Futuristic R E S O N A T O R . Schrödinger's Gambit (CS) OLD

[Lekiel]

02

The Cast

Code by Serobliss / Vanity#8119

Re:SG

Stay tuned!
Echo [0/1]
Agent [1/2]
Edenis/Human [0/4]

Discord: Link

CHARACTER CREATION

◇ Spots are on a first approved first served basis.
◇ Current Submission Dateline: 8 / 12 / 2022
◇ You may use the code provided below or your own, as long as all the details are in order and pictures are properly sized.
◇ Use anime-themed pictures for character illustration

Current Open Class Positions:
Edenis / Human: [0/5]
Agent: [1/2]
Echo: [0/1]


GUIDE:
Name - (Character Name)

*PWR Stat Note: Distribute a total of 15 points.
Physique - (Character's physical prowess. Primarily affects strength [melee damage. Must have 4 points to carry heavy weapons], speed and dexterity. Also affects durability & regeneration.)
Willpower - (Affects Machine Savant, Atunity, Galvode Resonance ability strength magnitude. Affects Scrim turn-Splinter effectiveness. Also affects general character willpower)
Resonance - (Resonance density. Affects Resonator's ability to sustain their powers. Also contributes to ability effectiveness.)

Biological Gender - Male / Female
Race - (Race)
Age - (Echoes: 25 - 64. Agents: 21 - 25. Humans & Edenis: 20 - 40.)
*Echoes physical appearance is variable. SIN can be used to halt the aging process whenever required.

Class - (Character Resonance Class. Surge, Galvode, Scrim, Atunity, Machine Savant.)
FSF Attachment - (Which Forward Sanctum Fortress was your character attached to before being forced to retreat to FSF ANGELA? Note FSF ANGELA & FSF MARIA are the only ones standing.)
*Does not affect character ability. Just npc interactions. FSF ANGELA is starting point.
Sanctum Andlang (Mainly Americans, S. Americans, Canadians) - FSF ANGELA, FSF MAGDALENE, FSF TERESA
Sanctum Absynthium (Mainly Europeans) - FSF MARIA, FSF AGATHA
Sanctum Tengoku (Mainly Japanese, Korean, Chinese) - FSF HIMARI, FSF XINLIANG
Sanctum Aaru (Mainly Europeans, Russians, Indians) - FSF SOPHIA, FSF KATERINA, FSF MEERA
Sanctum Kayangan (Mainly South East Asians, Australians) - FSF ADELAIDE, FSF DAHLIA

Birthday - (Current Year: 2164. Shattered Heavens: 2157. Echoes: Must have been adults during SIN Infusions; Year 2100 - 2139. Agents: Year 2139 - 2143. Human/Edenis: Year 2124 - 2144)
Birthplace - (Any current world country, just add the word 'Neo-' e.g. Neo-Tokyo)
Handler - (For Echo only. Person in charge of administering SEVERENT in case of emergency. Can be pre-arranged as other Player Characters otherwise put deceased and GM will assign later on)

Codename - (One-word codename used during missions. All Agents are named after birds e.g. Crow)
Personality - (Short paragraph about character's personality)

Physical Identifiers - (Brief description of character's hair, eyes, built and other physical identifiers.)
Background - (Character history. At least 3 paragraphs. Agents: Child soldiers sourced from desperate families or unwanted children in orphanages, taken in by the Somnias Heavy Industry corporation to a secret lab and training facility. Once training is completed, they are used as covert mercenaries or assassins until Shattered Heavens.
Echoes were usually people of the middle upper or higher class of society. As they were the only ones who could afford SIN Infusions.)

Combat - (Armaments should be explained in detail and be power balanced. Particle compressors, energy weapons, and projectiles synonymous with near-future vibes are examples. Equipment can be small arms, grenades, battlefield medical kits and other tools.
Echoes: Does not have secondary armament. Put n/a.
Agents: Replace Secondary Armament with the below:

Spoiler

Secondary Armament: [Codename] Shiverskin
This controversial technology implants Organic Metal Nanites (OMNis) into the subject whose DNA has been irreversibly altered to accept the foreign material. Shiverskin tech alters various sections of the subject's flesh and skin into a kind of dark matte organic metal, allowing the agent to utilize the OMNIs in a number of ways unique to their agent class. Before Shattered Heavens, using the Shiverskin abilities depleted OMNi density within the Agent, and if used too much, would be detrimental to their health. OMNi's could only be replaced by taking in a special supplement to regenerate supplies. However, after the discovery of Fractelum crystals, Somnias Heavy Industries found out that Fractelum implantation altered agent physiology to the point where their bodies could utilize innate Resonance or standard nourishment to replenish OMNi density.

Equip Slot 1: Shiverskin [Ability Name]
An ability that relates to nanotech on the body. Has one active function and one passive function. Think ironman.

e.g. Shiverskin Bastion
Somnias Nightingale Agents can utilize their Shiverskin in the form of an ability called Bastion. During battle, a Nightingale can deploy OMNi fragments which float around them, acting as a kind of passive armour. In passive form, it blocks attacks by simply being in the right place at the right time (basically coming between a bullet and an Agent's face); this is not entirely reliable as their positioning requires the Agent to direct them consciously with full focus (perhaps only good for blocking random fragments and debris on the battlefield, rather than actual attacks). Bastion's true application is fully realized when the Agent shifts their focus to direct the OMNi's to accumulate en-masse, forming a wall or dome of cover. Will by no means impenetrable, Bastion does serve its purpose in basically being disintegrated along with whatever energy or projectile it obstructs.

Humans / Edenis: 2 weapons, 3 equipment.)

Skill Flair - (Brief explanation of how your character likes to fight using their abilities or contribute during missions)

Codebreaker - (e.g. SOLIDUS DOMINA
The manifestation of Amelia's desire to liberate herself from being a mere pawn in the greater scheme of the world, refusing to let anything stand in her way of achieving greatness for the good of all. This desire was warped by the very fact that she was trained to be a combat machine early on in life and so coalesces in the form of a devastating attack, whereby she converts whatever weapon in her grasp and the OMNIs around her to fire a large stream of pure magical and physical energy; levelling whatever that stood in the way.)

Extras (optional)
Character Quote - (So you can sound edgy and cool)

Skills - (Up to 2 combat-related skills e.g. VECTOR Pilot training. No limit to non-combat abilities e.g. cooking.)

