Yankee

What Are You Listening To?

hi hi!! <3

Welcome to RPG!

Expedition to Isekai

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Not all of the students attended Endo's funeral. That was fine; Masato felt no need to force them. The service was for those that needed it. To grieve, to bring some semblance of normalcy back to their lives with a familiar ritual, to accept their friend was dead. In a weird way, Masato needed it too. He hadn't seen Higasa die nor had he seen the boy's body, or what had been left of it, and Okumura had ultimately survived. Watching Endo's corpse be lowered into the earth made everything a lot more real.

Throughout most of the service, Masato was silent and still. He watched with a stoic expression, just tracking everything with his eyes. Masato was far from coming to terms with everything, but with everything that had happened he was trying to at least stay grounded. He was still upset about the last night, but was doing a remarkable job of not showing it. And in regards to the scene in front of him, the only thing that he could really feel was... disappointment.

When it was over, he helped to fill the grave in. He hadn't had any words for Endo, and it felt weird to be burying his body, but the sooner it was done the sooner...

His brain rattled to a stop even as his body kept moving, pushing dirt into the hole. The sooner they could what? Get on with their lives? What a callous thought. But it was exactly where his thought process had been going. It was necessary.

After the hole was filled, Masato gave Endo's friends a wide berth. He went a little ways along the lake's edge to clean the dirt off of his hands and wash his face. And to think.

When his stomach pulled tightly he returned to the campsite. It was time to get started on item number four.

"I need at least one volunteer," he announced, his voice still reigned in and neutral. "We're going to find and bring back as much food as possible. And kill anything we see, if we can."

The volunteer was mostly so that if something happened to him, they could go back and inform everyone what had happened. Fighting, searching, and hauling he could handle all himself - but it would be nice to have an extra pair of hands for the last part at least.

SPIRITUM

Z Bennett

_{W A R D E N}

---

Lance Bennett

20 | 5'11" (180cm) | O+ | WARDEN 3^rd CLASS

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

---

Lance had been a skinny kid when he was first enrolled. It was hard to put on the muscle that training as a WARDEN demanded, but within the last decade he had managed it. Now he is compactly built, hard muscle everywhere with virtually no excess fat. Even with the nicks and scars carved into his body from training and scraps, he takes pride in his physique as the proof of all of his hard work. He keeps as fit as possible, especially because he is prone to illness. It didn't used to be that way - somewhere along the line he got sick and stayed sick, always running some kind of low level fever if his skin was anything to go by. It's both a warm tan complexion and warm to the touch. Nothing serious though, as he'd say.

Because he is rarely out of uniform, he doesn't put much thought into what he wears during his down time. Most of his clothes are gifts or hand-me-downs anyway. It is quite funny to see him mix some garment a more fashion forward friend gave to him with the most worn out piece of clothing the world has ever seen. He basically just wears whatever makes him happy or catches his interest. He is most commonly seen with his trademark scarf, embroidered with the initials Z.B.

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

---

Loyalty is the basis of Lance's personality. He was raised believing how important it was to obey one's parents, their superiors, and their God. The thought of betraying someone's trust doesn't even cross his mind, and on the rare chance he does it the guilt eats away at him until he usually ends up confessing. Because of this, Lance makes for a good friend and is very easy to get along with. He's always willing to lend a hand, hear someone out, or join in on a fun time.

He's fine with banter and can take a good ribbing. He tries not to let anything bother him, keeping strong both for himself and others. He doesn't often talk about his family, and though some jabs at his character hurt more than others he is quick to forgive... if not forget. His emotions are easy to read on his face, he definitely wears his heart on his sleeve. When he's in a good mood he loves to share it, but when he's feeling down or conflicted, he deflects.

Lance has come to be known as hard working and reliable. Someone who always puts others before himself. The kind of person you can lean on if you need to, very literally; he's lent his shoulder for people to cry on and bodily dragged fellow drunken WARDENs back to the barracks plenty of times. He isn't touchy per se, but he appreciates a friendly touch and will happily reciprocate whether its a hug or one of his squadmates dragging him to the sparring ring to kick his ass again.

Perhaps not so surprisingly given his upbringing, but he is quite chaste. He travels to one of the Citadel's cathedrals once a week, head down, intense, introspective and quietly talking with himself. This is a routine he takes very seriously. Sometimes he struggles with his own identity, although this is a side of himself he would be mortified to let anyone else in on. He especially doesn't want anyone to find out just how afraid he is of being deployed for real.

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

---

The Bennett family have a proud history. Rassvet natives dedicated to service - even before the Rassvet-Vangar Conflict began. Sons and daughters of the lineage had always been devout members of the Order of the Dawn, inquisitors from a long line of inquisitors. The current family patriarch, Jophiel Bennett, had been one of a handful of prolific High Inquisitors in Fazra before being forced to retire due to a leg injury. He and his wife Miranda returned to Rassvet to the Bennett estate, in the pretty fishing village of Sheldock on the coast, where they raised their four sons.

The eldest son Michael was put on a high pedestal, groomed to be the next Bennett inquisitor before he could even talk which kept him from WARDEN life. The second son Lance however was sure to be scooped up by the WARDENs as soon as he was of age to be tested given his innate capabilities. This too was a source of pride for the family. The youngest son Laramie would eventually go on to show a sense for magic unlike any other. The only anomaly was the middle son Zadkiel, who seemed to have inherited none of the prestige of the family name and had little to no aptitude for magic. It was normal for talent to skip a child or two, so while Zak did not receive any of the special training or attention of his father, he was treated with love all the same.

