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Fantasy Cradle of Desire: Characters

Cradle of Desire

Cradle of Desire

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Welcome to Lithos, a world abandoned by the gods, leaving mankind to suffer under the effects of the mana slowly poisoning them. Join Arcana on their journey towards striking down the corrupt crown of Vestry and curing Lithos of the disease sent down by the divine.

Status [03.18.2024] - Closed to new applications until further notice.
Linked contents
Cradle of Desire: Interest Check [Closed] Cradle of Desire: In Character Cradle of Desire: Characters Cradle of Desire: Glossary & NPCs
Nano

Nano

procrastination symphony
Cradle of Desire
Characters
A
Discord
Int.Check
Lore
IC
Notes .
**Note:
Sometime prior to posting your CS, you MUST submit a brief 3-4 sentence description of your character to the “#character-introductions” channel in the Discord. I will not be accepting any sheets from people who fail to do this.

**Note (2):
Don’t post WIPs and Placeholders. If I see one, I'll delete it 24 hours after I send a warning.

**Note (3):
Feel free to edit in extra fun facts/themes/etc even after the sheet has been accepted. Just make sure to ask/alert me beforehand if the edit is related to your character’s abilities or involves some part of the lore.
Character Guidelines .
BASIC INFORMATION


Name:
Self-explanatory.

Codename:
For security reasons, codenames are used in the place of real names. This can be the title of the character’s Arcana or something simple like Cathy. There’s nothing preventing you from telling everyone your real name, but it’s generally frowned upon.

Arcana:
Major Arcana should be written with their corresponding roman numeral preceding the name of the arcana (e.g. XXI. The World). In this roleplay, The Fool starts the deck with the number 0 and The World ends it with the number 21.

Age:
Characters should be at least 16 years of age, but before you make your 16y.o. child prodigy or 40y.o. uncle, there's a few things to know. During the Age of Magic, it was common for people to live well beyond the age of 100. People's bodies are a lot more feeble now, so the current life expectancy for wealthy individuals is roughly 55 years of age. This is cut down even further to around 35 for those without proper access to medical attention/checkups and/or are frequently placed in dangerous situations. Since a lot of people die young, children are expected to start taking on greater responsibilities sooner. 12 year olds are expected to start apprenticeships, and you're expected to be independent and considered "of age" at 16. Children in the slums often start working or scavenging even earlier than that. Unfortunately, Vestry has no child labor laws in place, and even if it did, people would likely ignore it. Regardless of how children are treated in Vestry, OOC stuff still follows irl/rpn rules. Idk. Just don’t be weird about it.

Date of Birth:
Preferably in the form of the Vestrian calendar. Else write it in dd.mm or dd.mm.yyy format

Faction:
Your character’s alliance may or may not affect their available choices later in the story. Members of certain factions also have a tendency to be more skilled in certain aspects, but this doesn’t have to be strictly followed and outliers are allowed. Neutral characters are placed into The First Faction by default.

Position:
Most people will be writing down "member" in this section, but factions can have second-in-commands, acting leaders, deputies, or whatever you want to call them. Some do while some don’t, and players are free to determine what kind of dynamics they want in their faction on their own (e.g. rules, power structure, etc). Just make sure to discuss what you want in the respective faction channels.



APPEARANCE


Height:
Most people in Vestry don’t exceed a height of 175cm (malnutrition), so feel free to use that as the basis for whether your character is considered short, tall, or average. The average doorway in Vestry has a height of 190cm. If your character is 200cm tall, they gotta duck every time.

Hair Color:
Just one or two words please.

Eye Color:
Same as above.

Faceclaim:
Avoid realistic references.

Appearance:
**a description of your character’s appearance is optional but appreciated**



PERSONAL DETAILS


Personality:
I’ll accept one paragraph, and I’ll accept twenty paragraphs (but please don’t). Just make sure I get a clear idea of who your character is.

Backstory:
Make sure to reference your character’s motivations, thoughts on the government, and why/how they joined Arcana.

Relationships:
Make cliques, alliances, rivals, archnemeses…go wild. There’s a relationship plotting channel on the discord, but feel free to take it to the DMs as well.



COMBAT DATA


Ability:
Each stigma can host one ability. No more, no less. Make sure to clearly list out its strengths and weaknesses. Keep in mind the difference between Major and Minor Arcanas.

Relics:
Specify the name of the relic (even if it’s some generic title), describe what it looks like, and explain its function and other details. Is it a high-grade relic or is it a beat-up tool on its last legs? How did your character find or receive this relic? Make sure to keep in mind that possessing a relic is illegal. You CAN and WILL lose it if you’re careless. It’s also possible to gain a relic while progressing through the story. Each player is allowed one relic from the start, though you may choose to opt out as well. If you want to grab a vestige instead of a relic, ask for permission first.

Equipment:
Any regular equipment and tools of the trade that your character carries around.
Roster .
Vermillion
Aurelius
1st Faction
The Chariot
A former noble with a strong sense of justice. Aurelius, while no longer a part of a noble family, still looks the part. Always making sure his appearance is presentable and proper. However, his actual personality breaks the illusion of being a nice and proper noble. He's vulgar with his words, isn't afraid to dirty himself, and can be straight-up feral if it means getting what needs to be done, done.
Arum
Cyrus
1st Faction
Ten of Cups
Though technically associated with Arcana since its inception, Cyrus was not an active member until fairly recently. His coquettish mannerisms belie a childlike innocence. Due to his upbringing, he is inexperienced in virtually all aspects of life, from socializing to basic knowledge of the world outside of Verrin. Perhaps as a result, he sometimes subconsciously latches onto his fellow Arcana members like security blankets. Cyrus’s heart of gold means that he derives no joy from Arcana’s activities, but he nevertheless carries out his duties with gusto to please the other members.
Nemesis
Andrius
1st Faction
Judgement
Once a distinguished member of the Royal Guard, the talented swordsman severed all ties with the haughty nobility that once commanded his loyalty. He has cast off the shackles of allegiance to the crown, now finding purpose in serving a higher cause—he pledges his sword to Arcana, becoming a dreaded blade that metes retribution upon the guilty.

Beneath his virtuous visage lies a cold and outspoken soul. His austere demeanour, once moulded by the rigid code of chivalry, has transformed him into a fearsome paragon of vengeance. Andrius once swore an oath to protect Vestry at all costs, and he is yet unyielding in his commitment to this oath... Even if it means culling the corrupted rulers of his homeland.
Foxglove
Song
1st Faction
Ten of Swords
Appearances alone portray Song to be polite, soft-spoken, and the type who wouldn't hurt a fly. After the first impressions wear off, Song is bold and honest to a fault. Despite how much she tries to hold her tongue, it's not within Song's nature to leave things unsaid. Nor is she the type to mind her own business; she has a tendency to eavesdrop and pry. Regardless of that, and her somewhat pessimistic outlook, Song is still quite a sweet woman who looks out for her friends. As a new member of Arcana, she hasn't yet opened up to her fellow First Faction, but it's obvious enough that her past has caused her enough strife to join the ranks.

Nevermind her severe lack of experience, Song has a fierce determination to dive into the efforts of reaching Arcana's goals.
Dusk
Titania
1st Faction
Eight of Wands
One look at Titania and it's clear she's a member of nobility. Though her link to the throne is tenuous at best (22nd in line is little to boast about), she carries herself with all the elitism and ego one might expect of a sheltered heir. This has earned her little favor from the second faction; a fact which she does little to change. If they're stupid enough to believe a full revolution would work, then it's little wonder they'd believe her cultivated airs. While her reasons for joining are ambiguous, her disdain for the current reigning monarch is clear in the words she uttered in response; "A queen who's never walked amongst her people does not deserve to sit above them."
Ematille
Dorian
2nd Faction
The Tower
Dorian is a man of the people. Kind and gregarious, he takes care to watch over his subordinates and peers, hear out their concerns, consult on their troubles, and consider their opinions. It's a shame he doesn't care for a single one of them. Almost physically incapable of empathy, Dorian operates purely on a basis of what would be most beneficial to himself and his goals. For now, that means committing himself to the second faction and maintaining beneficial relationships with the other members of Arcana. So long as their purposes remain aligned, he'll stand among the most reasonable and approachable senior members of the organization -- and alongside anyone who provides him value.
Amethyst
Yenoia
2nd Faction
The High Priestess
Yenoia is your “beg me” kind of doctor, but it doesn’t hide the fact that she is a skilled doctor with a knack for surgery. Some folks call her a sadist, but she believes she just has a unique taste for pleasure. Probably it comes from her noble lineage that provides her everything she needs, somehow it bores her to the core, making the taste of someone else’s pain the only thing that pleases her. She gets a unique ability from her stigma for manipulating others' perception of pain, which she uses both for medical procedures and occasionally... for her own amusement. Yenoia used to be a better person when Delyx was around, but with him gone, she kinda walks a fine line between good and bad.
Pawn
Emersyn
2nd Faction
Nine of Swords
Being a pawn for a noble's sick game has left Emersyn Illiro broken and scarred. Even after she escaped, a piece of her remains trapped in that household and after years of wearing a disguise, she came to realize it consumed whatever was meant to be kept safe within it. Emersyn is not so keen to discover what might come out of the rubble nor willing for someone to take a chisel and chip away at her layers of masks. Who knows what measures she might resort to if someone were to stumble upon her secrets and sins? Her current desire is to get back at the nobles who wronged her, which led Emersyn to fall smoothly into the Second Faction's ranks.
Spinel
Reno
3rd Faction
The Lovers
Gaunt and perpetually in a daze, the co-founder of The Third Faction appears unreliable at best and on the verge of collapse at worst. Despite his position, his knowledge on relics falls just short of the best and brightest, but he makes up for it with technical skill and ability to multitask with a high degree of efficiency. He may appear difficult to approach due to his aloof mein, but he’s a willing listener and a patient teacher if people have inquiries about mana or precious stones. Just make sure to seek him out towards the evenings, as he’s often caught sleeping during his day job as a jeweler.
Rattler
Akseli
3rd Faction
The Hanged Man
A fresh inductee into the erudite and aloof Third Faction, Akseli is almost-archetypal of his allegiance; A tall and almost-thin man, whose smooth features are often permanently decorated by a warm, approachable smile and shining acceptance into his lively, gray eyes. Further defined by a boundless font of optimism, the Arcana-wielder possesses a great deal of naivete and curiousity which propelled his study of relics, vestiges and the arcane-lore of the Technicians — though despairs of even attaining a degree of mastery like Salvatore or those around him. But his greatest admiration is the manaless marvels made by the hands of man. Unlike most of his peers, however, he does not shy away from the harsh reality or necessity of battle.
Samadhi
Arakan
3rd Faction
The Magician
Ever with a smug look on his face, strutting about with a piercing stare- Samadhi strikes an unsettling figure, even amongst the strange oddities that make up the Third Faction. He is among the most brilliant minds available on the nature of vestiges, relics, mana, and even some things of the divine- but it can be difficult to drag him away from his own private projects. If he is not found in his workshop, analyzing some stolen piece of literature or relic, one can find him in the field working in his strange, eerily cheerful way to obtain those very things. For Arcana, of course.
Magpie
Leif
3rd Faction
The Fool
Leif is a cheerful individual who you would call a certified genius in the Third Faction but also a certified idiot in the Common Sense Faction. An example from his list of crimes would be causing a (contained) explosion while tweaking an alignment-sensitive relic with his stigma instead of grabbing the wedge right next to him to keep it stable instead of purely relying on his own concentration. Which he has a lack of sometimes. Predictably, he is also quick to wander off and get into trouble as well as a toddler. Over the years many of his seniors have gotten into the habit of sticking a new thick book or puzzle into his hands to ward him off from sticking his nose where it doesn't belong.
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Code by Nano
 
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Full Name
Reno Salvatore
Code Name
Spinel
Arcana
VI. The Lovers
Age
Twenty-Six (26)
Date of Birth
13th Day of Tranquility
Faction
Third
Position
Leader
Height
186cm
Hair Color
Red
Eye Color
Green
Faceclaim
Mithra (Mahoyaku)
Gaunt and perpetually in a daze, the co-founder of The Third Faction appears unreliable at best and on the verge of collapse at worst. Despite his position, his knowledge on relics falls just short of the best and brightest, but he makes up for it with technical skill and ability to multitask with a high degree of efficiency. He may appear difficult to approach due to his aloof mein, but he’s a willing listener and a patient teacher if people have inquiries about mana or precious stones. Just make sure to seek him out towards the evenings, as he’s often caught sleeping during his day job as a jeweler.
Into The Cradle of Desire
I never managed to take a single step through its entrance, but I can tell you it’s crawling with all sorts of nasty creatures.
Appearance
A walking corpse. When asked for a brief descriptor of Reno, it’s difficult not to provide the inquirer with that less-than-flattering label, what with the way he nigh drags his body outside for its daily dose of sunlight. The dark circles under his eyes are a permanent fixture rather than a feature that comes and goes, resulting from several too many nights of forcing his brain to remain awake and vaguely functional through copious amounts of caffeine. Forced laughter gives the impression that he’s a singular poke away from collapsing, and in spite of his tall stature suggestion that his developmental years were spent as a stranger to the concept of hunger, ashy skin and a head of hair as dry as a broom make it clear that the current him is not one to pay attention to his basic nutritional needs. The eyes that once reflected the brilliance of verdant fields now bear the stillness of dead lakes within their hollow depths, and the bright red hair that once represented the spirit of his ardor has long turned dull.

Reno’s first choice in casual attire outside his working hours is similarly dull, yet it is hard not to take note of the various accessories that seemingly fight against his otherwise bland style. They aren’t the most ostentatious pieces you’ll find in Vestry, but for what they lack in conspicuousness on an individual level, they make up for in numbers. It isn’t difficult to put two-and-two together upon catching a glimpse of the myriad of scars littering his body. A cuff or bangles to cover up his right wrist, rings to cover the base of his fingers, and a high collared shirt to obscure the scars lining his chest, collarbone, and neck. He doesn’t seem to mind when Arcana members see these scars and is typically seen without said coverups when lounging around in The Whispering Maple’s hidden lower floor, however.
Personality
As the leader of a faction determined to pick apart the secrets of technology long rendered taboo, Reno is an indisputably intelligent man who, on the other hand, seems to be perpetually teetering about the precipice of yet another bout of hysteria. Few would be able to tell upon first impressions alone given the grim cloud of lethargy that infects the air around him, but most members of the Third Faction are distinctly familiar with his inability to deal with stress and the tightly wound ball of anxiety hidden under his calm facade. Whether his “episodes” manifest as varying degrees of stomach cramps, a fit of hysterical laughter, or a sobbing mess, he’s fairly quick to reboot and recover, though perhaps the brevity of this period is the primary contributor to his fragile psyche. Regrets form the core structure of this system, particularly in regards to how he’s always tired, always lamenting the fact that he didn’t hit the sack an hour or five earlier (or the fact that he accepted this position in the first place). The product of his familiarity with the creatures that chirp well into the night is a volatile temper that not even the most tightly corked bottle can hold down forever.

In spite of his quiet exterior which changes at the drop of a hat, Reno’s prone to moods that plunge down into depressive oblivion yet seldom venture into the territory of anger. For all his complaints about how he “never should’ve listened to that witch,” he does his work competently and tries his best to strive for what is expected of him. His views on the state of the world and the decisions of his predecessor are incredibly bitter, yet the bite of his snark and sarcasm belie a sentimental soul who tries desperately to care for the people around him, even if they may not appreciate it. Listless but not broken, he has yet to give up on their collective futures and earnestly believes that the poison of the world also has the ability to cure it. Thus, he labors tirelessly—obsessively—over that goal while helping others in small ways in the meantime.

That isn’t to say his efforts always go acknowledged, or noticed for that matter. He’s a master of problem solving but not necessarily one in matters of navigating through the intricacies of human relationships, nor does he claim himself to be one. Trust is a give-and-take which depends on the other party to bother accepting it, regardless of his lack of qualms about proving himself until they do. As a result, the Third Faction is the most loosely governed of the three factions, and most responsibilities are delegated to relevant members within their respective fields. Not that he allows anyone to encroach on his authority when it’s his turn to take charge during missions or a witness to a fool handling dangerous materials carelessly. Fortunately, he isn’t the sort to hold first infractions against anyone. He is the type to do so in the case of more petty slights, however. Though he appears uncaring of any wrongdoings against him and seldom expresses his ire over trivial insults, his grudges run deep. He’ll remember your words forever, no matter how sleep-addled his brain is.

In a similar vein, he always looks as if he’s in a daze, but he’s a surprisingly good listener and often recalls the finer details of a conversation despite looking as if he weren’t paying attention. Even if he finds that the information he was dumped with is troublesome, he’ll still remember a minor preference that someone mentioned in passing, a useful skill in his trade as well as in negotiations.
+
Likes
  • Jade
  • Seaglass
  • Most semi-precious stones
  • Stuffed Eggplant
  • Technician-related ruins
  • Hamsters
  • People who are straightforward and frank
-
Dislikes
  • Peridot
  • Gold
  • Soup
  • Superfluous and overly polite speech
  • Winter
  • Schemers and getting involved in “troublesome matters”
VI
Click to Expand Backstory
tl;dr: Reno was born to a poor couple in the village of Orth neighboring an abandoned magicite mine and relic research site. He stayed far away from it due to witnessing his neighbor being brutally slaughtered by one of the monsters guarding the mine but returned to scavenge the corpse for something to sell when his father grew ill. While attempting to sell the relics he found on the body, he bumps into a man who offers to help him. His mother ends up selling him off to the family the stranger works under and becomes the body double for the merchant’s sickly son. Soon after the son passes away due to illness, Reno contracts the disease caused by mana corrosion. His illness is discovered when the telltale scale-like growths appear, and the merchant’s family tries to cover it up by surgically removing them. He eventually steals a few valuables and escapes to The Cradle of Desire where he’s ambushed by monsters. A woman saves him and takes him in as her apprentice. When his symptoms suddenly worsen, she takes him to Arcana where he receives the stigma of The Lovers and formally becomes one of their members. Under his mentor’s instruction, he helps build a more structured environment for those investigating the works of the Technicians which eventually becomes the Third Faction. His mentor dies by the hands of a traitor soon after.

===

When you retrace the steps imprinted upon your memory, do you seek the comfort of the wealth you once had, or do you chase after the simplicity of days long past?

His parents were neither skilled laborers nor blessed with the education and business acumen required to oust themselves from their circle of poverty. Sequestered in a small pocket of Vestry with little value ever since raw magicite mines lost their worth, the people of Orth long gave up on the concept of taking opportunities to change the status quo. It was an open secret that manastones or other magical tools worth a fortune were buried within the forest leading to the mines. The terror-inducing howls of the monsters guarding the mana-infested grounds were proof enough of the Technicians’ influence on the area. None, however, dared traverse the dark and winding paths of the cursed forest. What could they hope to do? A once bountiful river produced a daily catch that could hardly feed a single family, and farmers who toiled for an entire season could only set their tables with watery gruel each day. They were lucky if they could gather up enough food to pad their stomachs for the week; their thin arms lacked the strength to fend off beasts whose forms were twisted by the curse of the gods. Worse still were the gradual but painful deaths of those foolish enough to trespass into the mines only to haul back a body ravaged by the curse of mana.

Adventurous as he was, Reno heeded his parents’ warnings to steer clear of the beasts’ territory and limit his ventures to skirting around the shallowest edges of the forest. His mother had been generous that day, sliding him a precious piece of dried fruit before sending him off to go play. He took a straw basket along with the fruit, daydreaming about the tart sweetness of the jam his mother would make if he managed to come across a good harvest of wild berries in the forest.

As he trekked down the familiar dirt path that guided him through the forest each Spring, the dried fruit he idly nibbled on grew smaller and smaller until all that accompanied him was a painfully empty basket. Whether they be wild fruit or berries, he found not a single ripened bush, either picked clean by the other villagers or the smaller animals who were always the earliest to help themselves to a rare feast. It was strange, yet the young boy paid the situation no mind, instead turning his gaze upwards into the loose canopy of leaves lazily swaying in the wind.

Just a little further in, he thought. Just far enough to stray from the areas the villagers frequented but not deep enough to reach the inner forest cursed by the gods. Should the need to run arise, there was no mud to get in his way and he still had time before the day approached the evening hours. Reassuring himself that monsters never leave the heart of the forest, the boy gripped the shoulder straps of his basket and carefully stepped over the shrubs and tangled tree roots obstructing his way.

A hundred steps, two hundred, then three hundred—each time Reno could no longer spot the scrap of yellow cloth left atop a tower of sticks and stones, he built another, held securely atop the exposed roots of a tree. In another half-hour’s time, the disgruntled boy brushed a small spider off his forehead and grumbled as he began picking off bits and pieces of its sticky web out of his hair. The crown of spider silk and leaves he never asked for would be promptly forgotten the moment a familiar shade of red entered his field of vision, however.

A lush thicket lined the small clearing, their branches adorned with red berries which shone brightly like gemstones. Nearly tripping over an uplifted tree root in his haste, Reno excitedly made his way towards the closest berry bush as if he’d come across a hidden treasure. The first taste of its tart juice pinched his cheeks, and the boy resisted the urge to pop an entire branch’s worth into his mouth. A half gram at a time, he slowly fed his harvest into his basket, becoming ever more pleased with his find as the volume of berries in his basket grew. Humming a tune familiar to the farmers of Orth, the boy missed the sound of footfalls upon foliage and only raised his head when a metallic ringing drew his attention further ahead.

Scanning the area with eyes blown wide, relief washed over the boy when he spotted the familiar sight of grumpy-looking eyes and a deep frown hidden behind a messy beard. After haphazardly wiping his sticky hands on the front of his shirt and swiping his tongue across the tart remnants of the berries staining the corner of his mouth, he waved wildly at the man and called out towards his neighbor.

“Mr. Gareth!” he shouted, likely alerting not only the man in question but any wildlife in the vicinity, yet the man continued on with hurried footsteps.

The fingers outstretched into a friendly wave curled back into Reno’s palm, and the red-haired child blinked owlishly at the quickly disappearing figure. Then, a frown. His neighbor had headed deeper into the forest. Any closer and the man was likely to land himself in trouble.

Maybe he forgot, he naively thought, making up his mind to catch up to Mr. Gareth to warn him. Underestimating a vertical disadvantage spanning an entire half meter would be his undoing, however. Irrespective of his familiarity with the forest’s terrain, ducking under fallen, moss-covered trees while maintaining stable footing over the uneven woodland floor was a cumbersome process for the seven-year-old. Whenever he managed to catch a glimpse of the tall figure moving through the woods or pricked his ears up in response to the snapping of a twig under hardened soles, he quickly fell behind and lost track of the man’s trail once again.

Rubbing his shoulder against the side of his neck to wipe off his sweat, the boy contemplated turning back. The trees had begun to grow denser, and the forest darker due with only a limited amount of sunlight filtering through the small holes cut into the tight weave of branches and leaves high above. It wouldn’t be long before he lost his way, while Mr. Gareth seemed sure of his destination. Though he couldn’t understand why an adult would demand that he stay away from the forest depths one day but go against his own advice on another, he was sure his neighbor could handle himself. After all, Mr. Gareth knew his way around a sword! Certainly, his decision to give up the chase and turn back wasn’t influenced by the fear gradually clawing its way into his lungs. No, not fear. He merely didn’t wish for his mother to worry when he took too long to return home.

A step. A scream.

Reno froze. It began like a roar, its pressure shaking the foliage in the vicinity, before ascending into a wavering howl laced with a high pitched, screech-like whine. It was a sound he’d heard many times before, but never had its source been so close. However, he dared not turn his head to look for the monster vocalizing its presence. Collapsing onto the base of a tree, the young boy tucked his legs into his chest and held his breath. When panicked footfalls drew closer, he curled more tightly into himself and closed his eyes.

Mr. Gareth’s footsteps fell just short of his location, replaced by screams of agony and the sickening crunch of bone giving way to teeth. Covering his mouth in an attempt to hold down the surprised hiccups that threatened to alert the monster, Reno slowly peered past the base of the trunk. Straining his eyes past the dim lighting of the woods and his own blurred vision, he came face-to-face with a great shadow. Were the protrusions crowning its head horns or ears? Only the golden color of its eyes and its jaw full of white teeth were clearly imprinted into his memories.

An unknown substance dripped from its jaws, mixed with the turbid red of blood mixed with frothy saliva. The monster threw its snout back, tossing the mangled body into the air before catching the corpse once again by its midsection. Shards of the man’s skull fell at the behemoth’s feet, glistening with blood and what he now realized were parts of his…

The distorted, otherworldly gurgling that bubbled up from the deep cavity of the behemoth’s chest sent him breaking out into a run. Clamping his teeth down upon his inner lip to hold back the bile rising in his throat, Reno looked back once. The monster continued to gorge upon its prey, either failing to notice or choosing to ignore the smaller child who had disturbed its meal. The corpse’s left arm hung loosely from the rest of the body, swinging wildly like an erratic pendulum. Within the hand, he spotted a glint of light reflected off of a sparkling surface which resembled a gem, but his thoughts wouldn’t linger upon the identity of the object for long.

He ran past the clearing, tripping over a downed tree he’d been too ambitious in attempting to jump over. Rolling out of his tumble and ignoring the blood trickling down his palms and knees, he continued to sprint past the various markers he’d placed, never stopping even when he reached the edge of the forest.

“Reno Salvatore! What did I say about slamming the door!” his mother shrieked when the boy barreled through the entrance. Bright red berries bounced out of the basket strapped to his back and rolled across the kitchen floor, and his mother shook her ladle in the air accompanied by loose threats about making him clean the entire house. When the boy pasted himself onto his mother and held her skirts in shaking hands, the woman was stunned into silence and instinctively wrapped her arms around the child clinging to her waist.

No matter how she attempted to coax her son into telling her what had him in such a state, he stubbornly refused to lift his head. He was too frightened to speak, too shocked for even a single tear to fall.

When rumors about Mr. Gareth’s disappearance reached their peak in a week’s time, his parents gave him strange, curious looks. They never asked; he never answered. The events that transpired in the woods that day became a secret he wished to desperately forget. Yet each time the wind carried a familiar, haunting howl to the village, that memory resurfaced like a stain that would never truly go away no matter how many times the cloth was washed.

He’d never go back—or so he thought. Within five seasons, he learned some things weigh heavier than the fears plaguing his nightmares.

Reno knew of the stories surrounding the cursed forest, beckoning foolish tourists into its depths with the promise of treasure. His family never had a need for such treasures, and his neighbor’s downfall compounded his fear of the unknown variables lurking within the mysterious woodland. Yet there he stood once again, many moons later, staring down upon the scattered and unrecognizable remains of the man he’d once called Mr. Gareth.

“Sorry… I’m sorry,” he kept repeating like a mantra, as if convinced that his apologies would lessen the sin of scavenging from a corpse. He knew not the value of the pale blue gem still clutched within the thin skeleton of Mr. Gareth’s palm, nor did he know if the moldy pouch discarded a meter away held anything worth selling. Wiping away the tears tracking trails across the length of his face, the boy fled with his findings. He left before guilt forced his hand to drop the so-called treasures his neighbor had risked his life for, left before that thing found him.

That night, he waited for his mother to cease pacing between the kitchen and her bedroom. As he listened to his father’s wheezing and coughing carried through the thin wall separating their rooms, his grip upon Mr. Gareth’s pouch grew tighter.

For what he lacked in wisdom, the child made up with his determination and good fortune. Knowing only the city had a need for what the people of Orth viewed as useless baubles, the child walked until his feet burned and his legs refused to take another step. He glared balefully up at a wooden sign marking the crossroad, as if staring long enough would magically make his fatigue disappear and grant him the ability to read in the process.

“Goodness! Is that a child?”

The surprised voice of a woman called out from amidst the noisy clattering of the wheels of a carriage. Though initially concerned that a child was sitting by the roadside without a chaperone in sight, the small caravan of merchants allowed the young boy to sit with them on the way to their destination: the city of Ludique. If his lie that his parents were waiting for him in the city were obvious, the merchants were kind enough to not ask any questions, merely looking upon him with pity in their eyes.

Upon arriving at their destination, the family of merchants offered to help find his parents, but the boy stubbornly stated his farewell, thanking them with one of the rings he’d found within Mr. Gareth’s pouch. His mulish desire to complete his objectives independently, however, wouldn’t get him very far.

Having never seen such busy streets in his life, the unfamiliar buzz of people milling about and the unfamiliar scents of the city were a dizzying spell making it impossible to get his bearings. While timidly flicking his gaze between one vendor to the next in what seemed to be a marketplace, the boy found himself walking face-first into a tall figure and being thrown to the ground.

“Damn brat…” the man said while brushing his hand against his coat, with an expression of disgust as if he’d been touched by something filthy. However, the moment his eyes fell upon the juvenile face twisted in fear, his expression shifted to one of surprise, then a strained gentleness.