Code:

Spoiler

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--bg: url('https://i.imgur.com/UcMdmQ0.jpg'); background: var(--bg) no-repeat 50% 100%; background-size: cover"][border=0; padding: 0; box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0 auto; width: clamp(250px, 100%, 1050px); background: rgba(255 255 255 / 90%); display: flex; flex-flow: row wrap; justify-content: center; box-shadow: 0 0 10px rgba(0 0 0 / 40%)][border=0; padding: 0 10px; box-sizing: border-box; width: clamp(250px, 100%, 600px)][border=0; padding: 0; margin: 35px auto 0; box-sizing: border-box; width: clamp(250px, 100%, 500px)][border=0; padding: 0; font: normal 300 14px Bebas Neue; color: #262626]Retalis Concordia Legions[/border][border=0; padding: 0; font: normal 300 5.3vh Oswald; color: #262626; line-height: 0.93; margin-left: -1px]Name Here[/border][border=0; padding: 0; color: #262626; line-height: 1; margin: 5px 0 15px; font-size: 14px]
Physique...........◆◆◆◆◆◇◇◇◇◇[5/10]
Willpower.........◆◆◆◆◆◇◇◇◇◇[5/10]
Resonance.......◆◆◆◆◆◇◇◇◇◇[5/10]
Handler.............Name[/border][/border][border=0; padding: 0; box-sizing: border-box; width: clamp(250px, 100%, 500px); margin: 0 auto; overflow: hidden][border=0; padding: 0 18px 0 0; box-sizing: content-box; width: 100%; height: 420px; overflow-x: hidden; overflow-y: scroll; color: #262626; font-size: 13px][comment]

[/comment][border="0; padding: 1px 0 0 8px; font-family: 'Roboto Condensed', sans-serif; border-left: 4px solid #262626; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1"]BIOLOGICAL GENDER / RACE / AGE[/border][border="0; padding: 1px 0 0 8px; font-family: 'Roboto Condensed', sans-serif; border-left: 4px solid #262626; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1; margin-top: 8px"]CLASS | FSF ATTACHMENT[/border][border="0; padding: 1px 0 0 8px; font-family: 'Roboto Condensed', sans-serif; border-left: 4px solid #262626; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1; margin-top: 8px"]BIRTHDAY / BIRTHPLACE[/border][comment]

[/comment][border="0; padding: 0; margin-top: 15px; font-family: 'Roboto', sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: justify; color: #161616; line-height: 1.43"][border=0; padding: 0 0 3px; font: normal 300 20px Bebas Neue; border-bottom: 1px solid #595959; margin-bottom: 8px; color: #262626]Overview[/border]CODENAME: XXXX
PERSONALITY blurb[/border][comment]

[/comment][border="0; padding: 0; margin-top: 15px; font-family: 'Roboto', sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: justify; color: #161616; line-height: 1.43"][border=0; padding: 0 0 3px; font: normal 300 20px Bebas Neue; border-bottom: 1px solid #595959; margin-bottom: 8px; color: #262626]Physical Identifiers[/border]DESCRIPTION blurb[/border][comment]

[/comment][border="0; padding: 0; margin-top: 15px; font-family: 'Roboto', sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: justify; color: #161616; line-height: 1.43"][border=0; padding: 0 0 3px; font: normal 300 20px Bebas Neue; border-bottom: 1px solid #595959; margin-bottom: 8px; color: #262626]Background[/border]BIODATA blurb
[/border][comment]

[/comment][border="0; padding: 0; margin-top: 15px; font-family: 'Roboto', sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: justify; color: #161616; line-height: 1.43"][border=0; padding: 0 0 3px; font: normal 300 20px Bebas Neue; border-bottom: 1px solid #595959; margin-bottom: 8px; color: #262626]Combat[/border][size=4][b]Primary Armament | Name:[/b][/size] Explanation

[size=4][b]Secondary Armament | Name:[/b][/size] Explanation

[size=4][b]Equip 1 | Name:[/b][/size] Explanation

[size=4][b]Equip 2 | Name:[/b][/size] Explanation

[size=4][b]Equip 3 | Name:[/b][/size] Explanation

[size=4][b]Skill Flair:[/b][/size] Explanation

[size=4][b]CODEBREAKER | Name:[/b][/size] Explanation
[/border][comment]

[/comment][border="0; padding: 0; margin-top: 15px; font-family: 'Roboto', sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: justify; color: #161616; line-height: 1.43"][border=0; padding: 0 0 3px; font: normal 300 20px Bebas Neue; border-bottom: 1px solid #595959; margin-bottom: 8px; color: #262626]Extras[/border][font='Cinzel']"YOUR QUOTE HERE"

[size=4][b]Skills:[/b][/size][/font]



[/border][/border][/border][/border][comment]


[/comment][border=0; padding: 0; padding: 0; box-sizing: border-box; width: clamp(250px, 100%, 450px); height: 600px; background: var(--character) no-repeat var(--pos); background-size: var(--size); position: relative; overflow: hidden][border=0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; bottom: 2.4%; transform: rotate(-90deg); font: normal 12px Oswald][url=https://www.pixiv.net/en/artworks/92362895][border=0; padding: 0; display: inline-block; color: rgba(50 205 205 / 60%)]KANE[/border][/url][/border][/border][/border][border=0; padding: 0; text-align: center; color: #a6a6a6; font: normal 300 7px Jost; opacity: 92%; margin-top: 10px]CODE / [url=https://www.rpnation.com/members/arknight.89406/][border=0; padding: 0; display: inline-block]SEROBLISS[/border][/url][/border][/border]

 

[Lekiel]

Retalis Concordia Legions

Yurica Aeterna

Physique...........◆◆◆◆◆◇◇◇◇◇[5/10]
Willpower.........◆◆◆◆◆◇◇◇◇◇[5/10]
Resonance.......◆◆◆◆◆◇◇◇◇◇[5/10]

FEMALE / AGENT / 21

GALVODE | FSF KATERINA

August 2143/ NEO-LONDON

Overview

CODENAME: NIGHTINGALE
To the unassuming, Yurica can seem like a callous cold-hearted bitch. Often having a rather austere facade on top of being rather aloof when it comes to more casual social interactions. Nonetheless, her unapproachability isn't so much for her lack of trying, rather she tries at all the wrong times and when the situation falls flat, Yurica would immediately retreat behind her walls. It doesn't help that clinical examinations have determined that she suffers from severely underdeveloped social skills (a result of her upbringing).

Under the surface, lies a girl who harbours a great bitterness. One who is sick of being tossed around by the waves of life but yet does not know where she could anchor. One who secretly wishes that she'd been dealt a better hand but accepts the meagre one she has, and so will work with whatever she has to make her mark on the world. Though whatever that mark is, she doesn't exactly know. Like a restless soul raging to release itself, only it hasn't really found a direction.

This inner passion translates into an incredibly efficient and pragmatic work ethic, as she knows that she has nothing to offer but her martial abilities and so decides to make full use of them. On the battlefield, a switch turns on and Yurica transforms into a totally different person. Regarded as one who takes cold-calculated moves she had been her group's master tactician, leading her team from one victory to the next and together, they inspired many of the other squads stationed at FSF KATERINA to rally under their banner. It all went well until that fateful betrayal.

Physical Identifiers

Ruby irises. Long vermilion-coloured hair. Lithe slim body build standing at 1.65m tall. Jagged scar on bridge of nose. Alto pitched voice.

Background

Yurica Aeterna never had a family. Not one of blood anyway. But she did have siblings of heart, and their bond ran deeper than blood. Yurica was born an unwanted, unwitting offspring of a nightworker and her client. A mistake. Even the social worker who found Yurica by the doorstep barely glimpsed her supposed mother before she disappeared around the corner.

Dropped off at one of the many orphanages at the border between the urban rich and the slums of Neo-London, it was here where she spent much of her earliest years. She grew up sickly, having breathing difficulties the moment she attempted anything remotely strenuous. It was a mundane lonely life, silent and empty despite the backdrop of a noisy overcrowded orphanage. She might've been a bubbly cheery child, if not for her circumstances forcing the young girl to withdraw within herself. That was until she met them.