A few weeks after Lance's tenth birthday, he was selected to join WARDEN just as many predicted. The boy was excited, looking forward to it. In celebration, the boy's father let the eldest three brothers take their boat out for some quality time together before they split up - as Michael would soon be leaving as well, traveling to Fazra to complete his initiation into the Order. Lunches and fishing poles packed, the day was a blur of warmth and happiness. It was on their way back that tragedy struck. As dusk was settling over the water, one of the boys rocked the boat a little too hard, or shoved each other just a little too roughly, and Lance was thrown overboard. Given that the family was well accustomed to the water, the remaining brothers waited for Lance to come back up. He never did. Frantically, Michael and Zak dove in to try and find him, but the waters were dark by then. It was late into the night when they gave up, unable to locate their brother. Explaining what happened to their father was most frightening thing the boys had ever done.

Jophiel was a stern, proud man who took his and his family's image very seriously. He was unwilling to admit that Lance, WARDEN hopeful and prodigal son, had died on his watch; not to himself or anyone else. He couldn't face that shame and disappointment.

What followed was a devious scheme un-befitting a Dawn inquisitor. One of his sons had drowned that day, but it wasn't Lance - it was Zadkiel. That's what he convinced the world of. Lance and Zadkiel were close in age, Zak only one year younger, and with the same red hair and tanned skin they were commonly confused with each other. If one hadn't been treated so much more handsomely than the other, they could have been twins. Zadkiel was not on board for this plan, but as a child there was not much he could do. He was pressed into obedience and sworn to silence. The Bennett family mourned "Zadkiel" for a little while, and prepared "Lance" to be sent to the Citadel.

After the WARDENs came to collect him, they were suspicious of "Lance's" sudden drop in aptitude. The lie was maintained with the explanation that his grief over his brother was deeply affecting him. This was true, as the boy barely had time to process everything that had happened to himself and his brother. He never would have made the cut for WARDEN under normal circumstances, so the training was absolutely grueling. Over time it got harder and harder to make up excuses, so the only thing "Lance" could do was train harder and harder. He gained a reputation as a workhorse, and though he was consistently in the lowest percentile of his class, he managed to remain "WARDEN material."

The first few years he hated every minute of it, but the crushing guilt he would feel if he deserted stopped him from doing so. The only people who knew the truth of his situation were himself, his father, and his older brother. Aggressive gaslighting on Jophiel's part managed to convince even his mother that he was, and had always been, Lance. The family never spoke of the incident, so their youngest son grew up never knowing there had been a fourth brother at all. If he left service, it would completely destroy his relationship with his family. If he confessed the truth, it would stain the family's image. More than that though, if he refused to carry this name then Lance would really be gone forever.

So he swallowed his grief, his discomfort, everything that told him this was wrong. He suffered the brutal lifestyle of future WARDENs, endured the ridicule of better trainees, learned to live with the mistburn and tried not to develop an abusive habit with the burn reducing drugs. As a kid he'd hated his old fashioned, traditional name, but while lying awake after training he would give nearly anything to hear someone call him by it.

When graduation came, he'd had to scurry off and find somewhere private to let himself be emotional. The certificate said Lance Bennett, like he knew it would. It had "his" birth date. The real Lance would have been twenty now, while the young man holding the paper was nineteen. Staring at the certificate brought about such a weird, volatile mix of emotions. He was bitter, he was proud. He had nearly burnt a hole through the thing before someone came to find him.

He is glad for the road trip, jumping at the chance to join. He hopes to use it to sort out all his feelings before deployment. If nothing else he is determined to stay alive during the conflict so he can finally come clean after serving his term, put Lance to rest and die as his own man - hopefully far into the future.

_{C O M B A T}

---

Combat Class:
Vanguard, situational Ranger

Combat Style:
It was a common joke around the barracks that there should be a WARDEN 4^th class solely so that Lance could occupy it. That fact is that Lance is never the best person in the squad at any given thing; he is far from a fighting prodigy and could never cut it as a mage. What he does have are his eyes, his body, tenacity, and the drive to protect himself and others.

In melee he relies on his strength more than anything, having honed himself over the last decade into a human-spear to drive wedges between enemy formations. He is usually first into combat for that reason, to create an opening for others to capitalize on. Like every other WARDEN he is proficient with many kinds of weapons, but he prefers pikes and a trusty sword most of all... when he's not using firearms that is, which he quite good with. Though Lance is no slouch with melee weaponry (a decade of training will make sure of that), he is much better with a rifle or handgun - especially high-precision, long-range rifles. Despite that, he is relegated to the front line because his difficulties with sensing and channeling the Mist make it difficult for him to operate as a true independent ranger. Give him a spotter or a partner though, and he makes an efficient and deadly sniper.

Magic was never Lance's strong suit. His affinity with the Mist is very low, and he suffers from mistburn so often it might as well be constant. To both cover up his symptoms and make himself seem at least a little competent, Lance focused on learning a simple kind of magic and learning it well: elemental control over fire. Needless to say using magic is a last resort for him in combat. His "signature" spell is the halo of flames, a ring of fire summoned above or around him that flings embers outward from it.

