricature of a personality to distance himself by a degree from other people, it became easier to interact with them, and with practice it became second-nature to slip into the role of Hustle. Hustle was nothing like Kei. Kei was a nervous wreck who had difficulty looking delivery workers in the eye, someone who looked over everything meticulously at least five times before doing so five more, scared of even the slightest bit of conflict between people and unwilling to take risks. Hustle threw himself into problems without a second thought, bravely staring down both monsters and rival players with self-assured confidence, helping both NPCs and players no matter the risk before walking off toward the sunset. Emulating the western gunmen he idolized. Though of course, he couldn't completely shed who he was at first, breaking down into incoherent stammering each time he messed up a line or froze up at the sight of something even remotely resembling an altercation between people. It took him several days before he could meet someone's gaze without flinching, and even more to finish a conversation without making a mistake. But thankfully, the NPCs were almost more lifelike than regular people so he had ample opportunity to practice during side quests, and the more he divorced himself from the character the easier it became. Something quite easy when his appearance wasn't even the same race. By the time he'd fully developed the Hustle persona, it became simple to chalk up anything he did in the game as simply something he was observing. Like watching a first-person movie. But even after all his effort, Hustle settled with solo play more often than not. The personality he crafted was abrasive at times to other players, and no matter how good he got at faking his expressions, it was hard keeping up an act while being berated by someone who was annoyed by the archetypal quicks that came with his persona. Clearing dungeons took longer, and it took many weeks and nearly months before he figured out a playstyle that suited it, but eventually he began being known for completing content near entirely solo. With a flashy playstyle that looked good in replays, a unique themed attire adapted to the game's fantasy setting, and his strange internet persona he never let break while online, clips of his gameplay became viral on certain internet forums. Whether that be praising his highly technical gameplay, or as a warning to other players as to what an efficient but impractical build looked like. Yet, completely unaware of his own infamy, Hustle continued to play the game as he liked, living up to the fantasy of a person he couldn't dream of being in the real world.

---

Spells & Spell-like Abilities

Lonely Are The Brave
_{The centerpiece of Hustle's kit, a utility spell that allows the user to 'blink' across a targeted distance after a short delay, manifesting his own body at the new location by shimmering
out of and back into existence. With a half-second interval between disappearance and arrival within twenty feet, increasing up to three seconds at two hundred feet, the ability acts as both an engage, evasion, and traversal tool for a variety of situations. While able to be used consecutively, and appear and activate even in mid air, he can only activate the spell five times in a row before requiring a few moments to recover from nausea or risk violent vomiting.}

The Long Riders
_{Hustle’s ability to create illusionary copies may seem meager at first glance, materializing shimmering facsimiles of his figure after a moment of concentration within a hundred feet of his line of sight. Their shapes clearly fabricated through magic, the clones’ true purpose is to act as an anchor or a marker, accelerating the process of Hustle’s teleportation to near instantaneous. Effective they may be at the task, they are limited, fragile and transient, only three maintainable at the same time, dispelled by any reasonably strong force and only lasting for half a minute after casting before naturally fading.}

They Died With Their Boots On
_{Utilizing a combination of magical and physical force, Hustle can lock down area by executing a sheathed sword swipe at maximum speed enhanced by the aid of wind magic. Powerful wind blades appear within the target red location, assaulting anything within it with several cutting blows with sharpness no different than his own blade. If centered upon himself, the blades of wind instead spread out in a small dome around his figure, repelling close-range opponents and defending from small arms ranged fire.}

No Name on the Bullet
_{Firing a crossbow bolt into the air, the user manifests several magic copies of the projectile on the way down, raining down onto a targeted area.}

Lone Star
_{After channeling for several seconds, wreath the user's body and weapon in a coat of wind, increasing their speed and enhancing attacks with follow-up slices of wind. Lasts for several seconds before fading, leaving the user exhausted and staggered.}