Aeria, Tersola 'Tess' and Nagale. Older children of the orphanage. Troublemakers with their playful mischief, but armed with pure hearts. For one reason or another, they took to the young sickly girl enfolding her into their little clique without Yurica being none the wiser. For her part, joining them was easy enough. She didn't have anyone else anyway, though she still remained largely reticent. An emotional wall erected as a defensive mechanism by an abandoned unwanted child. A wall which took many many years before even the three managed to tear down.

And then They came.

Somnias Heavy Industries. A shining megacorporation of cutting-edge machine manufacturing and technological research spanning many different scientific arms. As part of their many corporate social responsibility exercises, they would donate large sums of cash and resources to various orphanages around europe; Yurica's home being one of them. But beneath the gleaming philanthropical facade, lies a dark secret. In exchange for the donations, orphanages were required to sign off 'unwanted' children into the custody of the Somnias. Of course, this was all under the guise of scholarships, though anyone who knew better obviously knew otherwise. It worked to the benefit of often overcrowded orphanages, and their management could live with their conscience knowing that those children will be under the care of a very resourceful and caring organisation; at least on paper.

So it was, that Yurica and the Three, were chosen to receive the Somnias Scholarship even though she was barely half a dozen years old. Of course, it was totally not because the Three were pesky troublemakers and the medical costs for the sickly one weighed heavily on the meagre orphanage's resources. Young Yurica simply rolled the wrong dice.

At Somnias it became quickly apparent that the scholarship was just a guise for a despicable research program that honed children into specialized killing machines of the Somnias paramilitary division. Dubbed simply as Agents. It was here where they were primed, poked and prodded as test subjects with no rights. While Somnias ultimate goals were objectively neutral, the methods in which it employed them were coldly inhumane at best. Perhaps one of their most successful projects was the Shiverskin Program where subjects were successfully integrated with a kind of organic metal nanite (OMNi) that gave Agents unique abilities, essentially enhancing their combat effectiveness. It was also due to this that Yurica's breathing difficulties were overcome. A scoring star in Somnias' records which was proudly shared with shareholders, minus the methodology of course. Though there were other children, the group of four formed an inseparable bond with Tess becoming the somewhat de facto leader, while Yurica the 'baby' of the group.

Nevertheless, a political far-left group had managed to dig up dirt on the megacorp with the aid of a whistleblower. This resulted in the shutting down of Somnias' Agent Program essentially making Yurica's batch the last. But though no new children were taken in, the division continued to operate in secret.

And it wasn't all nefarious, with the Agents being deployed to assist the Somnias' own official paramilitary troops from the shadows in whatever geopolitical tension or proxy war that required a firmer conclusion. Objectively grey areas, always for the greater good was the message they got from the higher echelons. Then came Shattered Heavens and the Corruptants.

The Agents were quickly inducted into the RCL and soon they were fighting for their lives. What was at first a losing war, soon turned for the better. So much so that they were right at the enemy's doorstep, and the Four of them were among those leading the charge. But then came the Betrayal and it all came apart. They retreated as they fought, eventually pushed back all the way to Sanctum Aaru. Thinking they could fortify the Sanctum, many of the surrounding forces congregated behind the Schrodinger Barriers of Aaru. But they were wrong, the Sons of Pythagoras had made Aaru one of their largest nests. Their defences thrown into disarray, the megacity became a slaughterhouse. It was overrun, and with its fall so too did civilization around it. As word of Aaru falling spread, all the other connected Sanctums initiated the self-destruct of connecting Euclidean Leylines condemning the fallen Sanctum to the abyss of the Blight.

A few weeks after the fall of Sanctum Aaru, FSF ANGELA border patrol identified two lone survivors emerging from the blighted mists.

With a barely living Tess hanging onto her tired shoulders, Yurica took one look at the soldiers before she too collapsed into unconsciousness.

In the remaining months till the present, Tersola would be in a state of induced coma barely kept alive by life support. As for Yurica, she made a full recovery. Almost... for the Agent suffers clouds of amnesia, remembering in sketches the weeks that followed the fall of her homecity. Yurica was once again alone, with only the names of her fallen siblings to remember them by.

Ae.Ter.Na.

Emotionally lost and alone, but with a set of skills very well suited for warfare, it wasn't long before she was once again on the frontlines fighting for all mankind.

Combat

Primary Armament | SHI03 GALATINE: The Somnias Heavy Industries Galatine is a specialised beam lance designed for the Nightjar Class Agent of the now-defunct corporation. A flowing pennant depicting a Nightjar bird is attached to the tip. Galantine can fire bursts of searing lasers at a moderate fire rate. Alternatively, it can be used to fire a concentrated stream of energy with high penetrative power, though this mode drains the energy cells quickly. The Galatine once belonged to Tersola, but Yurica has decided to carry it on in honour of her fallen sister.

Secondary Armament | Nightingale Shiverskin:
This controversial technology implants Organic Metal Nanites (OMNis) into the subject whose DNA has been irreversibly altered to accept the foreign material. Shiverskin tech alters various sections of the subject's flesh and skin into a kind of dark matte organic metal, allowing the agent to utilize the OMNIs in a number of ways unique to their agent class. Before Shattered Heavens, using the Shiverskin abilities depleted OMNi density within the Agent, and if used too much, would be detrimental to their health. OMNi's could only be replaced by taking in a special supplement to regenerate supplies. However, after the discovery of Fractelum crystals, Somnias Heavy Industries found out that Fractelum implantation altered agent physiology to the point where their bodies could utilize innate Resonance or standard nourishment to replenish OMNi density.

Equip 1 | Shiverskin Auraseer: Somnias Nightingale Agents are known for their combat controller role. Nightingale OMNis are much smaller than usual and passively saturate a wide area of up to a hundred cubic meters. It can go up to 500 meters by sacrificing coverage in other areas. When adequate saturation is achieved, the OMNi's emit tiny vibrational signals that can echolocate the surrounding area to provide real-time mapping of any terrain. An implant allows Nightingale to better visualise the area in her mind to feedback valuable information from regions otherwise inaccessible or blocked from scouting by other means. While incredibly useful, it takes up to a minute to complete saturation and any rapid movement faster than a brisk walk would reduce the area of effectiveness.

When activated, Nightingale can use Auraseer to overload the OMNi nanites causing each particle to burn with intense heat. While tiny, they can still do serious damage to creatures like Splinters if they happened to walk into a fully saturated room. In this regard, larger creatures are more difficult to take down. Upon ignition, Nightingale loses oversight of the associated region and must perform resaturation.

Equip 2 | Nightingale Surveyor's Kit: Comprises of various scouting equipment including a hip-attached Lagrange & Wisp particle sensor that can synchronise with Auraseer and an MD Dagger - A long-bladed combat dagger with a rather keen edge. MD or Material Dissonance utilizes the vibrating particles of the blade's edge to make the weapon exceptionally sharp. For all intents and purposes, this is just a really really pointy dagger.

Equip 3 | SHI Bastion Launcher: When primed by a Resonator, the Bastion Launcher fires a condensed half-dome forcefield that can be used to shield from attacks or temporarily bar Corruptants from passing through. Each launch requires a full-energy cell which Yurica is only able to carry 3 at any time. While effective against most corruptants, greater enemies can more easily break through the barrier, which in turn lasts for only up to a minute.