Finally, over his WARDEN uniform he wears a light armor modeled after the likes of the Order of the Dawn's inquisitors but bearing the Bennett family crest. It's imbued with blessings and isn't hard to move around in at all. At one point he hated the armor, but after several cuts and scratches and a friendly paint job, he came to like it well enough; it does give him a little more protection after all.

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

---

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

SPIRITUM

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

@vietmyke

This time he is still Lance to the party, for now at least!

test ☄ res 𒀱

Color Test
Color Test
Color Test
Color Test
Color Test
Color Test
Color Test
Color Test

Wardens first draft

A S H R A F
A S H R A F

^{“Remember me! The man whose resolve burns hotter than the desert!”}

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 S U M M A R Y C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y _________________________________________________________ As the oldest child in his family, Ashraf In'nalai has certain responsibilities he must take on. Upholding the reputation of his clan of artisans and minor merchants is one such responsibility, which he feels he is already in danger of failing. Two years ago, Ashraf failed his trial to become an initiate warden. Now he returns to Atutania to correct that embarrassment, success the only option in his mind. Age: 18 Race: Human Nationality: Hahral Weapon of Choice: Spear and Javelin Elemental Affinity: Fire Spiritual Affinity: Light ♫ ♪

C H A R A C T E R B I O G R A P H Y C H A R A C T E R B I O G R A P H Y ________________________________________________________________________________________ On the eve of his sixteenth birthday, Ashraf made the journey across the Sands of Hahral to the city of Atutania with ambitions to become a Warden of the Glade. He traveled with food, clothes, and a sword he was good enough to use for self defense. What he did not bring with him was any desire to protect the realm or its citizens, his goal driven only by self interest. Maybe that was the reason he failed his trial, miserably so. Beaten and humiliated, Ashraf returned home to Akoth where his family welcomed him with open arms. Somehow it was that which hurt the most, finding that the only person disappointed in him was himself. The only reason Ashraf had ventured out to become a knight in the first place was to gain some status on behalf of the In'nalai. They were an old family in the Triumvirate, one of skilled glass makers and blowers who had practiced their trade since before Akoth's establishment. They had always been a small family, both in size and influence, forced to get into the mercantile business in order not to be taken advantage of by larger, wealthier clans. Ashraf would eventually take over as head of the family, and though he was one of the most talented in it at their artisanal craft, he was inept at the business side of affairs for the most part. He learned much better with his hands, rather than through lecture or literature, and unfortunately economics was not something he could hold. Seeing as his father was still hale and had quite a few more years left in him until retirement, Ashraf conceived of a plan to strengthen the family's standing when he inevitably took over even if his mercantile skills weren't up to snuff: a career as one of the realm's knights. It would offer the In'nalai many advantages: prove the next head of the clan a man of valor and strength, instill the thought that the family was skilled not just in their trade but in battle as well, and gain the prestige of the wardens to make any unscrupulous merchant or noble thing twice before messing with them. Not to mention that during the time Ashraf planned to spend in knighthood, his father could use 'to teach his younger sisters the business side of things instead of wasting time trying to instill it in his dense son' (Ashraf's words). Having vowed to return to the wardens and get them to recognize him, Ashraf poured all his time and effort into improving himself. His martial arts training was intense but necessary, though putting himself into the mindset of a protector was still hard for him. Over the years he worked, taking his goal much more seriously this time, and whenever he needed to cool down from warden training he threw himself into the heat of the family's glass furnace. At eighteen he felt he was ready to try again, and once more set foot on the road from Akoth to Atutania. C H A R A C T E R I Z A T I O N C H A R A C T E R I Z A T I O N ________________________________________________________________________________________ Artistic ⬗ Focused ⬗ Passionate ⬗ Prideful ⬗ Responsible ⬗ Unforgiving A B I L I T I E S A B I L I T I E S ________________________________________________________________________________________ Already familiar with the length and heft of a blowpipe, Ashraf swapped out his sword for a spear and never looked back. Though he found himself no good in the Hahral tradition of archery, he did have good aim in general, and when combined with his excellent hand eye coordination throwing said spear was something he excelled at. Even if not the most physically imposing man, Ashraf's training as honed his body in strength and flexibility, and his trade made him adaptable. Now he is fairly adept with using a spear and javelin, though it must be said he's never had to actually use it in a fight with serious consequence. He has high heat tolerance, high lung capacity, and a strong work ethic. He is also very good with his hands. Writing, drawing, whittling, and other such hobbies are within his means to master. And of course he is a master at blowing and shaping glass for both practical and artistic uses. He is a tactile learner and can quickly pick up almost anything one needs dexterity for. His mother often said that he had some kind of eidetic memory, only with his hands instead of his eyes. As of now, he has not awakened to his magical abilities.

---

Hider

T H E W A L T E R S F A M I L Y
T H E W A L T E R S F A M I L Y

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"A quote or something about the family. Replace the image with a picture of their house or something appropriate to the family's theme."