“Oh, oh! Sorry about that, boy. Here, let me help you,” he said, offering his hand to the child. Hesitantly, Reno took the man’s hand and stood up, carefully observing the man who’d performed a sudden about face. He’d been scowling one moment only to act kind the next. So kind, in fact, that when Reno explained the reason behind his dazed wandering about the streets of the marketplace alone, the man offered to purchase his pouch of unknown trinkets for a sum.

Having never handled money in his life, the weight of the coins in his hands didn’t feel very reassuring. However, the man’s promise to help his father receive treatment in the city had Reno accepting the man’s invitation to travel back to Orth together. Though he had his doubts about a complete stranger offering such a deal to a child who clearly didn’t know the value (or lack thereof) of the trinkets he carried, the man came to find him at the inn at daybreak as promised, and the two made their way back to the boy’s hometown.

He’d never seen his mother so angry and distraught, and had she not spotted the guest by his side, he knew he would have been beaten within an inch of his life. The stern look she gave him conveyed that he was still in for a harsh scolding their neighbors would no doubt overhear, but the woman nonetheless acquiesced when the man accompanying her son asked to speak with her in private.

“It’s a talk between adults,” she said, while shooing off Reno to go and explain his week-long disappearance to his friends.

In the end, the scolding he expected never came, replaced by a hug tight enough to make his chest strain to breathe. When he gazed up into her face stained with sorrow, she looked haggard, as if she’d aged several years in the few days he hadn’t seen her. For a long time, she didn’t speak, maintaining her silence even when her son asked what she had discussed with the man.

For the following two weeks, Reno’s mother was uncharacteristically tolerant of his usual childish antics. If he skipped out on his chores in favor of sneaking off to help his friends prank his neighbor, she merely gave him a light flick on the nose and quietly finished the rest of the housework. When he forgot to clean the mud off his shoes before entering the house, she didn’t make a fuss like usual. Once the novelty of going unpunished for any form of misbehavior wore off, the realization that something was wrong crept out from the recesses of his mind like an ill omen. It was strange—unsettling, even.

“Take care of yourself, and listen well to the adults around you.”

Those were his mother’s final words to him. When the mysterious man returned and began to pull Reno away by his wrist, the woman kept her crossed arms tightly against her bosom. She offered neither words of comfort nor a final hug before the young boy was lifted into the carriage. As he looked out the window towards his mother, too stunned to yell or question where he was being taken, she slowly turned and opened the door to the home he’d lived in for eight years. She didn’t look back a single time before slamming the door shut.

Past the garden lush with flowers he failed to recognize and the cold, iron gates leading into a villa whose magnificence he’d never seen the likes of before, a man with a terrifyingly cold glare loomed over the young boy’s quivering form. A rough hand pinched his chin and jerked his head up, forcing him to stare into the eyes which observed him with an undisguised disgust towards his mere existence.

The man snorted while forcefully shoving Reno’s face away. “From now on, you’ll be working for me. I expect you to perform well if you wish for your parents to live a comfortable life in Ludique,” he said, taking his time to thoroughly wipe his fingers upon a handkerchief.

Work?

Before the words of the man whose name he’d later learn was Edwyn Cecil had the opportunity to sink in, Reno was taken to yet another room, this time occupied by a child whose appearance triggered him to step back in surprise. An all-too familiar shade of emerald green glimmered curiously, soon folding into little crescents inviting him to come closer. “You must be the friend mother mentioned. Wow, we really do look alike!” The bedridden child laughed as if he found the situation awfully funny, yet his doppelganger didn’t follow suit.

Meeting the boy who was like a mirror image of himself was all the answer Reno needed to finally make sense of the hidden meanings behind the events he couldn’t decipher no matter how long he turned the details in his head. When the suspiciously generous stranger placed a bag of coins in his hand, he hadn’t bought the pouch of gems and trinkets Reno had offered. For the sake of his family, he himself had become the commodity being passed between hands, purchased to take another’s place as their shadow.

Edwyn Cecil was a low ranking Baron, the son of a wealthy merchant and a freshly minted noble. For all their wealth, their influence within the royal court was paltry at best while their social statuses sat in similarly laughable states. Edwyn Cecil’s father clung to what little scraps those in power threw his way but ultimately died a dog’s death while caught up in a scheme, leaving behind a debt and stain that took a decade to clear. Determined to succeed where his foolish father stumbled, the head of the Cecil House made use of everything at his disposal while discarding all liabilities, including his own son. He needed a healthy heir capable of elevating the family name, not one so frail that he fell ill at the slightest bit of strenuous exercise, and the pauper named Reno happened to be the perfect mask for their defective son.

From that day on, he was Him, That Thing, Young Master, or (to his horror) Emyr. He hated the way the housekeeper Lilian looked upon him with pity, attempting to console him with hearty dishes which sickened him in how they were the first dishes to truly satiate him. He hated the way the Lady of the Cecil House and his tutors berated him and his birth parents for their poor upbringing and lack of education, whipping him with a ruler or whatever they had on hand until skin peeled away from flesh. Most of all, he hated Emyr’s attempts to befriend him despite being the entity responsible for taking away his name.

Each night, he stared out the clear pane, fantasizing about liberating himself from the so-called debt he owed and running off in search of his family. However, without fail, he drew the curtains shut before crawling underneath the quilt whose fine down wrapped him in an uncomfortable warmth he wasn’t used to. He had to stay, so he closed his eyes, firmly repeating to himself that he was living a good life without having to sacrifice much. He was…fortunate. Blessed. Happy.

He dreamt of the hard pattering of rain water falling through a leaky roof into a bucket by his bedside and of a boy waiting for the clouds to part so that he could run under the vast sky once again.

From a child who couldn’t write, much less read, to one whose elegant penmanship became praised by any who received his letters, Reno was quick to learn and improve upon whatever was asked of him. Nothing, however, could ever please the endless demands of the woman he was ordered to refer to as his mother in public. When he learned to write, he was tasked with studying a foreign language. If his lessons on Vestry’s history ended early, he was to spend an extra hour going over the materials on etiquette. As he grew older, so did his responsibilities, yet his days remained monotonous: attempt to cram a mind numbing amount of new information into his head, endure Gwen Cecil taking out her frustrations on him, visit the real Emyr Cecil, accompany Edwyn Cecil to listen in on business matters. Rinse, repeat.

When Emyr handed him a letter a year and a half into his “employment”, Reno gave the white envelope a cursory glance and moved to place it atop the dresser by Emyr’s bedside. Another one of his antics, he’d assumed, though he gave into the boy’s whims upon his insistence. If he didn’t, he knew the redhead would keep up this agenda for days.

He unfolded the parchment tucked neatly into the envelope. Then, his hands shook.

Neither of his parents knew how to read, and the neat handwriting carefully etched onto the paper clearly belonged to someone who’d been doing so for many years. However, there was only one person who referred to him by the nickname addressed in the first line of the letter.

His parents, they were alive and well.

Swallowing down the lump in his throat and doing his best to keep any semblance of emotion from revealing itself on his face, Reno slowly took in each line in the letter one-by-one. “It can’t have been easy to convince them to allow this,” he said after reaching the final word on the page.

“You know my father. If he’s being stubborn, you just need to be more stubborn than him. You always look like you’d rather die than talk to me, so I thought this’d make a good peace offering.” Emyr shrugged, doing his best to act as if obtaining the letter had been a simple matter.

“Tsk, buying friendship,” he fixed his nastiest glare upon the boy who’d already tucked himself back under his covers. “The wealthy are all the same.”

Despite his accusatory words, neither mentioned the incident again in their following meetings. If Emyr noticed Reno’s awkward attempts at being slightly more amicable than usual, he tactfully didn’t comment on the matter.

A begrudging concession grew into a crack of a smile, one furiously wiped away upon realizing the absurdity of laughing at a poorly-thought out joke. Emyr was a menace, an annoyance whose erratic thought processes remained beyond his comprehension, yet he found himself gradually breathing easier. In the presence of the sole person in the Cecil House who still referred to him by his true name, he was allowed to drop the insipid smile drawn upon his mask, trading it for the occasional snort or vocalization of his irritation. Before he realized it, the person whose existence shackled him to the Cecil House had become the sole tether preserving his sanity.

However, a life would not be extended simply because an insignificant person silently hoped for a miracle. Emyr had survived a decade past the initial expiration date that the physicians had set for him, yet his horribly atrophied muscles were merely one of the many signs that his body was nearing its limit. His life was like a small flame flickering upon a thin wick set out to brave the elements without a single wall to protect it.

All it took was a single breeze to extinguish that small spark of life.

Gwen Cecil’s tears watered the soil covering an unmarked grave, uncaring that her weeping had smeared her makeup into horribly misplaced streaks of monochrome. Was her distress genuine, or was she putting up airs as she usually did? He didn’t know. However, as Reno watched the steadily shrinking back of a man who’d long began making his way back to the estate, rage boiled away any sense of grief he might have felt. From beginning to end, Edwyn Cecil had never spared a shred of care for his own flesh and blood, fully willing to kick his conscience to the wayside and refuse to give his son a proper burial in order to continue that arrogant farce he referred to as the greater good.

Left behind by her son and emotionally abandoned by her husband, Gwen Cecil’s psyche deteriorated, metamorphosing into a wailing banshee who painfully dug her claws into Reno’s flesh whenever he lingered in her presence for a second too long. Perhaps he’d grown to fear how extreme her actions would become, or perhaps he’d simply grown used to keeping his weaknesses hidden away from the judgemental eyes of the people around him. When the first signs of illness manifested, he did his best to will away the painful hammering upon his skull and passed off the bleeding as a simple, common nosebleed.

At first, they simply scolded him for being sluggish and in a daze. However, when the first of the white scales telltale of the disease caused by mana corrosion appeared, it wasn’t long until they caught wind of his lies.

A tight grip drained his arm of blood while nails dug into his skin deep enough to make bloody, crescent-shaped incisions. “I knew we shouldn’t have taken in this lowborn,” the banshee’s venomous voice spat, hatred dripping from each enunciated syllable. Madness burned within her unfocused eyes, gazing at something he couldn’t see.

Secretly, he hoped that this would be the final straw, that he’d finally be freed from his role of living out the life of a corpse. However, when he thought back to the letter he’d received five days prior, he knew he couldn’t escape until he completely exhausted his usefulness.

The first time he felt the press of the cold knife against his chest, he nearly bit off his own tongue in an attempt to suppress the pain. Five, six, seven, he counted the number of times they repeated the process, until he grew numb to the bite of the crude scalpel and lost track of the scales carved out from his flesh. For another year, that was their routine—a poor attempt at forcing him to continue his part as the capable heir who was the picture of health.

Scars littered his body, cleverly hidden underneath layers of inconspicuously placed cloth, yet he remained silent without complaint. That is, until he found that quarantining himself when he wasn’t required to make a public appearance wasn’t enough to confine the disease to his body alone.

Even when the Cecils sent her on her way, likely to a horrible place ill suited for an elderly woman in her condition, Lilian never blamed him. Her kind, caring smile collapsed the dam holding back the accumulation of all of his fears.

He feared the disease, its manner of claiming its mark upon those who dared to stay too close, and the way he could feel his time slipping away as it slowly destroyed him from the inside. Most of all, he feared dying as a mere replica of another, so he fled.

He ran. Away from that illusion of a family and the nightmare named responsibility. Taking his collection of letters from his parents and swiping a few valuables he planned on selling, he made haste to the address carefully stamped on the letters, only to receive a revelation of just how foolish he’d been. The residence was empty and disheveled, clearly having been abandoned for several years. In a panic, he harshly grabbed the shoulder of the neighboring housewife sweeping the yard, who angrily answered that the couple living there had passed away several years prior before shooing the man off.

Save for the first letter, the rest had all been forgeries created for the sake of keeping him upon a short leash.

What now?

He asked himself the same question for days, wondering if it was possible to fight an illness no one could cure and whether it would even be worth it. Afraid of living but too much of a coward to do nothing and rot away, he gradually picked himself back up and made his way to the only place he knew was closely related to the disease.

What greeted him at the gates of The Cradle of Desire was a monster whose wispy body seemed to drool onto the ground like ink. Six, spindly arms grew from its body, cycling rapidly over the floor until the creature towered over its prey, its face hunched down low enough that Reno could feel its breath. The memory of that monster from so long ago paralyzed his limbs, yet even as he stared death in the face, he couldn’t bring himself to look away. In the end, he didn’t want to die. Not in a barren wasteland where there was no one to remember that he’d once existed.

An unusually loud snap turned the monster’s head in the direction of the sound. Then, its body flew towards the left, as if it had been hit by a great force. Reno collapsed, shocked, raising his hand to touch the stinging sensation on his cheek. Small beads of blood coated his fingers, and while he was preoccupied with processing what had just occurred, a light, song-like voice spoke up above him.

“Oh, whoops. Didn’t mean to graze you like that.”

Silk ribbons of silvery hair framed the amused visage of a tall woman who offered to help him up. Recalling the familiar scene of the stranger from long ago whose hand had led him to a hellscape, the redhead hesitated to grab the proffered hand. Ignoring his suspicious glare, she grabbed ahold of his arm and forced him onto his feet, scolding him that they had to move if he wished to make it out of the area alive.

The Witch was a capricious woman, and perhaps coming to his aid that day had been another one of her flights of whimsy. He could never decipher her intentions, not when she saved him nor when she forcefully placed him under her tutelage as an apprentice. For two years, he used his knowledge gained from his time at the Cecil House to continue his studies under his mentor who used her job as a lapidary as a cover for her more illicit research on relics. He never asked why she insisted on playing with fire, and the Witch cleverly herself extracted herself from the conversation whenever related topics came up. However, when his illness suddenly worsened, forcing black blood mixed with acid up his throat, her carefree demeanor shifted.

“I told you, didn’t I? That it was a matter of when and not if. To think you were so reluctant to listen to my suggestion.”

When the red-haired man who appeared not much older than Reno let out a haughty chuckle, the Witch clenched her hands, but she remained silent. Ever since he became branded with the stigma of The Lovers, his headstrong mentor always seemed to wear an apology upon her face around him. Her strange behavior only grew, peaking when the two stood within the crowd of people jeering and cursing at the former leader of their organization.

“When I die, I want you to make sure my husband and daughter never learn about Arcana,” she said, among many other unreasonable requests. At her behest, he reorganized the riff raff composing the body of researchers left behind after Raeger’s careless act of rebellion, eventually forming the Third Faction. However, he didn’t expect for his mentor to suddenly vanish, only for her body to be found two weeks later, cold and lifeless.

What did she know? Who disposed of her in such a fashion?

Question upon question piled up, yet he could only sit there, gritting his teeth and working towards her long sought-after desire to rid the world of the poison called mana.

He never expected a curious peek into a certain individual’s mind would grant him a start into unraveling the mystery behind his mentor’s sudden death, nor did he expect the name on the paper that was discreetly passed to him a week after.
Emyr
“They say seeing your doppelgänger is an omen of death.”
Gratitude. Guilt. Hopelessness. The three emotions most prevalent within Reno’s memories of Emyr arose from the instinctive hatred for the child responsible for his plight gradually eroded by their shared burden. Whenever the line between “me” and “him” twisted together into a tangled mess, he desperately clung to the only person who’d call his name. The boy smiled as easily as he breathed, a trait that would persist even when his disease grew progressively worse as they drew closer to adulthood. Their relationship remained vague over the years—too individualistic to consider their opposite an “other self” and not quite concrete enough to be considered brothers. However, when the accumulation of their mutual consultations disappeared alongside the ashes of Emyr’s cremated body, Reno knew that he’d lost a dear friend and a fragment of himself.

According to Lilian, their solemn expressions were remarkably similar, but it was easy to distinguish the two when they smiled. The more sickly of the two was also far more casual, at times vulgar, compared to the overly polite Reno.
Carmella
“She was brilliant but simultaneously an absolute slob. I’m not sure how Mr. Blake put up with her.”
Reno’s late mentor was a peculiar woman who made frequent trips to the areas surrounding The Cradle of Desire, and their first meeting occurred during one of said excursions. In exchange for saving him from being eaten by a monster, Carmella had Reno help her around her store, forcing him into an apprenticeship when she saw his skill in evaluating the identity and quality of stones. Though he never approved of her manner of leaving her workshop a mess and frequently complained whenever he had to clean up after her, he secretly respected her brilliance and held her in high regard. He considers investigating her death and carrying on her research as a means of settling his great debt to her.
Aurelius
“That Jellyfish Bast- I mean, the head of the First Faction has a talent for keeping conversations…interesting.”
Not quite friends but not quite strangers, Aurelius is the member of Arcana who Reno is most familiar with, though this is always stated with a great sigh or an undertone of disdain. As two individuals who joined the ranks of Arcana at roughly the same time with plenty of baggage on their minds, it wasn’t long until a fight broke out between the two—if you can call a one-sided beatdown a fight. To this day, Reno still doesn’t know why Aurelius kept hunting him down to force him into partaking in his training sessions, but he does begrudgingly admit that the sole reason he can hold his own in a fight is due to those grueling days. That isn’t to say he enjoyed it. Though their relationship is amicable enough to grab brunch together when the opportunity arises, Reno quickly makes himself scarce the moment the 1st faction leader mentions the word training. The last time he agreed, he ended up with a blade lodged into his shoulder while they were practicing tossing Aurelius’s weapons in and out of the space within Illumina’s Tears.
Akseli
“When I see his face, I come to the realization that I’ve gotten so used to the 3rd faction’s shenanigans that my definition of sanity has long been warped.”
Among the colorful personalities within the 3rd faction, Akseli is a breath of fresh air and the sole member of Arcana whom Reno would trust with watching over his pet projects. Curious and hard-working, the man possesses all the qualities of an engineer with none of the troublesome idiosyncrasies typical of those who study the legacy of the technicians. Though the focuses of their research lie in different fields, Reno sees much value in the brunette’s work, viewing it as a necessary path innovation must take if they one day arrive in a future devoid of mana. He has noticed Akseli’s tendency to tense up whenever he strikes up a conversation, but he attributes it to being cautious around one’s boss.
“I only hope that the day the sole tether keeping them grounded snaps never arrives.”
When Owen introduced him to the pair of siblings one day, Reno was quick to offer them free lodging at his home out of sympathy, noting that their circumstances were similar to that of his own when he first met Carmella. However, as a means to protect both himself and Gio from accusations of favoritism, he tends to distance himself from the siblings on a personal level. In terms of their professional relationship, he’s rather strict towards Gio and demands more from them for the same reason. Surprisingly, the redhead is far more resilient than his last tenant, and Reno frequently finds himself entertaining thoughts of keeping the siblings around forever due to the older of the two’s work ethic. His only concerns lie in the fact that for all their determination, Gio very much feels like a ticking time bomb.
Titania
“Many seem to think otherwise, but she’s actually quite the considerate person. As a fellow artisan, she has my respect.”
It isn’t uncommon for Reno to be called upon to verify the intentions of new recruits. The new recruit in question claiming to be of royal descent, however, was new. Initially, he had planned on extending several cordial invitations to chat over tea as an excuse to probe her mind, and it was during one such meeting that she gifted him one of the lamps she made. Enamored by the fine craftsmanship and touched by her willingness to part with it without expecting anything in return, it didn’t take much for his reservations towards her to be wiped clean. Their relationship remains amicable, though the woman always seems a tad confused whenever he gives her a carving or jewelry fashioned from jade in exchange for her lamps. Strange.
Arakan
“Whether he chooses to work with or against the natural laws of the world, the future we envision is all the same.”
Where most in Reno’s position would find Arakan to be completely delusional, the redhead largely turns a blind eye to the fact that his goals seemingly stretch far into the realm of the impossible. When it comes to geniuses, the harder they’re willing to push themselves, the better. Even if he fails, the byproducts of his research alone possess enough value to justify the time and effort expended. For the time being, Reno keeps his knowledge of Arakan’s “Great Work” to himself, as he believes Dorian may view such endeavors as “a frivolous waste of resources” and potentially cut a portion of their funding.
Dorian
“I always need to brace myself before taking a peek into the twisted abyss in his head.”
Simply put, Reno is bad at dealing with people like Dorian. He, too, had once been fooled by that charming smile and polite manner of carrying himself, having thought that the merchant had waived the interest on his loan out of the generosity of his heart. However, Reno is now fully aware that the man loosened his purse strings purely for the sake of hanging his owed favor above his head. The man’s thoughts are dark, and his schemes run deep. In another timeline, Reno might have done his best to avoid the ice cold merchant, but he is aware of the fact that he can only lie in wait for the day he inevitably gets dragged down into troublesome, murky waters. Whenever he must meet with Dorian to discuss the Third Faction’s budget, he suddenly starts to miss Aurelius’s presence. The horror.
*incomprehensible swearing*
Who is the sole person capable of stoking Reno’s anger? Some expect Aurelius, who seems to have a penchant for dragging him off for training during the most inopportune times, while many view Arakan’s antics as the obvious answer. In truth, if the redhead is ever spotted angrily dismantling a relic, most within the Third Faction know to point their fingers at none other than Leif. His “forgetfulness” has caused enough issues over the years that Reno has started to believe that said accidents are on purpose. He’s capable when it comes to learning by dismantling relics, but Reno would never trust him with fixing an important relic, namely FOE.
Cyrus
“Sometimes I wish Daemon were still around in Arcana so I could give him a verbal thrashing.”
If there’s one person Reno doesn’t wish to see first thing in the morning, it’s Cyrus. Whether it be his face, his thoughtless flirtations, or the silly thoughts running through his mind, everything about him is too damn bright for his weak eyes. After various failed attempts at correcting his verbal quirks over the years, Reno has given up on the matter, only politely asking the teen to “never say that again” before inevitably giving up and resorting to cussing Daemon out in his head. Though he wouldn’t ever claim to have been close to the father-son pair, Daemon’s current state does fill Reno with a fair degree of wariness towards the Six of Cups, Anemona.
Ability
Representative of love, bonds, harmony, and unity, the Stigma of The Lovers bestows its host with the power to create mental links between two or more individuals. This mental link is capable of transferring conscious thoughts to another person with its host acting as a central tower to mediate all communication carried out through this link. Though it seldom sees use in situations where there are no demerits to verbal communication, it comes into play in cases where the group needs to separate or requires a less conspicuous form of communication.

Thoughts carried through the link do not necessarily need to be formulated into words and phrases, as it is capable of informing the receiver with the general gist of what kind of message the sender wished to convey. However, the same does not apply to subconscious thoughts. In cases where this link is utilized to read into an enemy’s movements, its usefulness is limited by how well the target maps out their actions in their thoughts. Those who are more prone to acting on instinct are impossible to read compared to those who think out their next moves carefully. In addition, it also comes with the drawback where if the host is not careful, their own thoughts may be leaked to the enemy. Conversely, The Lovers’ current host has utilized this drawback as a method of planting suggestions in the heads of unsuspecting victims.

The Lovers’ Stigma does not have a specific range limit and can be used so long as the host is aware of the general location of the targets in mind. However, it takes less energy to transfer messages across smaller distances, with an increase in distance leading to an exponential increase in the rate at which the host is worn down. As it is difficult to upkeep a link between multiple people for extended periods of time, Reno tends to keep his ability inactive unless he sees it as a necessity.
Relics
  • Illumina's Tears: It is said that a Technician by the name of Adrianna crafted the vestige using the tears of the goddess of gateways two centuries ago. Her tears, resembling kite amethysts, were fashioned into a pair of earrings capable of storing a certain volume of items within the gemstones. Though it is unknown where the other earring went, one eventually fell into the hands of the Cecils who secretly kept it in their family as an heirloom piece. When Reno fled from the Cecil House, he stole the vestige and the jewelry stored inside as a means to potentially sustain himself while on the run. Aside from the more easily traceable items inside the vestige, much of its contents have been sold over the years to fund his business and research. The vestige, however, has been kept safely in his possession for over half a decade.

    He is adept at swapping the item currently held in his hand out with another item stored inside the vestige without pausing to adjust. It’s not the most useful skill, but it catches opponents off guard from time to time.
Equipment
  • Stiletto
  • Steel rod
  • Hatchet
  • Utility knife
  • Medical supplies
  • Rope and twine
  • Piano wire
  • Pocket watch
  • Ring of skeleton keys
  • Rye bread
  • Jeweler's loupe, pliers, cutters, and any other portable tools he uses during his day job
Extras
Though it seems as if he’s always at The Whistling Maple, he works a day job as a jeweler and lapidary in Verrin’s central district. He hasn’t struggled with obtaining commissions as of late, but it’s been getting more difficult to source materials due to increasingly strict trade regulations.
The state of his finances vary wildly between having the capital to splurge on luxury projects or being knee deep in the red.
Adept at managing the Third Faction’s finances, but he tends to get carried away when it comes to his personal savings whether it be funding his own pet projects or purchasing a rare gem. His most expensive hobby is his habit of purchasing quality jade whenever the opportunity arises. However, due to the wealthy of Vestry viewing jade as a low quality material, it's difficult to sell any of the jade pieces he makes, leaving him at a deficit.
Doesn’t seem to pay attention to flavor very much. Rather, it’s more accurate to say that he doesn’t seem to be affected by how something tastes as long as it gives him the energy needed to pull through the day. He can eat lemon slices without batting an eye and never reacts even when fed a sad excuse of a cooked dish that most people are incapable of stomaching. Some people claim that if it were possible to survive by eating dirt, he would.
The only dish he seems partial to is stuffed eggplant. Among the good and bad memories surrounding the dish, it’s still the first thing he ever ate that tasted better than the pieces of dried fruit he’d once considered a luxury.
Doesn’t blink very often, and when he does, it tends to be a slow blink.
Quotes
“My mother was an uneducated commoner, but she wasn't a fool. She likely knew they wouldn't pay for my father's treatment and only sent me off in hopes that I’d live a better life in a wealthy household. Of course, that could all be wishful thinking on my end.”
“I don’t mind people seeing these scars, but I noticed potential clients are less wary when I keep them hidden.”
“In the red again this month…tsk.”
“Calm down… Breath in. Breath out. Some things can’t be helped, and it wasn’t on purpose… andit’stotallynotlikethisishthethirdtimethathe’sblownsomethingupthisweekdespitemewarninghimnottotamperwiththatspecificsetofrelicsduetohowunstabletheconstructionofitisandthelikelihoodofitblowingupinhisfaceandpotentiallyalertingthewatchmenwhatinthenameofLithosiswrongwiththatchild- This is fine.”
Code by Nano
 
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Full Name
Cyrus Rael
Code Name
Arum
Arcana
Ten of Cups
Age
19
Date of Birth
The ninth day of Alacrity
Faction
1st
Position
Member
Height
182cm
Hair Color
Red
Eye Color
Olive green
Faceclaim
Though technically associated with Arcana since its inception, Cyrus was not an active member until fairly recently. His coquettish mannerisms belie a childlike innocence. Due to his upbringing, he is inexperienced in virtually all aspects of life, from socializing to basic knowledge of the world outside of Verrin. Perhaps as a result, he sometimes subconsciously latches onto his fellow Arcana members like security blankets. Cyrus’s heart of gold means that he derives no joy from Arcana’s activities, but he nevertheless carries out his duties with gusto to please the other members.
About Quote
Sometimes I couldn't breathe in that little room. Sometimes I would lie down and realize a whole day already passed... Sometimes, I wonder if it would be easier if I never left.
Appearance
With sharp eyes and lips that seem perpetually curled up in a smile, Cyrus is what many would consider fox-faced. He has never wanted for food and other basic needs, which is evident in his fair-skin and lithe build. Cyrus cares little about his appearance and what he wears, though he does prefer outfits that allow a full range of movements. The only thing that he is particular about is his hair, which is somehow always kept silky and luscious.
Personality
Hide your wives, hide your daughters. Maybe even hide your sons and husbands. To many who are acquainted with Cyrus, he is known as a shameless philanderer. It isn’t difficult for average folks to fall under his thrall. When they meet his eyes and catch his alluring smile, they already have a foot into his trap. He is a master at pulling his quarry further in with honeyed words of flattery and admiration. When his prey has let down their guard, he will bring his body closer with a guileless hand on their shoulder or waist. And once the poor, enamored soul is ready to be devoured… Cyrus will pull back and bid them farewell. Thus does he leave a trail of broken hearts in his wake.

…Or so the rumors go, at least. The tales passed around among Cyrus’s acquaintances aren’t entirely inaccurate, mind you. Cyrus does have a tendency to lead on hopeful bachelors and bachelorettes with his intimate ways of speaking and acting. The biggest issue, perhaps, is the fact that he has zero ulterior motives behind his behavior. Thanks to his mentor, Cyrus wholeheartedly believes that making such advances toward someone is just an effective way of making friends.

Anyone who manages to look past Cyrus’s “flirtations” will find that his mind is best described as “rainbows and sunshine.” He is easily marked by his boundless curiosity, and he is unafraid and unabashed to ask questions to learn more about the world around him. He views virtually all members of Arcana as potential friends and approaches them with childlike innocence and enthusiasm. As of late, he has become restless with the absence of his mentor, and he can be rather clingy toward certain members of Arcana in search of a source of security.