Skill Flair: Ever since the fall of Sanctum Aaru and the loss of her sisters, Yurica has shifted from being a backline strategist towards leading from the front. Armed with her reconnaissance abilities and the piercing edge of Galatine, her teammates usually look to her to lead the way. Though she may not strike an imposing awe-inspiring figure, her steadfast resoluteness and cold determination more than makes up for her lack of charisma among those who know of the Nightingale.

CODEBREAKER | Solidus Domina: The manifestation of Yurica's desire to liberate herself from being a mere pawn in the greater scheme of the world, refusing to let anything stand in her way of achieving greatness for the good of all. This desire was warped by the very fact that she was trained to be a combat machine early on in life and so coalesces in the form of a devastating hail Mary, whereby she channels an overwhelming surge of Resonance into the OMNIs around her causing them to detonate. This results in a huge explosion of intense Resonance-powered energy.

Extras

"Are you going to give your life even if it may mean nothing to this world? Even if no one will never remember you?"

"Yes, because this world. . . it means everything to me."



Skills:
Has gone through RCL Command School for Field Officers

One of the few accomplished ground surveyors, Resonator Specialists tasked with mapping out the ever-changing land and safe routes.

Throwing Knives

Insanely bad at cooking

Loves wildflowers

KANE

CODE /

SEROBLISS

 

[donutcry]

Retalis Concordia Legions

Maya Makiling

Physique...........◆◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇[1/10]
Willpower.........◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◇[9/10]
Resonance.......◆◆◆◆◆◇◇◇◇◇[5/10]
Handler............. N/A

FEMALE / AGENT / 21

GALVODE | FSF SOPHIA

NOVEMBER 30, 2143 / NEO-MANILA

Overview

CODENAME: ADARNA

Agent Adarna is a hero through and through. A stalwart figure. To save humanity from the threat of extinction, she is willing to sacrifice even her life. To her allies, she aims to serve as a figure of hope; a weapon that will strike down any foe before it can take the lives of her comrades.

Outside of her life in the RCL, there is not much to Adarna. While Agent Adarna is a calm and collected figure in the battlefield, Maya is quiet and reserved. She is often alone, stuck in a daydream. When in the privacy of her quarters, she finds joy reading stories about heroes like those from her childhood.

Physical Identifiers

Maya stands at five foot four with a soldier’s physique. She has fair skin and long, raven black hair. Her eyes are a deep color of violet, brimming with Resonant energy. Several dark OMNis streaks run across her face, a mark of her status as an agent.

Background

Maya was born to a lower class family deep in the slums of Neo-Manila. A lone daughter to a sickly mother and an absent father.

With her mother bedridden, Maya shouldered the weight of providing for her family at an early age. Maya earned money from scavenging dump sites and street begging; and whenever sunset found her without any coin in her pocket, she resorted to thievery. That was her life. Find a way to get enough money, so she could buy enough food for her and her mother to barely scrape by. And then the next day, to do it all over again.

The only solace Maya had was at night. There it felt like the world stopped and it was only her and her mother alone, cuddled up in a small foam on the floor. Her mother, a failed writer, would tell Maya of legends. Maya would hear stories of people just like her; struggling, yet going on to do great things. Heroes. The notion of heroics seeped into her mind until it encompassed it completely.

At times stuck scavenging for scraps, Maya daydreamed of wizards taking her away on a quest. She yearned for a fairy godmother to whisk her off to a life much different from her mundane cycle, a life wherein she was someone special. A hero.

One day, Maya returned home early after a successful day of asking for alms. She came home to her mother’s lifeless body. The sickness, left untreated, had finally taken her. Suddenly Maya was alone, the only person in her life lost forever.

It was then, when Maya was at her lowest, did the men from Somnias Heavy Industry Megacorporation arrive at her doorstep. Her fairy godmother. They offered Maya the vague promise of greatness, all she had to do was accept.

She only asked them one thing. “Will I be a hero?”

“Not quite.” They answered.

The men brought Maya half a world away. They trained her in combat alongside others like her. She was subjected to experiments, turned into something greater. She welcomed it all, taking whatever came her way with open arms. Though still a child, she was now a soldier. Maya was gone, Agent ADARNA was born.

When her training was completed Agent Adarna operated as a covert mercenary. She fought wherever and whenever SHI directed. As they had promised her, she had been turned into something greater, but a hero she was not.

The call came when the heavens shattered, and from them demons emerged.

Shattered Heavens, the apocalyptic event, brought Agent Adarna to the Retalis Concordia Legions. Corruptants emerged, and humanity understood only that to survive, they must fight.

Feeling as though her entire life had led up to this moment, Agent Adarna rushed to the frontlines. She fought for humanity, a hero at last. The prospect of fighting for something greater gave Agent Adarna a strength she had not known she possessed.

Six long years of fighting passed by. Victory was in sight. Agent Adarna was where the battle was thickest, pushing with her squad of Agents towards Fractelum Megalith Alpha. It was then that Sons of Pythagoras emerged, wiping out her unexpecting squad completely.

Agent Adarna was the lone survivor, barely escaping with the rest of the RCL.

Though RCL was beaten, Agent Adarna’s resolve stayed true. Once more she rushes to the front lines, ready to fight at humanity’s last stand.

Combat

Primary Armament | Name: KIRT Blaster Gauntlets
A pair of gauntlets powered by KIRT technology. The gauntlets allow Agent Adarna to fire energy projectiles with her fists, much like a typical energy blaster. The act of firing a projectile requires Agent Adarna to punch the air, as if thrusting the energy forward to her target. The gauntlets can be fired like semi-automatic blasters or charged for a more devastating blow.

Secondary Armament | Name: ADARNA Shiverskin
This controversial technology implants Organic Metal Nanites (OMNis) into the subject whose DNA has been irreversibly altered to accept the foreign material. Shiverskin tech alters various sections of the subject's flesh and skin into a kind of dark matte organic metal, allowing the agent to utilize the OMNIs in a number of ways unique to their agent class. Before Shattered Heavens, using the Shiverskin abilities depleted OMNi density within the Agent, and if used too much, would be detrimental to their health. OMNi's could only be replaced by taking in a special supplement to regenerate supplies. However, after the discovery of Fractelum crystals, Somnias Heavy Industries found out that Fractelum implantation altered agent physiology to the point where their bodies could utilize innate Resonance or standard nourishment to replenish OMNi density.

Equip 1 | Name: Shiverskin Buster Cannon
When deployed, Agent Adarna’s OMNis manifests itself as a pair of directable cannons positioned above each of her shoulders called Buster Cannons. The Buster Cannons protrude from her upper back, where the concentration of OMNis is at its strongest in her body. In passive mode, Buster Cannons are capable of firing energy projectiles with a semi-automatic rate of fire. When harnessed to its full capabilities, the Buster Cannons rapidly fire a barrage of devastating multicolor energy projectiles.

Equip 2 | Name: Nano Combat Suit
A full body nanotech suit capable of protecting Agent Adarna from light attacks, but would fail to stop heavy hits. The suit can dissipate at Agent Adarna’s will, mostly used for opening up the suit’s helmet to show her face.