_{[ ❇ ] B R I E F F A M I L Y H I S T O R Y}

The Walters are New Hampshire natives, and they've been living together in Huddeen for about the last ten years. They live in one of two houses are the very end of Mulberry Street, where the pavement turns to dirt driveways. The property itself includes a swatch of land of about a mile, only minimally developed. Since Charles purchased it as a young man, he has refused to sell any portion back to the city for further development. The man himself used to be a regular voice heard at town hall meetings, but has since been replaced by his daughter who has become a nightmare at the local PTA. Historically they haven't been a particularly outgoing family, but they are decent people with a mixed reputation among their neighbors.

_{[ ❇ ] F A M I L Y M E M B E R S}

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▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ "A quote." ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

W A L T E R S, C H A R L E S || P A T R I A R C H - 82 W A L T E R S, C H A R L E S || P A T R I A R C H - 82 _____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Charles grew up in Rockingham County, where he met and married his highschool sweetheart Magdalene. Their romance was put on hold when Charles was drafted for the Vietnam War, then a man in his early twenties. Reuniting after three tours of duty, the couple was eager to settle down and both pooled their money together to purchase land in their home state. Charles has lived there ever since, even after Magdalene passed away 42 happy years later. During that time, Charles found employment as a carpenter, and he spent most of his free time renovating the old home they'd bought and clearing out some of the property. He built the barn with plans to possibly buy some livestock and a pony for the daughter they ended up having, but ultimately never had more than a few chickens. After hitting seventy years, his age finally seemed to be catching up with him. Actually I think I fucked up my math with the ages lol uuuuh.... ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅

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▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ "A quote." ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

W A L T E R S, D E B R A || H E A D O F H O U S E - 41 W A L T E R S, D E B R A || H E A D O F H O U S E - 41 _____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ A paragraph or two of characterization goes here, briefly touching on their personality, background, etc. Add more or remove tables as needed.▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ Use as many or few of the above symbols as needed to balance this cell with the cell containing the image.

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▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ "The one... er, two and only - JW2!" ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

W A L T E R S - S M I T H, J O H N || O N L Y S O N - 16 W A L T E R S - S M I T H, J O H N || O N L Y S O N - 16 _____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ A paragraph or two of characterization goes here, briefly touching on their personality, background, etc. Add more or remove tables as needed. Honestly, he doesn't miss his dad all that much. And considering if his mom and dad had married his name probably would have ended up literally just being "John Smith," he feels like he's dodged a bullet.▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ Use as many or few of the above symbols as needed to balance this cell with the cell containing the image.

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▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ "So nice we'll say it twice. JW2!" ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

W I L L I A M S, J O R D A N || F A M I L Y F R I E N D - 16 W I L L I A M S, J O R D A N || F A M I L Y F R I E N D - 16 _____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ The Williams family lives at the end of Mulberry Street - directly across from the Walters family. Originally from Boston, Massachusetts, they moved to Huddeen seven years ago looking for a fresh start somewhere. Nowhere was fresher than some nice countryside. Jordan initially hated the move, upset about moving away from the city and his friends. He didn't like how rural Huddeen was in comparison, but eventually he got used to it seeing as he wasn't going to be able to convince his parents to move back. Even years later he still doesn't love the town, but at least it wasn't all bad. He grew to appreciate some parts of it. He and John met in school before they realized they were neighbors, and after they started to become friends their mothers did too. The two of them got to the point that they spent almost every day together as kids, and as teenagers they still hang out almost all of the time. Now Jordan considers John his best friend, and Ms. Walters like an aunt. Jordan was staying with the Walters' when the outbreak started. His mother and father had driven to Boston a few days before to attend a time share presentation, and catch up with some family in the area at the same time. No one has heard back from them since they left. ▅

SPIRITUM

Oooookaaaaay this is probably fine. Gonna need to sweep it for typos again in the morning I'm sure. Hopefully the concept still works, it's a only a little bit convoluted lol. Not much has changed over all though.

But hey, if it doesn't work then no worries, I'll just read along.

Z Bennett

_{W A R D E N}

---

Lance Bennett

20 | 5'11" (180cm) | O+ | WARDEN 3^rd CLASS

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

---

Lance had been a skinny kid when he was first enrolled. It was hard to put on the muscle that training as a WARDEN demanded, but within the last decade he had managed it. Now he is compactly built, hard muscle everywhere with virtually no excess fat. Even with the nicks and scars carved into his body from training and scraps, he takes pride in his physique as the proof of all of his hard work. He keeps as fit as possible, especially because he is prone to illness. It didn't used to be that way - somewhere along the line he got sick and stayed sick, always running some kind of low level fever if his skin was anything to go by. It's both a warm tan complexion and warm to the touch. Nothing serious though, as he'd say.

Because he is rarely out of uniform, he doesn't put much thought into what he wears during his down time. Most of his clothes are gifts or hand-me-downs anyway. It is quite funny to see him mix some garment a more fashion forward friend gave to him with the most worn out piece of clothing the world has ever seen. He basically just wears whatever makes him happy or catches his interest. He is most commonly seen with his trademark scarf, embroidered with the initials Z.B.

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

---

Loyalty is the basis of Lance's personality. He was raised believing how important it was to obey one's parents, their superiors, and their God. The thought of betraying someone's trust doesn't even cross his mind, and on the rare chance he does it the guilt eats away at him until he usually ends up confessing. Because of this, Lance makes for a good friend and is very easy to get along with. He's always willing to lend a hand, hear someone out, or join in on a fun time.