Unfortunately, it is also Cyrus’s sunny disposition that causes him to harbor doubts about Arcana’s intentions and methods. Guilt is a beast that gnaws away at his conscience each time he carries out an act of terrorism. His lack of experience in the real world means that he has a difficult time understanding why Arcana’s goals can’t be achieved through peaceful means. He nevertheless does his job with a mask of confidence out of fear of disappointing the other Arcana members.
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Likes

  • Daemon
  • Arcana
  • Making friends
  • Reading
-
Dislikes

  • Loneliness
  • Violence
  • Small spaces
x
Click to Expand Backstory
9.7.794
The madam finally popped her baby out of the oven, but it doesn't take a genius to figure out that it doesn't belong to the master. I can hear their screaming match from across the mansion. Guess we'll see if she and the kid get thrown out onto the streets.

9.7.794
I dunno how the madam managed it, but she convinced the master to let her and the baby stay. The only catch is that they're keeping the kid out of sight and out of mind, and everyone is expected not to talk about it. That's fine and dandy, except they made the idiotic decision to make me babysit. I don't know how they expect me to keep it alive. Maybe that's exactly what they want. Ugh.

13.7.794
So it's worse than I imagined. The kid’s literally locked in a room. Only me and the nursemaid are allowed in to see him. The madam never even asks about him. Is it just me or is that fucked up? What's the kid’s name, anyway?

24.11.794
The kid’s sick. They won't even let a doctor see him. He's gonna die. What the fuck.

1.12.794
Kid’s better now. The master and the madam had the gall to look disappointed. Fuck.

3.8.795
The kid looked at me today and said “da.” Does he think I'm his

9.8.796
The kid's two now. At least they give him books and toys, not that there's anyone to read to him or play with him. Except me, I guess. Whatever. I'd rather spend my time with him than pretend to be happy to serve those two.

13.2.798
Kid’s asking me more and more questions. He's asking if the things in the books are actually real. He's asking why he doesn't have a mom. He's asking if the kids in the books exist. He's asking why there are bars on his window. I can't keep doing this. How long do they plan on keeping him in this tiny fucking room?

20.10.798
DEER DIREE,
HOW AR YUO. I AM KID. I CAN RIT. HI.

…He thinks his name is Kid. Fuck.

25.10.798
Davin, Gracian, Elio, Milos, Ember, Cyrus, Sol, Darrell
Maybe I’ll let him pick.

1.1.799
He picked Cyrus. Looked at me like I hung the moon.
Cyrus.
Good name, if I do say so myself.

9.7.801
It was his seventh birthday today. Asked me if I could take him outside for a walk as a present. He wasn’t too happy when I said no. He’s starting to get a little prickly with me…

2.12.801
He asked me if I’m his dad. I ran out and slammed the door in his face. Fuck shit fuck

3.12.801
I asked him if he wanted me to be his dad and he said yes.
Guess I’m a dad now. Ha. Shit.

22.5.806
People around the city somehow caught wind of his existence. I’ll be the first one that the madam suspects.

24.5.806
The fuckers are giving me “a chance to prove my loyalty.” Fucking bullshit. They think I’d choose them over my kid.

27.5.806
So we’re runaways, we’re living in a shitty, rundown inn, and of course they’d send people to try and kill him. Those rich bastards would kill a kid just to keep their reputation squeaky clean. Fuck them. Fuck all of them.

But he still thinks this is the best thing that’s ever happened to him. I should’ve done this sooner.

9.7.806
Of all the birthday presents he could’ve chosen, he asked me to teach him how to fight. Fine, whatever. We’ll put some muscles on those skinny little arms. Probably a good thing that he could defend himself, anyway.

11.10.806
Made some good money off of a woman at the bar today. Rita? Rina…? Whatever. Not the greatest way to make money, but eh. I’ve got a kid to feed.

28.10.806
Sometimes I feel like I swapped his cell for a bird cage. I can still barely let him out. I can’t let him be seen or else those nutjobs might find him again. I feel like if I let him out of my sight, he’ll disappear for good.

x.x.808
So I’m officially a part of Raeger’s little band of misfits. Not exactly the safest job, or the most legal… But hey, it pays well, Cyrus finally gets to walk around in the sun, and I won’t pass up on the opportunity to knock those nobles off their pedestals.

x.x.810
I don’t know what possessed Raeger to go through with that stupid plan. I told them it’s a suicide mission, but they wouldn’t listen. I owe them a lot, but I’m not joining them. I can’t leave Cyrus.

x.x.811
Awfully convenient that Owen took over right after Raeger died, isn’t it? I know I’m not the only one who thinks this way. I don’t know how much I trust him and what he’s doing. But if I leave, what’ll happen to me? What about Cyrus?

x.x.812
Would it be irresponsible of me to leave Arcana? Cyrus doesn’t want to leave the friends that he made, but I’ve been jumping at shadows lately. If we both leave, we might have to go back to our days of running and hiding…

x.x.812
Tomorrow will be my last day with Arcana. Not sure why I’m even writing this, since I’ll be tearing out all the pages about Arcana and burning them, anyway. Cyrus chose to stay. That’s fine. He’d probably be happier that way, anyway. All the arrangements were made. He’ll work at the tavern, and I’ll be the bum mooching off of him. I won’t know a single thing about what he’s doing in Arcana. He promised me that he’d be fine, but if he needs me, I’ll be there anyway, memories and rules and Owen be damned. He’ll still be my little kid. Always.
Daemon
“He’ll still be my little kid. Always.”
For a long time, Daemon was all that Cyrus knew and had. It would be no exaggeration to say that Daemon means the world to him. Their relationship can’t quite be summed up by something as simple as “father and child” or “mentor and student.” The circumstances that brought them together resulted in a sort of codependency that neither has been able to break out of. While Daemon left Arcana largely due to his mistrust for Owen, a part of him also hoped that Cyrus can learn to stand on his own two feet through this decision.

Nowadays, Daemon lives in a small, nondescript house near the Whistling Maple, where Cyrus visits him regularly. Although the original plan was for him to resume his old life after leaving Arcana, an issue with wiping his memories has rendered him amnesiac. Most days, his memory is spotty at best. Every once in a blue moon, he will remember Cyrus with perfect clarity. The hardest days are when he looks at Cyrus like a complete stranger.
Aurelius
“Are you still working? Let's go grab some lunch!”
Although Cyrus’s utter inability to read social cues has gotten him into trouble more than once, there are cases when it served him well. When it came to befriending a newly-inducted Aurelius three years ago, Cyrus was hardly deterred by his distant and withdrawn responses. Through endless pestering, sharing meals, and sparring sessions, the pair eventually built a firm friendship. Even after Aurelius rose to become the leader of Arcana’s first faction, Cyrus’s attitude toward him remains unchanged. In fact, Aurelius’s busy schedule only motivates Cyrus to find free moments for the two of them to spend some time together.
Ability
Inherited from Daemon, the Stigma of the Ten of Cups allows Cyrus to brainwash his target into believing that he is their friend or loved one. When this ability is activated, it is as though he is seamlessly inserted into his target’s memories, which leads them to think that he has been in their life all along. While he cannot issue them commands as though they were obedient puppets, the brainwashing effectively wipes away any potential mistrust or hostility that the target may have harbored toward him.

The effects of the Stigma last for 24 hours, after which the ability would have to be reapplied. The target will typically retain only vague recollections of Cyrus after the effects wear off. However, targets will gradually begin to develop a resistance to the brainwashing, which would eventually lead them to recognize Cyrus as an “anomaly” in their memories, thus completely negating the Stigma.
Relics

  • Stabby: Lovingly named by Daemon, this relic has the appearance of a generic knife that you'd find at a local store. The only thing that sets it apart is its ability to extend at will, up to approximately 3 feet in length. Daemon first received Stabby from Raeger, though he quickly passed it over to Cyrus as a means to defend himself. As Cyrus has not participated in Arcana activities until recently, the relic is in relatively pristine condition.
Equipment

  • First aid kit
  • Wallet
  • Mini sewing kit
  • Canteen
  • Jerky
Extras
Cyrus once asked why Daemon "talks to women differently." In a misguided albeit honest attempt to protect Cyrus's innocence, Daemon lied and told him that flirting is just another way of making friends. This, of course, inevitably led to Daemon opening another can of worms labeled "body safety."
Cyrus took on Daemon’s surname after their escape from his old home.
Bop
Boop
Code by Nano
 
Last edited:
Full Name
Akseli Arbeit
Code Name
Rattler
Arcana
XII. The Hanged Man
Age
Twenty-Six
Date of Birth
11.08
Faction
The Third
Position
Engine'er (Member)
Height
179cm
Hair Color
Brown
Eye Color
Light-gray
Faceclaim
Art By ninetysix
A fresh inductee into the erudite and aloof Third Faction, Akseli is almost-archetypal of his allegiance; A tall and almost-thin man, whose smooth features are often permanently decorated by a warm, approachable smile and shining acceptance into his lively, gray eyes. Further defined by a boundless font of optimism, the Arcana-wielder possesses a great deal of naivete and curiousity which propelled his study of relics, vestiges and the arcane-lore of the Technicians — though despairs of even attaining a degree of mastery like Salvatore or those around him. But his greatest admiration is the manaless marvels made by the hands of man. Unlike most of his peers, however, he does not shy away from the harsh reality or necessity of battle.
The Arbeit Code
"It'll be up to us. The people will need new lives, new houses, new necessities. If I could give them a better life, I would do so happily."
Appearance
Akseli's countenance is deceptively plain, spotless, and youthful, a fact that belied his upbringing amongst the needy and impoverished. His body is wiry like a rope twined from copper with pale-skin that bore an otherworldly luminescence in dim-lights. Back well built, possessing a strong centre as if his spine were a fine-cut stone pillar. His hair is a dirty brown, kept short by regular grooming, its dark hues warring with the vivid, ghostly-grays of his eyes. They radiate a soothing feeling of relaxation. Disarming in their sincerity. There is a faded scar running the length of his hand, a minor mishap from his adolescence. His fingers, svelte and marred by scars of tiny cuts long since healed, pockmarks of tinkering
Personality
An indisputable font of positivity, Akseli strives to meet this world with a sombre, soft smile on his face and improve in all aspects; from himself, to his allies, friends, to his country, and the very world itself. He carries a level-headed attitude, vastly easy to approach and converse with it. In fact, quite happy to talk with any and all who would listen and reply, whether the topic be the deeper secrets of the relics or even the whims of the weather that day. He is kind to a fault, abhorring violence, but realising the utility of it — he will never tolerate its excess or the pleasure mortals derive from it. A staunch believer in taking people at their word, he hates the lengths people, nobility or otherwise, go to engage in perfidy, knowing their duplicity would lead to fates more cruel than their victims.

He is not an unassailable rock, no matter how much he steels himself, no matter how much he girds himself with bravery, he feels the deep chill of fear to his very bones. All too often, can his resolve be tested and sometimes, he would be found wanting. But for each of his failings, he gathers himself over and over and over. Ready to begin again, sometimes at the cost to himself or others.

Even with his maturity, he is plagued by an inescapable naivety, the belief that this world could be better and its people bettered burning brightly in his heart, like a beacon encroached by the darkness of a cold night. There is an eagerness within himself to prove his ability in the eyes of his Arcana allies as a greenhorn in their organisation.
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Likes
  • Machinary, siege engines, and conventional devices;
  • Green tea;
  • Arcane lore;
  • Sonatas, cantatas;
  • Swordsmanship;
  • Coffee;
-
Dislikes
  • Excessive cruelty;
  • Obtuseness;
  • Gutless behaviour;
  • Destitution;
  • Laziness;
XII
Click to Expand Backstory
Born in the sordid slums of Vestry, Akseli has bore-witness to the inescapable dualism of the Kingdom; where the poverty-ridden, sick folk stared high at the towers of glistening marble of the monarchy, however, the young boy who would be christened Akseli was not cut from their cloth. Born to a man of medicine and a lady of seams, his upbringing contrasted his surroundings. His family a long succession of physicians, both great and lowly. His father had inherited it from his father and so on and so forth. Akseli's father, surprised and grief-stricken at the affairs of the impoverished, devoted his trade and life to alleviating their pain, disease-ravaged bodies. Even hemming his family to follow the treacherous path of the medico, but they had done so gladly. The physician had established his clinic within the heart of indigence, inset at all sides by the squalid, obscura-haunted buildings. The man's knowledge brought palliation to the sallow-skinned, anorexic masses. The young Akseli was heartened by his father's determined efforts, a steel-like inspiration bloomed within him to emulate his father. Unfortunately, for all his tutelage and studiousness, Akseli was not gifted with his father's or sisters' mind for therapeutics. Despaired, but determined, Akseli devoted his faculties to other talents.

Of course, he lived as a boy still should; frequently playing, brawling, and laughing.

Until the reclamation effort came into full effect, soon drowning the peoples of Vestry under a tide of tithes in order to fuel the army's unfaltering march across the ruined lands of this Gods-forsaken world. Despite the reckless action, Akseli believed that the situation could be rectified, that the people need not suffer under weight of avarice. In his naivete, Akseli joined a protest, an assembly against the burden of taxation. Their pleas would go unheard, like howling wind against craggy cliffs. Appalled by the intransigence of nobility, Akseli reluctantly separated from the protestations — heart weighed heavy by the flippantly aloof displays. But the gravest strike was the injury to his father's clinic, they've always teetered at the edge, altruism is not without its cost, and these taxes dealt the killing blow to the Arbeit family clinic, it had become unsustainable. Closed at last, after years of duty, the family that once treated ailments now gone, forced to vacate the place they've known as their home.

Their salvation had been Arbeit's extended family, who offered arrangements for them. However, Akseli could not stay, he regretted that he had to continue his education, vowing to return and assist once it was done. He could never have foreseen the chance encounter with a crimson-haired man. As if stabbing deep within his being, this man wretched and laid bare his soul before them, sensing his inner frustrations at the azure-blooded men and women who ruled this humble land. Cautious of the strange man, who Akseli came to know as Owen, but emboldened by his offer, the young man joined Arcana's ranks. His penchant for relics, arcane lore, and fascination with Technicians hastened his enrollment with the Third Faction, under his mentor and odd friend, Reno Salvatore. He took his mentors words to heart, and the goals of Arcana as his creed.

There were difficulties, even for one so well-adjusted, but he endured through them. He had also found a love for swordplay, devoting a little of his time to duel whenever possible.
Spinel
“The man's bright and sharp, looks standoffish, but there's no better teacher around.”
In simplest terms, Reno is a mentor and idol-figure to Akseli, even when made aware of Reno's hysterical aversion to stress and frequent bouts of maniacal depression, Akseli could see the devotion and competence that either his mentor or his peers often ignore, overlook, or go unnoticed. He admires the tireless manner in which he studies the mana-afflictions that plague this world. He isn't sure what Reno thinks of Akseli, a small hope that it is at least good. He has noticed Reno's uncanny recall of conversations, making Akseli weary and carry himself with cautiousness around the almost-eidetic scholar.
“Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit.”
Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Integer semper, sapien at porta congue, erat lacus luctus libero, eu viverra ante ante at tellus. Nulla facilisi. Morbi ornare, eros sit amet iaculis facilisis, metus justo convallis neque, a cursus nulla nisl at massa. Fusce quis odio cursus, vestibulum nibh sed, consequat tortor. Aliquam lobortis ligula id risus gravida scelerisque. Nulla auctor lacinia libero vitae molestie. Curabitur ipsum tortor, tempor ut leo id, ultrices ultrices purus.
Ability
Ghost Eye Gaze or [Remote Viewing] in Akseli's terms - When blade meets the flesh and blood is spilled upon the altar of the Hanged Man, this stigmata will bring forth a conscious creation, a ghastly apparition in the shape of a severed, wriggling eye translucent to many. By the Engine'er's will, it diverts and slips through the air, delivering information back upon Akseli of all that it sees.

It can abandoned its immateriality, becoming visible to all in order to unleash an paralysing attack, leaving a single victim unable to move. However, the vitality of their will may prove instrumental in shattering the freezing gaze of the ghost eye. While active, Akseli's focus allows the eye to work nearly-autonomously, freeing himself to move, attack, or interact with whatever he chooses. If the effect is broken or Akseli is injured, the simple manifestation of the ghost eye will fade, melting away into nothingness and the Engine'er's blood must be spilt again to reforge the eye anew.
Relics
  • Name: Not applicable.
Equipment
  • Simple helmet;
  • Great sword;
  • A black, cowled cloak with a fur collar.
  • Leather gloves;
  • Padded jacket;
  • Leather blackjack;
Extras

His codename was earned by the shear thinness of his lanky form, the phrase "rattling like a bag of bones" came to mind when Owen first met Akseli.

His family is ignorant of his activities as an Arcana member.

Is able to consciously keep track of time up to two hours with a deviation of only a minute or two.

His day job is carpentry.
Code by Nano
 
Last edited:
Full Name
Arakan Akihito
Code Name
Samadhi
Arcana
II. The Magician
Age
Twenty-Eight (28)
Date of Birth
14th Day of Ascension
Faction
Third
Position
Researcher and Field Operative
Height
180 cm
Hair Color
Black
Eye Color
Brown
Faceclaim
Kenjaku / Suguru Geto (Jujutsu Kaisen)

Ever with a smug look on his face, strutting about with a piercing stare- Samadhi strikes an unsettling figure, even amongst the strange oddities that make up the Third Faction. He is among the most brilliant minds available on the nature of vestiges, relics, mana, and even some things of the divine- but it can be difficult to drag him away from his own private projects. If he is not found in his workshop, analyzing some stolen piece of literature or relic, one can find him in the field working in his strange, eerily cheerful way to obtain those very things. For Arcana, of course.
MAGNUM OPUS
Isn't it funny? The Great Work is only necessary because the Divine punished us for it. Either the Gods are the greatest jokesters- or the greatest fools.
Appearance
Arakan is a tall man dressed in fine, loose robes of foreign make. His features are distinctly those of nations to the south, though with the Queen's conquests, there are many such expatriates within the country in these days. His face is defined by sharp lines, with eyes that seem to dissect you at a glance. Dividing your skin from your flesh from your bones, to shrive at your very soul. He moves with a sinuous grace most reminiscent of a slithering serpent as he moves through the world. As he walks, he alights through the world like a sparrow- passing through it seemingly untouched by mortal concerns. The scholar's laughter is oft-heard, throaty and full-hearted, and his countenance seems perpetually amused by everything at all times. As though all the world was a wondrous mechanism that he could pick apart for his own amusement. He seems like a man unused to any kind of labor with his smooth skin.

But do not mistake this image. Beneath the robes is a sculpted edifice of form well-honed by time and effort. One will find no easy prey, here. The smug pride he bears is no hollow thing- behind it is a frenzied passion akin to madness. It is in the laboratory and the workshop that one can most clearly see Arakan's true self- that of a reveling beast, delighting in grasping the fires of heaven with his own hands. One who will stop at nothing to see his will and ambition imposed upon the world. There are occasional times when this burning flame softens, revealing a bit of the gentleness in his spirit, but such times are few and far between.
Personality
Samadhi is a highly intelligent man, prone to bouts of philosophical reverie. But he is also a man always in control. No matter the situation, no matter the peril or lightness of the situation, Arakan has an unnatural capacity for maintaining his composure. This general manifests, much to the chagrin of others, as a perpetually present infuriating smirk on his face. There's an energy around him, a storm, that often sweeps others off their feet as they are caught in the force of Arakan's sheer charisma and ego. Noone can really say HOW he remains relaxed and confident, but most attribute it to Arakan's particular sort of madness. Few in Arcana are particularly sane, but Arakan is commonly agreed to have long gone mad well before he ever joined the organization. Perhaps it was best put by a certain researcher of the Queen's, when they described him as a comet. Burning brightly as it careens across the sky. This composure is rarely disrupted, but when it is, it can usually be attributed to a certain thing.

The promise of knowledge is something that can almost always pique Arakan's interest. It is the source for his disdain for censorship, and the Queen's repressive policies. Knowledge is the birthright of all mankind. An infinite resource and wealth, a great legacy that outlives palaces and kings. To this end, he hungrily searches for all knowledge upon the arts of the Technicians that he can. All for the sake of the Great Work, which as he puts it, is the ultimate legacy. As for Arakan's view on the world, he views it as an enormous puzzle to be solved. An intricate mechanism with a thousand artisans, ticking away- one that requires a solution. He believes he has found the path to that solution.

Arakan views others with a frankly condescending sense of encouragement. He wants people to achieve their fullest potential, their greatest passion in life. Even as he might strike a man down, he will congratulate them for fulfilling their life's purpose even as they die at his hands. But that is not to say he is heartless. He is surprisingly gentle and encouraging when it comes to children- always encouraging them to dream big.

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Likes

  • Esoteric Knowledge
  • Pre-Cradle works of literature.
  • Potato-and-onion omelets.
  • Technician-related ruins
  • Petting cats
  • Being far too smug
  • Scheming
-
Dislikes

  • Self-Important Assholes
  • Nepotism
  • Damaging Books
  • Useless Cruelty
  • Breaking Promises
  • Being short-sighted
  • Being caught cheating at poker
II
Click to Expand Backstory

The Queen's conquests did not merely including looting other countries of their wealth and relics. Knowledge too was taken. There was a country to the distant south, where a monastery studied the works of Relics and Vestiges as a holy work- a veneration of Gods that had abandoned mankind to rot. An orphan was born, and raised in the monastery- But there was more in his shining eyes than dutiful contemplation. There were the terrible sparks of ambition there. He had seen his mother and father and more die to the curse of Mana. And what he learned in that monastery gave shape to a dream, a hope, that he held onto even as he underwent their strict and strenuous trials of enlightenment and understanding. Honing his body as much as his mind, to defend the works of the Temple, learning what scraps of knowledge they could preserve.

His old dream was all that was left to hold onto, after the Queen's men marched south and his world burned a second time. The monks fell. The temple came to ruin.

Among the treasures they brought back, among scrolls and relics, was a man who swore his service to the Queen, a once-monk who had sold his soul to the tyrant's hand for a stay of execution. For years, Arakan was but the Queen's loyal researcher. His brilliant mind tasked with unraveling the secrets of the Technicians. And for a time, it was enough to satisfy. He kept his mask on, and he remained- Until eventually, there was nothing more for him to gain by continuing the masquerade of the humble, loyal servant. He began to look for a way out.

When Arcana tied him up and offered him a place in some dark basement- He took his sweet time saying yes. He wanted to savor the moment.

And now he is free. The Great Work can finally begin.
Seren
“I can admire a dedicated, loyal woman. Though, this lovely flower always had quite the thorns. A decent superior while I was with her, if indelicate with her tea.”
Seren was the Queen's most loyal hand- and in matters of arcane research, this remained true. The reports drafted by the secret stable of Royal researchers were collated, noted by the Arclight scion that was part of their team, and eventually passed to the Queen's most loyal hound. When said scion wasn't available, more often than not Arakan was dragged into delivering the reports in his stead. Mostly because he was the only one who wasn't ever scared of the Queen's hound, and the other Researchers were all too happy to throw him under that particular bus. They had a rather rigid, professional relationship, though he was one of the few people who were both cultured enough and ever relaxed enough around Seren to properly enjoy tea-time with her. Even if he did think that she tended to enjoy her tea steeped a bit too long for proper refinement.

Their relationship, naturally, is no longer so cordial.
Elysia
“Always a step behind me... But still. She did manage to keep up.”
Elysia was the other researcher in the Queen's cabal who could have been considered Her Majesty's brightest. A brilliant woman from a family of lower nobility whose father had been just a bit too obvious about disagreeing with the Queen's policies. They were spared the blade only because Elysia offered Her Majesty her complete loyalty and fullest service. And so her fate was to work alongside this smug son of a bitch- a most unfortunate fate indeed. The two of them butted heads and egos as they worked on Her Majesty's directives- Elysia ever dutiful with the heavy blade tickling her neck, while Arakan made his erratic leaps and bounds. She had been working on trying to safely read some old records written by a Technician in their dying days with a complicated page-turning apparattus, involving mirrors and lenses and whatnot, before Arakan had left.

After Arakan got his Stigma, he broke into her house, read the book, and left behind notes on its contents as a 'parting gift' for their time working together. Elysia may bear a little bit of a grudge.
Ability
The Stigma of The Magician bestows its bearer with the power of mastery. It is the Arcana of magic, of potential, of command of the self, and of the conjoined realms of the Divine and the Material. The card itself within the Deck of Fools bears the image of and ancient unnamed Technician hard at work. Unto Samadhi, it grants a power coveted by mana- Mastery of mana. But only, crucially, that mana that exists inside of his body. Befitting the Arcana of magic, it will also generate mana directly into his body.

This has its benefits. Arakan has a tolerance for mana even most other Stigma-bearing members of Arcana cannot match. Due to being able to control the mana that the Stigma on his left hand feeds into his body, Arakan is capable of utilizing it to enhance his musculature. Through this application, it fuels explosive bursts of strength and speed, and Arakan has learned to concentrate the mana at his skin to absorb the impact of blows. Coupled with Arakan's experience and expertise in combat, this makes him an exceptionally deadly opponent in melee. This also has other utility if the controllable mana and the physical substrate that contains it is brought outside of Arakan's body, enabling him to manipulate it. This is rarely ever useful without active assistance, such as through Ogun's oath- but he can do some very nasty things by imbuing a drop of blood with mana and using it to poison someone.

Not that he would use that without quite good reason, of course.

Turning the Magician off has both benefits and drawbacks. For one, it's no longer a big glowing stigmata anymore. This tends to help a bit with going unnoticed. The unfortunate downside, however, is mana poisoning. Even if he expends as much mana as he can before turning off the Stigma, the residual mana will poison Arakan if left for too long. He's even still not immune to mana poisoning while the Stigma is active. Merely exceedingly high resistance compared to other humans. If he succumbs to hubris, well... There's a reason Arakan is scrupulous about limiting his mana exposure when he can.
Relics

  • Ogun's Oath:A relic made for a long-ago champion, who paid in blood for every victory. Its form is that of a set of bracers and shinguards. When active, they draw blood from the user, multiply it, before hardening the blood and emitting it as deadly projectiles. This would ordinarily not be that particularly dangerous of a weapon. However, Araken possesses the ability to fuel the relic with the mana within his blood, and utilize that mana in order to manipulate the hardened blood that this relic produces to launch blasts of hardened blood. Despite this relic producing more of the user's blood, however, overuse does risk unconsciousness through blood loss.
    • Sword Method: Using his control over his own mana, he focuses the blast into a single short-ranged cutting slash before its launched.
  • The Fallen Wing: This vestige appears to be a useless trinket, a metal token shaped like a feather with a small pearl set into it. Long ago, a great artisan forged this from a hair gifted to him by Jensefia, the Goddess of Desperate Hope, as his final masterpiece. The pearl within is perhaps the largest fragment of Jensefia remaining upon this mortal world- and it refuses to act or communicate with any who bear the vestige. Why this is, exactly, is a subject of some research for Arakan. It does still have a use, unbeknownst to him. In dire circumstances, when used unselfishly, it is capable of mending wounds to spare someone from death. On the anniversary of the Fall of the Cradle each year, Arakan can hear it weep in the voice of a young woman. She tries to stop her mourning if she realizes that Arakan noticed. She has never succeeded. Arakan is unsure how to use this vestige, or if it can indeed can still be used at all- it is primarily a subject of his investigations into the nature of fragments.
Equipment

  • Twin knives
  • Medical supplies
  • Rope and grappling hook
  • Notebook and charcoal
  • Jerky and candied fruit
Extras
Spends much of his time looking over reports of potential relics and vestiges to steal, or helping maintain Arcana's magical equipment.
WIP
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Quotes
“I don't begrudge the Queen. She went into the ruling business a child, after all. She was always going to be terrible at it.”
“What Reno doesn't know won't hurt him. Now hush and let me work, unless you enjoy something blowing up in your face.”
“WIP”
“WIP”
Code by Nano
 
Last edited:
Full Name
Leif Sterna
Code Name
Magpie
Arcana
0. The Fool
Age
Twenty-nine (29)
Date of Birth
8th day of Dewdrops
Faction
3rd
Position
Detention Member
Height
187cm
Hair Color
Mostly white
Eye Color
Grey
Faceclaim
Elysium (Arknights)
Leif is a cheerful individual who you would call a certified genius in the Third Faction but also a certified idiot in the Common Sense Faction. An example from his list of crimes would be causing a (contained) explosion while tweaking an alignment-sensitive relic with his stigma instead of grabbing the wedge right next to him to keep it stable instead of purely relying on his own concentration. Which he has a lack of sometimes. Predictably, he is also quick to wander off and get into trouble as well as a toddler. Over the years many of his seniors have gotten into the habit of sticking a new thick book or puzzle into his hands to ward him off from sticking his nose where it doesn't belong.
He is trying
“Oops. Well, that could have gone better. But we have all our fingers, toes and eyes. AND the relic is intact! So I still count that as a win. We also know what it does now.”
Appearance
Leif is someone who seems to have a permanently amused expression on his face. Even his “professional” or “serious” face seems to be tinged with well-intentioned humor. He takes on two different appearances depending on what he is doing. While working outside of Arcana he wears a black wig and glasses to disguise himself but keeps his natural appearance when working within Arcana. Though he will habitually keep a neat appearance, he does prefer comfortable clothing over formal and pretty clothing. He also almost always wears gloves or some sort of cloth to cover most of his hands not only because of the mark from the stigma but the burn marks on parts of his hands and forearms. The burn marks on his right hand aren't that bad. His left hand, especially the top and palm of hand, has the worst of the scarring but the stigma tattoo covers some of it.
Personality
A warm, easy-going member of the Third Faction who is known for being bright both in personality and intelligence but not very bright in common sense. At first glance, he doesn’t seem to have a complicated bone in his body but it’s his method of avoiding complicated matters like politics. This stems from the mixed feelings he has about the rest of the late Sterna family members. But he likes to think that he has long moved on from those days. Nowadays, he tries to do what his sister asked of him a long time ago and attempts to do his best to live in the present. There’s not much people can do to frustrate or anger him as most of the time he just lets insults roll off his back with a clueless tilt of the head and/or smile. Ironically, this behavior infuriates a lot of people because they can’t tell if he’s genuinely unable to understand what the issue is or if he’s acting dense on purpose. Thankfully, outside of verbal spats or other conflicts, Leif comes off as friendly and helpful (when he’s not distracted. Most of the time, he means well and willing to help anyone as long as there’s no mind games involved. Or he will ask for a rain check if he’s thoroughly invested in a project with the Third Faction.
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Likes

  • Spicy or savory food
  • Games
  • Trying new things
  • Discovering something new
  • Cleaning/Tidying things up
  • Helping people
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Dislikes

  • Punching people (fingers are important)
  • Arrogance
  • Dance - particularly ballroom dancing
  • Mind games
  • Doing nothing
  • Cold food - matches are great
0
Click to Expand Backstory
tl;dr. Leif's sister get mana corrosion > gets executed by family to avoid shame > leif loses his shit > burns down the estate and their library > gets snatched up by an arcana member named Flora > eventually recovers by keeping busy with research > still dislikes dealing with politics but not enough to burn down houses or family relics anymore

The Sterna family, though not as well-known as other nobles in Vestry, are an old noble family of scholars. They had pride in their extensive collection of literature that consisted of both fiction and non-fiction. In fact, their collection of literature was so extensive that anyone who had a chance to visit would always wonder how the family found anything in the rows and columns of books. The Sterna family had organized shelving systems that divided their library by content and genre and then by author. But unknown to the general public, they also had a relic to help with quickly pulling up needed references to check the contents before pulling the physical book from the shelves.