Spoiler: IMAGE

Equip 3 | Name: Kinetic Propulsion Gear
The Kinetic Propulsion Gear or KPG, for short, is a set of tiny devices that store and release kinetic energy in order to rapidly propel the wearer in the opposite direction. The Kinetic Propellers are attached directly to Agent Adarna’s Nano Combat Suit and are found at the palm of her hands and at the bottom of her feet. When used, the KPG allows Agent Adarna to quickly reposition herself in the battlefield. The KPG stores up to three propelling charges and needs to be replenished over time by passively absorbing kinetic energy from the surroundings. Although the KPGs intended use is to propel the user in the opposite direction, any being caught in the way of the kinetic blast will also be sent back with force.

Skill Flair: Adarna fights from afar, laying down bombardments of energy projectiles with her Buster Cannons and Gauntlet Blasters.When enemies manage to close the range, Adarna repositions herself away with the use of her Kinetic Propulsion Gear. Once a safe distance is achieved, Adarna begins the cycle anew until the enemy is dead.

CODEBREAKER | KANTA NG ADARNA: The manifestation of Adarna’s heroic will to protect her allies and save humanity. Adarna unleashes the full might of her offensive capabilities, pushing her Resonance past the utmost limit. The result is a decimating force of pure energy akin to a rainbow laser beam emanating from her Shiverskin Buster Cannons and her KIRT blaster gauntlets.

Extras

"I WILL BE YOUR HERO."

Skills:
-Agent Combat Training
-Resonator Combat Training

KANE

CODE /

SEROBLISS

 

[SilverFlight]

Retalis Concordia Legions

Gell RT Watanabe

Physique...........◆◆◆◆◆◆◇◇◇◇[6/10]
Willpower.........◆◆◆◆◆◆◇◇◇◇[6/10]
Resonance.......◆◆◆◇◇◇◇◇◇◇[3/10]

MALE / EDENIS / 24

SCRIM | FSF HIMARI

DECEMBER 10TH / NEO-HIROSHIMA

Overview

CODENAME: INUGAMI

PERSONALITY
The one thing people are quick to learn about Gell is that he has two sides to him: Off duty, he is relaxed and playful, with a laissez faire attitude and a knack for irritating the more serious team members. He is affectionate and attentive to those close to him and likes to play peacekeeper. He is also highly-motivated by food. When called to the front however, Gell's personality flips: He is all about the mission. Every move, every thought is concentrated toward achieving the goal. His focus is hairpin-sharp and his resolve is borderline suicidal. Gell is very efficient in combat, though often, people can find the switch unsettling. There are some things that can break his focus; he is very team-oriented, and will break away from his task to protect a friend.

The memories of his three dead siblings ebb and flow like a tide in his mind; sometimes they are stronger, and he can see clearly into their past, sometimes it is more of a feeling or a sensation, when he comes across something they liked, a food or piece of music. Now and again he can be caught drifting on his regret and the confusion of his loss. Gell was one of a four-piece set...and now he is alone. Gell sometimes has trouble interacting with people, either he is reluctant to engage, or he can be too forward. Gell thrives on physical affection: a gentle touch or a hug and is more than happy to return small gestures. He was close with his siblings, and misses the contact painfully. Gell tries very hard to be a part of the group. Friend and familial bonds mean everything to him and he does whatever he can to keep his team in harmony.

Gell is slowly coming to terms with his individuality, however the stability of his mind waivers when he is hit with his sibling's memories. At times it is hard for him to discern where they end and he begins. In combat it can be useful, their experiences give him a tactical advantage, but when in social situations or alone, it can be confusing. Still, Gell takes it in stride, and does his best to be what is expected of him, hoping that one day, he can see his mother again.

Physical Identifiers

There are a few features that give him away as Edenis: perhaps the two-toned hair, black with white underneath, or the way his irises are slightly larger than a normal human. There is an odd curve to his shins that betray a special tendon structure, giving him more spring in his gate, and his canine teeth are very slightly pointed, jutting just above the line. The trademark however is a pair of dog ears, one sticking straight up, the other flopping over at an angle on most occasions. Gell's eyes are a dusty yellow-brown and his build is lithe but strong. He often dresses in blacks, whites and greys, but the lining of his jacket is fire-orange silk. He is always seen with a thick, black choker around his neck, he can't explain it but it makes him feel more comfortable. Gell stands about 6'1" but tends to slope his shoulders downward when standing with people shorter than he is, to make himself appear smaller.

Background

PROJECT SIRIUS

Argos OD - brother - Surge - deceased
Gray FR - brother - Atunity - deceased
Hachi KO - sister - Galvode - deceased

Dr. Eiko Ikari - "mother" - status unknown

A warm summer day

Gell first opened his eyes to the smiling face of Dr. Ikari. Four identical babies, cloned from her dna, fused using Eden tech with the dna of a domestic dog. "Project Sirius" was the brainchild of a brilliant mind who had foreseen the folly of man and desired a warrior breed with the ferocity and tenacity of a predator, but the compassion and loyalty of man's best friend. Gell and his siblings were supposed to be the first of many, but due to the illegal nature of the experiments, Project Sirius ended with them.
Dr. Ikari was forced to flee her home, take a new name and raise the children as best she could, all the while making sure they trained, and knew why they had been created.

Dr. Eiko Watanabe became the local doctor of a small village just outside Neo-Hiroshima, a city that had a well-known history of hardship, but the children grew up happy, and bonded with each other like few siblings do. From before they could walk they worked as a unit, they shared what they had, used their skills cooperatively. Even before the Metaphasium, it seemed like they already knew each other's minds.

The scene is set

As they grew their dynamic took shape: Argos was the leader, decisive, and big, Gell was the second, witty and compassionate, Hachi was a protector, always seeing the bigger picture, and Gray was the heart, going above and beyond to help everyone he could. Project Boundless Universe imploded when they were only 16, and Ikari's worst fears had come true. Life was harder after that, but Ikari protected and trained her charges still, moving into the FSF Himari to keep them safe, all the while telling them that they were destined to stop the madness that had now taken their home.

By the time they were registered at the Himari RCL, under fake IDs to disguise their unnatural origin, all four were in peak physical condition and trained using the best technology Ikari could get. The dangers they were about to face were almost unbelievable, but Gell wasn't afraid, his family was his strength, and he would face the end itself with a smile, if he could do it beside them. Argos became the Surge of the team, Gray the Atunity, Hachi was the Galvode and Gell a Scrim.

Cardinal connections

Something happened then, on their very first night after the Metaphasium: When Gell closed his eyes he saw flashes of light, visions from eyes that weren't his. His dreams were filled with voices he recognized, but with words he didn't remember. Speaking to his siblings the morning after, they had all had these strange dreams, slowly they realized that not only could they read each other better, they could connect their minds. The effect was subtle, no more than a fleeting image, thought or compulsion, but they all four decided to try and develop it.
Over the months that passed they became one of the most effective fighting forces against the corruptants. "Sirius" was gaining notoriety, even a small amount of fame, that is...until the Sons of Pythagoras made their move.

In the wake of betrayal

The fallout of their betrayal sewed chaos everywhere. Chains of command were lost, teams were cut off and without aid. Corruptants swarmed bases and while cities were left to burn. The next few weeks were Hell.
Argos was the first to fall, sacrificing himself and using his codebreaker to dive into a swarm of spliced mechs, making an opening for his family to escape. They all felt his death through the connection their Resonance had given them.
Gray was next, crushed trying to free trapped Resonators in a collapsing building. He got them out, but died of his wounds shortly after. Hachi was killed by a friend, an echo who had lost her handler and with no access to the medication she needed, her mind began to deteriorate quickly. Hachi used her codebreaker to drain the echo's power, killing them both but preventing the ensuing explosion.