He's fine with banter and can take a good ribbing. He tries not to let anything bother him, keeping strong both for himself and others. He doesn't often talk about his family, and though some jabs at his character hurt more than others he is quick to forgive... if not forget. His emotions are easy to read on his face, he definitely wears his heart on his sleeve. When he's in a good mood he loves to share it, but when he's feeling down or conflicted, he deflects.

Lance has come to be known as hard working and reliable. Someone who always puts others before himself. The kind of person you can lean on if you need to, very literally; he's lent his shoulder for people to cry on and bodily dragged fellow drunken WARDENs back to the barracks plenty of times. He isn't touchy per se, but he appreciates a friendly touch and will happily reciprocate whether its a hug or one of his squadmates dragging him to the sparring ring to kick his ass again.

Perhaps not so surprisingly given his upbringing, but he is quite chaste. He travels to one of the Citadel's cathedrals once a week, head down, intense, introspective and quietly talking with himself. This is a routine he takes very seriously. Sometimes he struggles with his own identity, although this is a side of himself he would be mortified to let anyone else in on. He especially doesn't want anyone to find out just how afraid he is of being deployed for real.

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

---

The Bennett family have a proud history. Rassvet natives dedicated to service - even before the Rassvet-Vangar Conflict began. Sons and daughters of the lineage had always been devout members of the Order of the Dawn, inquisitors from a long line of inquisitors. The current family patriarch, Jophiel Bennett, had been one of a handful of prolific High Inquisitors in Fazra before being forced to retire due to a leg injury. He and his wife returned to Rassvet to the Bennett estate, in the pretty fishing village of Sheldock on the coast, where they raised their four sons.

The eldest son Michael was put on a high pedestal, groomed to be the next Bennett inquisitor before he could even talk which kept him from WARDEN life. The second son Lance however was sure to be scooped up by the WARDENs as soon as he was of age to be tested given his innate capabilities. This too was a source of pride for the family. The youngest son Laramie would eventually go on to show a sense for magic unlike any other. The only anomaly was the middle son Zadkiel, who seemed to have inherited none of the prestige of the family name and had little to no aptitude for magic. It was normal for talent to skip a child or two, so while Zak did not receive any of the special training or attention of his father, he was treated with love all the same.

A few weeks after Lance's tenth birthday, he was selected to join WARDEN just as many predicted. The boy was excited, looking forward to it. In celebration, the boy's father let the eldest three brothers take their boat out for some quality time together before they split up - as Michael would soon be leaving as well, traveling to Fazra soon to complete his initiation into the Order. Lunches and fishing poles packed, the day was a blur of warmth and happiness. It was on their way back that tragedy struck. As dusk was settling over the water, one of the boys rocked the boat a little too hard, or shoved each other just a little too roughly, and Lance was thrown overboard. Given that the family was well accustomed to the water, the remaining brothers waited for Lance to come back up. He never did. Frantically, Michael and Zak dove in to try and find him, but the waters were dark by then. It was late into the night when they gave up, unable to locate their brother. Explaining what happened to their father was most frightening thing the boys had ever done.

Jophiel was a stern, proud man who took his and his family's image very seriously. He was unwilling to admit that Lance, WARDEN hopeful and prodigal son, had died on his watch; not to himself or anyone else. He couldn't face that shame and disappointment.

What followed was a devious scheme un-befitting a Dawn inquisitor. One of his sons had drowned that day, but it wasn't Lance - it was Zadkiel. That's what he convinced the world of. Lance and Zadkiel were close in age, Zak only one year younger, and with the same red hair and tanned skin they were commonly confused with each other. If one hadn't been treated so much more handsomely than the other, they could have been twins. Zadkiel was not on board for this plan, but as a child there was not much he could do. He was pressed into obedience and sworn to silence. The Bennett family mourned "Zadkiel" for a little while, and prepared "Lance" to be sent to the Citadel.

After the WARDENs came to collect him, they were suspicious of "Lance's" sudden drop in aptitude. The lie was maintained with the explanation that his grief over his brother was deeply affecting him. This was true, as the boy barely had time to process everything that had happened to himself and his brother. He never would have made the cut for WARDEN under normal circumstances, so the training was absolutely grueling. Over time it got harder and harder to make up excuses, so the only thing "Lance" could do was train harder and harder. He gained a reputation as a workhorse, and though he was consistently in the lowest percentile of his class, he managed to remain "WARDEN material."

The first few years he hated every minute of it, but the crushing guilt he would feel if he deserted stopped him from doing so. The only people who knew the truth of his situation were himself, his father, and his older brother. Aggressive gaslighting on Jophiel's part managed to convince even his mother that he was, and had always been, Lance. The family never spoke of the incident, so their youngest son grew up never knowing there had been a fourth brother at all. If he left service, it would completely destroy his relationship with his family. If he confessed the truth, it would stain the family's image. More than that though, if he refused to carry this name then Lance would really be gone forever.

So he swallowed his grief, his discomfort, everything that told him this was wrong. He suffered the brutal lifestyle of future WARDENs, endured the ridicule of better trainees, learned to live with the mistburn and tried not to develop an abusive habit with the burn reducing drugs. As a kid he'd hated his old fashioned, traditional name, but while lying awake after training he would give nearly anything to hear someone call him by it.