While most of the main branch of the Sterna family had utilized the relic at least once, the family member who used it the most was Leif’s sister and the heir of the family, Genesis. Prior to the events that changed everything for the family, Genesis was the brightest star of the family with the biggest ambitions for their family. So from the moment she was allowed access to the Book of Knowledge, she started her research and experiments with the relic she was allowed access to. What were its limits? Was it the limitation of technology during its creation or was the limitation put there on purpose? There were so many questions Genesis burned with.

Though at the time Leif wasn’t as interested in relics as he was in architecture, he still bonded with his sister by being her soundboard. With amusement, he often watched her enthusiastically work when he wasn’t studying his own areas of interest or being forced to study dance by their mother.

Over the years he did notice that he was seeing his sister less and less as time went on. But he chalked it up to being the increased amount of duties they were dumped with as they grew older rather than anything suspicious. Like many nobles, he thought Mana Corrosion was only something that happened in the poorer communities. Even to this day, Leif doesn’t know what Genesis was doing to contract the disease.

But one day, Genesis appeared in front of Leif the day before her execution to tell him that she was sorry. She had looked for a cure both inside their library and outside of it but was unable to find anything to fix Mana Corrosion before their parents found out. What Leif remembers the most vividly about that day was that she looked strangely small and defeated. Unusual for someone he always viewed as larger than life. Someone who always looked for something new on the horizon with bright ambitions. But the former heir of the Sterna family only looked at him with a tired melancholy smile with the damning white, scale-like growths embedded into her neck and told him not to resent their parents too much for the decision they have come to. As someone who also thought of the Sterna name first, she understood their decision. She did not want him to grow to be shackled by resentment. She did not want her brother’s bright future to be ruined by her own folly.

Of course, Leif tried to reason with their parents. They were the heads of the family and she was their heir! Surely this was a mistake? But they merely looked at his wide betrayed eyes with narrowed cold eyes full of disdain. Twenty-five years old and still too immature to think for the family first, they had tutted with a shake of their heads. As if he were a spoiled child again throwing a tantrum, they had locked him up in a bare secured room on the day of the (private) execution.

When the heads of the Sterna came back, they came back to a boy with bloodied fingers and bruised shoulders. At the time they only sighed. With the scent of blood and ash still lingering on their clothes, they had a servant fix him up and let him rest off his self-inflicted injuries for a month. A month they let him stay in his room before they got tired of waiting for him to move on. That had been their mercy. They told him that Genesis Sterna had taken to death with the grace that a member of their family should. For the family. He was not a five year old boy who needed his hand held by his older sister anymore. In fact, he was a grown and the heir to the family now that Genesis was not with them anymore. Perhaps they said it more gently than what Leif remembers but that was not what his heartbroken mind heard from the heads of the Sterna family. In his mind it was too soon to move on from what they had done. Not when he can almost still smell the scent of blood and ash that lingered on them that day.

Eventually, one day in the middle of the night, Leif left his room with a flame-lit lamp in hand to at least visit the family library to try to move on like his sister had asked of him. Perhaps subconsciously he was hoping that his sister would still be there. That Genesis would be sitting at their usual table in the library, waiting for him with a book in hand. But of course, when he reached their usual table, Genesis was nowhere in sight.

The reminder of the betrayal of his faith stung as much as the resentment and his anger burned. Leif doesn’t remember much of what happened that night but he remembered a final burst of rage before the lamp had been thrown against one of the many shelves of the library. The flames spread rapidly from shelf to shelf. It wasn’t long before his parents burst into the library with rare fear in their eyes. Without much investigation, the two had worked together to quickly unlock the Book of Knowledge from the vault in the back of the library before shoving it into his arms and telling him to get out to somewhere safe from the fire while they try to get the most delicate books they have in their collection with the rest of the family.

Leif did not find out about this until much later, but not much longer after he had run out of the estate in a daze, the roof of the library had collapsed and trapped the family members who had stayed behind to save some of their books. The last thing he remembered before he passed out was the flames and a stranger he doesn’t remember meeting before dragging him away to safety.

The helpful stranger called herself Flora and she worked at an apothecary, where she had taken him to after picking him up off the street. Not long after she fixed him up, she asked him where he was going to go after he recovered. At that point, Leif was still in shock but was still quick to say he didn’t want to go back. Though he didn’t explain much else other than that, with an unreadable expression and a brief glance to the book that he had been clutching onto, Flora decided that he would be allowed to stay with her at the apothecary. However, once he recovered, he was quickly booted into helping at the apothecary. Especially when Flora needed to run errands outside of the apothecary.

While Flora had said that Leif needed to work for her because she couldn’t have him freeloading off of her all the time, the idle days, weeks and eventually months of working at the apothecary helped him move onto a new life outside of being a Sterna. The only interruptions to the peaceful days were the days Flora booted him outside with a wig and hat to “get some fresh air”. It was during one of those days where he was alone with his own thoughts that he tried to destroy the relic with water and then fire in a fit of mania. It did not work.

All he had to show for his efforts were burns on his hands and forearms and disappointment. All of which Flora thoroughly scolded him for as she fixed him up (again). She gave him a verbal thrashing about taking care of himself and stop getting stuck in his own head the moment he has nothing to do. Then, to put it simply, once his hands eventually stopped peeling she dropped him into Arcana so he can do something productive with that head of his instead of doing stupid things like trying to burn relics and himself the moment her back was turned away from him. Instead, she had him work under various people in Arcana until he settled well with the folks who researched relics in Arcana.

And over the years it eventually did get better for Leif. He never forgot what happened to his sister but with time away from the place where everything began, he learned to move on like how his sister always wanted to.

(Two years ago) Leif gained a stigma in the form of The Fool and Flora deemed him well enough that he could (emotionally) graduate from being under her wing. She might have not taught him as much about relics as the researchers but she did pick him back up until he managed to find his own feet. “This might not be what your sister had in mind for your bright future but I think she would be proud of how far you’ve come regardless.”
Genesis
“Leif. Try not to resent mother and father too much for their decision. Resentment will only shackle you to the past when you should be living in the present.”
Leif’s deceased older sister. Before her murder, the two were close as siblings can be even with the 7 year age gap. Leif still doesn’t know how she got Mana Corrosion because she was fairly careful even if she handled the Book of Knowledge the most in the family. The Sterna family came to the decision to dispose of Genesis once she got Mana Corrosion to avoid scandal.
“Well…let’s just call it “The potential to do a lot of good but stupid things.” Because I can see you doing a lot of stupid things with it.”
The Arcana member who recruited Leif. She happened to be in the right place at the right time and snatched Leif up before he could be caught by the authorities investigating the fire that destroyed the Sterna family. She holds the Stigma of the Queen of Swords. Her ability can cause persistent olfactory hallucinations. It can be used for healing or harm psychologically as a lot of humans subconsciously hold a lot of memory triggers from olfactory stimulation. Currently, she runs an apothecary and also uses it to provide Arcana with medical supplies or cosmetics if anyone wants to indulge. She used to do a lot more intelligence networking for Arcana but now claims she’s too old for it. She’s not.
Ability
The potential to do a lot of good but stupid things. In Leif, The Fool manifests in manipulating and untethering objects from the physical constraints of the world such as gravity. The heavier the object the more mana has to be devoured by the stigma to release it from gravity and allow him to move or throw it somewhere. Which means in areas with very little mana around it’s better for him to just stick with small objects. It also requires a lot of concentration on his part so he doesn’t do this often because even the slightest distraction can cause a heavy object to snap back to being tethered to the earth and start free falling. More often, Leif uses his stigma to manipulate puzzle pieces as a mental exercise, repair relics or poke around the internal mechanics of relics in general. Leif describes it feeling like a mentally manipulated hand that isn’t restrained by weight or tight spaces. He can also use his stigma to rapidly swing a small object such as a rock in circles to build up speed and force before slingshotting it violently away. He has been asked to not do this with bullets so there are no uncontrolled small explosions. Please.
Relics

  • Book of Knowledge: A relic that used to belong to the Sterna family before Leif stole it away when he left his family. It takes the appearance of a hefty tome with a deceptively plain appearance. Only the manastone betrays its ordinary appearance. The original manastone that is currently attached to the relic has been dead for years (since Genesis Sterna was killed). With mana the relic is able to search through books in a certain radius and duplicate written material onto its pages until the user asks the book to erase the copied book. Only one book can be pulled up at a time. It was mainly used as a time saver while searching through the Sterna library. Genesis had mentioned to Leif that the relic’s sphere of influence seems to depend on the position of the sun or moon relative to the relic. The higher the position of the sun or moon the larger the radius, the lower the position the smaller the radius. But Leif hasn’t tested it himself. Though he has tested to see if it burns or gets damaged by water. It does not. The Book of Knowledge is the only relic that Leif is not interested in picking apart personally but still takes care of the maintenance for the relic out of a sort of familial duty. He does lend the relic out to those who need to use it to search through research material by carefully swapping out the original manastone. However, he always puts the original manastone back to not waste resources. When Leif doesn’t think the relic would be needed in a mission, he keeps it inactive with the original manastone and leaves it behind in a safe place.
Equipment

  • Backpack - when relic, tool kit is needed or if he is running errands for Flora
  • Tool kit - a pouch that contains Leif’s most commonly used tools | mainly for field repairs but he usually brings a backpack if field repairs are needed
  • Cheesecloth for gathering medicinal plants - For Flora’s errands only
  • Twine - Always in a small satchel
  • Pocket watch that smells a little smokey - Always in pocket
  • Extra gloves - Always somewhere
  • Basic sewing kit - Always in jacket pocket
  • Container of beeswax - Very small, always in sewing kit
  • Matches (not for arson) - …In pocket
  • Wrapped knife - In belt
  • Wrapped sticks of charcoal - Always in small satchel in case he needs to mark things or write it down
  • Small flat stones - Always in his pockets
  • Wires (definitely not for lockpicking) - In his jackets or shirts
Extras
Leif’s birthday is the same as his faceclaim’s birthday because I was too lazy to figure out a birthday. It has no other significance other than that. LOL Same thing with his height.
Leif has caused a few explosions on accident. He has very fine tuned control of his abilities but is admittedly bad at remembering the signs he definitely read prior to fiddling with relics. Ironically he does have near surgical precision when manually fiddling with relics and mundane technology but he just forgets. He’s not reckless, he’s just forgetful.
Leif was originally deemed not emotionally healthy enough to have a stigma (nor did he want one at the time) so even though he had been in Arcana for years he didn’t get his stigma until recently two years ago.
He had to learn how to lockpick because he kept forgetting his inn room key and locking himself out without Flora babysitting him. He also isn’t trusted with the keys to the apothecary due to the same reason.
He dislikes ballroom dancing because his mother was an exceptional ballroom dancer who forced all her children to learn even if they didn’t want to learn more than the basics. His feelings on the matter are the same as kids who get forced to learn to play piano.
I know I described it as gravity but Leif doesn’t know it’s gravity. He just describes it as the force that binds objects towards the earth because that’s what it feels to him when he activates his stigma.
Leif first joined Arcana a few months before things went south with Raeger. But he doesn’t actually know more than everyone else knows because Flora basically shoved his head back down into his books and experiments until the restructuring period was over. “This isn’t related to you, just keep your head down and you’ll be better off that way.”
Code by Nano
 
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Full Name
Dorian Alfieri
Code Name
Ematille
Arcana
XVI. The Tower
Age
26
Date of Birth
1st Day of Tranquility
Faction
Second
Position
Leader
Height
187 cm
Hair Color
White
Eye Color
Yellow
Faceclaim
Iscariot (Eternal City)
Dorian is a man of the people. Kind and gregarious, he takes care to watch over his subordinates and peers, hear out their concerns, consult on their troubles, and consider their opinions. It's a shame he doesn't care for a single one of them. Almost physically incapable of empathy, Dorian operates purely on a basis of what would be most beneficial to himself and his goals. For now, that means committing himself to the second faction and maintaining beneficial relationships with the other members of Arcana. So long as their purposes remain aligned, he'll stand among the most reasonable and approachable senior members of the organization -- and alongside anyone who provides him value.
On the State of the Nation
"The monarchy shambles along like a great diseased beast, its rotten flesh slipping from the bone with every step. It's only a matter of time before mind catches up to body and it all comes crumbling down. Best plan your exit now, lest you get caught under the bloat of its corpse."
Appearance
Slightly taller than most in Vestry by virtue of his more fortunate upbringing, Dorian's frame is slender and willowy. With paper-white hair and skin with only the faintest hint more of life, he gives off the impression of someone on the tail end of a most deadly illness. His physique and pallor produce the appearance of frailty; perhaps a stiff wind would topple him at a moment's notice. This is, of course, an intentional choice and niether sickness nor gale will threaten his person. From perfectly styled hair with never so much as a single lock out of place, to an expansive wardrobe equipped to suit any need, to the lustre of his nails, every last aspect of Dorian's appearance is similarly manicured with a singular purpose.
Personality
Lord Dorian of House Alfieri is a wonderfully affable man. Polite, personable, and disarmingly charming, the young nobleman possesses a keen social aptitude that few else can match, a fact he is more than aware of. Armed with a slight smile, a kind word, and a supportive gesture, he is the paragon of grace and sophistication. Indiscriminate with his time, Dorian makes the effort to familiarize himself with everyone he meets, from passing acquaintences to longtime peers. Even years after a first meeting he can unfalteringly recall even the slightest of details. His gentleness precedes him, and his kind nature easily wins him friends and allies. By all measues, Dorian is a picturesque noble, a standard of excellence unto himself.

He'd hope so, too, considering how much time and effort goes into painstakingly curating such an appearance. In truth, Dorian Alfieri is not one to ascribe the quality of 'noble' to; not in this lifetime nor the next. Born with a near complete lack of empathy, his cold, shriveled heart has room enough for one person and one person along: himself. Dorian is as self-serving and centered as the worst of the gentry, only he also understands the value of foresight. Always focused on long-term goals, laying the foundation for ambitious plans that may only blossom years in the future, he chooses to erect a facade of virtue so seamless it is near impermeable to scrutinization. The people he supports, the causes he champions, and the actions he takes are chosen solely on the measure of how beneficial they are to him. Duplicitous and manipulative by nature, his forked, silver tongue is his greatest weapon, one that he wields liberally.

Despite his questionable intentions, Dorian is genuine with his purposes in Arcana -- just not entirely truthful. Though he may claim his goal is to sterilize and suture the gaping wounds caused by the failing monarchy to help the ailing subjects, he couldn't care less about their fates. They are relevant only in as much as he must account for the behaviors and opinions of the common people and their effect on his future. The only twinging in his heart is caused by having to witness the jesterly behavior of many of Arcana's other members. Only time will tell whether his involvement with the dangerous, highly-unstable terrorist organization will unfold exactly as planned. For now, he bides his time, holds his cards to his breast, and plays the part he's devised for himself.
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Likes

  • Honest, straightforward people
  • Calligraphy
  • Winter
  • Writing
  • Money
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Dislikes

  • Erratic behavior
  • Mind readers
  • Sailing
  • Loafers and layabouts
  • Pyres
XVI
Click to Expand Backstory
In the Year 712, Vittorio Alfieri, eldest son of Hector and Adelaide Alfieri, began his career as a merchant. Over the next twenty years, the man grew wealthy beyond measure. Gifted with an unparalleled sense for business, he devised methods to turn massive profits on luxury goods such as spices, silk, and wine. For a time, it appeared as if there would be no end to the successes of the Alfieri family. His great success soon drew the attention of even the royal family of Vestry.

In the Year 738, the Alfieri family was rewarded with the position and prestige -- and duties -- of a viscounty.

In the Year 741, the gods abandoned the planet. The Era of Magic came to an end, ushering in a time of darkness. House Alfieri managed no worse, and frequently much better, than any other noble house. Though the demand for and supply of luxury goods that once comprised their major stream of income had all but vanished in the following years, under the keen leadership of their head, the Alfieri's other ventures and estates buoyed them through the turbulent period. By the time the nation had stabilized, House Alfieri managed to anchor themselves to the core of Vestry, one of the few houses left largely unmarred despite their youth -- or perhaps because of it -- and stood amongst the most powerful of the viscounts, enough to rival any earl's power and influence. It only stood to reason that in the following years, the house was officially elevated to a earldom.

In the Year 787, Dorian Alfieri was born as the sole child and heir of House Alfieri. Even in a time of great strife, he grew up wanting naught, raised in an entirely different realm than the average commoner. The earldom had maintained its standing in the decades prior, but lately their political influence in the court had begun to dwindle. Over the course of generations, the Alfieri had slowly fallen out of favor with the royal family, growing decreasingly involved with the inner machinations of the court. The current head of the family, Leon Alfieri possessed none of the same aptitude his forebearers wielded and was largely unable to maintain their growth. Though their business ventures and holdings ensured the house would not immediately crumble like so many others before them, it was quite a disappointing fall from grace. The other noble houses could smell the blood in the water. It was only a matter of time before a misfortunate misstep saw the Alfieri have the rug swept out from under their feet by the many lesser nobles eager to snatch up some of their many profitable holdings. That certainly couldn't be permitted.

In the Year 802, Leon Alfieri fell ill with a terribly malignant fever and passed away, leaving the fifteen-year-old Dorian to succeed the family. All at once, House Alfieri's rivals moved to carve apart and parcel up the earldom. Without exception, their efforts failed. Largely hidden from the spotlight until now, the young, untested Lord Alfieri showed himself to possess a defter hand than his father. Having long since expected to defend against their enemies, he'd begun to make arrangements for his succession even prior to the late earl's death -- careful, vigilant plans to minimize the damage the house would take during the transition. It was here that the great political talent he was blessed with first displayed itself. After rebuffing the advances of their would-be undoers, Dorian set out to forge closer ties to other noble houses, restoring the degraded relations of the Alfieri. Wielding an innocent, boyish charm and an impressive intelligence (alongside a cutthroat attitiude), it was only a short matter of time before he reaffirmed House Alfieri's standing amongst the peerage.

In the Year 803, Crown Princess Arwen Luscia Vestrinnica ascended to the royal throne of Vestry and henceforth was known as Her Highness the Queen.

In the Year 804, Lord Alfieri grew critical of the sensibility of the newly-crowned queen's policies and decrees. Always the prudent one, he began to secret away a portion of the house's most valuable possessions, even as he gained a reputation for his nobility.

In the Year 805, House Alfieri was forced to surrender their significant collection of 'valuable' relics -- or at least, the ones Dorian had purchased on the black market to obscure his actual possessions.

In the Year 808, he began to make plans to escape Vestry if -- or more likely, when -- the situation ever grew so dire. The continuous downfall of the monarchy was an ill omen for the rest of the queendom, but the similarly strife-torn state of the world limited his routes.

In the Year 809, the terrorist organization Arcana caught his attention. In them, Dorian saw a valuable opportunity. Remaining tied to the government of Vestry was a death sentence, he'd decided. But such a conviction did not immediately provide him with an abundance of options. To leave the nation was to abandon all his possessions, his wealth and standing, and the legacy of his family. Most of those were largely irrelevant, though he still added them to the list while mimicking the nasally pitch of his late father's voice. It was true, however, that Dorian had no intention of living a life in exile, especially not when there was no assurance of safety even outside the borders of Vestry. A second, even worse, option was to support one of the many rebellions that cropped up on occasion. Dorian was well aware at how easily the nation's army could quell a meagre rabble of starving peasants; trying to get involved in that was a fool's errand. And then he picked up whispers of another band of insurrectionists, small and difficult to track, but reportedly equipped with some sort of magic -- increasingly rare in recent years. Perhaps this 'Arcana' would actually last long enough to pose a significant threat to the crown.

In the Year 810, Lord Alfieri went on a short trip outisde the bounds of Verrin, on the premise of needing to visit the family mausoleum for the anniversary of his father's death. A private, intensely emotional affair, he brought along only the smallest retinue possible, and even then left them behind before entering the cemetary. A rich earl, exposed and away from the protection of his guards? It was quite the opportune circumstance for any hostile forces to take advantage of. This resulted in his first encounter with Arcana, though it would be far from the last. He began to regret his involvement when Raeger Antwer and many of Arcana's forces were slaughtered later that year in an ill-advised assault on Her Highness's residence. Had he been mistaken in the organization's potential?

In the Year 811, Dorian, now the wielder of the Stigma of the Tower, began to implement yet another of his schemes. Distrustful of Arcana's leadership -- and Owen in particular -- he began to gather influence of his own. He gathered the dispersed anti-monarchist sentiments and unified them under a single banner, emerging as the leader of the newly-formed Second Faction. Though there remained signficant confliction between the various ideologies within the faction, they remained unified by the belief that the current monarchical system had outlived its purpose. That was not to say that Dorian at all believed in placing the power of rule in the hands of the peasants -- no, what did the common man know of laws and governance when his life revolved around raising pigs and forging nails? Once the crown had been eliminated, there would be a need for educated, experienced captaincies. A role he was well-equipped to fill. A role he fully intended to.

Now, in the Year 813.
Aurelius
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Zenith
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Yenoia
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Ability
The Stigma of the Tower is a careful one. Enacted through speech, it coats Dorian's tongue with deceit. When active, every word he speaks worms itself deep into his target's subconscious, seeding doubt and paranoia and suspicion. The more he speaks and the longer the Stigma is active results in increasingly effective distress. The great subtlety with which its effects work mean that few are able to detect Dorian's influence on their minds before it's too late. Given enough time, he can cause his victims to question even their most central tenets, though he doesn't frequently have such chances.

The only defenses most have are to either entirely inhibit their hearing or attempt to push past the claws digging deep into their psyche. However, those who are particularly self-assured and strong of will -- the zealots, in other words -- are at times able to quash their doubts through sheer belief. Dorian's Stigma does not allow him to simply crush their minds underfoot. He needs to find weaknesses to leverage or his target may very well shrug off the magic with ease.

The most devastating aspect of the Tower is that its effect do not simply wear off after a period of time. While the initial implantation will fade shortly after Dorian deactivates the Stigma, the havok they wreak on the psyche persists. Those with inferior mental fortitude may never entirely free themselves from his strings. Needless to say, Dorian finds it quite useful.
Relics

  • The Troupe Master's Timepiece: A vestige in the form of a nonfunctional bronze pocket watch. Pristine but for a crack along the glass face of the dials, this vestige was acquired by the Alfieri family many decades ago, but ended up all but forgotten in the years following the Fall of the Era of Magic. Its unique effect either grants its user increased conspicuousness, forcing those around them to pay heed to their words and placing them at the center of attention, or disguises their presence, allowing them to slip by others stealthily, without attracting any unwanted attention. Dorian rediscovered its existence when cataloguing the house's valuables several years ago, though it only served very niche purposes until his induction into Arcana.

    The face of the watch consists of two dials, the larger of which possessed three hands to indicate hours, minutes, and seconds. The secondary, much smaller dial, only consists of a single hand that could be positioned at any position along a scale. This scale is what determines which effect the vestige produces as well as its magnitude. In the leftmost position, Dorian can pass by most unhindered, while the rightmost will attract the attention of any and every passerby. The larger dial's hands are automatically shifted based on the position of the smaller's, and progress further along the gradation with the greater the magnitude of the watch's effect. Once the vestige's magic is enabled, the larger hands begin to progress as a normal watch's would, and once it strikes midnight, the vestige falls inert again. In essence, the stronger the change, the shorter the duration.
Equipment

  • Medical supplies
  • Chalk
  • Matches and tinderbox
  • Stiletto knife
  • Pouch of powdered glass
  • Canteen and rations
  • Gilt actor's mask
Extras
House Alfieri employs a disproportionately small workforce at its main residence in Verrin. However, those they do have been through the generations, and as a result are unfalteringly loyal to their lord.
As is typical of any wealthy, unwed noble, Dorian has received a number of proposals for betrothal through the years. He has yet to accept any.
Ematille, Dorian's code name in Arcana, was chosen for its absolute lack of similarity to his appearance. For some reason, he finds that humorous.
Dorian is actually the second child of his parents. His would-be elder sister passed less than two days into infancy.
Dorian has a great distaste for most animals.
Code by Nano
 
Last edited:
Full Name
Aurelius Stallard
Codename
Vermillion
Arcana
VII - The Chariot
Age
Twenty (20)
Date of Birth
28th day of Tranquility
Faction
The First Faction
Position
Faction Leader
Height
160cm || 5'3
Hair Color
Light Blonde
Eye Color
Greyish-Blue
Faceclaim
Utsugi Uyu (Vtuber)
A former noble with a strong sense of justice. Aurelius, while no longer a part of a noble family, still looks the part. Always making sure his appearance is presentable and proper. However, his actual personality breaks the illusion of being a nice and proper noble. He's vulgar with his words, isn't afraid to dirty himself, and can be straight-up feral if it means getting what needs to be done, done.
Vestry's Social Reform
"If it takes being the bad guy to change this shithole of a country, then so be it. I'll make the demon lord seem like a saint after I rid this entire country of those unsightly bastards."
Appearance
Aurelius's pretty boy aesthetic is definitely something he's earned rather than naturally born with, although his genes aren't working against him. Despite his indifference towards it, he always keeps a strict routine for himself to make sure he looks as healthy as he is. Seven hours of sleep, three healthy meals a day, regulated body weight, proper muscle mass, clear skin, healthy hair, and so on. Always wanting to make sure that everything is as close to perfect as it can get! But, of course, everything has its imperfections. A plethora of old faded scars linger on many parts of his body. His hands are hard and littered with calluses from the constant handling of weapons. However, Aurelius sees these things in a more positive light. Every mark and hardened area is proof of his efforts. So, he holds each of them with pride.
Personality
A blunt and righteous individual. Aurelius is a bit of an extremist as some would say. When he has his mind set on a goal it's very easy to imagine him blowing some things out of proportion if it means getting things done. He's not someone who waits around for problems to get solved for him. He prefers to completely extinguish issues before they even have a chance to properly become issues. Some say he makes a big deal out of little things. Which is true, but in his mind, he firmly believes that all issues start as small things that have been allowed to snowball to the point that the problem can not be stopped or solved without someone getting hurt. And to prevent this he must try and resolve issues while it's in the early phases. Despite his temper and inclination to yell more than he should, he genuinely tries his best to help and prepare the people around him for the future. There have been many times when he crosses the line with his words or actions and quickly regrets it. Their line of work is dangerous and everyone has at least someone they don't want to leave behind. He wants to make sure that all of his faction members will one day be able to return home and live peaceful lives with their loved ones. Even if he knows this is close to impossible.