Character Feats

Keenly Perceptive
_{While never able to check if he was suitable for it in the real world, Hustle's situational awareness during gameplay has proven to be one of his strongest assets, never befuddled by what happens around him during the chaos of combat. Cognizant of everything that happens within his sphere of influence and within his line of sight, perhaps in part caused by his need to constantly keep up his persona, its difficult to catch him off-guard without ample preparation. Similarly, even when his abilities move his body in ways that would disorient most, Hustle is able to tell exactly where and how he's oriented at all times, keeping up his momentum without losing a beat.}

King of Frauds
_{Everything about Hustle's persona is a lie, one carefully crafted by the person behind it and refined to the point of being near unrecognizable as an act. Finding fault in what he says, no matter how ridiculous, is frustratingly troublesome, and figuring out his true feeling on matters even more so. Unless, somehow, the person doing so makes a crack in his guise, coaxing out the human behind the idealized cowboy.}

Obsessively Precise
_{Playing as he does is not easy, nor is it practical, requiring inhuman reflexes far beyond what most people are naturally capable of. Something Hustle doesn't have. He instead relies on observation and numbers to do the job for him, using rapid calculations to determine the speed of approaching variables and acting accordingly. Memorizing frame data or timing, analyzing habits, taking mental notes of everything he perceives until his reactions become terrifyingly similar to precognition without actually being so.}

Library of Random Facts
_{Incredibly cagey about facts about himself, Hustle instead fills the lack of a reasonable answer with incredibly specific, mostly useless trivia he learned while surfing the web. With nothing better to do aside from watching movies during his free time before Pariah, he'd collected so many ridiculously fringe facts in his brain that you could probably ask him about anything and he'd have something to say about it. From insect biology to nautical nomenclature and cultural traditions to space discoveries, he'll say anything if it means staving off any sort of personal authenticity.}

Scion: The Prophecy of Anani

_{Interacting with @Hero as Asher | @Raijinslayer as Justinian | @McMolly as Ionna}

---

The ride through Riva del Garda was a fairly quiet one for the Scion of Fire, his attention turned inward even while his new Templar took in the sights as he began to mull over various strategies and potential problems in his mind.

Though hunting monsters was a paltry affair compared to what he’d grown used to over the years, a mission was a mission. For his first in a long while, he wanted to be certain that he was in peak condition, sound in both body and mind. While he had a mind to speak with the redhead hogging the window to get a better feel for his newest subordinate, by the time he was sure of his own acumen and prepared to address her they had reached their destination.

Theobald breathed in the open air, a bit of the constant tension that his body held seeping away as he exited the vehicle and entered the forward outpost. The sounds of preparation, the bustle of moving supplies, and the budding anticipation that bloomed in the hearts of those seeking to complete a mission might’ve brought a tear to the former soldier’s eye were he a weaker man. It felt like decades since he was able to stand at the forefront of a crisis, and though the company was with the knights of the church rather than his familiar battalion, he could hardly complain that he’d finally been set loose after so long.

There was no time to idle, however, as the group was led to the commander’s tent and brought up to speed, the problems slated by the leading Templar, Everett, shedding some light on the current situation.

“Theobald Gaumand. It is a pleasure.” Snapping a quick salute as the bare minimum courtesy required, the giant didn’t even hesitate as he began to request key information. “Sir Asher, I would like a sit-rep on the situation regarding these monsters. Their numbers, frequent spotting locations, and the nature of this aberrant behavior you have observed.”

There would be time to socialize later, though it seemed all involved but himself had previous ties before this meeting. He would need to speak with his Templar at some point for her to share her knowledge of the leading Templar at length. “We will need to know our current resources as well. Equipment, level of authorized force, presence of heavy weapons or anti-air artillery on site, whatever you have clearance to divulge. If we are to provide aid, it would be best to understand what we have at our disposal before coming to any pre-emptive conclusions.”