When graduation came, he'd had to scurry off and find somewhere private to let himself be emotional. The certificate said Lance Bennett, like he knew it would. It had "his" birth date. The real Lance would have been twenty now, while the young man holding the paper was nineteen. Staring at the certificate brought about such a weird, volatile mix of emotions. He was bitter, he was proud. He had nearly burnt a hole through the thing before someone came to find him.

He is glad for the road trip, jumping at the chance to join. He hopes to use it to sort out all his feelings before deployment. If nothing else he is determined to stay alive during the conflict so he can finally come clean after serving his term, put Lance to rest and die as his own man - hopefully far into the future.

_{C O M B A T}

---

Combat Class:
Vanguard, situational Ranger

Combat Style:
It was a common joke around the barracks that there should be a WARDEN 4^th class solely so that Lance could occupy it. That fact is that Lance is never the best person in the squad at any given thing; he is far from a fighting prodigy and could never cut it as a mage. What he does have are his eyes, his body, tenacity, and the drive to protect himself and others.

In melee he relies on his strength more than anything, having honed himself over the last decade into a human-spear to drive wedges between enemy formations. He is usually first into combat for that reason, to create an opening for others to capitalize on. Like every other WARDEN he is proficient with many kinds of weapons, but he prefers pikes and a trusty sword most of all... when he's not using firearms that is, which he quite good with. Though Lance is no slouch with melee weaponry (a decade of training will make sure of that), he is much better with a rifle or handgun - especially high-precision, long-range rifles. Despite that, he is relegated to the front line because his difficulties with sensing and channeling the Mist make it difficult for him to operate as a true independent ranger. Give him a spotter or a partner though, and he makes an efficient and deadly sniper.

Magic was never Lance's strong suit. His affinity with the Mist is very low, and he suffers from mistburn so often it might as well be constant. To both cover up his symptoms and make himself seem at least a little competent, Lance focused on learning a simple kind of magic and learning it well: elemental control over fire. Needless to say using magic is a last resort for him in combat. His "signature" spell is the halo of flames, a ring of fire summoned above or around him that flings embers outward from it.

Finally, over his WARDEN uniform he wears a light armor modeled after the likes of the Order of the Dawn's inquisitors but bearing the Bennett family crest. It's imbued with blessings and isn't hard to move around in at all. At one point he hated the armor, but after several cuts and scratches and a friendly paint job, he came to like it well enough; it does give him a little more protection after all.

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

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

World of Light

Angel to Angel

Pit’s @Yankee & Sandalphon’s @Lugubrious
Word Count: 2765 (+3 exp)
Location: Dystopiascape - Midgar

There was no way that Pit would be getting to sleep anytime soon. After returning from Split Mountain, he felt… electric. It was hard to say if it was a good or bad energy that coursed through him. He was feeling so many, well, feelings at once, making for the weird emotional cocktail he was experiencing. He was glad that he’d found Skyworld (and Midna had even promised to take him back to the mountain), but upset he couldn’t get there right away. His worry for Palutena was ever present, but now it was accompanied by hope that he’d see her again soon. He was anxious to finish the Seeker’s mission here in Midgar so he could run off to Skyworld, and he also felt a little guilty over feeling that in the first place. His duty to his goddess and his promise to help the people of Midgar were not at odds though - Palutena had charged him with protecting humanity, her people, so that was what he’d do.

But man… he really wanted to visit home!

As the night went on, meals were eaten, good news received and teammates arrived in one piece, Pit’s anxious energy slowly diminished. He was still far from sleep though, and the laps around the hideout weren’t helping.

It was inevitable that the angel would find himself in front of Sandalphon. He had been curious about her since their first brief meeting that morning, and since she was still awake at this time of night…

Pit sat near to her at the same table, just studying her at first since she was still working. He still felt the weird “energy” from her - unlike a human or a psychic. She also didn’t “feel” the same as himself or Pittoo. She had a halo, a mark of the divine, but she didn’t have wings. And since he was watching her instead of what she was doing (he could barely follow along anyway, not enough photos), he also noticed that she hadn’t blinked even once! It was weird.

“...If you cannot reach Executor, I’d recommend finding and asking Yvangelista himself. Despite his lofty station, he cares for the people and is the pinnacle of what you might call ‘reasonable authority’…fine, but be mindful.”

“...Without drawing attention, single out a single specimen and capture it for study…yes, a ‘live dissection’ may be necessary. I’m sending you the details of some contacts in the City of Glass. Notify me once it’s delivered and keep me informed about what they find…”

“...Providing you both finish your missions in a timely manner, I don’t see any harm. As for the specifics, I’m afraid I’m not well-versed in such matters, but I believe Sector 08 is known for its trendiness…flowers are more typical, as I understand it, but that could also work…well, malls are likely not open at this hour, but you may be able to find her one at a night market…”

With all the patience of a kid waiting around for an adult to be finished with work, that is to say not much, Pit eventually gave in and spoke up.

"Um, Sandalphon? I have a question."

The archangel quickly glanced his way, her lime-green pupils momentarily freezing in the form of question marks before reverting to their typical power symbols. Sandalphon wasn’t one to wear her heart on her sleeve, but the sudden movement and the slight raise of her eyebrows suggested that she’d been so focused that Pit might have actually managed to startle her. After a brief moment though, she glanced back at her screens, quickly tapping on a couple of them to mute herself.