He strives to be a person people can depend on and look up to. He doesn't try to set himself above others but more as someone who tries to help lift others so they can stand alongside him. He will always try to help someone be the best version of themselves they can be. He is prideful and stubborn, but he's not unreasonable. Rather than instantly butting heads with someone whose ideals go against his own, he'd rather try and listen and understand why they think that way. Just because he can not agree with someone does not me he can't respect and try to understand their reasons. Unless their actions are so inexcusable that what they have to say for themself doesn't matter. He will always stand against injustice. And anyone who tries to justify killing and hurting innocent people deserves to be killed for the sake of past, current, and future victims.

When he's not wrapped up in issuing training from hell or unleashing his wrath upon the world, Aurelius tries to hold a pleasant personality. But he finds it very hard to do so. His language is vulgar and crude and rarely has a filter. However, in his free time, he enjoys reading and learning more about subjects he's not knowledgeable about. A proper leader must understand all different types of things in order to make more rational and confident decisions. If he finds someone who is better or smarter than him in a certain subject, he is more than happy to ask them for help. He'll never let his pride get in the way of learning something new and potentially helping him become better both as a person and as a leader.
+
Likes

  • Sparring
  • Markets
  • Music
  • Learning
  • Calligraphy
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Dislikes

  • Formal Events
  • Speeches
  • Petty Arguments
  • Disorganization
  • Recklessness
VII
Click to Expand Backstory
28th day of Tranquility, 795 (my birtday!)

hello diary. my naime is Aurelius. its my birtday i'm tree. i got a book to rite in from mister winslow. he said its a diary. i unno what it is. i thinc thats your naime! oh i have to go i get to pick what we eat for dinner twooday. i want to eat lots of ham and potato. bye diary

1st day of Hoarfrost, 796

good morning diary. i thinc i had a lot of fun since it was my birtday. moder and fader couldnt come because they is busy. so only me and alaric is there. but he say to me that the food i picked was bad and leaved. why is alaric stupid? only stupid people would hate this food! but now theres more parties to go because the year starts over today.

9th day of Ascension, 796

hi diary. today fader told me i need to start lerren how to use sword. but i dont wanna. everyone outside is always sweaty and stinky and stupid and dumb like alaric. why cant i keep doing fun stuff with mister winslow? i don't wanna be a stinky dummy like alaric.

10th day of Ascension, 796

i hate training class diary. the adults keeped making me swoosh my tree sword over and over again and it was so boring and my arms hurt. my clothes got all dirty. and alaric kept making fun of me. i told him to shut up because hes stupid and then he hit me. i tryed to hit him back the teacher stop me. he said that was wrong. why is alaric okay to be bad but not me?

6th day of Hoarfrost, 797

hello Diary. today is the same. i had to do training in the morning. Alaric wasn't here today so it is little more better. after that i had other boring classes. mother started making me go to classes to help me be better. but i don't think there is anything wrong with me. she told me the way i spoke makes me sound poor. But she's weird. Anyway! after that i got to go with mister winslow again. Today he taut me something new again! He taut me how to play the flute. he even got me my own as a late birthday present! maybe i can be a music person instead of a sword person!

15th day of Dewdrops, 797

Diary, guess what! Mister Winslow took me to the farmers market today! I thought it would be boring like the one mother makes me go to. But this one was a lot of fun! There were so many people and things to buy. I got to try a lot of yummy food and buy fun things. One store we went to was a wood carver! Me and mister Winslow got matching engravings on our flutes. A pair of birds! Today was the most fun I've ever had in my entire life. Why couldn't every day be like this?

17th day of Dewdrops, 797

Alaric beat me up again during training, Diary. I hate him. I told father about it before but he told me that I should just get stronger if I don't like it. Why is everyone in my family but me so stupid?

11th day of Rebirth, 798

Diary was I wrong today? Today mother got angry at me for starting a fight with Alaric. But he was the one being mean first! He was picking on mister Winslow and some of the other working people because he didn't like the food. Then I said he should make the food or shut up. Then he got mad at me. So I got mad at him. I threw my potato at him. It was funny. But then I got sent to my room. I think I feel bad now. I shouldn't have wasted my food. Next time I'll throw my cup at him.

27th day of Harvest, 798

Hello my deerest, Diary. How does thou fair? ...Yuck. Even writing it makes me feel icky! Why would anyone want to talk like that? These fancy classes are so boring. I want to explore the town instead! the way I talk is fine! if they don't get it then thats their fault for being stupid! they should have classes instead of me. why do I need to change for idiots to understand me? at least training with Alaric and the other guards is useful to know. even if I get hurt lots.

14th day of Alacrity, 799

Today is Alaric's 12th birthday, Diary. there's going to be some giant fancy party just for him. Bigger than all the usual parties he's gotten! I've never had birthday's like that before. I wonder if my 12th birthday will be special. I think Alaric is going away though. Father is sending him to train at the palace with the knights. I'm glad he's leaving.

21st day of Alacrity, 799

hi DiAry my writE is uGly N0w. AlAric br0kE my g00D arm on thE day beforE hE lEavEd. the 15. i fEEl bad n0t tElling you about it s0 l0ng but I didn't want y0u to see h0w ugly my lEttEr arE with my lEft hand. i'm a bit better n0w. it is ugly but it can bE rEad n0w. it hurts a l0t, DiAry. i want it t0 st0p

7th day of The Hunt, 799

Hi diary. my writing is a lot better now, right? mister Winslow is helping me get used to using my left hand now. I can write and even swing weapons with it! soon I might have two good hands! Father has noticed too. and started making me train again. I still have to wear this stupid splint thing. but that's fine. I'm going to get stronger with both my hands now. Next time me and Alaric fight I'm going to break his arm too. But both of them. So he won't be able to do anything with either of his hands. Oh yeah! you want to know the reason why Alaric broke my arm? it's because I almost beat him in our last spar. He really is stupid.

21st day of Harvest, 799

My right arm finally got better, Diary! I can finally take off the stupid splint and use it again! Now I can write with two hands at once! The look on Mister Winslow's face was so funny when he saw me! Now I can write twice as fast. Today is the start. I'm going to take my training much more seriously. I won't let Alabitch keep beating me! Hehe...do you like his new nickname, Diary? I can't wait for the day I get to call him that to his face.

28th day of Tranquility, 800 (My birthday!)

Today is my 8th birthday, Diary! And this year, I'm going to have an amazing birthday party like Alabitch! Even if I have to throw it myself. Mother and Father are out. So I have the estate all to myself. I'm throwing a party for me and the servants! Since I can't actually invite people without their permission. Hopefully, Alabitch doesn't come home though. He tends to come back during this time of year. If there are any higher beings out here reading this, for my birthday the only thing I want is to hear news of my brother's death. Do you think wishes come true, Diary?

1st day of Hoarfrost, 801

Wishes do not come true, Diary. Not only were mother and father furious about the party I threw while they were away, they also brought Alabitch back with them. They ditched me on my own birthday to do the exact opposite thing I wished for. They're anti-wish granters. Also I got grounded. But honestly, not having to spend the day with them is also a pretty good gift. Guess they got one thing right for once.

3rd day of Hoarfrost, 801

Good evening, Diary. Winslow came and visited me today. I'm glad I got to see him. I've been so bored in my room. Though, something seemed off with him. He didn't seem as happy. I tried to ask him what was wrong but he just brushed me off. He asked to read you too. Usually I wouldn't let anyone else read you! But Winslow is different. I trust him. And he's the one who gave me you. So I let him. He found my entries to be funny. It made me smile. He was in a better mood when he left. I wonder if he has a pet book too!

16th day of Hoarfrost, 801

Things are getting really weird now, Diary. Father has been busier than ever. And Mother has been very strict about me going to and from the house. Usually no one cared if I snuck out. Or maybe they just didn't realize. But today they wouldn't let me leave. Which sucks. I hate being cooped up in the house. Alaric is still here too. And he's being less of a prickly jerk than usual. That's so weird. Weirder than usual. I don't like this, Diary.

17th day of Ascension, 801

Diary, I don't know what's happening. I overheard from father and mother that the king died. Everything is getting out of hand. Alaric suddenly got called back to the palace too. And I haven't seen Winslow anywhere for the past week. It's so frustrating being out of the loop of everything. But everyone I asked simply keeps brushing me aside. Did the king really die?

2nd day of The First Melt, 801

The whole thing with the king's passing has calmed down a bit, Diary. It still feels very awkward. Alaric came back home too. But that's not important. Mister Winslow finally showed up again after suddenly disappearing! I was so angry at him! But he looked really sad for some reason. I didn't get to yell at him. He said sorry for a lot of things I don't get. Sorry for things he won't be able to do...? He even hugged me. It was really...weird. It was like this would be the last time we'd ever see each other. Was he trying to make me feel sad so I wouldn't be as mad at him? What a cruel way to escape getting shouted at. Whatever. I wasn't actually that mad...I think. Mister Winslow is still here by the way. But I made him close his eyes so he can't see what I'm writing! Goodnight, Diary. Mister Winslow is sleeping over. I've never had one before!

3rd day of The First Melt, 801

Mister Winslow was already gone when I woke up, Diary. But at least he left me a letter this time. I'm gonna read it now.

There are a lot of things wrong right now, Diary. I don't know what to do. Mister Winslow said mother and father are bad people I shouldn't be like. That was a given, of course. But the things he's written are really really bad. Have mother and father really done all of this stuff?

17th day of the First Melt, 801

Everything was still so confusing, diary. And I can't even ask anyone for help. I don't have anyone to trust at home. Maybe it was some sort of desperation. But I went and asked Alaric what he thought about everything that's been happening since he's been home a lot more. That talk went about how I expected. But not worse thankfully. He berated me for even talking to him, insulted me to my face, shoved me back, and then taunted me. My stupid excuse of a brother is as useless as ever. I must be a fool for even thinking otherwise.

9th day of Quickening, 803

Today is an important day, Diary. It's been a long time since both mother and father left the estate. I think it might be something to do with the new queen, but they're going to the palace for a week. I was able to convince them to let me stay home. I need to be careful of the guards though. I'm going to look through father’s study before they get back.


10th day of Quickening, 803

Mister Winslow was really smart, Diary. Father always keeps his study locked up super tightly. But he knew where an extra key was! I was able to get into father's study easily thanks to him. There was nothing but boring paperwork though. A lot of money stuff. But there needs to be something else…something hiding somewhere. I'ma check some more tomorrow!

13th day of Quickening, 803

I found something today, Diary. I think it was one of the things Winslow talked about. I found it hidden between the pages of a random book on the shelf. It was a lot of ⬛⬛⬛ from the ⬛⬛⬛⬛ to my father. And all of them were sent during ⬛⬛⬛

15th day of Quickening, 803

I found something big, Diary. A secret passage in father's office! But I didn't get to go inside. It made a lot of noise when I accidentally opened it. I had to close it and leave immediately. The guards showed up so quickly. I was able to escape out the window and make it back to my room. I had to pretend to be asleep when they came in. I didn't take anything or move things around. So I hope they won't get too suspicious of what might have happened. At least they won't be suspicious of me I hope.

7th day of Hoarfrost, 805

Hello Diary. It's been a week since my 12th birthday. And surprise surprise. Mother and Father were too busy to even remember to say happy birthday to me. While Alaric had a nice fancy party. I was barely remembered. But it's whatever. I got to go around the city one last time before I got shipped away to knight school. The market isn't the same as I remember. Nothing in town has been the same since the new queen was appointed. The stalls and shops I remember loving as a kid are all gone. It's hard to describe how it is. But being here doesn't feel like a happy place anymore. No one was happy to be there. I bought myself a gift since I was out. A new Quill and paper set. I've been wanting to try calligraphy out. You'll see how pretty my handwriting can really be, Diary!

1st day of Rebirth, 805

Good morning, diary. I'm sorry I haven't been able to write as much. They really like to keep us busy. If it weren't for me training since I was a toddler, I'm not sure I would be able to keep up. And don't tell anyone…but I actually might be having a little bit of fun. I was rereading some of my entries when I first started training. And I couldn't help but laugh. It's true. That you get really sweaty and stinky and that it's disgusting. But it's fine. I just have to always shower after training. But there are some people who just eat and sleep right after training though. I hate them the most. Thanks for stinking up everyone's air quality you fucking pigs.

22nd day of Dewdrops, 805

Don't mind the blurbs, Diary. I'm trying to improve my handwriting.

𝓗𝓤𝓔𝓦𝓚𝓣𝓠𝓖𝓢𝓐𝓙𝓩𝓨𝓗𝓗𝓩𝓗𝓥𝓢𝓐𝓔𝓠𝓣𝓚𝓖𝓝𝓛𝓗𝓛_𝓒𝓝𝓚_𝓣𝓚

𝓥𝓨𝓕𝓓𝓛𝓜𝓧𝓨_𝓧𝓟𝓩𝓧𝓨𝓝𝓛𝓧𝓟𝓙𝓨𝓧𝓡𝓤𝓒𝓢𝓐𝓖𝓝𝓓𝓜𝓐𝓢𝓡𝓜𝓛𝓒𝓥𝓩𝓔𝓐

1st day of Hoarfrost, 806

I had my 13th birthday yesterday, Diary. It was kinda fun. While they don't throw individual birthdays, I was happy when I got a little celebration with the other trainees who had birthdays during last month. Though I did get some individual birthday wishes yesterday. I was also awarded most promising trainee. I guess that's pretty cool. Starting next week we'll be official members and not trainees. That seems pretty exciting.

22nd day of Quickening, 806

Hi Diary. There's been a lot going on. Vestry has been on lockdown for over a year now. A lot of people are not happy. I'm not happy either. What's the point of this lockdown? Let people leave if they want to leave. If they don't want people to leave maybe the queen should actually be doing her fucking job. If she knew how to run a kingdom properly this wouldn't be happening. What kind of idiot spends all their funds on an army that doesn't even protect the people? I wonder if she realizes what's happening to her own people. Is she an ignorant puppet at the mercy of those bastards? Or an actual terrible person just like the rest of them? I don't know for sure. But either way, I don't believe she's fit to rule.

5th day of Dewdrops, 807

A lot of riots have been breaking out, Diary. And as a member of the knights I am always set out to deal with the issues. But a lot of them are upset for good reason too. How long do they plan to leech off of the barely surviving common folk? All this shit about seizing mines and harbors is good in theory. But in reality, this is doing nothing but making the people suffer more. You'd think the more profit we make from those claimed areas would go towards improving the kingdom and helping the people. But it doesn't. All they get is higher taxes to fund a war that isn't benefiting them. Mister Winslow was right. This place really is going to shit. I brought up my own questions and concerns about how this is all helping Vestry. And I just got vague answers or got brushed aside. What am I even protecting at this point? Knights protect the people. If there are no people to protect there is no purpose in doing this.

25th day of Dewdrops, 807

I've decided to switch to the militia branch, Diary. I can't stand staying in the standing army. Pun not intended. Anyway. We don't do anything productive. I don't want to keep stopping riots, I want to do actual fighting that's making a difference. A lot of my coworkers are against it. But it's whatever. If staying here is pointless I'm just wasting my time.

1st day of Clear Springs, 807

My transfer to the militia finally got approved, Diary. Father probably won't be happy to hear that. But he can piss off for all I care. My welcome here wasn't too welcoming though. It seems not many nobles join the militia. And especially not ones with big names like mine. The command is also a son of the Balfours. Though I doubt he was involved in any family politics. The Balfours don't appear to like him.

10th day of Clear Springs, 807

A lot of people aren't taking me seriously here, Diary. It kind of reminds me of training back at home with the guards and Alabitch. Though, thankfully, none of them are as dreadful as my brother. They'll have to do a lot more than be mildly infuriating to scare me off. The commander also doesn't seem too concerned. Looks like I'll have to prove to them I belong here.

12th day of Clear Springs, 807

Holy Hell, Diary. I haven't seen form so sloppy since I was a knight trainee?! Who cares how strong they are if they can't even hold their fucking weapons properly!? Sure, they're newer recruits like me, but all it took was a few measly swings to disarm them. I had to correct the forms of so many people today. Are they trying to die out on the frontlines!? Why join the militia if you can barely carry a weapon? I'm going to spend all day properly teaching those jerks. Even if I have to drag them to extra training myself!

21st day of Alacrity, 807

Hi Diary. I've been out on the front lines since the first of this month. Being out here is so much better than wasting away and standing around all day. Aside from the constant fights, I've also been able to hone my skills thanks to that psychopathic commander. Well. I say that but I don't think he's actually that bad. I think he's a good leader…he looks out for his comrades at least. As a person…it always seems like he's one nudge away from exploding. Well whatever. I often spar with him when we're resting at the camps. But he's so freakishly strong!? It's no wonder he's the commander. Our spars are always fun at least. To me. And I can tell I'm improving when fighting against him. Before I could barely withstand one of his swings. Always on the defense. But I've been getting hits on him in our recent spars! Even if it's still only me getting my ass handed to. It's satisfying to actually see improvement happening.

19th day of Dewdrops, 809

It's been four years since I first enlisted, Diary. And it's been an experience. I'm sure you already know, but I've enjoyed my time in the militia far more than my time in the knights. I haven't been home ever since I've been here. They've never asked me to return. Nor did I ever wish to return. I heard that pathetic waste of space, Alabitch, has been getting more involved with the politics of the house. He'll probably take over once mother and father pass. But that probably won't be for a while. Then he'll probably throw me out the house if he ever becomes the head. Which I'd probably thank him for.

20th day of the Hunt, 809

I finally have enough free time to take care of some unfinished business, Diary. 'The lone tree by a decaying village at the edge of Vestry lies two gravestones. When you finally feel like you're ready to learn the truth, come find where I buried my last remains of this life.' Mister Winslow wrote this at the end of his letter. And today I'm finally figuring out what this meant.

28th day of the Hunt, 809

I miss you, Winslow. You were already quite old back then so you might already have passed. But if by some miracle you're still alive, I hope we get to meet each other again. But until then, I'll be walking down the path best suited for me.

10th day of the Harvest, 809

Alaric has really been pushing my buttons as of late, Diary. I don't know what happened but he's been far more insufferable than usual. And he's always been insufferable. He's been pushing me around and taunting me to an endless degree. I just want to wipe his head clean off his body every time I see him! The sight of this ⬛⬛⬛ son of a ⬛⬛⬛ sorry excuse of a ⬛⬛⬛ makes me want to ⬛⬛⬛ ⬛⬛ ⬛⬛⬛⬛ Sadly, my parents would throw a fit if I did that.

*After re-reading this I realized I might have said some things that were a bit...vile. So, I had to cross them out. Sorry Diary.*

13th day of Tranquility, 809

Diary. I swear I'm going to kill him. How dare he break my flute. One of my last remaining gifts from Winslow. He claims it was an accident but I know it's bullshit. We roughed each other up fairly badly. But of course. I'm the only one who really got in trouble. Apparently I 'attacked him over nothing' Are mother and father mental? Alaric has attacked me unprovoked more times than I can count over the years and they've never batted an eye. But when I do it it's unexpected and feral? Oh, they can kiss my fucking ass. Trash really does enjoy sticking together. Was making me related to them another prank by the gods, Diary?

28th Day of Tranquility, 809 (My birthday)

Today's my 17th birthday, Diary. Father told me that there will be a sort of coming-of-age ceremony since it's my first birthday back home. Oh, how sweet of them. What about the 16 other Birthdays you missed, asshole?

1st day of Hoarfrost, 810

I don't even know what I expected of this party, Diary. It wasn't a party for me. It was a party to try and ship me off to some other house. I don't care about that shit. I'm so sick of father just acting like he owns me. To support this house? To hell with that. I'm a part of this family but I'm not one of them. And I will never be like them.

4th day of Ascension, 810

Diary, today I did something I've been wanting to do for a while. It took a bit but I was finally able to gather enough of my own funds to hire 10 of the best doctors and brought them into town. Many people always get sick during winter. So to try and prevent the amount of deaths I hosted a free clinic to try and treat and get proper medicine for them. The doctors didn't seem too pleased to be treating villagers. But I'm paying them. So they can suck it up and do their jobs.

10th day of Ascension, 810

Apparently, my little stunt caused quite a stir, Diary. Mother and Father were not pleased of course. Supposedly a lot of other nobles shunned them for what I did. What a bunch of sissies. A few families say something bad and they start bawling their eyes out. How about they grow the fuck up? Anyway, I got into a big argument with my parents over this. Why are they acting like someone owes them? Everything I did was with my own personal money. The only thing connecting them to this is that I'm, unfortunately, related to them. They're just trying to find an excuse to get some money out of those people who are grateful for what happened last week. And they'd have to kill me if they ever want to do that.

15th day of Ascension

This is getting out of hand, Diary. My parents had the nerve to try and intimate the villagers? Have they actually lost all their brain cells? What is going on through their big empty brains!? Are their big heads just for show? I spent the whole day chasing off many of our estate's guards to stop them from harassing people on the streets. I should have sworn those doctors to secrecy. I wouldn’t be surprised if they told my parents who they helped out. How annoying.

20th day of Ascension, 810

Everything has gone awry, Diary. What the hell are people talking about with me trying to overthrow my family? I just wanted to help treat some people. Why did this become such a big deal? My parents threw a bit of a fit at me today too. They have the nerve to say I betrayed them? When have I ever shown interest in becoming the head of the family? Alaric on the other hand, there’s an annoying look on his face. Like this whole thing amuses him. Which is very suspicious. I don’t like this.

26th day of Ascension, 810

Now I know what this is about, Diary. Alaric was the one spreading those obnoxious rumors about me trying to overthrow the household. What is his obsession with him making my life worse than he already has!? He wanted to pit our parents against me. That’s why he’s exploding this whole thing out of proportion. He’s making the rumors worse. I tried to get him to stop but he kept playing victim. That manipulative son of a bitch. He has my parents all over him. I knew coming back here was a mistake. This house is just headache after headache.

28th day of Ascension, 810

I’m getting the fuck out of this house, Diary. I can’t stand being here anymore. I’d rather spend the rest of my life on the frontlines than stay in this place for one more day. I make enough to handle myself. I don’t need or want anyone in this sad excuse of a family to be apart of my life anymore. I’m currently packing up my things. But there’s one thing I’m taking with me. I knew we always had a relic here. I just didn’t know where. My parents kept a replica of it on display. But now I know where the real one is. It’s in that hidden cellar in my father’s study. I’m taking those and getting the hell out of here.

1st day of the First Melt, 810

Shit’s hit the fan, Diary. I can’t believe what’s happening.

3rd day of the First Melt, 810

Um. Things have taken a very drastic turn in my life, Diary. I’m currently hiding out in some inn in the outer parts of the city. Long story short. I became a criminal. I just wanted to leave that night. I was going to leave, cut ties with my family, and start doing my own thing. Try and fix things one step at a time. But of course, things can’t end that easily. The very little things I was able to piece together that night were…something was going around saying I was going to lead the house servants against them. Something outlandish like that. Probably thanks to Alaric. God this was all his fault. It’s one thing if Alaric does this stuff to me. I can take it. But he’s getting innocent people killed because of his petty feud with me! And he doesn’t even care!! Not to say mother and father weren’t at fault. Because they’re just as bad. Their words still float around in my head. Calling other people cattle and then cutting down a maid just because she spoke against them. How soulless can you be? They hurt too many people because of their selfish actions. It’s because of people like them and Alaric that this country is spiraling into oblivion. Peace can not be achieved peacefully if people like that are allowed to stand. Peace will forever rest on a mountain of bloodshed. It was naive of me to think that just walking away from this peacefully would ever fix anything. If the road to a better future starts with the blood of my own parents, then so be it. I’ll exterminate the vermin plaguing this country with my own hands if I have to.

10th day of the First Melt, 810

Today some weirdo came up to me, Diary. They mentioned something about a tavern and stopping by if I had nowhere else to go. It was obvious they knew who I was and what I did, news of what I did is something everyone and their ancestors know about now. Yet they just said their peace and left...what if they're some sort of drug dealer? Whatever. I'm just exhausted. I haven't been able to sleep properly for one night thanks to always being on the move.

12th day of the First Melt, 810

I joined a really weird group of people today, Diary. They call themselves Arcana. Some sort of rebel group. It’s quite hilarious though. An ex-knight joining a rebel group. Actually, that doesn’t sound too outlandish.

7th day of Rebirth, 810

Diary, I think Raeger just marched to his death with a bunch of his followers…I heard he was supposed to be some sort of strategic mastermind. Why did he decide this was the right course of action? Our group is growing in number, but to storm the queen’s secret palace? This seems like anything but a good idea. I was told to stay behind since it hasn’t even been a month yet.

21st day of Rebirth, 810

I think I might be some sort of bad omen, Diary. Barely a month after I joined, the leader of Arcana goes and gets himself and half the group killed. And for what? What did they hope to accomplish by marching into a battle so stacked against them? And now this guy named Owen is the leader…was this really the right choice? There are a lot of mixed opinions about him. And while I currently have any reason to suspect foul play right now…isn’t he a bit too much of a klutzy scatterbrain to properly lead a rebel group? No offense to him. But this is like entrusting an infant to rule a kingdom. Though I guess we also have that too. What even is my life anymore?

23th day of Rebirth, 810

There are still a lot of things I’m not sure of, Diary. But one thing I know for sure is that the road to a better future will not be easy to walk. I’ve decided to stay with Arcana even if I’m unsure of the direction they’re going towards under this new leadership. I have to get stronger if I want this shared dream to ever become a reality.

6th day of Dewdrops, 811

The past few months have been something, Diary. I focused all my efforts on improving myself while we continued to lay low. I’ve also begun trying to help train other members of Arcana for other battles that may come. There are some people here who don’t even know how to properly wield a sword. Even if they don’t intend to fight, everyone should at least know how to fight long enough to survive what may or may not happen. Anyway. Besides that, I’ve been selected to lead the first faction. I believe getting The Chariot Sigma played quite a role in that. But I’m not complaining. I think it’s a great opportunity.

1st day of Hoarfrost, 813

Hello Diary. My 20th birthday just passed. There are a lot of things that are going to start happening soon. A new decade means a new chapter of my life. And I believe that the start of this chapter means putting an end to another. This will be my last entry. You have served me well for the past 17 years, Diary. Even now, I still speak to you like another person. This sounds ridiculous and embarrassing, and I hope no one ever reads what I’m about to write, but you were my closest companion during my childhood. A makeshift friend I could always trust in this world. And I think Winslow knew that. That’s why he gifted you to me. Back then, and even now, I’m an angry person with a lot of feelings. One that was forced to keep things pent up. Only through you could I properly vent and convey my feelings in a way that wasn’t destructive. But things are different now. It’s not just me against the world. I have friends and people I can trust. Real connections and people I can depend on. It’s time to finally be put to rest.

Thank you for always being there for me, Diary.

Aurelius
Alaric
Older Brother
“If there's one thing I regret in the past, it's that I didn't get to send that rotten piece of shit off with my parents.”
The current head of the Stallard family, Aurelius's older brother, and quite possibly the person he hates most in the entire world. A lot of his childhood was spent being tormented by his older brother who had always used him to make himself look better. Unlike Aurelius, Alaric wanted nothing more than to seize control of their family. He was obsessed with power and control just like all those other twisted nobles. While he despises him and his entire existence, it is also because of him that he realized the world they live in is fundamentally broken. The last words he's ever heard from his brother were 'thanks for doing the dirty work for me' Both of them only saw their parents as obstacles. Aurelius saw them as an obstacle for a better future, while Alaric saw them as an obstacle for more power and control. Truly sickening Aurelius knew he couldn't beat his brother in a fight at that time, so he had no choice but to leave him and flee the household before he got killed himself.
Winslow
Butler and Caretaker
“...”
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Cyrus
“You want to grab lunch? I still have some work, but if you do not mind eating in my office, I supposed we can eat together.”
Cyrus is the first and closest friend Aurelius has in Arcana. Even if Cyrus was the one doing all the work in the befriending phase. He can admit that his behavior three years ago was very closed off and a bit immature. So, he does applaud Cyrus for putting up with his younger self for as long as he did. Despite how the other's lack of awareness often puts him in trouble, that he more often than not has to settle if he's around, he does like his personality. A genuine and innocent person. He both pities and envies Cyrus for this. It's a shame that they aren't able to hang out as much now that he's a faction leader, but he also puts in the effort to try and make time for his friend whenever he invites him out for something.
Andrius
...
“...”
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Titania
...
“...”
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Song
...
“...”
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Reno
...
“...”
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Dorian
...
“...”
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Ability
An emblem of pride, willpower, proactivity, and resolve. The stigmata of The Chariot allow its host to not only physically empower one's self but also those around them who are determined to accomplish the same goal as them. Only through their supporters' trust and confidence in them, can a leader truly be strong. The more people the host's ability is buffing causes the effects of their own buff to increase further.