In the span of what seemed like a single breath, the Scion of Fire had spoken more in that tent than what most would’ve heard during the entirety of his stay and the church. But to him, it was simply what was expected. With no nobles to fetter his speech, the former soldier felt it imperative to get everything out of the way immediately.

The faster the strategizing could be done, the faster he could be sent to the battlefield. "Gardner. Any prior information about the behavioral habits of harpies you possess could be key to dealing with their new method of harassment. Speak."

Scion: The Prophecy of Anani

_{Interacting with @Hero as Lucas | @Raijinslayer as Justinian}

---

There were many ways you could describe Theobald as he stewed in silence, observing the meeting from his chair without a word after the Templar of Gravity had rebuked him. Despite being the largest person in the room, it was as if he took up the smallest space, ignored entirely by the others aside from his former templar who had served him a plate before joining the conversation proper.

Of course, the former soldier had many things he wished to assert to the people of power within his reach, but just as apparent was how little anyone other than those few lofty members of society could do. Just as others had spoken, not a single person in the room would be responsible for what Veradis, and Estora as a whole, chose to do moving forward. All of them, whether they be a prince or a layman, mere figureheads to be displayed in a glass case while the rest of the world made all the real decisions.

Though that didn't change the fact that there were people who shouldn't have been in the room, his gaze narrowing at the arrival of the new Scion of Lightning. He'd read the newspapers, heard of the commotion that occurred, saw the sensational headlines speaking of an upstart who thought he could make a dent in the impregnable church. Were the council among soldiers and not civilians, perhaps he would've been asked to behead the man rather than simply watch as the criminal sat and spoke among them as if he was supposed to be there.

Theobald didn't understand what the goddess' thought process could be, how she could allow what was happening upon her soil. A transgressor as one of her chosen, a child as the world's savior... and then there was himself, who should've been in places more suitable for him than this. It was times such as these that he regretted not staying in Veradis rather than move to Rodion. If he were more pious, deeper in the goddess' word and had followed his mother's wishes than the dreams his father had instilled in him, would he have been better equipped to understand what the divine wanted of him?

But regrets did nothing. He was who he was, and thinking of what could've been was a waste of his time.

So when the prince finally got to the point of the meeting and began delegating tasks, the silent giant made himself known once more, standing to attention when those present were called to speak. "I shall lead the charge against the monsters that have settled upon the border if that does not trouble you, Your Highness."

There were scant few he would trust on this endeavor, yet Theobald began to survey the Scions who hadn't spoken yet. Though they didn't see eye to eye that day, he would've wanted Edmund by his side as someone he knew could watch his back during a hunt, but there was no doubt the Templar would be following his Scion to Doumeric. Were it not for the fortuitous moment of Ionna being delegated to his side, he would've similarly asked for the Scion of Metal to join them, but with things as they were he couldn't expect a Scion not even a year into their time as one to keep up with conflict.

Yet even with that thought, he had a mind to request the prince himself to join them on the expedition. That small conversation he had with Prince Lucas, more than anything, led him to believe that experience was what the Scion of Time needed more than anything else. While the newly minted Scion had spoken otherwise, he was certain that the power of Time could be molded into a powerful tool against this unknown enemy. But of course, he wouldn't dare ask a royal to place their life on the line, so he didn't think about it for longer than necessary.

Which led his gaze to settle upon one man in particular, all the other Scions too green to teach how to hunt in such a short time frame. Someone who had spoken more than he expected them to that day, whom he only knew of through cultural osmosis and called out to in a military-like command that bore no uncertain terms. "Gardner. You are coming with me."

Scion: The Prophecy of Anani

_{Interacting with @webboysurf as Edmund | Mentions @Obscene Symphony@Scribe of Thoth@Hero}

---

The weeks succeeding the Millennial Ceremony were one of turbulence. The dead were buried, the people mourned, and the country became astir with uncertainty. For some, the atmosphere would’ve been tense, frightening even. What was thought to be a peaceful greeting of the new millenia had turned into the beginnings of a storm, and not many were prepared to greet it.