Then she was ready. “How may I help you?” she asked the young angel.

"If you're really, really busy I'll leave you to it," he said, like he hadn't just interrupted her in the first place. "but I was wondering if you're actually an angel?"

His voice teetered on the verge of whispering due to the hour, but didn't quite get there. "'Cause I’ve never met another angel before, just heard about them. Besides Pittoo I mean, and I don't think he really counts as another angel. And you have your halo-" Pit lifted his hand and waved it above his own head about where his would sit, if he had one. "-so I wanted to know!"

He certainly hadn't missed the way her pupils flickered, and he leaned a little closer to her with his own eyes wide. "Are you a robot angel?"

After a brief moment to make sure that Pit didn’t have any more questions -he wasn’t the only one in her ears at the moment, after all- Sandalphon chose her words methodically. “It’s no trouble. I’m capable of internalizing multiple conversation sources at once, and I can type fast enough so that I need only speak to you. As for me…” She paused for a brief moment, hammering the backspace key with her right ring finger before her text cursor blasted off again. “I am not a machine of any kind, though this comparison has been drawn before. In my world, I am indeed an angel. However, I have learned that there are many kinds of angels in the World of Light. For instance, the Sankta of the Lateran Church in Sector 01, who are comparable to ordinary people. Within the Hierarchy of Laguna are abominations that assume angelic shapes. So I should clarify that in my world, angels like myself are actually a type of dragon.” With that she stopped typing for a moment, flexing her slender fingers as she gave them a brief rest.

Now that he thought about it, it made sense there are a lot of different kinds of angels. There were a lot of different kinds of everything, from humans to other species, so it would be weird if angels were the same in every world. Actually, hadn’t Viridi said something similar at one point to him? Either way he didn't think about it for long, because of the last thing Sandalphon said. It should have been impossible for Pit's eyes to get any bigger, but they did.

"You're a dragon angel? No way!"

Pit stood up and his eyes darted over her form anew, looking for any draconic traits he might have missed. "What kind of dragon things can you do? Breathe fire?! Do you have a tail?"

Unfortunately for Pit, there were no draconic traits to be found, just a very tall and tired-looking businesswoman. If Sandalphon had been any more emotive, she might have been amused by Pit’s innocent earnestness. “I cannot breathe fire. In fact, my elemental affinity is water. When I gather enough draconic energy to shapeshift into Heavenly Wings, I do have a tail, however. In that form I gain much more maneuverability and offensive power, able to debilitate targets with various afflictions. Unfortunately you were not present today when I took that form in battle…” She paused for a moment as she received a handful of file, which meticulously stored in the correct directory. “When fighting, I’m able to accrue more draconic energy if I can fight in Concentration Protocol, instead of healing. If you do well protecting our allies in battle tomorrow, I’ll be able to show you Heavenly Wings sooner.”

Though she probably hadn't meant it that way, Pit took her words as a challenge. Or perhaps a charge. A shapeshifting dragon angel! Who wouldn't want to see that? And if it came with the bonus of Sandalphon needing to heal less because less people were getting hurt, then all the better!

"You can definitely count on me for that! I'll be doing my best." Just like he always did, really. Maybe even more than his best, so they could settle everything as quickly as possible. I shouldn't keep thinking like that, he knew. Hopefully he wouldn't be distracted tomorrow, but he was sure that waking up tomorrow after some rest, he'd be able to focus.

Sandalphon nodded. “I will expect great things from you then.”

For now he still had more questions for the other angel, and since she didn't seem to mind them at the moment, Pit kept asking them.

"Can you fly when you go dragon mode?"

It seemed that Pit’s curiosity wasn’t sated quite yet. Though Sandalphon didn’t mind either way, she wanted to offer motivation, not necessarily fulfillment. “Tomorrow, you’ll be able to see for yourself.”

"Awww come on..."

It was a half-hearted complaint. Pit wasn't really disappointed in the answer, if anything Sandalphon's simple strategy for motivation worked on him like a charm. Still, at least Pit was pretty sure she was flightless in the form she took now - something they had in common. He was smiling, and he opened his mouth to continue questioning her but after attending to something, Sandalphon turned the tables.

“I happen to have a question of my own. I happen to have a great interest in theology. Angels are oftentimes the executors of a divine will. For instance, I serve the goddess Illia, and by extension the Illian Church. I would be interested in a synopsis of your own faith.”

"Uh, 'syn-op-sis'...?" Pit sounded the word out and cocked his head to the side. Context clues, Pit, he recalled Palutena advising him in the past. "...oh! You want to hear about Lady Palutena?"

Though she knew that she’d imbibed all the coffee she’d been given by Giovanna, Sandalphon couldn’t suppress the urge to reach out, pull over, and peer into the mug, just in case any dregs remained. Her pupils flickered slightly. This probably wouldn’t be enough. She glanced back over at Pit. “Yes, please,” came her belated reply.

Poor Sandalphon couldn't have known what she was in for with a request like that. Pit's smile grew wider, and if he wasn't already standing he would have jumped out of his seat at the chance to talk about the most important person not only in his life, but in his entire home world. From the get go it was clear that he was quite passionate about the subject.