The Unity of Command - This is what Aurelius has decided to call this ability. Once activated, only those who share a common or similar goal with Aurelius can receive his buff. Regardless of the actual motives behind everyone's goal. If Aurelius's goal when activating his stigmata is to defeat the enemies in front of them, then everyone who also wants that will gain the buff. Whether the reason why they want to defeat said enemy aligns with Aurelius's reasons does not factor into whether they receive the buff or not. Though, if their goals every change from Aurelius's they'll lose the buff. Another factor that does come into play is one's resolve. Even if one shares the same goal, if they are unconfident or too hesitant they won't be able to gain the buff. Not only must they hold a common goal, but they must have enough conviction in themselves and the mission. The same restrictions apply to Aurelius himself. If he loses faith in himself or the situation at hand, the ability will deactivate on its own.

The actual buffs only affect one's physical body. Anyone with the buff will be stronger, faster, and more resilient. For the second part of this ability, Aurelius starts with the same buff increase as everyone around him. His buff can get stronger depending on the amount of people he's enhancing. There's no limit to who he can buff. But on the opposite side of the scale, if once buffed people began losing the buff his buff will start decreasing.
Relics

  • Heaven's Wrath: Aurelie's family relic that he stole when he fled from his household. The relic is a pair of short black leather tactical gloves where the magestone is located on the cuff of the back of the right glove, with a trail of small diamonds encasing the rest of the circumference of the gloves. It looks similar to a lot of the bejeweled gloves that many nobles and wealthy people would wear. When activated, the weapon or item he's holding in his hand gains an electrical current that can be used to shock others. He can only enhance one object at a time. If he's holding two things at once, it will always default to the item in his right hand, or whichever one has the magestone. The leather gloves allow him to prevent himself from getting shocked by what he's touching, however, if he touches an unprotected part of his body with the electrified item he can shock himself. The item becomes unelectrified when he deactivates the relic or lets go of the item. If he throws a weapon the electric current stays in the item till it hits or makes contact with something.
Equipment

  • Partisan
  • Leather Baldric
    • Flanged Mace
    • Curved Dagger
  • Drop Leg Pouch
    • First-Aid Kit
    • Quill & Paper
    • Assorted Snacks
Extras
Aurelious usually wears clothing made of leather. This is to reduce the chance of his accidentally hurting himself should he ever need to use his relic. He has shocked himself more than enough times for a lifetime, thank you very much.
Aurelious's codename comes from a nickname he earned while on the front lines. He was often called Vermillion as a tease because of the way the fancy white shirts he would wear to battle would always come back drenched in a bright red.
Aurelious is ambidextrous. This is thanks to his arm breaking when he was a kid and stubbornly learning how to use his left hand so he wouldn't be stuck doing nothing while waiting for it to heal.
His favorite meal is roasted ham and potatoes.
If he lived in a peaceful world and be anything he wanted, he would want to be a musician and continue to play the flute.
While he has learned to fight with various weapons, he tends to favor polearms and maces.
Quotes
"I think everyone should try and find something they wish to protect before they try to get stronger. It's very easy to get ahead and start to lose yourself in the pursuit of strength. But reminding yourself of why you chose to be stronger is a great way to bring yourself back to earth."
"Ugh. Sometimes I forget I'm not rich anymore."
"Those flaky sons of bitches. You think you can just skip training and get away with it? I'll have them crying for their mommies when I'm done with them."
"If you want me to stop lecturing you, maybe stop being a fucking idiot?"
Code by Nano
 
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Full Name
Yenoia Abillene
Code Name
Amethyst
Arcana
II. The High Priestess
Age
Twenty-Five (25)
Date of Birth
24th Day of Rebirth
Faction
Second
Position
Head Doctor, aiming to be Vice Leader
Height
166cm
Hair Color
Light Beige
Eye Color
Pink
Faceclaim
Reimu Endou
Yenoia is your “beg me” kind of doctor, but it doesn’t hide the fact that she is a skilled doctor with a knack for surgery. Some folks call her a sadist, but she believes she just has a unique taste for pleasure. Probably it comes from her noble lineage that provides her everything she needs, somehow it bores her to the core, making the taste of someone else’s pain the only thing that pleases her. She gets a unique ability from her stigma for manipulating others' perception of pain, which she uses both for medical procedures and occasionally... for her own amusement. Yenoia used to be a better person when Delyx was around, but with him gone, she kinda walks a fine line between good and bad.
Upon Delyx's Death
When life gets tired of me, I will come to you... and we will have our normal life, somewhere between heaven and hell, just as you promised...
Appearance
Yenoia is a vision of beauty, blessed with a genetic heritage that has bestowed upon her an exquisite appearance. Her long, flowing hair cascades like a silken waterfall, its light beige hue a rare and enchanting sight. Her eyes, a mesmerizing shade of pink, sparkle with an otherworldly charm, akin to precious gems set in delicate porcelain. Her facial features are a study in elegance, with a nose that boasts a straight, regal bridge and a perfectly defined tip. But it is her lips that steal the spotlight, plush and inviting, with a subtle curve that hints at a secret smile.

Standing tall amongst her peers, Yenoia possesses a statuesque silhouette, her slender form a canvas for her impeccable taste in fashion. Eschewing vibrant hues, she opts instead for a monochromatic palette of white and black, with a hint of pink—a juxtaposition of light and dark, mirroring the complexities of her inner self. Flowing dresses and skirts drape gracefully around her figure, a reflection of her disdain for the rigidity of trousers.

Yenoia is surely a delightful sight to behold for many if… her personality doesn’t come in frame.
Personality
Yenoia's personality can be divided into three distinct eras: before Delyx, after Delyx, and post Delyx’s death. While her sadistic trait remains constant throughout all periods, there are notable differences, particularly in how she indulges in her unique pleasure.

Before Delyx (BD), Yenoia epitomizes the archetypal noblewoman born with a silver spoon. She is arrogant, disdainful, proud, materialistic, and manipulative—seemingly embodying all the negative traits imaginable, as if she draws them from the personality bank before her entry into the world. What's more, she is a relentless bully towards those of lower rank. Despite having everything she could desire, Yenoia seeks something more to satiate her desires, something that only manifests when she witnesses others in pain. The begging, crying, and agony of others send a pleasurable sensation coursing through her body, soothing her mind like a piece of classical music. In summary, Yenoia is undoubtedly the last person you would want to encounter if you are beneath her rank, and it would be even better if you never crossed paths with her during the BD era.

After Delyx (AD), Yenoia undergoes a significant transformation. As cliché as it may sound, love has the power to change people, and this holds true for Yenoia. It was a rough game at first, but gradually, Delyx molds the once-mad woman into a better version of herself. She doesn't become an entirely different person, but she does develop the capacity to empathize, which fundamentally alters how she treats and perceives others. Her changing view of The Queen and the entire societal system also plays a role in shaping her new persona. Yenoia begins to genuinely care about people and demonstrates a willingness to assist others, acknowledging that everyone is fighting their own battles and that not everyone is as fortunate as she is in terms of privilege. She refrains from bullying others for amusement, although she occasionally indulges in "playfulness" to satisfy her sadistic tendencies. However, she now knows where to draw the line… at least most of the time. Yenoia starts to dismantle the hierarchical ranking system in her mind, treating everyone with equal respect. While there are still many aspects of herself that Yenoia seeks to change, she understands that progress takes time. In the AD era, people encountered the best version of Yenoia.

Post Delyx’s Death (PDD), Yenoia embarked on a journey of healing, a path fraught with the shadows of her past. It was Sherra, who stood by her side, ensuring that Yenoia did not succumb to the darkness that threatened to consume her once more. Though the wounds of loss ran deep, Yenoia's spirit endured, transformed by grief yet resilient in its resolve. She was no longer the same woman she once was, her edges softened by sorrow, her demeanor tempered by the weight of her loss. Yenoia found herself caught between two worlds—the woman she used to be, with all her flaws and imperfections, and the woman she was becoming, forged in the crucible of pain and loss. She was neither the same snobbish individual nor the best version of herself. Instead, she existed in a delicate balance.

In all eras, Yenoia carries the same demeanor. She moves through the world with an eerie calmness, an attitude that belies her unapologetic embrace of her sadistic nature. Unlike most who would hide such tendencies, Yenoia wears hers openly, with a candidness that borders on unsettling. Her honesty is disarming, inviting others to witness the depths of her complexities without fear or judgment. There's an unexplainable allure to her presence, a sense that beneath her composed exterior lies a world of dark fascination.
+
Likes

  • The feeling of power and control
  • The sight of someone in pain
  • Tea time
  • Soothing aroma of alcohol
  • Candies
  • Luxurious fabrics
-
Dislikes

  • Hot weather
  • Unpleasant odors
  • Greasy surfaces
  • Sour fruits
  • Losing control over something that important to her
II
Click to Expand Backstory
TLDR
Year 803: Yenoia developed a high interest in the medical world
Year 804: Yenoia forced the family doctor to include her in his medical team
Year 806: Yenoia met Delyx in an alley
Year 807: Yenoia and Delyx officially started their relationship
Year 808: Delyx joined the Arcana
Year 809: Yenoia joined Arcana based on Delyx’s recommendation
Year 810: Delyx died in an assault attempt led by Raegar
Year 812: Yenoia moved to the Second Faction
Year 813: Current year

Chapter I: The Life of Lady Yenoia

Lady Yenoia Abillene graced the world as the second daughter of Duke Hanven Abillene, born into the opulent embrace of one of the most prestigious noble houses. The Abillene family, a beacon of resilience, had weathered the tempestuous tides of time with unwavering strength. As the second daughter, Yenoia bore a lighter burden of responsibility compared to her older sister, the true epitome of grace and nobility in the Abillene lineage. Yet, from a tender age, Yenoia's peculiar nature began to unfurl, revealing a penchant for sadistic tendencies. Her antics, from bullying the maids to tormenting her peers, painted a picture of a child who found amusement in the suffering of others.

Her parents, perhaps weary from the demands of their esteemed position, turned a blind eye to Yenoia's behavior, allowing her to roam unchecked, her character veering further into darkness. Despite this, beneath her unsettling exterior lay a keen intellect and a profound interest in the medical world. Yenoia's fascination stemmed from her observation that the most afflicted individuals were often the wounded. Determined to explore this realm, she coerced the family's personal doctor into imparting his knowledge, relentlessly pursuing the art of healing.

Her aptitude for learning was staggering, mastering complex surgeries with ease. Unsatisfied with mere knowledge, she pressured the doctor to include her in his medical team, craving the thrill of wielding power over life and death. Yenoia finally found a sanctuary—a playground for her twisted desires, where she reveled in the agony of others under the guise of healing.

Chapter II : His Name was Delyx

Fate, that fickle mistress, often weaves unexpected tales on its whim. One such twist of destiny led Yenoia to encounter a stranger in the dark alleyways of Vestry. The man, his snow white hair matted with blood, clutched his stomach, a fresh wound threatening to steal his life's essence. Yenoia, initially driven by curiosity more than compassion, approached the scene. She contemplated testing him, perhaps even reveling in his agony before leaving him to his fate. After all, saving him was not her responsibility.

Yet, as Yenoia prodded at his wounds, the man's resilience captivated her. He endured her ministrations with stoic resolve, his only response a furrowed brow or a suppressed groan. When she finished and turned to depart, his eyes, golden in the moonlight, flickered open, wordlessly pleading for her aid. A surge of something unfamiliar coursed through Yenoia. Was it love at first sight, or merely a fascination with the mysterious man before her? She couldn't be certain, but she felt compelled to save him. In her mind, she entertained thoughts of torturing him upon their next meeting, relishing the idea of making him beg or cry. Then with limited supplies, Yenoia worked hastily to staunch his bleeding, her hands guided by years of experience. Though she spared him from the brink of death, she departed, leaving him to confront the remnants of his suffering alone.

Their chance encounters soon morphed into deliberate rendezvous. The man, Delyx, turned out to be a masochist, a perfect match for Yenoia's sadistic inclinations. What began as a game of pain and pleasure evolved into something deeper. Yenoia learned from Delyx's perspective as a commoner, a viewpoint she had never before considered. His sister, Sherra, also played a role in Yenoia's transformation, contributing to her newfound empathy and understanding. As their relationship deepened, Yenoia's heart began to thaw. She saw the world through different eyes, her once-black-and-white morality now shaded with gray. Though far from a saint, Yenoia's transformation was undeniable. Love blossomed between them, and for a time, life seemed brighter. But happiness in Vestry was fleeting. Delyx's call to join his new cause shattered their fragile peace, plunging them into a world of uncertainty and turmoil.

Chapter III : The Broken Promise

Delyx's revelation as a member of Arcana led him to recommend Yenoia to Raeger for recruitment, emphasizing her skills and vouching for her character. He was willing to stake his life on her potential contributions to Arcana, a gesture that took months of discussion and persuasion with Raeger before she was finally recruited. Initially hesitant due to skepticism about Arcana, Yenoia ultimately agreed, motivated by her love for Delyx.

Her time in Arcana provided Yenoia with profound life lessons, opening her eyes to the city's issues and the need for action. While Delyx took on a warrior role, she became the group's doctor, working alongside Basil to tend to the wounded. Despite her sadistic tendencies, which made some prefer Basil's care, Yenoia proved indispensable, often keeping people alive despite their injuries. Raeger occasionally had to ask Delyx to rein her in, as complaints arose about her playful treatment of wounds before actual care, yet he couldn’t do much as her skill was proven undeniable.

Everything would have remained as it should if that fateful night had never arrived. The night when Delyx made the decision to join Raeger in the attack to the countryside while the Queen was recovering. From Yenoia's perspective, it was a disastrous choice. They didn't stand a chance, but Delyx's unwavering trust in Raeger led him to risk his life to support the decision. Yenoia, desperate to be by his side, offered to come along, but Delyx declined, citing her value as a non-combatant. This refusal sparked heated arguments between them.

In her desperation, Yenoia resorted to a lie, telling Delyx that she was pregnant, hoping it would make him stay. The fire in Delyx's ambitious eyes softened, transforming into the warmth of a cozy flame in the fireplace. He gently kissed Yenoia's forehead, their foreheads touching as if sealing the moment. With a smile on his lips, he whispered, "The plan will work, and I will come back to you and our kid... then we can... quit the Arcana. Let's spend our life together as a normal family, Yen... this is my promise to you..." Tears welled up in Yenoia's eyes as they shared a tender kiss, the moon and gloomy sky bearing witness to a promise that would never be fulfilled.

Then it happened, the carefully laid plans crumbled into a bloodbath, claiming the lives of all who followed Raeger, including Delyx. Yenoia, who had never experienced such pain before, found herself consumed by anguish. The loss of Delyx tore at her soul, inflicting a torment unlike anything she had ever known. Physically and mentally ravaged by grief, she struggled to endure the agony of his absence.

As Owen assumed leadership, Yenoia found herself unable to trust him completely. The attack plan laid out seemed flawed, as if leading their comrades to their demise like sheep to the slaughter. Suspicious of the true motives behind that plan, Yenoia was certain that someone within Arcana harbored their own agenda. Despite the option to retreat to her noble life, sheltered from the turmoil of the Queen's rule, Yenoia remained in Arcana. Driven by a burning desire for revenge, she vowed to dismantle the queendom piece by piece. Those who had spilled Delyx's blood would suffer at her hands, to the point that they would beg for their own death.

Chapter IV : Life after Delyx

The passing of Delyx signaled a significant turning point in Yenoia's life, altering her path irrevocably. Remaining in Arcana not out of loyalty to its cause or its members, she pledged to stay until the organization succeeded in overthrowing the Queen. It was during this time that she heard about Dorian, a noble whose calm demeanor belied a man with mysterious secrets. She was certain that she had met him several times before Arcana, but never had the chance to actually converse with him. Rumors circulated of Dorian's efforts to unite people under his influence, breaking away to form his own faction with distinct goals.

While Yenoia did not fully trust Dorian, his intentions to eliminate the crown resonated with her own desires for vengeance. Thus, she chose to align herself with his faction. Severing ties with her noble family, who felt more relief than concern over her departure, Yenoia moved in with Sherra, establishing a small clinic within her inn.

"...somewhere in a parallel universe, where the cruel hands of fate are kind, the lovers find their eternal bliss, dancing in the light of a forever-after..."

YA-Happy.jpg

“Isn't he the biggest liar?”
Delyx was the first and perhaps the last person to ever capture Yenoia's heart (probably the only one capable of loving a woman like Yenoia)—a man who not only ignited her passion but also guided her towards self-improvement. Though their love story unfolded in the most unconventional of ways, it forged an unbreakable bond between the youngsters, one that defied explanation. Their connection ran deep, woven with threads of mutual understanding and unconditional devotion. Yet, when tragedy struck and he was taken from her, Yenoia found herself engulfed in a sorrow so profound it seemed to seep into the very fabric of her being. In the her prayers, Yenoia found solace in the belief that death would reunite her with her beloved Delyx once more—a naive wish whispered into the void, a plea for an eternal reunion beyond the confines of mortality.
“The kindest soul that I ever met. Not even people like me dare to taint her purity.”
Sherra, Delyx's older sister, had embraced Yenoia as her own sister, becoming a guiding presence in her life. She had been the second person, after Delyx, to shape Yenoia into the person she was now. Yenoia had held Sherra in higher regard than her own sister, cherishing their bond deeply. Unlike others, Sherra had never been a target of Yenoia's sadistic tendencies, their relationship built on mutual respect and affection. After Delyx's passing, Yenoia had found solace in staying with Sherra, where she had opened a small clinic within the confines of Sherra's inn.
Yamara
Yenoia's Older Sister
“...”
Yamara is not just Yenoia's older sister but her only sibling, sharing the same blood yet existing as little more than strangers. Their relationship lacks animosity, but it also lacks warmth or concern; they simply lead separate lives. Despite this distance, Yenoia harbors a subtle sense of gratitude toward Yamara, recognizing that her sister's presence allows her the freedom to roam and pursue her own interests. However, Yenoia's knowledge of Yamara is limited; she only sees the facade of Yamara as the favored and dutiful daughter of Abillene, always obedient to her family's wishes without a voice of her own. Unbeknownst to Yenoia, Yamara conceals her own ambitions and schemes behind her seemingly flawless smile.
Emersyn
“...”
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Dorian
“...”
Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Integer semper, sapien at porta congue, erat lacus luctus libero, eu viverra ante ante at tellus. Nulla facilisi. Morbi ornare, eros sit amet iaculis facilisis, metus justo convallis neque, a cursus nulla nisl at massa. Fusce quis odio cursus, vestibulum nibh sed, consequat tortor. Aliquam lobortis ligula id risus gravida scelerisque. Nulla auctor lacinia libero vitae molestie. Curabitur ipsum tortor, tempor ut leo id, ultrices ultrices purus.
Ability
The High Priestess stigma is associated with intuition, mystery, and hidden knowledge. She represents a deep connection to the subconscious mind and the spiritual realm, urging people to look beyond the surface and trust their inner wisdom. Just as the High Priestess encourages people to delve into the depths of their psyche, Yenoia is given the power to alter pain as a manifestation of her ability to tap into the inner workings of the human body and mind. Yenoia holds the power to unlock the mysteries of pain and perception. Her ability to manipulate pain reflects her deep understanding of the mind-body connection and her capacity to navigate the complexities of human suffering.

Yenoia is able to manipulate the pain experienced by those she touches, imprinting sensations from hellish to completely numb. With a mere touch, she can transform a minor papercut into the agony of a degloving injury, or conversely, render a life-threatening wound virtually imperceptible. The duration and intensity of the effect correspond to the duration of her touch, amplifying its scope with prolonged contact. What a perfect stigma to satisfy her pleasure, isn’t it? Thankfully, Yenoia's gift lies in altering existing pain rather than inflicting it, restricting its use to situations where the target is already experiencing physical discomfort.

While she could undoubtedly exploit this ability for personal amusement (well, it doesn’t mean she doesn’t though…), Yenoia predominantly employs it to aid in her role as a doctor. By numbing the pain of her patients, she facilitates surgical procedures with absolute comfort. However, given her capacity to manipulate pain at will, patients would be wise to remain on her good side during these procedures, as Yenoia's “playful” nature may manifest during an operation.
Relics

  • The Hastenbone: The skull-shaped staff, a constant companion to Yenoia, stood out boldly in its full form but could be compacted into a diminutive skull bone with a simple double tap at its apex. Bedecked with gems in its eye sockets—a fiery red beryl on one side and a shimmering manastone on the other—the relic exuded an air of mystique and power. Yenoia wielded it with ease, seamlessly transitioning between its full and minimized states.

    This unique artifact granted Yenoia the power to accelerate her actions threefold. However, to unleash this ability, she had to pre-plan her movements, mapping out a series of commands that needed to be expedited while holding the staff. The acceleration would commence as soon as Yenoia uttered the word "Activate." The downside was that once activated, she could not be interrupted, as it would disrupt the pre-mapped chain of actions, forcing her to re-plan them. Due to the intense focus required, Yenoia only utilized this skill during life-threatening operations, where time was her greatest adversary.

    Yenoia received this relic as a birthday and welcome gift from Delyx upon joining Arcana. Recognizing her surgical prowess, he deemed the artifact a fitting addition to her arsenal. Yet, the origins of the staff remained shrouded in mystery, as Delyx chose to keep the details of its acquisition veiled in secrecy. Yenoia couldn't help but speculate that he had procured it from the depths of the black market.
Equipment

  • Pocket-sized picture of Yenoia and Delyx
  • Dagger
  • Medical kit
  • Herbs and tea leaves
  • Compass
Extras
Yenoia is an expert doctor with a specialty in surgery.
Yenoia was a much better person when Delyx was still alive because he was willing to be the target of her sadistic pleasure. People were safe from her when Delyx was around. But with him gone, she struggles to keep her sadistic trait and often finds "comfort" through her patients and enemies.
The new Arcana members after Raeger's death wouldn't know about her past relationship with Delyx as Yenoia never talked about him after his death. If they somehow know, it's probably from the whispers of the old members, not directly from her.
Yenoia has a long list of horrible tortures that she is kind of tempted to try. So, even though she is better to her friends and innocents, she is still merciless to her enemies. The agonized cries from bad people are deadly sweet.
Yenoia still asks for money from her father now and then, even though she has "ditched" her noble family. Her father just gives it without question, as long as it can keep Yenoia away from The Abillene.
Character Voice
Honkai Star Rail - Kafka
Can use this picture link for Rooster and Relationship ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔ
Code by Nano
 
Last edited:
Full Name
Andrius Beowulf
Code Name
Nemesis
Arcana
XX. Judgement
Age
Twenty-Nine (29)
Date of Birth
1st Day of the Hunt
Faction
First
Position
Vice Leader
Height
182cm
Hair Color
Platinum Blond
Eye Color
Sapphire
Faceclaim
Dainsleif (Genshin Impact)
Once a distinguished member of the Royal Guard, the talented swordsman severed all ties with the haughty nobility that once commanded his loyalty. He has cast off the shackles of allegiance to the crown, now finding purpose in serving a higher cause—he pledges his sword to Arcana, becoming a dreaded blade that metes retribution upon the guilty.

Beneath his virtuous visage lies a cold and outspoken soul. His austere demeanour, once moulded by the rigid code of chivalry, has transformed him into a fearsome paragon of vengeance. Andrius once swore an oath to protect Vestry at all costs, and he is yet unyielding in his commitment to this oath... Even if it means culling the corrupted rulers of his homeland.
Final Verdict
"Truth, guide my sword!"
Appearance
Andrius bears an intimidating aura and his mere presence commands respect. His locks, a striking shade of silvery blond, cascade down with an ethereal sheen. His gaze, framed by long lashes, captivates with crystal blue eyes, the focal point of which are the unique, star-shaped pupils inherited by those of his noble bloodline.

The swordsman dons a half mask that veils the right side of his face, adding an air of mystery to his countenance. His attire is a careful blend of darkness and splashes of regal hues - a dark jacket, intricately adorned with vivid blue accents and hints of glistening gold. Andrius opts for lighter armour, favouring agility in combat, he sports black armoured gloves and boots.

Completing his ensemble is a flowing black cape divided into three pieces, its interior boasting an intricate design that whispers of skilled craftsmanship. The origins of this cloak, and the master seamstress behind its creation, remain shrouded in secrecy.
Personality
Andrius strides through life with an air of stoic determination, his demeanour as austere as the towering cliffs that weather the harshest storms. A man of strict discipline, he upholds a code of conduct as rigid as the steel of his blade, brooking no deviation from his path. He is infamous for his brusque manner of speech, and he harbours disdain for fools and insubordination, his patience for such folly as thin as the ice upon a thawing pond.

Though others may flock to the warmth of companionship, Andrius stands resolute in his preference for the cool embrace of solitude. He shuns the frivolities of social gatherings and the idle chatter of those who seek distraction, finding fulfilment in the solitary pursuit of his goals. Unmoved by the allure of revelry, he is often deemed as dull by those who fail to perceive the gravitas of his vigilance, mistaking his disinterest in common leisurely pursuits as a lack of vitality.
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Likes

  • Horses
  • Swords
  • Dueling
  • Trifle
  • Long walks
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Dislikes

  • Alcohol
  • Imbeciles
  • Hubris
  • Parties
  • Unwanted company
VI
Click to Expand Backstory
Andrius was born into a noble bloodline steeped in valour and martial prowess, the scion of the prestigious Beowulf family. From a tender age, he was promised glory, his destiny etched in stone. With an ancestry tracing back to legendary swordsmen, Andrius was expected to uphold the honour and tradition of his forefathers.

Owing to his aptitude with a blade, Andrius was recruited into the Royal Guard during his teenage years. Many claimed he inherited his skills from his parents. His father, Fafnir, was a renowned champion duelist. The tale of how Fafnir proposed to Andrius's mother, Cassandra, following their mesmerizing dance of blades in the consecrated arena, became the stuff of legend.

For years, Andrius held a revered position among the Royal Guard, his skill unmatched and his reputation unassailable. Few dared to challenge his position, knowing the swift and merciless justice that awaited them at the tip of his sword. Yet, despite his venerable duty, a shadow loomed over the Beowulf family.

A scandal erupted, and their involvement in an illicit relic trade tarnished their once esteemed reputation. Relics had long been outlawed within the kingdom, causing mass public outrage, that threatened to bring ruin upon the Beowulf name. Determined to defend his family's honour, Andrius stepped forward, pleading to stand trial on their behalf.

In a bold move to clear his family's name, Andrius proposed a duel against the executioner, whom was selected from among the greatest swordsmen Vestry had to offer. The terms were simple—if Andrius emerged victorious, his family would be acquitted, but losing the duel meant accepting the death sentence as penance. The stage was set for a showdown that would captivate the capital.

As the night of the duel arrived, nobles and common folk alike gathered to witness the clash. Even titans of the kingdom, such as Seren Arclight and Lance Balfour, were in attendance. The tension was palpable as Andrius faced off against the executioner in a battle that would decide his family's fate. Swords clashed, sparks flew, and the arena trembled with the intensity of their battle.

In the end, it was Andrius who emerged triumphant, breathing heavily, his blade levelled at the Executioner. The crowd erupted into chaos, but amidst the tumult, a figure descended the staircase. Lance Balfour, grand commander of Vestry's military, approached Andrius. He congratulated him on his victory, offering him praise, and a tantalizing proposition he could not refuse.

Reluctant yet coerced, Andrius found himself drawn into Lance's crusade against a rival nation in the Far East. However, it was on the blood-soaked fields that Andrius's perception of his homeland and its rulers began to shift.

Exposed to the brutal realities of war, Andrius witnessed firsthand the madness consuming his nation's commander and the insatiable thirst for power that drove the nobility. The revelation struck him like a thunderbolt, shattering the illusions of honour and righteousness that had once defined his purpose.

With newfound clarity, Andrius realized the true nature of his homeland—the villains masquerading as heroes, the oppressors cloaked in the guise of saviours. While the other soldiers slept in their tents, with a heavy heart, Andrius turned his back on those he once viewed as his allies, and vanished into the night, never to be heard from again...
“Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit.”
Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Integer semper, sapien at porta congue, erat lacus luctus libero, eu viverra ante ante at tellus. Nulla facilisi. Morbi ornare, eros sit amet iaculis facilisis, metus justo convallis neque, a cursus nulla nisl at massa. Fusce quis odio cursus, vestibulum nibh sed, consequat tortor. Aliquam lobortis ligula id risus gravida scelerisque. Nulla auctor lacinia libero vitae molestie. Curabitur ipsum tortor, tempor ut leo id, ultrices ultrices purus.
“Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit.”
Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Integer semper, sapien at porta congue, erat lacus luctus libero, eu viverra ante ante at tellus. Nulla facilisi. Morbi ornare, eros sit amet iaculis facilisis, metus justo convallis neque, a cursus nulla nisl at massa. Fusce quis odio cursus, vestibulum nibh sed, consequat tortor. Aliquam lobortis ligula id risus gravida scelerisque. Nulla auctor lacinia libero vitae molestie. Curabitur ipsum tortor, tempor ut leo id, ultrices ultrices purus.
Ability
The Stigma of Judgment allows the host to discern truth from falsehood and bring inexorable vengeance upon the guilty. When activated, the host gains a degree of clairvoyance that enables them to distinguish the verity of one's words, that is to say, they can determine when one speaks lies, and when one is telling the truth.