But for Theobald, the timing could not be better.

After the Templars’ second-in-command chastised him for his actions, the former soldier had kept himself scarce. Only showing his face when it was expected to do so, or out of respect for another. Perhaps it would’ve been surprising to see him at the Scion of Shadow’s funeral, his lumbering figure outfitted in his finest uniform, a strange sight when the two had never even traded a word.

Were it not for the Ceremony, he would have never shown up at all, yet he heard of the fallen noble’s attempts to protect the people and his fellow Scions despite the condition that would ultimately take the young man’s life. It was one thing to be a spoiled child who toyed with the Goddess’ power to save one’s self, it was another to fight for others while ignoring their own crippling circumstances. Theobald could respect that.

What he could not respect, however, was Irina’s complete rejection of his claims in the short time they had spoken, and it was her abject dismissal of his very being that gnawed at him in his times of solitude. There were many things she spoke plainly and true, spearing his desires so viciously it was as if he was still a young boy in Rodion’s training camps, but outright ignoring the true enemy to attack his character just because of an act of discipline drew a shadow of doubt over his war hero’s favored assistant.

A war was inevitable after the smoking gun of that ballroom incident, and no matter how much she wished to coddle the Scions, they would be dragged into it whether they liked it or not. A soldier among the targets the enemy thought to be docile sheep was a powerful weapon, and yet she’d rather dull his blade rather than sharpen it.

At the very least, the church had finally realized the error of their ways and taken away the reminder of his previous foe and replaced it with someone useful. Dame Ionna was someone he knew little of, but her brief display of dedication and strength was enough to draw his favor. Perhaps she could become the grindstone he needed to become a sword sharp enough to pierce this invisible enemy’s heart, rather than a shackle to drag him down into obscurity.

Unfortunately, during the weeks leading up to the meeting at the Scion of Time’s castle he hadn’t had a chance to test her mettle, but with his own free time he had polished his weapons. Returned to his former training regimen, not for retention and habit as he previously had, but to prepare for the battles that were on the horizon.

So when, at the table of conference, the talk of a war with Kaudus began to circulate, the former soldier sat at attention with a half-eaten cookie crushed within his fist. He did not attempt to speak, with the conversation being mainly between the royalty of kingdoms he did not dare, but it wouldn’t take a psychic to notice the tension in his corner of the room. Silently, his presence declared that he sided with the princess of Rosaria and the Scion of Gravity, and his gaze swept toward one of the few he thought of as friend.

He was unsurprised to hear Edmund’s take on the situation. The Templar was someone he thought to be of sound mind, cautious yet firm, unwilling to add fuel to a fire that could aid a third party. But in this scenario, he would rather have his friend’s support rather than allow Edmund to sit on the fence.

”Think of it as a hunting exercise,” Theobald attempted, not directly addressing the royals as that would be above his station, but speaking loud enough that they could hear as he spoke to the Templar of Gravity. ”To catch a cunning fox, you catch a rabbit. Dangle it in an open space and make it look tantalizing enough for the fox to bite, only to fall into the hunter’s trap.”

What exactly was the rabbit in this scenario was up to debate, but he wouldn’t be the one to speak on it. ”These ‘heretics’ have been silent, still and coiled waiting to strike. We have to draw them out of their den, and cut out their throat when they overextend themselves.”

Scion: The Prophecy of Anani

_{Collabing with @Obscene Symphony as Irina}

---

The cells below the castle were a relic of ages past, back when the castle was the only significant structure in Juniperus capable of housing prisoners. It was a hint at the true age of the castle, which was much older than the outward decor would suggest.