The broken soldier

Gell did not count the days that passed after that. He had lost all of his siblings, the memories of their final moments were etched into his mind. He could not contact his mother, the base or anyone he had known. The only thing keeping him alive was his directive, and his dogged instinct for survival, that, and a small video device his mother made for them; it contained films throughout their lives. In the dark nights, huddled with the few supplies he could scrounge, Gell would watch them, gazing into happier times and clinging to the sweeter memories that remained.

Gell was found eventually, still fighting on the line he had been assigned to with his team. He was rescued and taken back to FSF Angela, where for the next few months he recuperated and tried to heal his mind. He was given a new codename "Inugami", the last surviving Siruis fighter, and when he was stable enough to rejoin the fight, they introduced him to some of the other surviving Resonators.

Combat

Primary Armament | KIRT shape-shifting gauntlets: These special gloves are armoured and based on fast reaction smart tech, they can adjust their shape with a scrim's transformations. Gell's gauntlets have a built in heat pump, that can absorb or expel heat on contact, allowing him to ignite or freeze anything he hits. There is a ten second reform command needed for the function switch however.

Secondary Armament | The Zenith: A simple handgun for close-quarter firefights, small cartridges but quick to reload. Regular rounds can be swapped for explosive, incendiary or shock rounds.

Equip 1 | Sonic Stunner: This device emits a high-powered sonic frequency that can stun smaller splinters, and makes larger ones more susceptible to scrim control. It can also affect some spliced hardware units, based on the technology. It has an effect radius of thirty feet (10 meters), after that, the effects diminish exponentially by yard (meter), and the timing of the effect is approximately 30 seconds.

Equip 2 | Plasma cord: A unique type of resilient cord that channels plasma energy. It can interrupt both muscular and circuitry signalling, making it an effective restraining device for small splinters and spliced units. Gell uses this to help restrain splinters so he can wrest control of their minds more quickly. It can also be attached to a pair of weighted spheres, making it into a throw-able capture device.

Equip 3 | KIRT nanofiber armour: A thin-layered body suit with kinetic redirection smart tech that acts as well as a full-armoured suit. When the fibers are active Gell can take the newton force of a speeding car without serious damage. It is thin enough that he can wear it under his clothes without discomfort. The suit is susceptible to electric discharges and can deactivate, significantly reducing its effect. Similarly, the suit can only take 3-4 massive hits before it must recharge, during this time its protective effects are reduced to nearly zero.

Skill Flair: Gell is a tactical but in-your-face fighter. He gets close, taking every small advantage, hitting weak points and shaving down enemy strength little by little while trying to minimize damage to himself. Some of his evaluators say he fights like a wolf, diving in and out of range, striking ruthlessly but efficiently. He uses the control element of his power only when it provides a strong tactical advantage, and prefers using his weapons or borrowing those from Splinters. Gell is very much a frontliner, and though he follows orders to other effects, he is best used in this way.

CODEBREAKER | Noctus Fenrir: Gell is overcome by the pain and fear each of his siblings experienced at their deaths. The edenis dna coupled with his Resonance combines to construct a splinter form about his entire body that appears as a giant, dog-like creature. In this form Gell has exponentially-increased strength and power over splinters. The time he is able to retain the form is dependent on the level of damage he has taken before the codebreaker began.

Extras

"It'll always be too early to quit."

Skills:

Edenis traits: Canis lupus famliaris - the domestic dog
Hieghtened emotional perception - Gell can often tell how people are feeling, by their body language, subtle queues in the tone of their voice, and he responds to it more keenly than most.
Keen nose - Gell's sense of smell is more sensitive than a human's and this can be both a blessing or a curse when living in a world of people without his gift.

Other skills:
Hand-eye coordination - Gell tends to be good at things that involve hand-eye coordination, he can throw things with a high consistency which makes him good at several sports and games, it also makes him a fairly good shot.

Metal-work - When left to his own devices and with the right equipment, Gell can be fairly crafty with metal. He's a fair hand at circuitry too and likes tinkering with machines. He can fix some forms of vehicle and weaponry. He'll stay away from the computer systems though.

Cooking - Thanks to Gell's abnormal sense of smell he discovered he is very good at measuring out ingredients for flavour. This made him a favourite in the kitchen wherever he went and he carries that skill to this day.

Spoiler: Writing sample: The King's Hound

“Can’t this wait until morning Dr. Ikari?” The old scientist grumbled as he followed his colleague down a flight of steps in their laboratory building. The hallway was cool. Solid concrete walls, unadorned, lined the metal stairwell. The thick, grain-like scent of agar and the sharp tones of ethanol were familiar to him, but there was something else in the air, something damp and organic, he could not place it.

“I want to tell you a story, Dr Ibrahm.” Ikari said. Her voice quivered. How long had she been awake?

“Is this really the time?” He muttered, and was ignored as his colleague continued without waiting:

“Once there was a king, the king was wealthy and had many fine horses and hounds, but his favourite hound, Gelert, he prized above all else. This hound slept in the castle at the foot of his master’s bed, and ate the best meals. He was the most loyal dog any had ever seen, defending his king from man and beast alike, running beside him on hunts and even in war.”

“Where are you going with this?”

They had reached the bottom of the stairs when Ikari stopped at the door, yet she continued to speak as if she had not heard him.

“One day the king returned from a trip away to find his favourite dog bounding from the castle gates toward him, its jaws dropping with fresh blood. The only source the king could think of was his infant son, left in his chambers where the dog would rest. The king rushed upstairs and saw the room torn apart, blood on every surface and the cradle upturned. Distraught at his suspicions being confirmed he took his sword and that moment, he cut his beloved dog down. It was only when the dog lay dying that he heard the baby’s cry, from underneath the overturned cradle. The child was unharmed, but when the king pulled the debris away, he found the infant laying on the body of a dead wolf.”

The door opened slowly and Ikari stepped in, leaving her colleague to follow in her wake. The room was filled with an eerie blue light, the source of which was hidden behind a set of vast machines that hummed their mechanical lullaby, unfaltering, as Ikari walked past. Claws sounded on the floor and a white German shepherd trotted up to Ikari, whining and pressing against her leg. She gave it a scratch behind the ear and its tongue lolled.

“The king cradled his dog’s head in his arms as the last of its life bled away, and the dog? It wagged its tail, still possessing such love for its master that it could not be angry. You see Ibrahm? Dogs. They are truly the perfect creatures. Fearless, loyal, they make the perfect companions…and they will help make the perfect soldiers.”

Ibrahm paled when he heard that. “Ikari…what did you do?”

They came around those humming machines and suddenly he saw the source of the light: Four identical tubes filled will blue liquid and lit from underneath. The auras of the moving water slid across the floor, the table, and over Dr Ikari, who looked like an ethereal being, bathed in the light.

“I saved humanity.”

Ibrahm drew in a breath as his eyes fell on the contents of the tubes: in each, curled and sleeping, there was a human infant. Four babies, four clones soldiers.

“Eden created these beings to explore space, but she failed to realize their true potential.”