Utilizing this power, the host has the authority to challenge a single target to stand trial, if they are suspected of committing a crime listed within a predetermined set. The transgressions of the accused are weighed upon the Scales of Retribution, with the severity of the penalty determined by the magnitude of their wrongdoing. These penalties are categorized into three tiers, each corresponding to the degree of imbalance on the scales.

The first penalty instils a profound sense of fear in the target toward Andrius, disrupting their mental faculties. Progressing to the Tier 2 penalty applies a debuff to the target, causing them to become fatigued, weaker, slower, and less resilient. The third and final penalty culminates in a death sentence, whereby the condemned individual, upon reaching below 30% of their health, becomes ensnared in magical chains, rendering them vulnerable to a lethal strike from the host.
Relics

  • ???: TBA
Equipment

  • Sword
  • Medical supplies
  • Pocket watch
  • Compass
  • Rations
  • Flint and steel
  • Bota bag
Extras
Andrius is not fond of alcohol, as he is not partial to the taste, and he dislikes its intoxicating effect of clouding the mind. On the rare occasion that he agrees to go for a drink, he will opt for non-alcoholic choices, such as fruit-flavoured juices.
The Beowulf family owns three domesticated wolves. Their names are Durandal, Secace, and Clarent. The wolves have been trained to wield swords by gripping the hilt in their maw.
Andrius owns a beautiful white mare named Diné. He raised her since she was a feeble foal, and she was Andrius's 10th birthday gift from his mother. The two practically grew up together.
???
Code by Nano
 
Last edited:
Full Name
Song Gracie
Code Name
Foxglove
Arcana
Ten of Swords
Age
Nineteen (19)
Date of Birth
22ndnd day of Rebirth
Faction
First
Position
New Member
Height
158cm
Hair Color
Red
Eye Color
Grey
Faceclaim
Maximilian Calypse (Under the Oak Tree - Manwha ver)
Appearances alone portray Song to be polite, soft-spoken, and the type who wouldn't hurt a fly. After the first impressions wear off, Song is bold and honest to a fault. Despite how much she tries to hold her tongue, it's not within Song's nature to leave things unsaid. Nor is she the type to mind her own business; she has a tendency to eavesdrop and pry. Regardless of that, and her somewhat pessimistic outlook, Song is still quite a sweet woman who looks out for her friends. As a new member of Arcana, she hasn't yet opened up to her fellow First Faction, but it's obvious enough that her past has caused her enough strife to join the ranks.

Nevermind her severe lack of experience, Song has a fierce determination to dive into the efforts of reaching Arcana's goals.
Protection or Destruction
Foxglove of a two sided lore; The holder of good fortune or a fatal poison. Which is fated to be mine? The devil lurks in the unknown.
Appearance
To present the image of a pretty, well-kept and yet still just as ordinary woman, young Song Gracie takes thought in her appearance. From keeping her soft hands clear of calluses to taming her long red hair into neat curls. Maybe, with her small frame and below average height there is a certain flair of grace about her. She is not a woman of nobility, but despite her otherwise lacking fortune, the dresses she particularly chooses to wear, while usually of simple plain colors, have complimenting trimmings that speak to her own character.
Personality
First impressions portray Song as a gentle, kind woman. One might describe her as shy, not quite confident in herself. For strangers, that is the best picture of Song, but for anyone who gets to know her even slightly, they come to quickly realize that it’s only partially true. She is kind, with a “stick up for the little guy” sort of attitude. But she’s not a shy woman, despite how soft-spoken she is and how often she chooses to be more of a listener.

By being the listener, Song has become a bit of an eavesdropper, and someone who likes to know about other people’s business. Sometimes she can pry just a bit too much. WIth such, her boldness begins to reveal itself. In these cases, people might often mistake her as being two-faced. (She, however, knows enough who and when to keep her mouth shut. Since joining Arcana, she’s behaved herself enough. She needs as much help from her fellow members if she’s going to improve or learn anything at all.)

The reality of it is that Song doesn’t like to leave things unsaid. Life is too short to let your true feelings be kept pent up inside. Something Song still has to do in its entirety, but she’s working on admitting things more. If anything, she’ll die with a clean slate; everything she needed to say and do would be done. True honesty is what Song values most, and it’s exactly who she wants to be.

There is, however, the darker side of her honesty. Her pessimism can often leave people on edge. But it’s exactly that, that fuels her will to fight and strive for a better future with Arcana.
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Likes

  • Stone fruits
  • Reading practice
  • Completing a new dress design
  • Fabric shopping
  • Honesty
  • Sharing a meal with company
-
Dislikes

  • Cold weather
  • Cursive writing
  • Bugs
  • Travelling alone at night
  • Eating meat
X
Click to Expand Backstory
[DISCLAIMER: I probably rambled too much, sorry! And maybe rushed the last part. There’s probably some spelling errors. Footnotes below]

- To live both a blessed and cursed life. One has dipped into two sides of the same coin.

Life was meant to be a quiet one. From the day she was born, Song had her life planned out for her by her parents. She came into the world as the middle child with an older brother and younger sister., to a middle class family. [1]

Most of Song’s childhood revolved around her and her sister being taught to become seamstresses. To a certain level, the two sisters were taught to read and write. But, they spent most of their days sewing. While her mother would take some of the finished clothes to sell at the local markets, her brother would join her father on his trip to neighboring towns to sell the rest. There were many times where Song wished to travel with them, but her mother insisted that she should stay home and that she’d be safer. She was a kid then, so she didn’t know what her mother meant by that. Years later she would understand.

Her father’s trips were never short, but there was the sudden news that her father and brother had been involved in the illegal possession of relics, and had been hanged for it. Initially, the shock of such news was too great, too impossible to believe. But when the news spread in the town, the townspeople quickly stopped associating with the Gracie family. From the outside, the family was full of shame, from the inside the family was breaking apart.

Only to have another piece break. Song doesn’t know when it happened, she only remembers waking up and her mother is nowhere to be found. She spent the first day trying to look for her. By the second day, there's rumors that she was found dead in the woodland. It was self-inflicted. When Song finds her body, it’s another day mourning and cursing why this had to happen. Sometimes Song thinks it’d be better to share the same fate.

But she knows her sister is relying on her. She’s sixteen now. Despite the hardships, Song knows she needs to just keep going. They keep sewing, and trying to sell the clothes they make. But there’s not much luck, the townspeople have become quite weary of the Gracie family. They eventually run out of enough money to pay rent and lose the family home. [2]

With the move, Song inevitably has to go through her family’s belongings. There are a few things she discovers. In her father’s belongings she finds an old diary. Can’t possibly be her father’s, she’d never seen him read or write. The cursive is enough to give hint that it’s not. Maybe Song struggles to read it fully, but she keeps the diary anyway. She’ll later be able to have a better reading comprehension if she keeps practicing. In her mother’s belongings she finds her family’s heirloom in a decorative box; a copper wedding band displaying a unique looking stone. [3]. In their family’s tradition, it was meant to get passed down to the first born son. Song carries it everywhere she goes from now.

In hopes of just going up from her current situation, Song and her sister move to the next town to try to rebuild business. It works for the most part. After a few months of making clothes and selling them at the markets, they’re eventually able to move out of the inn they first came to live in when they arrived in this town, to a house similar to their family home.

But there’s a dream from her childhood that Song wants to fulfill. To do some traveling, just like her father and brother did. Her sister’s older now, old enough to take care of herself. So Song takes the opportunity to travel to the next town. She might just become a traveling merchant like her father had.

She might have enjoyed it, but Song hadn’t realized just what it truly was like. She’d been kept in a bubble for most of her life, so she didn't know just how much the Crown had truly done to make Vestry what it is today. There was so much lost. Finally moving through the world and realizing just how cruel it is, Song had to give way to a change in herself. And she finds herself growing a hatred towards the Crown. She’s been no stranger to the merciless Crown, her brother and father were victims of this unjust system.[4] But to finally understand just how unbalanced Vestry has become, for the wealthy and Noble to only benefit from the Queen’s rule is a blatant selfish isolation. No longer for the people.

This new ache she carries, sends her to keep traveling. If only to find ways and be there to help the less fortunate, those having to live on the streets. If she can at least spare a few coins or donate clothes, Song wants to make even the smallest difference to someone else’s own pain.

In her travels, she meets a young (admittedly handsome) man; Rem Styex. Song can’t help but be infatuated with him. She ends up spending most of her time with him. It becomes very much a honeymoon phase. And, blinded by the intensity of emotion, Song elopes with him.
There are many times where Song wonders why Rem was ever interested in her. There’s been a vague mention; he likes such honest women. Being the son of a baron, even Rem has admitted that his father wouldn’t approve of their marriage. Their differences and worldview become quickly apparent.

It’s when Rem joins the military that Song realizes just how different they are. Since he’s left for the military base, Song has intentionally not made any contact with him. There’s a part of her that yearns for him, but she refuses to support any effort in aiding the Crown. [5]

Song then goes back home, where her sister is. But, she comes back to the news that her sister was caught in the middle of a manastone explosion. And while Song had been away, her sister had started showing symptoms of mana corrosion. And for it, they had her culled and her body disposed of. Song couldn’t even bury her or to say goodbye to her. What she begins to feel from losing the last of her family becomes a cloudy feeling of defeat, but among it there is desire to make someone pay, a swelling anger. She doesn’t know how to handle it.

Lately, she’s spent her time just trying to reign in that anger. There’s almost no joy in what she used to enjoy. So, she just dives into sewing and going to the markets to sell. The only thing she's ever truly knowns how to do.

And quite recently, she’s been approached by a strange man. He seemed to ask her a lot of things, but Song was charmed enough to partake in a lengthy conversation.

By the end of that conversation, she finds herself at the Whistling Maple. An invitation to join the ranks of Arcana in her hands. To make some real change, how could Song say no? If not for her lost family, for the friends she’s made, and for the next generations.

—--
[1] Mother is a seamstress, and father is a merchant.
[2] They end up having to live on the streets for a little while until they manage to make enough money again to rent a room in an inn.
[3] Her ancestor’s diary mentions it to be a relic. She tries to use it, but she’s unsure how it works. She’s probably used it unintentionally once or twice before. The diary helps her understand it a bit as she reads more into it.
[4] Song strongly believes that the crimes her brother and father died for were just accusations. Either they were framed or they were caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. And even if it were true, to lose their lives is a punishment too great.
[5] She’s even skipped town. Pray that it makes Rem think that she’s dead somewhere and he doesn’t come looking. Divorce isn't an option, but they may as well be.
Rem Styex
“To love someone so deeply but to stand against them, does that make me a villain or just a bad wife?”
Son of a baron, it hadn’t come as a surprise that Rem would support the Crown. Still, Song couldn’t help but love her husband despite just how conflicting their allegiances are. She’d not be entirely honest with Rem about her view on the Crown, and after joining Arcana she knows enough that should Rem find out, he’d kill her himself. Song dreads the day she might have to see her husband on the other end of his sword.
“Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit.”
Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Integer semper, sapien at porta congue, erat lacus luctus libero, eu viverra ante ante at tellus. Nulla facilisi. Morbi ornare, eros sit amet iaculis facilisis, metus justo convallis neque, a cursus nulla nisl at massa. Fusce quis odio cursus, vestibulum nibh sed, consequat tortor. Aliquam lobortis ligula id risus gravida scelerisque. Nulla auctor lacinia libero vitae molestie. Curabitur ipsum tortor, tempor ut leo id, ultrices ultrices purus.
Ability
“ Hurt people, hurt people”

The Ten of Sword ties around the struggles of pain and loss. The power Song harnesses from this card is applicable in a mimic, or a mirror effect. To have pain inflicted upon herself, her attacker will receive the same effect. Any injuries Song sustrains, the exact feeling will be mirrored onto her opponent. However, this doesn’t cause physical injuries, just the sense of feeling it. With due training, Song can learn to amplify this ability to put her opponents at a disadvantage.

The effect of this power only lasts while Song can focus on any (one at a time) target, and that she’s conscious. Once it ceases, those affected aren’t immediately relieved. (note: it's going to take your brain a hot minute to actually realize that it's over).
To fully reach the complete potential of this ability, Song must either strengthen her capability to endure, or to further unlock the knowledge to expertly use both her stigma and her relic.

Relics

  • Swan Song: In the form of a ring, the copper band of the ring does not fully connect, it however intertwines the ends around each other to resemble the dance of a swan couple.It proudly displays a beautiful green tourmaline at its head. This ring has been kept within the Gracie family for generations, handed down to every first born son and used as a wedding band. Assumedly constructed by an Ancestor who lived during the Era of Magic.

    To absorb one’s feeling of pain, it creates a link between the wearer and another. Either to share one’s pain or to reflect it. A feeder of the negative energy of the various types of pain, the relic creates a bridge to transfer the physical,mental or emotional agony between two people from the wearer. The wearer of the relic can project a pain that they can remember, whether it’s a present pain or a past memory.

    Song has yet to understand the workings of the relic, but there is ability in the relic to revert the flow of negative energy and share the pain of another upon herself.

    “In pain and love, we can find unity. To understand one, means to share one’s pain.”

    A tale that follows the purest love of a young couple that even the Heaven’s smiled on them. But living amidst a time of crisis, their love was met with adversity. When the weeping Homonoia saw the lover’s pointless feud and their inability to understand each other, she blessed the lover’s wedding bands to unify them in all laws of the word. To share love in marriage, and to share pain in love.

    It said that the second wedding band was buried with the lovers of the tale.

    The tale of the two lovers may contribute to the need for physical touch from the ring bearing hand in order for the relic’s ability to manifest.

    There are records of the ring in Song’s ancestor’s diary. From the instance she read about it she realized that her family’s heirloom was actually a relic. Knowing its significance and also having a sentimental attachment to it, she’s kept it always hidden. While she’s still trying to decipher the cursive writing in the book, she’s learning how to use the relic properly.

    She knows the laws of possessing a relic, and has shown no-one, not even her husband. The true meaning of having it as a family heirloom has since died with the loss of her family. She merely carries it in loving memory of them. It was never meant to be hers, anyway, if her brother was still alive.
Equipment

  • Sewing needles & pin cushion
  • Old diary (from an unnamed ancestor)
  • Canteen
  • Small knife
  • Coin purse
Extras
Song has been no stranger to violence. A victim of several instances of bandits (who wouldn’t try stealing from a young lady by herself??). She’s far from being able to do any real damage in physical combat, but she knows enough self-defense to get by. Also the reason why she’s invested in carrying around a small knife now.
With what Song lacks in physical strength and fire power, she makes up for in her talent and natural stamina and agility.She excels in free-running (for lack of better word).
As Song learns and improves the power she’s been granted from Arcana there is the likelihood that she’ll portray a “I need to get stronger, be better” mindset. There are concerns that she may or may not commit self-torture.
She might be a bit skeptical of the Arcana members who came from Royalty and Nobility. But she’d probably quickly become curious about them. It gives her a hope that maybe her husband isn’t totally lost.
Character Playlist - Youtube
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Code by Nano
 
Last edited:
Full Name
Titania Iseult
Code Name
Dusk
Arcana
Eight of Wands
Age
Twenty-four (24)
Date of Birth
28th Day of Dewdrops
Faction
First
Position
Member
Height
163cm
Hair Color
White
Eye Color
Sage Green
Faceclaim
ヨ剤 (Pixiv ID 21288578)
One look at Titania and it's clear she's a member of nobility. Though her link to the throne is tenuous at best (22nd in line is little to boast about), she carries herself with all the elitism and ego one might expect of a sheltered heir. This has earned her little favor from the second faction; a fact which she does little to change. If they're stupid enough to believe a full revolution would work, then it's little wonder they'd believe her cultivated airs. While her reasons for joining are ambiguous, her disdain for the current reigning monarch is clear in the words she uttered in response; "A queen who's never walked amongst her people does not deserve to sit above them."
Queen Arwen
A disappointment. She's proven herself as nothing more than a greedy child that hides behind her guards, damn the consequences.
Appearance
Like a fairy, Titania seems all light and air as she appears to glide atop the earth, feet barely touching the ground. The careful visage is furthered by clothes that flow with each movement. Yet anyone with any lick of sense can tell there's steel behind the porcelain; in her hands littered with burns and cuts, and in eyes that silently shout defiance. The rarified air around her has been carefully cultivated to disguise her true intentions, though it would be to remiss to ignore how she thrives in it.

She almost always wears long sleeves. A nasty scar covers most of her left forearm. While she's not one to hide the reason, she'd rather not invite more questions than she finds necessary.
Personality
Titania is exactly as you would expect: a snobby noblewoman who acts as if peasants are no more than the grass beneath her feet. She reflects who they want to see, and she's happy to play the part.

That's not to say it's all just acting. Her self-centeredness is core to who she is. Titania is always number one. She doesn't go out of her way to put down others, but if it happens, she rarely regrets it. The high level of self-importance is not without merit, though it would be hard to argue that it's not a little inflated.

The veneer, though carefully crafted, is as fragile as porcelain. Her temper is one she is in constant war with; more often than not, it wins. It's unfortunate she's childish enough to get back in any small manner, and petty enough to enjoy her revenge. Give her a few hours and she'll come to be embarrased of her behavior, though she'd rather throw dunk her head in ice than apologize.

For all her pride in being better than others, she is not someone you could objectively say is a good person. Titania often means well - meaning well and doing good, however, are two very different things. The longterm effects of her actions often escape her notice until it is too late.
+
Likes
  • pretty things
  • being right
  • candlelight
  • compliments
  • moths
-
Dislikes
  • being wrong
  • sand
  • accounting
  • poverty
  • deep water
VIII
Click to Expand Backstory
For all her pomp and circumstance, it's surprising that Titania wasn't born with a silver spoon in her mouth. As the illegitimate daughter of a failing noble house, she should've lived a fairly normal life - a normal life struck by poverty and tragedy, as that's all the rage for the common folk of Vestry.

That's not to say she never experienced it. Her mother, a wandering trader whose lamps had developed a cult following, was every bit the stereotypical starving artist. What extra funds she had she would funnel back into her craft, the addition of a child barely making her change her ways. Some weeks they had gilded silverware and silk sheets while her mother worked on a noble's commission. Other times they were one thin cot away from sleeping on the streets as she failed to find a client in time. Though Titania remembers her mother fondly, she doesn't miss the days of stretching watered down gruel five days in a row.

When she was around six, Titania's biological father tracked her down in order to formally adopt her into the family. This was met with little protest from either side. Titania's mother was no in position to raise her, while his wife's opinions were inconsequential as the truth behind the legitimate heirs health came out.

Titania found blessing in another's tragedy. Both of her half-siblings passed due to birth complications. Though initially written off as mere bad luck, the telltale white scales of mana corrosion revealed itself weeks after the second child was cremated. She has since been cut out of the picture; Titania doesn't know where she is to this day, and frankly, she could not care less. All she has is a sour opinion as her illness further damaged an already dwindling status amongst the nobility.

Titania adjusted to education and etiquette fairly well, though the quality of both was already degrading considering Vestry's circumstances. It didn't help that as time went on, it grew increasingly apparent her family was not the nobility it liked to claim itself as. Scandals, mismanagement, lack of achievements - all of it cultivated to create the current Iseult: a noble family in nothing but name. Titania resented it. If it was a noble house, it should've meant something, yet it meant nothing.

She was smart enough to understand her position as illegitimate child turned sole heir raised a few eyebrows, but it might also prove to be her boon. The lamps she kept of her mother's always drew attention of guests, and so she sought to learn the craft herself. The half-daughter, missing her beloved birth mother as she followed in her footsteps. A controversy, a tragedy, a little scandal - all good marketing. With the help of a business savvy cousin, they would slowly rebuild the pride behind the Iseult name.

Even if it meant accidentally undermining her own mother's business.

While she begrudged it, she understood why her family lost power and wealth. They made no effort to grow or maintain it, so they lost it. That was easy enough to grasp. What wasn't was those who kept it regardless. Not all nobles deserved their title, and it was nowhere as apparent as the child they called a queen. What experiences did she have to earn the right to lead? How would she know what was best when she's never set foot outside the castle walls? Though she knew better than to voice her distaste, she thought much less of acquaintances who openly supported the crown. No doubt they were a family who benefitted from the queen's exploits whilst doing nothing themselves.

Arcana was a name Titania knew, but not one she sought to join herself. Though she sympathized, she neither had the funds nor the means to support them. Conversation about them was difficult to avoid, so when the perfumer she used for her candles discussed them, she didn't think anything of it. In hindsight, Flora was likely gauging where Titania's allegiances lay. Continued interactions laid the groundwork - if Titania was too stupid to understand the nuanced invitations, Arcana wouldn't have wanted her. When the pieces finally clicked, it only took her mere moments to take the hand offered her.

From an illegitimate child to a noble joining the rebels - the story was ready, she simply had to take it.
“Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit.”
Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Integer semper, sapien at porta congue, erat lacus luctus libero, eu viverra ante ante at tellus. Nulla facilisi. Morbi ornare, eros sit amet iaculis facilisis, metus justo convallis neque, a cursus nulla nisl at massa. Fusce quis odio cursus, vestibulum nibh sed, consequat tortor. Aliquam lobortis ligula id risus gravida scelerisque. Nulla auctor lacinia libero vitae molestie. Curabitur ipsum tortor, tempor ut leo id, ultrices ultrices purus.
“Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit.”
Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Integer semper, sapien at porta congue, erat lacus luctus libero, eu viverra ante ante at tellus. Nulla facilisi. Morbi ornare, eros sit amet iaculis facilisis, metus justo convallis neque, a cursus nulla nisl at massa. Fusce quis odio cursus, vestibulum nibh sed, consequat tortor. Aliquam lobortis ligula id risus gravida scelerisque. Nulla auctor lacinia libero vitae molestie. Curabitur ipsum tortor, tempor ut leo id, ultrices ultrices purus.
Ability
The Eight of Wands is representative of movement, quick decisions - opportunities will arrive, and it's best to grasp them with both hands. The Stigma manifests itself in quite a literal sense, as projectiles in Titania's hands become lethal weapons with the speed she's able to dispense them at. A human automatic gun really, during a time when single-shot rifles was the extent of modern artillery.

The Stigma requires physical touch, and is limited by Titania's own abilities. The increased speed is multiplicative, usually tapping out at around 3-5 times the initial velocity. If there is a low base value to begin with, the Stigma is unable to do much. It's only under recent training with Arcana that her throwing arm and archery have improved.

Titania prefers using rocks, coins; things that wouldn't be remiss if found at the crime scene. However, there is an element of uncertainty to them - she could just as likely only end up knocking them out. Though Aurelius doesn't often ask for it, she will resort to using glass and her bow and arrow if a clean kill is required of her.
Equipment
  • glass cutting equipment
  • glass shards kept in a small box
  • thick leather gloves
  • bow & quiver of arrows if on a mission
  • rations of some sort
  • flask
  • stiletto
Extras
A nasty burn accident when she was still learning her craft has left her left arm disfigured. She actually struggles to feel sensation at some parts. While she's not ashamed of it, Titania's disinterested in inviting more questions than necessary and so keeps it covered.
Due to having no combat experience prior to Arcana, she's most often used for support or cover fire during altercations with the royal army. However, there have been times when she's been summoned for possible assassinations. She's managed to skirt around it so far, but she can't help but feel the time is soon.
While Titania takes pride in her work, it's no real great love of hers. However, she knows every mistake is magnified under the scrutiny of a bored aristocrat, so many of her lamps don't often make it to the auction floor. Those that don't are often given away as token gifts with no real personal value to her.
As the sole daughter of a noble family, matchmaking attempts are a mile a minute. One very memorable one was for the Mad Dog of Palmetta himself. To this day, she's not sure how many favors her father pulled to have that happen. She strongly suspects a good chunk of it was that no eligible aristocrat with a healthy dose of self-preservation would've actually gone on to have tea with Lance Balfour, much less consider marriage.

Actually, she's not sure what that implies about her.
Titania asks for a week or two off during mission lulls to work on her lamps, where she will ignore everyone and everything, even summons from Owen himself. Otherwise, she'll be on call and ready for one of Arcana's tasks.
Her preferred way of having black tea is with milk, sugar, and spices, a carry over from when she was with her biological mother. The spices (which her mother often foraged and dried herself) are to mask the taste of the shit tea they could barely afford. She doesn't often have it this way when with company as questions invite uncomfortable reminders of how she ruined her mother.
Code by Nano
 
Last edited:
Full Name
Emersyn Illiro
Code Name
Pawn
Arcana
Nine of Swords
Age
Twenty-Three (23)
Date of Birth
3rd Day of Quickening
Faction
Second
Position
Member
Height
160cm
Hair Color
Black
Eye Color
Grey
Faceclaim
artist: tarte (@HoDaRaKe on Twitter)
Being a pawn for a noble's sick game has left Emersyn Illiro broken and scarred. Even after she escaped, a piece of her remains trapped in that household and after years of wearing a disguise, she came to realize it consumed whatever was meant to be kept safe within it. Emersyn is not so keen to discover what might come out of the rubble nor willing for someone to take a chisel and chip away at her layers of masks. Who knows what measures she might resort to if someone were to stumble upon her secrets and sins? Her current desire is to get back at the nobles who wronged her, which led Emersyn to fall smoothly into the Second Faction's ranks.
About Quote
I will make death proud to take me. I will survive and stare death down with mirth until death finally has its day.
Appearance
There was a gentle breeze in the air— a blessing as Dewdrops fell into Clear Springs. A young woman sat in the buzz of a market on top of a weathered barrel and appeared to be off in her own little world. An eased smile caressed her lips as sunlight splashed warmth against her pale skin and the breeze tickled through her cropped black hair. She lazily swung her dangling feet. She was a short woman clad in simplistic, yet finely made clothing tailored (unbeknownst to many) by her own callused hands. There was a generous dusting of flour and splotches of egg wash throughout her clothing.

Her eased state was disrupted by the gruff voice of a man calling for her. She walked swift and carefully as she passed through the crowd. All the while, she mumbled apologies for any near-collisions. The closer she approached, the more her fingers wrung themselves together out of nervous practice. She smiled sheepishly as she conversed with the man (a baker and her boss), followed by a nervous laugh. A watchful eye would've caught the tension in her shoulders loosen ever so slightly (as if she were trying to keep her anxiousness as subtle as possible). As the ridges around her frame softened, she spoke steadily with her words, remained straight to the point, and was appealing and warm in tone. Unfortunately, not many knew how much extra care she put in choosing what to say. Who knows how long she took to rehearse them.

The sun had well been set below the horizon by the time she finished her work. She blinked uneasily as the street lamps flickered to life one by one. There was a quiver crawling up her throat. Paranoia and Anxiety knew the young woman as if she were their own spawn. She recognized Anxiety’s weight in her chest, the tension along her neck, and the struggle to breathe. She habitually looked over her shoulder— something she did even when she’s not under any distress. Paranoia taught her well to fashion a thin blade sewn between the seam of her sleeve cuff and a sharp pair of scissors nested in a leather holster hidden in the waistline of her trousers.

Relief did not come swiftly when she reached the Whistling Maple. She hastily wiped the sweat lined along her manicured brows and quickly lowered herself into the labyrinth hidden below before anyone noticed. She paced and picked at her lips— another habit which always left them cracked and bleeding. Beneath the labyrinth lights’ glow, the dark shadows hung under her eyes were much more noticeable. Rest may not come easily to her again tonight. The young woman reached for her wristwatch and gave the dial a full turn. Get through the first hour, she thought as she waited for the next hour, then the next, and the next until dawn returned.
Personality
Who would ever notice someone like her— a harmless thing that is Emersyn Illiro. Emersyn is said to carry a warm yet peculiar presence wherever she goes, but she is not to be mistaken as the most socially active individual in Arcana. No, she’s definitely lacking some confidence in her socialization skills and she keeps to herself most of the time, but the important part is she’s trying her best. Some of the things that slip from her mouth could make no sense at all and she may scare some people off whenever she's caught rambling to herself, but she means well. There are some instances where she attempts to show she means well, like leaving behind a snack or keeping an Arcana member in some harmless company by watching them from across the room…

Oh! But what she is best at is observing others and their behaviors! Yes, Emersyn is said to be highly empathic. She is tone sensitive and even prides herself in reading body language incredibly well. Due to this, Emersyn tends to take her time to respond to others, which can allow others to mistaken her as slow-witted. She’ll often be caught “people watching”, and she’ll nod along with a conversation as if she were a part of it— even if she’s all the way across the room and hasn’t been noticed the entire time… All the while, she’s mustering enough courage to join the conversation. However, Emersyn has a little a lot of anxiety on her belt. There have been many times she took too long to find enough courage and get over her worries of rejection, which led her to miss her entry cue entirely and be left alone in the room without being given a chance…

Her peculiar behavior has often led many to the assumption that she's not the smartest tool in the shed. She even might have caught wind of an Arcana member questioning her purpose in the organization. Unbeknownst to many, Emersyn exceeds in areas that don't particularly require building rapport with her cohorts. Emersyn is a quick learner and prefers to complete tasks in the most efficient way possible. Despite what it seems, she thrives when she's left to her own devices as there's no one more reliable to her than herself. She can be quite intelligent if she really tried. She even could have done well within the Third Faction's ranks especially due to some of the inquisitive, investigative bouts she'll have now and then.