But, like the rest of the castle, the dungeons had been periodically updated with the times, even as their use became less and less practical. In fact, the castle cells would probably be considered luxury accommodations compared to most prisons. Their paneled walls and wooden beds, chairs and desks contrasted strangely with the steel bars securing their entrances - a nod to the dungeons’ oft-overlooked history of housing troublesome nobles rather than common criminals. But they saw little use; many cells nowadays had been relegated to storage, housing spare furniture and seasonal decor securely behind bars instead of prisoners.

It was to one of the still-operational cells that Scion Theobald was taken, placed politely inside and bolted in, with the same knights who had escorted him down standing watch either side of the barred door. Some time passed while he was down there - with no windows or clocks, it was hard to guess how long - before steps echoed down the hallway in his direction.

In the orange gaslight of the hallway, Irina stepped into view on the other side of the bars, hands clasped behind her back, her saber still glinting on her hip. She wore an utterly unreadable expression, although an astute observer would notice the subtle signs of fatigue starting to show. The slight squint of dry, tired eyes, the way her head lolled ever so slightly to the side atop her rigid spine; it was miniscule, but it was also about as much outward weakness as Irina had ever shown. It had been a long night indeed.

But her gaze was no less sharp as she eyed Theobald through the bars, looking him up and down like a new recruit before she nodded to the guards, one of whom unlocked the doors before they both departed.

Pulling the door open herself, Irina stepped inside the cell, sealing it behind her. She approached Theobald, somehow still looking tall despite the excess of a foot’s height difference between them.

“Scion Theobald, Your Holiness,” she greeted stiffly, the proper reverence hardly impacting her severe demeanor. “Forgive me, but I must speak freely.”

Then, without warning and almost faster than was perceptible, she slapped him across the face.

The force behind the blow was surprising, but aside from one quick shake of her wrist, Irina betrayed no pain. “What was that shameful display on Stern Hill?” she demanded loudly in Rodion, suddenly seeming like she’d fit right in among Rodion’s finest drill sergeants. Her voice reverberated down the hallway.

Though the soldier had been complacent during his arrest, the smack across his face not long after he had stood to greet the Templars’ second-in-command garnered a brief flash of anger across his usually stoic expression. So quickly had he returned to a dormant temperament that it seemed like almost a trick of the light, his rumbling timbre as calm as ever.

”A rebuke that, in retrospect, I should have kept away from the public eye. The same mistake shall not happen twice.” It was clear in his words that he did not regret the action itself even a little bit, but his head lowered slightly deeper than required to display his shame to keep his emotions in check. His mouth parted, as if to say more, but held his tongue as the strength in the woman’s voice brought back memories that felt like a lifetime ago.

A time when things were simpler.

This time, a quick glint in the light heralded another blow, an unexpectedly harder one to the side of Theobald’s head. Afterward, Irina held her scabbard aloft like a pageant rifle, speckled now with a taste of the Scion of Fire’s blood.

“Wrong answer,” she growled, her regimented tone coloured with a touch of foreboding anger, like something large and dangerous huddled beneath the surface of a pool. She returned her scabbard ceremoniously to its place on her belt. “What makes you think you have any right to strike a Templar?”

A muffled grunt released from the former soldier’s closed lips as his head turned to the side from the strike, Theobald facing the woman with a bead of blood dripping down his forehead, the skin above his brow opened by the scabbard. Even then, he showed no remorse, his gaze only a bit sharper than before while he stood at attention without attempting to wipe at his wound.

”It was an act of discipline.” Not even attempting to cover for himself, the man stood tall and proud, the idea that his actions were in any way dissatisfactory aside from the circumstances around them barely a passing thought. ”On the warfront, such things were necessary at times to keep unruly soldiers in line.”

“You are not on the warfront anymore,” Irina spat, meeting Theobald’s glare fearlessly. “You are not Dame Sara’s commanding officer, and she is not your subordinate. She is a Blessed Templar, an experienced knight and a member of our highest knightly order. She took a holy vow to protect you, yes - but she swore that oath to the Goddess, not to you.”