“T-this…this is highly illegal Ikari! Human experimentation was banned, even Eden’s project only utilized consenting adult candidates, what you’ve done here…I’ll report you to the council.”

Ibrahm turned on his heal and Ikari put a hand out but stopped. The dog’s lolling tongue had vanished, its lip curled and the beginnings of a growl began to rise in its throat. Its eyes were fixed on her hand, waiting for the signal to move. One second passed, then two…three.

Ikari slowly put her hand down. “No Ibrahm, I’m not wrong. I’m sorry you don’t see it now…but you will.”

The doctor returned to the four babies, her babies, floating in their dreams.

“But they are not ready…I still need to graft the most important neural pathways…but I am out of time! Thanks to the fool overreacting like he did…agh! I can’t grow more canine cells!” She slammed her fist down on the table. “I don’t have time to grow them...”

The shepherd whined at her feet and drew her eyes down upon it. Slowly, she reached down to stroke the side of its head.

“Yes…dogs are happy to make the greatest sacrifices.”

KANE

CODE /

SEROBLISS

 

[mizton]

Retalis Concordia Legions

Angel Salvatierra

HANDLER: Gell

Male / Echo / 25

Machine Savant | FSF TERESA

Nov. 9, 2139 / Neo-CDMX

PWR Stats

Physique

◆◆◆◇◇◇◇◇◇◇ [03/10]

willpower

◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◇◇ [08/10]

resonance

◆◆◆◆◇◇◇◇◇◇ [04/10]

Overview

codename

WINGS

A jaded, ex-golden boy. It wasn't too long ago that his image looped on holoboards across Andlang, reciting messages of hope from FSF TERESA's angel. The fortress' morale campaign videos eventually reaching the rest of Andlang. Beyond, if licensing allowed. Now, nothing but a memory since the uprising.

Physical Identifiers

A man of average stature, standing at 5'10". His ID pictures a younger man with his same blond hair & mismatched eyes, but with a chin held high & soft expression. These days, it's a half-lidded, lopsided grin & a slouch. Though he performs well enough in combat, there's a gauntness about him that he deliberately hides away in standard issue body armor, even off-duty.

Personality

An auxiliary unit often rotated through teams, Angel's teams are often debriefed of a recent accident of his & authorized to restrain him whenever necessary. He supposes he's always lived on a leash, but it's only now that he sees it. These days, he's less an angel & more a caged bird - a tool. An expensive one at that. Before his accident, he was a tolerant, earnest soldier with an interest of putting forth his best foot. Assignment after assignment, that performance slips more & more & he lets it.

One to leave caution to the wind, easily seduced by whims. He speaks with little reservation in the interest of his own amusement, though his outward apathy hardly shows it. There's nothing more entertaining than undoing the strait-lace of rigid teams through agitation or coquetry. It's not like he'll see them again, after all. If he does, they've been mixed & matched into other quilted teams who've also suffered losses. There's nothing to laugh at on the frontlines, so he likes to humor himself outside of them whenever he can.

As his only real hold over it, he tends to make light of his downfall. It's not often, as most could care less, but for the few that outwardly recognize him, he enjoys that drop in their face when he shatters expectations. In the past, he entertained them, exuding an air of that noble angel of hope on soda cans. Now, he'll chug one & blow eructed air at them for asking.

Subject to mania, without external stimuli to stir him, Angel can also be a quiet presence. Before calamity, he'd always been a perceptive man of introspection. It was his rearing as a politician's son that endowed him with a sharp mind for justice & egalitarianism; that mind, whose views tended to oppose its creator's, driving a rift between the two; that rift, instilled in Angel the need for approval, one which persists even today in self-image awareness. Trust a son to cast his father's shadow.

He leaves his heart on the battlefield, fueled by his ardor for duty. For as long as he's been a soldier, that's always been the case but, these days... there's a venom to it. He's always been a hothead when it came to his views, as he's prone to frustration & fighting against opposition, but he's always had the heart to dampen it. That's gone now or at least his patience to do so is. He's intolerant of his teammates errors, while painfully aware of his own; missions with him are not without cynical quips on the light side & outright verbal abuse on the heavier. One who, recently, has realized his outbursts have little repercussion. He could scream a teammate's head off & only get reassigned the following day; for as much of a hazard as he is, he gets results.

Angel suffers a consistent barrage of disembodied voices while conscious, characteristic of Echoes ever since the sky fell. They don't speak suggestions to him, though he'll say they do to get a reaction, but rather create a constant dissonance within his head. Thousands of echoes of the past haunting his every waking moment with him as their only audience. These voices tangle with his own thoughts, rendering him reliable on only what he sees. Though, even then, a delusional parasitosis haunts his vision; an irrational delusion of WISPs crawling out of his skin, characterized by formication & him itching at these tactile hallucinations.

At night is when his broken psyche really announces itself as he possesses sundown syndrome, or an increased sensitivity to confusion & anxiety in the late afternoon, lasting well into the night. In reaction, he becomes easily aggressed & intolerant of direction, pacing or wandering to soothe his own self. It's at these times that, if he's on base, he'll overwhelm himself with simulations at those odd hours of a given day to get out of his own head. If you'd ask him, it's only training.

There's no shortage of gossip pertaining to the corruption of TERESA's angel. Though, in this regard, it's less a corruption but more a recent reality that there'd never been a "good" Echo; he'd just always bothered to mask his symptoms.

Background

EARLY LIFE

Son of a single father, born into a family of politicians, Angel's upbringing was a more-than-comfortable one. His extended family's combined wealth & investment ventures within Lex Sanitas made them easily one of the richest within Neo-CDMX. When SIN first begun mass production, the Salvatierras were one of the first to sponsor this effort. As a result, Angel & his father were also of the first recipients of SIN; Angel being one of the youngest, still only a child at the time. His father campaigned for the accessibility of SIN within Neo-CDMX, promising government collaboration for subsidized SIN healthcare. At the time, these efforts were well-received.

Youngest of the family, Angel's childhood memories are filled with him sitting out of family gatherings, preferring to sprawl across a couch too big for him, playing handheld games while the adults talked politics. When he was old enough to begin understanding, he'd sit in on these conversations &, as kids often do, grew to be the little contrarian within the family. He was cute back then, enough to be offhandedly interviewed during one of his father's public events. When he was expected to say something cute as a candidate's child, Angel instead recalled the unethical sourcing of nanity manufacture. Never again. After that day, he was forbidden from public speaking. At least, during his father's events. On his own, he gained some local popularity as an environmental advocate during his teenage years. These views were popular among Neo-CDMX's youths & his rallies were always under his family's protection, due to their influence. As much of a sore point his public views were for the family & his father, he was always looked after.

SHATTERED HEAVENS

Still, no amount of power, money, or influence could've prevented what Angel saw the day the world shattered. To this day, it haunts his subconscious. He was 18 then.

He'd been out the entire day after a falling out with his father that morning. Angel, always the prodigal son, had come home only for dinner. Angel had been at the table, mindlessly flipping through flashcards, with his father in the kitchen when the rumbling first began. Any device with a holoscreen gave notice of a tremor & at the warning, they'd taken shelter under the table. There'd been no tremor, just a deep sound from the floorboards.