"Lady Palutena is amazing! She's super strong and kind, and she knows pretty much everything. She's the Goddess of Light, Guardian of Humanity, and the ruler of all Angel Land! That's where we come from, our "universe" I guess.

There are actually a lot of gods in Angel Land. Way more than there are angels. Which is like, shouldn't it be called God Land instead? I never thought about that. Anyway, Palutena is the greatest of them all! She can do so many amazing things! Like- what'd she call it? Like-"

He broke off on a tangent, describing her teleportation, telepathy, clairvoyance, psychokinesis, hard-light constructs, summoning, transformation, and a whole host of other abilities without actually giving name to them. Complete with vaguely reenacting them when possible, of course. He didn't pause at all, though it was likely that with Sandalphon's own abilities she wouldn't need the break to process all of what Pit was telling her.

"But you know, none of that is really why she's the best. Lady Palutena really cares about people! Most of the other gods don't care about anyone but themselves! And there's always at least one trying to destroy the world. But Lady Palutena, she's always putting other people first. She hardly even uses her army unless she really needs them - did I mention she has an entire army of centurions? Luckily she doesn't have to do everything by herself. She has me!"

Here, Pit swelled up with pride. He rested his fists on his hips and puffed out his chest.

"I'm the captain of her royal bodyguard and do pretty much everything for her! She always helps me out though, gives me advice and stuff like that. She's probably the best goddess ever..."

It seemed that Pit was finally winding down. His voice took on a slightly more somber tone. "...it's been really weird going so long without hearing her voice. But I'm sure she's fine."

After that he tapped a finger against his chin, thinking about what else he could say about her.

"...and she takes her coffee with cream and two sugars!"

Sandalphon waited a moment to make sure that Pit had exhausted everything he wanted to say about his goddess, but not so long that he could think up more. “Quite the shower of praise. This Palutena sounds like a very special lady,” she summarized once given the chance to. “Not just for the quality of her character, either. In our land of Grastaea, our goddess Illia has been gone for a thousand years. Throughout all those lifetimes, the bond between humans and dragons -known as Dragalia- has endured, along with the Illian church. Difficult as it has been. To have one’s deity present and visible in the world is quite the blessing.” She paused for a moment. “I’m sure it must be difficult for you to be without her. May you find your goddess again soon.”

Pit was glad that Sandalphon could see how awesome Palutena was. Between that and her indulging him so far, he was coming to like her a lot. He wasn't even jealous that she was part dragon and thus objectively cooler than a regular angel like him. When she wished him a speedy reunion with Palutena, his smile softened. "Thank you."

There was a short moment of quiet where it looked like Pit was finished talking with his fellow angel, but that wasn't the case.

"...did you ever meet Illia before she disappeared?"

It took longer than usual for Sandalphon to answer. “...No. I was not alive during that time. My existence dates back only several centuries, to the time of the Empyrean War. Even then, I can recall very little of that time.”

"Oh." That struck Pit as rather sad. If his own goddess were to disappear like that, though he would never ever want it to happen, he would prefer to keep his good memories of her rather than never have known her in the first place.

"Well I'm sure she was really cool too," he offered. She had to have been if she inspired her church enough that it still followed her a thousand years later after she'd left. Strong faith like that was respectable. Though maybe lonely too. "Hey, I'll introduce you to Lady Palutena when we find her! I bet she'd like to meet you. She knows about other worlds, maybe she even knows about yours?"

“Maybe.” Sandalphon did not sound convinced, but then again, she didn’t sound like anything but ‘exhausted’ at the moment. “If we do meet, I would very much like to sit down and have a coffee with her.”

Her response seemed to please Pit all the same. He didn't launch into another question, just stretched his arms over his head and his wings out wide. He had burnt off a lot of his extra energy talking with (and at) Sandalphon, so he was about ready for sleep.

"Do you want a refill by the way?" His gaze flicked to her screen-like eyes and the dark circles beneath them. "Or I guess you're gonna head to bed soon?"

Sandalphon shook her head. “I can't afford to sleep just yet. I assume you wouldn't know how to use the machine? Don't worry then, I can get more in a minute. Thank you.” In the dark room, the gentle light of her halo was almost soporific, contrasting the harsher light of her divine screens.

"I'm not as medieval as I look! I can work a coffee machine," he said. As long as it wasn't some really high tech one where he'd need to read the instructions at least. Still she insisted it was fine, so Pit left her to resume her work. He could still hear her tapping away as he wandered out of the main room.

As Pit looked for a comfy place to curl up, preferably one of the top bunk beds he'd used the night before, he ran into only one other soul still awake; that of the Twilight Princess headed in the opposite direction. She stopped to let him know that the Virgin Victory was actually nearby and how it might be "a better option than the mountain top" before she left to go check on its crew. That fortunate piece of news swept away most of the rest of his lingering doubts. He slept easily after that, and was sure to wake up raring to go tomorrow.

Video Games: The General Discussion & Community Thread Number Two

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=jQdFe0Wiugw

@BangoSkank

SPIRITUM

I am really tempted to bring my character from a previous iteration of this RP back, but with some changes/tweaks. But I will see if I can get them to a place I'm satisfied with and how the rest of the cast shakes out. If a similar niche gets filled by someone else first, etc.