“Is what happened tonight not the first signs of war?” The former soldier furrowed his brow. “It is clear that the events that happened tonight were premeditated and by a force stronger than a mere rogue element. The infiltration of the biggest event at the end of the millenia is not a small ripple. It is the beginning of a wave I am most familiar with.”

It was the respect for the Commander that stayed his hand, kept him standing at attention rather than treat the second-in-command with direct scorn. There was a reason she was at his childhood hero’s side, and it was only that implied trust in the woman that allowed Theobald to subdue his emotions. “I do not need a babysitter. I need a soldier I can trust to do what is needed.”

“You are no longer a soldier.” Irina reiterated darkly. “What tonight's events will lead to is none of your concern. You are not entitled to play army and treat the Church’s chosen guardians as buck privates at your beck and call. If your actions tonight are any indication, you do need a babysitter. Maybe she can teach you to keep your hands to yourself.”

Irina tsked. “The guards who brought you down here are under instructions from the Veradis Police Department to bring you in on charges of assault. Whatever you may think you were doing out there, I will remind you that it is not acceptable to attack people, and especially not to do so as a representative of the Church.”

“Scions are being targeted.” Theobald sighed, having expected that a few hits weren’t the full extent of his punishment and willing to accept it, but clearly unwilling to accept the woman’s previous statement as his gaze hardened. “Whether you like it or not, Dame Irina, this situation very much concerns me. As well as the civilian members placed in a similar position as I.”

The former soldier closed his eyes, eyelids flickering as if seeing something behind them. “I noticed missing figures during our regrouping in the castle. Have there already been victims? Though you ask me to leave my past behind, it is those years on the warfront that allowed me to protect myself and those fellows the church call my peers.”

His eyes opened once more, his determination set. “A representative I may be, but it is not a position I desired. It was you and your people who had seated me on a pedestal crafted to shackle me. If the enemy appears at my doorstep once again, I will not hesitate to do what is needed.”

“It was the Goddess who chose you,” Irina snapped, looking upon Theobald with cold contempt. “You would do well to remember that.”

“And spare me your platitudes,” she scoffed, “you know as well as I it was not duty that moved your hand tonight. It was the thrill of battle, the chance to test your mettle yet again and stretch your sword arm. I know it well.” She spoke as one with experience, but not with approval.

“You want to relive your glory days - or add to them. But you are not Maxwell Alderman, and the days of Scion warriors are behind us, Mother be praised.” Her reverence was sincere, but her eyes were sharp with warning. “Continue down this path, Scion Theobald, and you are more likely to tread the footsteps of Scion Yusef instead.”

”A ‘Scion warrior’.” It was Theobald who scoffed this time, his hand ghosting over where his gunblade would’ve been strapped to his side. ”I have done as the church requested and never wielded the Goddess’ gift for my own desires. Not even to protect myself, though my ‘peers’ think differently than I.”

It was an unwanted blessing, but though he had learned just enough to use it should the church ever require it, the former soldier was born to a pious family. Even ignoring his own misgivings, the current him would never use those powers haphazardly. “Perhaps you are right, but only just. If I am to do battle with any enemy, it is under my own power.”

“You have done nothing but scorn the Mother’s gift and assault her faithful. Your excuses do not cloud the Goddess’ eyes,” Irina corrected coldly, ignoring Theobald’s continued attempts to justify himself.

Stepping back, she leaned to peer down the hallway before placing her fingers in her lips to release a long, shrill whistle. At her signal, the two guards from before reappeared from a doorway, opening the gate and receiving the keys back from Irina.

“Perhaps a night down here will help you contemplate how the Goddess has called you to service off the battlefield,” she commented cooly as she stepped out, allowing the guards to close the barred door behind her. As she turned to leave, she levied a final warning look at Theobald. “Lay a hand on one of my order again, and I will see that you live to regret it.”