However, this may or may not all be a farce. A front. A façade.

Putting up a front is something Emersyn knows how to do well because apparently, placing trust in her Arcana cohorts and opening herself up to others is a lot more frightening than she realized. Adjusting to her newly given life has also not been as smooth as Emersyn anticipated. For a year, Emersyn was nothing but a bum with no motivation in life leeching off of Arcana's resources. A year after escaping House Grimaldi had led Emersyn's mental state to near ruin as she started to process what happened to her. It was difficult to accept the effects of the Grimaldi's influence had on her. Her mental state was far more damaged than she realized and had low expectations of ever healing. In her own thoughts, she believed she was far beyond repair. Therefore, allowing herself to feel at ease is a lot harder for her to do. There are parts of her act that aren't so far behind the truth. However, she uses them for her own benefit. Emersyn believes creating a persona will allow others to never suspect her nor discover the misdeeds she’s done in her past life. In her mind, this is the only way to keep herself safe— by being the most unassuming and harmless person imaginable.

As a result of her beliefs, Emersyn is not keen on sharing information about herself. She wants to keep her past and trauma hidden from others, so she will either give little white lies or carefully redirect the conversation away if it gets too close to where she doesn’t want it. It has led her to become quite crafty and cunning. It frightens her how borderline manipulating it is.

She takes it upon herself for not being able to fully feel at ease despite being in Arcana for the past four years. She thought even after that long she would be somewhat healed from her trauma. However, time is cruel and can feel slow when it wants to be. Emersyn will shut down on herself whenever a situation in her life doesn’t go as she planned. She'll even shut down over a minor inconvenience. It almost feels as if she lacks control over her life, which can give her a sense of hopelessness and spiral her into pessimism. During the night is where she’s left with the most lack of control over her mental state. She would often go through episodes as if she were reliving a night at the Grimaldi's house. During the nights she's able to fall asleep, she is only to be woken up by nightmares.

In truth, she is afraid to address her trauma and move on from it. To Emersyn, moving on meant to forgive and she knows she’ll never be able to forgive the Grimaldi family. Beneath her friendly façade, her trauma, and her anxiety, there lies hostility and bitterness. She thinks the only way to finally feel at peace is once she’s gotten her revenge against Cressida and takes back her identity. There is one thing for certain about Emersyn— she will do whatever it takes to get what she wants.
+
Likes

  • salted peanuts
  • sunbathing
  • stepping on crunchy leaves
  • baking bread
  • staring people watching
  • finding cool things in the middle of nowhere
-
Dislikes

  • shadows
  • bright colors
  • long corridors
  • feeling soggy
  • night time
  • stillness
  • the smell of the local flour merchant's breath
IX
Click to Expand Backstory
**CW: Mentions of self-unaliving. Please look out for ** to skip the corresponding entries.
Emersyn Illiro does not exist— at least not as of right now. The child who will later on take this title has lost almost all recollection of her former name and life. The following are entries containing the child’s most memorable events written from her point-of-view and are currently being studied by Emersyn Illiro in hopes of procuring more memories. All illegible texts were heavily edited by Emersyn Illiro to conform with Vestry’s current form of language arts. Thou may find added information at the bottom of entries— notes from Emersyn Illiro’s research, investigations, and interpretations of the child's texts (hence why a lot of entries are manageable to read). The child’s earliest memory was during her eighth Month of the Hunt and that is where we will begin.

Part I | The Child
"They left. I am okay."

[Notes by E. Illiro: The child was an orphan who was once again abandoned. This time it was by her orphanage due to the main caregiver's (Phyllis Greaves) greediness. She took the coffers, which led the already rundown facility to lose all funds to support the children. All of the remaining children within the orphanage were sent to other orphanages or probably hired for cheap labor. Current records show the orphanage was torn down in the year [REDACTED] and replaced with a hospital. All files were either transferred, lost, or burned by the Madam of the orphanage. There are still no records of the child’s name or Phyllis Greaves' whereabouts. I will continue to search.

Regarding the child... She was going to be alright for now. She continued to live in the empty orphanage until other homeless citizens took refuge and kept all of the remaining resources for themselves. The child was eventually forced to leave and sought out her employer (a local farmer) who allowed her to live in his barn so long as she continued to work for him. The child was tasked to shovel horse manure from roads with heavy carriage traffic and wheel the manure cart back to the farmer’s fields. The laborious task often left the child's body with aches, pains, and her hands developed calluses that would crack and bleed. The child did have a few side hustles to help her get by such as wiping down carriage windows or running errands for nobles in exchange for some currency or something that could be traded.]

Part II | The Mistress and the Manure Girl
"It was hot today. The streets smelled... lots of horse poop. My clothes smell. My body hurts. I feel sick. The nobles were more mean today, but I met a nice woman. She was so… so nice. She held my yucky hand. She held me... so gently and she felt my forehead too. She thinks I’m sick. She told me to rest. Most pretty eyes."

(There are multiple entries with generally the same texts describing the noblewoman’s kindness and generosity over the months. Many pages are filled with drawings of hearts, food, clothes, and a really ugly stick figure drawing of her and the woman. The child notes she refers to the noblewoman as “Mistris”, which is corrected by E. Illiro as "Mistress" for better understanding.)

"A long time... I knew the Mistress. She ask me to live with her when she took me to drink tea. I didn't like tea. She made it sweet! I like tea a lot. Only Mistress makes it for me... make me more tea if I live with her. She loves me? I don't [know] what that means, but I felt warm. She looked so pretty when she said it, so she must be telling the truth. She pinky-swore to feed me and let me take many baths as I want. Maybe… I love her too?"

(A hastened scribble is written at the bottom of the page.)

"I’m going to live with the Mistress— I mean Mother. She asked me to call her Mother! I have a mom now… I’m leaving today. Goodbye, Farmer! Goodbye, poop shovel!"

[Notes by E. Illiro: I wish I never let that bitch near me. Naïve child! Why did I believe her? Why? WHY?!
There was a particular noblewoman who treated the child especially well whenever they had a chance to meet. The child was so enamored by the woman's charms; she often searched for the woman whenever she was shoveling along the streets. She was a naïve child who didn't know any better. She was never taught to never trust a stranger. The woman was Marchioness Cressida Grimaldi from House Grimaldi— one of the noble household who strongly supported Queen Arwen when she ascended the throne. Cressida showered the child in so much motherly love, but only enough for the child to crave for more. She presented the child with gifts like food only nobles could enjoy, a piece of fine clothing, and even teaching the child how to read a few words. The child believed Cressida asked her to become her child purely out of love. She believed Cressida would take care of her and for the first time, she felt safe. She thought she would never feel starved or cold ever again.

Part III | Corinne Grimaldi
(From here on, the legibility of the child's writing has improved. E. Illiro notes "Corinne" underwent extremely fast paced education.)

"My new life is amazing. The house is so nice and the room I’m using is filled with all sorts of nice things. It's my room, by the way. The food is delicious and I’ve never had a bath so warm and relaxing. Mother said she wanted to rename me and she asked if I gave her my consent to be given a new name. So, my name is Corinne. I am Corinne Grimaldi! Mother said I need to learn how to read, write, sew, and know everything about etiquette before I can meet the family. I haven't been able to leave my room for a while, but that's okay. Mother, my new helpers, and the tutors Mother hired have all kept me company. I've been learning so much, but I do admit it is tiring... Mother mentioned I have two other siblings, but they’re older than me and are constantly busy. She mentioned I'm not ready to meet them yet. I think I heard her say something else, and I remember my chest hurt when she said it. I can't seem to recall what she said, but she smiled at me. She told me she loved me and then everything felt better again."

"I believe I met my siblings. Mother believes I'm ready to go out of my room because I've worked hard enough. Oh right, I met my siblings before dinner. They're both tall and a bit intimidating... All I said to them was “Hi! I’m Corinne!”, but they both said “no duh, stupid”. Perhaps, they’re not used to me? It's understandable since I am their new sibling after all, but I hope we can get along."

"I was wrong. There is something wrong with these people. Mother— no. Marchioness Cressida lied to me. I wasn’t meant to be part of her family. I was supposed to take the place of her deceased daughter— to pretend to be her. That means I am not Corinne Grimaldi. I am… who… am I? I’m not Corinne. I’m not! That woman did something to me. I know it. My head hurts... My name is not Corinne, it’s—

(A large portion of the entry has been blackened with charcoal. Recovery of the page is undergoing snail paced progress.)

"Mother has been so cold to me lately… She treats me as if she doesn't love me. Her tone and demeanor towards me makes my chest hurt. I'm scared to say something wrong or do something to make her snap at me. Hold on. That's... not right. I'm not her... Agh, my head... Get it together! I can't stay here anymore. I need to go back and I don’t care where I go. I want to leave, but the Marchioness won’t let me. Please, someone help me. I’m afraid."

"I’m so tired. The tutors Mother hired have been so harsh and impatient with me. I tried to tell Mother, but she got mad and called me ungrateful. I tried to be optimistic and genuinely show how grateful I am, but it's tiresome. I thought being a family meant only happy memories and an easy life. Wait— what am I saying? I’ve always been a part of their family. I’m Corinne Grimaldi and Mother’s just been strict that’s all— AAAH! No! That’s not true. I’m not her. I’m being forced. Why am I forgetting? I’ll remember if I write it down. I won’t forget. I won’t!"

(Every time an entry with the mention of “Mother” has been crossed out and noted above with “she is not your mother”, “they are not your real family”, and “you are not Corinne Grimaldi”.)

"I think I killed someone… I didn’t mean to. They came into my room and they tried to hurt me. They hurt me really badly. I wasn’t thinking straight and it was too dark. I think I… Mother got rid of them before anyone could notice and made someone patch my wounds. She said I won't be allowed to leave my room until I've fully recovered. She didn’t say anything to me other than to “keep it up”, which I couldn't fully comprehend. Why would I want to keep hurting anyone? Why would you make your daughter hurt someone? I later discovered Mother wants to get rid of some rotten people. She said the people taking care of Elaine and Elliot are rotten and she doesn’t have the power to get rid of all of them. Elaine and Elliot are still treating me like a scab, but I don’t want bad influences to harm my siblings regardless of how they treat me. I may never fully understand Mother's reasons or motives, but she looked so upset when she confided in me. She said I’m going to help her and she’ll even teach me how. I’m the only one she can rely on is what she told me and it felt so nice hearing those words from her. It's been a while since she treated me so warmly."

"There was such an endless flow of rotten people... I have lost count of how many have slipped into my room at night to harm me. Some even have the gall to do it in broad daylight whenever I'm alone! It’s becoming increasingly difficult to sleep lately and I’m so tired. I’m afraid of getting hurt again, so I’m forcing myself to stay awake. I thought I’d get used to it, but no… Even though Mother is making me practice how to get rid of them, I feel so much distress every time I have to dispose the body. I think there's something wrong with me... but I can't stop now. I'm doing this to help Mother and my siblings. I’ll continue to protect them no matter what! Mother did praise me the other day. I didn’t need to patch myself up as much this time. Although, I don’t know how much longer I can do this. I'm getting really tired…"

"I met a man today in the garden during one of my walks. I thought he was one of them, and I almost harmed him. Mother still hasn't allow me to go outside the Marquis's domain. I think he’s part of the new staff Mother’s organizing? He introduced himself as Owen and I think he looks rather attractive… Ah! Corinne remember your station. Moving along, Owen was saying the most absurd things to me during our conversation. He was making me feel quite upset! There’s no way "I’m living a lie". How dare he say that to me, a noble! I warned him to know his place, but instead, he gave me an offer. He could help me if I accepted and I’ll be safe. No matter, I’m old enough to know not to trust a stranger and take a random offer handed to me."

**TW! Please skip over to Part IV to avoid reading if this makes you uncomfortable**
"I’m going to take Owen’s offer. It seems the Marchioness has done something to me and only by leaving the Marquis’s domain was I able to reach some form of clarity. It wasn’t enough clarity to remember everything, but it was enough to prove the man was right. I was living a lie. I'm writing this in a hurry. I have to jot down everything I remember. I'm currently right outside the border of the Marquis's domain, but I cannot risk staying out for too long. I fear if I do, the Marchioness might find out I left. I will write as much as I can remember, and then I will return.

Today is supposedly my sixteenth birthday (another lie probably). I recall I wished so intensely for the Marchioness to grant a wish she promised me. However, when I asked to explore outside the domain, the Marchioness became furious. I won't repeat the words she called me… I hate that woman now. I hate that family. I’m glad I had the courage to defy her just once. I'm glad I chose to sneak out of the house. I’m going to accept Owen’s offer. Whatever his agenda might be, I will help him. I will find a way out even if it means faking my death."

[Notes by E. Illiro: House Grimaldi consists of the Marquis Ivan, the Marchioness Cressida, and their three children: Elaine (26), Elliot (24), and Corinne (9). Out of the three children, Cressida loved Corinne the most. She favored Corinne since she was the miracle child after a number of miscarriages. However, Corinne's existence was a threat to the two eldest siblings. Corinne's existence and her influence on their parents entailed she could succeed as head of the household. Fortunately for them, mana corrosion unexpectedly took possession of Corinne, which led Cressida in a state of heartache and desperation. However, her pride was far too abundant and in order to ensure the rest of the household never found out of Corinne's condition, Cressida killed her favorite child with her own hands. The only remaining issue was Corinne’s absence and it was then that Cressida developed an insidious plan to find the perfect replacement— me.

Cressida found me while I was at my lowest and used what I lacked as bait. That cunning hag manipulated and coerced me into following her into her home— her domain where she stole my life away just so I could play pretend and make her feel whole again. Based on my findings and whatever files I found laid around in the Third Faction's research rooms, I suspect she might possess some type of Relic. The Relic must be able hold a person's identity hostage, or gradually force the person to forget their identity. I cannot be for certain, but I believe that's what she must have done to me. I suspect if I take the Relic and destroy it, I might get my life back. That's all a theory though...

After the day I found clarity, I meticulously constructed a plan of escape. It took a few years, but the moment I escaped— when I staged my own death— I felt like I could finally see. The things I went through in there... It was hard to grasp how I used like a piece of their game.

Cressida killed her own child to avoid discrimination, and she made me impersonate her daughter for twelve years to hide her crime. She bloodied my hands because she wanted to get rid of Elaine and Elliot’s supporters (the staff) and replace them with her own supporters to gain control of the household. And those dearest siblings of mine actively tried to kill me by sending the same staff members. I became so afraid to fall asleep because I was scared someone would kill me in my slumber. They made me go through all of this for what? For the Marquis’s title? For power? For money? For sport? I didn’t want any of that. I didn't deserve to be taken! I was innocent and they ruined me. They succeeded too. They definitely killed me. The moment I entered that house, I should have known I was already dead.]
**End of TW**

Part IV | Emersyn Illiro
My name is Emersyn Illiro and I possess the Stigma of the Nine of Swords. I am a member of Arcana and I am going to put an end to House Grimaldi. Whatever Cressida did to me has scrambled my brain and memories, but I was given a second chance— a new life and opportunity. I was given a so-called "Gem of Rebirth" when I joined, which is said to obscure my identity. This worked well in my favor for the past four years. Regardless if Cressida finds out I escaped and is coming to search for me, no one from that house will be able to recognize me. I almost feel like I've won, but until I've become House Grimaldi's downfall and get back my name, I won't ever feel at peace.

I was never intrigued about Vestry's government while I was receiving my education. Even while I was under Cressida's influence, I think deep within my gut I knew something was wrong about how it was structured. It felt so unbalanced and after a few years in Arcana, I've come to realize a part of my bitterness extends toward Arwen Vestrinnica and her tyranny. She's keeping her people trapped within Vestry out of her own greed. I cannot stand for it. Not to mention, there is homelessness and orphans roaming her lands while some noble households continue to eat their five meals a day. I heard there's a Second Faction within Arcana led by a man named Devian? Damien? I can’t recall his name well, but I heard he seeks to abolish Queen Arwen along with her precious peerage. The thought of another innocent child under House Grimaldi’s influence frightens me. I want to prevent that from ever happening again. Perhaps I should speak to the faction leader soon and see where my usefulness may lie. May both of our goals be met.

[End of Entries]
Cressida Grimaldi
“Corinne Grimaldi did not deserve her death, so I will avenge her by making her mother beg for it.”
There are no pleasantries when describing Cressida Grimaldi. She was the sly woman who coaxed Emersyn into the den of snakes. The only gratitude Emersyn has for Cressida (to the incredibly smallest degree) is giving her a new will to live— to watch her and her family burn by her hands.
Dorian Alferi
“He will get me where I need to go.”
Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Integer semper, sapien at porta congue, erat lacus luctus libero, eu viverra ante ante at tellus. Nulla facilisi. Morbi ornare, eros sit amet iaculis facilisis, metus justo convallis neque, a cursus nulla nisl at massa. Fusce quis odio cursus, vestibulum nibh sed, consequat tortor. Aliquam lobortis ligula id risus gravida scelerisque. Nulla auctor lacinia libero vitae molestie. Curabitur ipsum tortor, tempor ut leo id, ultrices ultrices purus.
Ability
Can you feel the hairs standing up along the back of your neck? The prickly feeling of being watched? The chilling suspicion you're being followed? Splendid. Now, use that fear and make it your weapon...
The Stigma of the Nine of Swords receives nourishment from its bearer's fear and anxiety. With Emersyn as its current bearer, the Stigma has been filled plentiful with sustenance. In return for Emersyn's charity, the Stigma blesses Emersyn with the ability to detect and locate an object harboring malicious intent within a certain range around her.

The severity of Emersyn's emotions are crucial to the Stigma's performance. She could still wield the Stigma while experiencing calm and positive emotions, but the accuracy is not entirely reliable. Emersyn may be able to get a generalized location of the target. However, the Stigma in this state is as reliable as saying "it's somewhere over there I think?". The target Emersyn could be sensing is nothing more than a shadowy blob and can be unpredictable in movement- as if it's lagging in frames. Meanwhile, experiencing negative emotions such as anxiety and paranoia can provide far more precise location and give Emersyn a better visual of the target's silhouette. Undergoing high levels of distress may even trigger the Stigma to determine the direction the target is moving as well as the speed of the target.

Emersyn has noted she experiences higher precision during the night, but remaining in such a negative mindset for such a long period of time can be draining, hinder her decision-making, and leave her susceptible to impulsive decisions.
Relics

  • Name: Emersyn does not currently have a Relic in her possession. After experiencing a Relic's capabilities, she is afraid to use one.
Equipment

  • hand wound wristwatch (broken)
  • a pair of scissors with a loose pivot
  • pouch with slivers of cheese, half of an oat bread loaf, and a whole lot of salted peanuts
  • a few currency for persuasion
  • sewing kit
  • embroidered handkerchief
  • small candles and a few matches
Extras
When night approaches, she has a ritual of winding her wristwatch every hour until the sun rises. The routine helps keep her awake.
Sometimes, Emersyn likes to observe Third Faction members while they work throughout the night. She'll leave a few peanuts or a piece of bread on their work station in case they get hungry. There are some cases where she's managed to get a few hours of sleep whenever she's there.
She figured out how to read and write when she was young. Although it was really (like really really) bad, she was able to get some words across? Her caregiver at the orphanage wasn't so useless after all.
Corinne Grimaldi had a knack for sewing and dreamed of becoming a seamstress for royalty. Naturally, Emersyn had to learn how to sew and match her skills. The maids supporting Corinne's sisters would search through Emersyn's belongings, so Emersyn adapted to become more discreet. She fashioned a small, thin razor blade in the seam of her sleeve cuffs. She realized a swift swing of her arm is much quicker than haphazardly searching for a weapon in the dark.
She found a job as a baker's apprentice, works from dawn until noon, and delivers baked goods to the Whistling Maple. When she is not required in the field and has downtime, she will either lounge in the Whistling Maple and people-watch while she munches on snacks, sit outside to sunbathe, or be somewhere in the Third Faction's research rooms.
Code by Nano
 
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Full Name
Sierra Daiji
Code Name
Dahlia
Arcana
XV. The Devil
Age
Twenty-Seven (27)
Date of Birth
28th day of Tranquility
Faction
Second
Position
Informant
Height
160 cm
Hair Color
Blonde
Eye Color
Red
Faceclaim
Coven Lissandra (League of Legends)
With champagne in one hand and a quill in the other, Sierra lives in two worlds. To the public, she is the wife of Kuro Daiji, but to Arcana, Sierra is the Second Faction's primary informant and holder of The Devil stigma. Whether its gossiping with the help, securing invitations to allies, or teasing information out of her husband's business partners, she uses her connections and social acumen to aid the Second Faction's fight for democracy. As cynical as she is towards their lack of uniformity, Sierra believes wholeheartedly in shifting government power back in the hands of the common people...so long as it doesn't impede on her lifestyle.
About Quote
I profess that I do not know the intricacies of the ruling class; however, a society built on the destruction of its citizens will never last.
Appearance
Though not particularly tall, a slim figure and high heels do more than enough to close the gap between her and her contemporaries. Sierra walks with purpose; she doesn't so much glide as stride across a room, commanding attention from those who glance her way. She keeps her blond hair long and lustrous. She keeps her nails manicured. She keeps her skin flawless through makeup. The only indication of her poor background is her inability to throw away even the most tattered clothing. Prior to her marriage, her wardrobe was born of clever scavenging and the ability to tailor so she's reticent to waste fabric, even at the expense of the seamstresses she commissions.
Personality
Sierra is not so much a chameleon as she is an octopus, shifting in both speech and behavior should the occasion call for it. Her varied background gives her the ability to read people and blend in with her surroundings. She becomes a mirror to those she speaks to. Whether she acts as a mother, a confidant, or a lover, she plays to her audience to discover their inner biases.

At people's core, they strive for validation--they want to know they're a smart person, a good person. Thus, she cradles their heads in her lap and whispers affirmations in their ear. She squeezes through their emotional guards until finally, she's wrapped herself around their hearts.

Sierra has no qualms with using people for her own gain; she lies as easily breathes and will rarely issue a genuine apology. Any conflict is met with a warm, measured response because it's more satisfying to watching people embarrass themselves trying to provoke her. Even in the instances where she's wrong, she'll spin an argument in her favor before walking away with her held high.

She values optics more than the average citizen, often criticizing the more violent members of Arcana. Given how unfavorably their movement is seen by the public, she dislikes the idea of alienating commoners. Unfortunately, this desire to play into respectability politics leads many to question her loyalty. Between her continued consumption of upper class delights and commitment to her husband, it's unclear how much she's willing to give up for the cause.
+
Likes
  • Tea Cakes
  • Fine Fabrics
  • Beaches
  • Calligraphy
-
Dislikes
  • Swimming
  • Dogs
  • Spicy Foods
  • Filth
XV
Click to Expand Backstory
Part I: The Caretaker
The daughter of a courtesan, Sierra learned the value of discretion. Her mother was not paid for companionship--she was paid to leave. As much as the working class was shackled by their finances, nobles were caged by societal norms. A girlfriend was worth ten concubines and a therapist, even more. Thus she listened; she became the soothsayer of Vestrian nobles and class chasers; she satiated the demon locked in their hearts.

However, she was no saint, nor was she a mother. On the days Delilah wasn't working, Sierra assumed the role of caretaker. She cooked, she cleaned, and held her mother's hair while she threw up. On the days that Delilah was too drunk to work, Sierra assumed the role of babysitter for the neighborhood children.

Once she was old enough, she became a vessel for all of her mother's unfulfilled wishes. She received a basic education, she learned to mimic the buskers working the streets, and she learned how to disguise herself as a member of high society. Both the marionette and the puppeteer, she infiltrated the hearts of the upper middle class in exchange for information and a taste of the high life.

It was through her line of work that she not only found solidarity with her sisters in arms, but also where she met her future husband.

Part II: The Wife
From Kuro's point of view, she was the color in his monochromatic life. From Sierra's point of view, he was fine. She loved him insomuch as she could picture having a child and growing old with him. Though the fire never burned as brightly as her teenage romances, the woman could not argue with stability when her mother's illness was reaching its zenith. For all of the ways her mother used her, she deserved a proper burial and Kuro was more than willing to oblige. Shortly after her mother's death, the two held a modest ceremony in the Daiji Family Vineyard wherein Kuro's side held a loving family and her side filled less than two rows of former neighbors.

In the three years since their marriage, she found herself caught between her lavish lifestyle and the sympathy she still held for the working class. She could justify her husband's treatment of the grape pickers as still better than other feudal lords, nobles, and certainly better than dying in the military. However, the look in the eyes of the blonde girl leaving her brother-in-law's estate in the early morning disallowed her from turning away any longer.

Sierra didn't want to live in a world where people were the playthings of the upper class.

Part III: The Revolutionary
Unfortunately, her status was a double-edged sword. While, she was a reputable figure within the region, a call to action rang hollow given her background. Some viewed her as a bored socialite and others an utter hypocrite .

By pulling some strings (read a generous donation), she created her own position and published editorials under a psuedonym. It was through those articles that she found the second faction. One Dorian Alfieri responded to her editorial with an anonymous letter, pushing back against her criticisms of the violent rebellions and inviting her to interview him. It was only when they met that she realized how much of a warped mirror he was to her. They both wielded wealth beyond that of the commonfolk, sought reform, and disliked the monarchy. However, he reconciled his desire for revolution with the inevitability of violence--few freedoms have been earned by operating within the system so why abide by its laws?

While she and Dorian still have their disagreements, she finds his company preferable to some of the more unhinged members of the organization.

Dorian Alfieri
“Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit.”
Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Integer semper, sapien at porta congue, erat lacus luctus libero, eu viverra ante ante at tellus. Nulla facilisi. Morbi ornare, eros sit amet iaculis facilisis, metus justo convallis neque, a cursus nulla nisl at massa. Fusce quis odio cursus, vestibulum nibh sed, consequat tortor. Aliquam lobortis ligula id risus gravida scelerisque. Nulla auctor lacinia libero vitae molestie. Curabitur ipsum tortor, tempor ut leo id, ultrices ultrices purus.
“Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit.”
Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Integer semper, sapien at porta congue, erat lacus luctus libero, eu viverra ante ante at tellus. Nulla facilisi. Morbi ornare, eros sit amet iaculis facilisis, metus justo convallis neque, a cursus nulla nisl at massa. Fusce quis odio cursus, vestibulum nibh sed, consequat tortor. Aliquam lobortis ligula id risus gravida scelerisque. Nulla auctor lacinia libero vitae molestie. Curabitur ipsum tortor, tempor ut leo id, ultrices ultrices purus.
Ability
At its base, The Devil represents bondage, temptation, and desire. It speaks to the constraints that prevent one from living a fulfilling life; however, it also speaks to the consequences of giving in to one's raw desires. Though it's tempting to blame external forces, the truth is that the devil comes from within. It is the self that holds one back from satisfaction--be it from fear, attachment, or shame.

The Devil manifests as the ability to draw out a person's obsessions. By touching someone, Sierra releases their inhibitions by bringing their inner desires to the forefront. Whether an uncontrollable addict or a methodical planner, her targets abandon both reason and morality in favor of instant gratification.

Just as The Devil is typically seen as negative, so too is her stigmata viewed with wariness. The shame associated with having one's obsessions revealed is evident among those who choose to avoid her wrath.

Sierra sees it as projection.

The concept of desire is neutral. It is the object of desire that causes one to cast judgment. Though her stigma typically draws out harmful desires, it can just as easily draw out positive ones: protecting an ally, professing one's love, or quitting a job.

The only way for someone under The Devil's influence to break free is to fulfill their desire or for Sierra to designate a new target.

In practice, Sierra must be deliberate about using The Devil due to both the unpredictability of her victim and the caveats that accompanies it. She can only use her stigma once per day and once she uses it on a person, they will be immune to her effect.
Relics
  • The Queen's Hook: This golden relic is a chatelaine gifted by her mother-in-law (who was convinced that Kuro would never marry). Typically fastened to a belt either over or beneath her dress, Sierra uses it to carry various pieces of equipment. Where the typical belt hook may only hold objects of a few ounces, each hook can hold objects far greater in weight without passing any of the burden to its wearer.
Equipment
  • Compact Mirror
  • Various necklaces and bracelets
  • Ornate dagger
  • Small, moleskin notebook
  • Wallet
Extras
While her husband is aware of her publications, she's kept her activities in Arcana largely a secret.
Her pen name is Gladiolus due to its association with strength, integrity, and the power of persistence.
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Code by Nano
 
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