She departed without elaborating, leaving Theobald alone with his guards and his wounds.

With his jailer gone, the former soldier returned to his cot, his gaze unchanged despite Irina’s words as he stared coldly at the ceiling. The events that transpired during the celebration would not disappear quietly into the night, and he was certain that the Scions were going to be in the eye of the oncoming storm.

And in that moment of strife, he was certain that Theobald the soldier would be wanted, no, needed more than the decorative symbol that is the Scion of Fire.

With that thought, he slept, dreamless and prepared to fight an invisible enemy even in the confinement of his jail cell.

Scion: The Prophecy of Anani

_{Mentioning @Hero as Various | @Raijinslayer as Justinian | @Abstract Proxy as Dom}

---

With his conversation with the prince finished, the former soldier took a backseat to the proceedings as the two royals began to converse about books and the goddess. Though he had embarrassed himself, believing that the names the princess gave were referring to types of tea rather than children’s stories, it seemed that no one else had noticed or didn’t feel the need to call him out.

Theobald did not have much experience with children, with his memories of the village life filled with war stories and farmwork rather than childhood friendships, and the warfront not a particularly pleasant place to find any within a sightline. But if all children were as chatty as the princess, perhaps he might have been better without it.

He did not think it was possible to speak so much about so little for such a tiny person.

Though what surprised him more than that was Prince Lucas actually humoring the small chatterbox. Treating her as if she was like anyone else, just as brisk with her as he was with the former soldier, albeit with less cursing. Were it not for their previous conversation, he might’ve thought that their interactions were some sort of political maneuvering on the prince’s part, but with a new perspective on the young man Theobald could see that it was the royal being himself.

The subject turned to the ages each of the Scions had exalted while he was ruminating, and as each person at the table spoke the age and timeframe from the present, it was the Scion of Metal who had turned the question onto him. It was interesting to see how each of them had responded to the inquiry, with the Earth Scion the closest to how he felt himself.

His mouth deepened into a frown, however, as the memories of the moment and what came after flashed through his mind. ”Two years ago, at twenty one fifty seven, on the final day of the nine hundred and ninety-seventh year.”

It was the end of his career as a frontline soldier, and the greatest barricade between himself and his dream. No matter how honorable it may seem to others, to him it was a shackle that tied him to the church, and his negative emotions were almost palpable as his mouth refused to move any further.

The arrival of the duchess seemed to herald the end of the meeting, the host of their meeting leaving hand in hand with the older woman while the Scion of Earth and the prince took the cue to abscond soon after. Alone with the last remaining member of the group, he drew himself from his too-tiny seat with a bit of difficulty, his mood soured enough that he didn’t even bid the woman a “goodbye” as he followed the others’ suit and left.

Two church knights flanked the exit to the Snuggery and had allowed the rest of the Scions to pass, but as soon as Theobald’s large figure attempted to exit, their spears crossed in his path.

“Your Holiness,” one began as they craned their helmeted head up toward the former soldier. “We would like to ask for you to follow us.”

Theobald clenched his hands into fists, his eyebrows furrowed. He had expected something to occur after his outburst, but for them to have stood around for who knows how long specifically to keep him from escaping… Surely they did not care that much for a Kaudian, did they? Were they truly taking the enemy’s side, when she could not even complete a simple task? Had she been on the warfront, under his command with the lives of her comrades at stake rather than merely people placed on a pedestal, he would’ve had her-

…No, it couldn’t be. The former soldier released a sigh, the tension in his muscles draining away. It was simply another power play by the church. An adherence to rules, a need for his behavior to be punished no matter the victim of the exchange. Even a Scion was not exempt from that.

With that thought in mind, he could accept it, and as his hand rose in salute towards someone who was a soldier not unlike himself he simply replied. ”So be it. Lead the way.”

And without another word, Theobald left with the two knights, one leading the way and the other taking up his flank, escorting him down beneath the castle and into a jail cell.