It was odd, he remembered. Of the exact moment, Angel had no recollection, just a skipping sequence of memory that played out of order. In one, he watched his father's proportions stretch by the smallest margin. In another, he sees his father's mouth saying something that doesn't reach his ears. In others, there's countless details of the single instant prior that play different each time in his recollection. All before a spurt of red consumes his vision & the rest plays out as it did in reality. His ears had popped at the sound. He'd seen the whole thing & could only sit in horror for a moment, blinking at the sudden empty space before him. A warmth soaked him initially - soaked the walls & the underside of the table he occupied - before cooling to a haunting chill. As the space was small, he'd been holding onto his father's arm when the rumbling began. Angel had looked down in horror when he then realized that was still true.

To this day, he can recall that morning's argument. Sometimes, he dreams of an alternate reality where he comes home earlier. Regardless of how many times he's dreamed it, the heavens & his father still shatter but, at least this time, he's apologized for the morning & helped out with dinner. Things of the like. These dreams comes to him vividly; he's able to hug his father prior.
The mornings after that dream often go slowly. The dream's reoccurred so often that, even to this day, sometimes he'll wake up mistaking it for a memory; those days are the easiest to manage.

AFTERMATH

In the immediate weeks that followed, outrage broke out against the government who'd distributed SIN & Lex Sanitas for conceiving the idea. What remained of Neo-CDMX's politicians were executed in blind retribution. In passing, Angel overheard a remaining news outlet cover the execution of an aunt who he'd known to have been an executive within Lex. He watched her death in the street be streamed on a flicking holoboard.

Angel's surname came with unease, but forgiven for his youth. With little else to turn to, he joined a refuge community that later would become FSF TERESA. Before that, he'd become one of the many community leaders within what remained of Neo-CDMX. As there was little interest in trusting an 18 year-old to handle public relations, he did what he could elsewhere & led excavation efforts of nearby Megaliths. Any able-bodied person that could helped to gather this material that'd later be sold to neighboring communities for resources. It wasn't long before the megacorporation Lex Sanitas took notice. Funds were steadily funneled into their community. With this shift, Angel took up arms with the local militia which had formed to, initially, control civilian uprisings, but now to keep Lex Sanitas' representatives in check.

CORRUPTANTS

With the corruptants who appeared a year or two later, came Lex Sanitas & their endeavor to establish FSF TERESA as a base to fend off these creatures. Their militia had little success in fending them (or Lex Sanitas) off themselves, so it was formally converted to an RCL division &, in their urgency to mobilize, Angel's militia was approved for Metaphasium. It was a little exciting, he remembered; this sentiment that they'd become soldiers for the community brought a light air within the group. In their time together since Shattered Heavens, Angel had grown close to his squad & couldn't help but share their sentiment.

The process failed, initially.

For Angel, this simply meant a rescheduling. He'd felt relatively fine after the first failure, but was kept in quarantine until his procedure date & even for a couple days after a succesful Metaphasium process. It was a poor intern that came into his dorm one day to update him on his squad's status.

Again, it was odd, he remembered. Of the exact moment, Angel again couldn't remember exactly what he'd heard. Something about SIN, about his being an Inherent, how the others couldn't handle some crystal, how there'd be a ceremony held later that week. The words said were lost on him, but the meaning couldn't be clearer. In his rage, a white fragment of something shot toward the kid. They couldn't have been much older than himself, but Angel couldn't forget how scared they'd looked; it was like looking at a child who'd seen a ghost.

As instantly as the thought to bring harm to the intern came, so did regret. A white wall constructed itself before the intern to block the perceived projectile. Before Angel could make any sense of what'd happened, a sting struck him at the neck.

A NEW LIFE

It was a week later that he woke up. He was given a debrief on his situation & the incident, in simple terms: his friends had passed away during the process. He'd shot one & then a mass of WISP at the intern. (He later bought the kid a protein bar as an apology.) That was all there was to say, they'd told him. Alongside him sat Resonators like him. His new team, he was told, but not to get too attached.

The particular RCL branch in TERESA carried out a rotation system when it came to the few Inherent Resonators they had; they believed that, if they never needlessly attached themselves to their teammates, they'd never overexert themselves to the point of risking Dissonance. This particular phenomenon startled Angel.

His family had already suffered enough of a fate as a result of SIN. They endorsed what they believed would help the people of Neo-CDMX & it backfired. Understanding this, Angel felt an obligation to not repeat the past. One, to not put anyone in danger of another calamity brought upon by SIN. Two, in memory of his family. Salvatierra had brought enough perceived tragedy; he did not want to add to the stigma that his name brought.

Without so much as a chance to mourn the loss of the single closest thing he'd had to a family since the cataclysm, he was deployed with a new squadron. So began the rest of his life. A life of overscheduled missions, of persistent voices of lost comrades, & of endured smiles. Angel became the model Echo, obedient & self-controlled. Whatever asked, he did. Whenever called to duty, he answered, fatigue be damned. As a result of his frequency in appearing on missions & his knack for public image, he began something of a popular figure within his sanctum. A people's soldier. A redeemed Salvatierra. The angel of TERESA. A good Echo.

THE ACCIDENT

Until he wasn't.

Combat

Primary Armament | Seraph's Edge

A pole weapon with a sharp head, embedded with KIRT technology. Modified for Machine Savant use, capable of withstanding sudden self-inflicted attachments of WISPs to aid in combat, ranging from creating a mallet of WISP, lengthening the head for more range, or increasing its lacerating ability through the WISPs' power.

Equip 1 | Full-body Active LEX Performance Suit, Series 6

Undergone countless user-specific alterations over the years. A standard-issue powered exoskeleton suit for military use, sponsored by megacorp Lex Sanitas & characterized by its green light. Lightweight in nature, allowing for full range of movement at the cost of protection. Can withstand reasonable mission-typical damage, its durability increasing with every series - Angel's being the second-most recent. Capable of propulsion in any given direction twice an hour.

Equip 2 | LEX Shield Tetrix Attachment

A set of four KIRT cybernetic appendages. When commanded, emit or retract an energy shield from each. Capable of reliably sustaining medium damage; for heavier damage or impact, they require overnight recharge. The shields are flexible in nature, able to concave in defense or swat away small enemies.

Hand-sized attachments towards the upper back of Angel's exosuits, each with the appearance of a little wing, connecting to the response network built within. Active, the energy shields emitted have a wingspan of 10'. Built of overlapping feather-like hard energy to construct two sets of wings at the user's back, though incapable of flight. As a result of their connection to the LEX suit, the shields emitted glow green. Angel doesn't even like green.

Skill Flair

Angel is a quick damage dealer who attacks in heavy-hitting bursts.

As a result of his fragility, he'll stay out of the fray either by use of cover or high ground above the field until he sees an opening. When he does, he'll plunge in with great velocity & slash through enemies. He'll drop in on an enemy, using his shields to increase his cross-sectional area & slow his descent, if necessary, at the cost of losing out on initial burst damage. His suit's propulsion is often used to disengage.

When it comes to his weapon, he's able to throw it & command WISP to recall it for him.

CODEBREAKER | CIELOS DESTROZADOS

Take me home.

The theoretical manifestation of Angel's desire to return to a life before calamity. In a last ditch effort, Angel overwhelms his Resonance by summoning all WISP in a given radius & commands them to circle a given mass of enemies. A dome is constructed to encase them, with visions of the sky, the clouds, & heavens above reflected across its rippling structure. Contained in this mass, the enemies are subjected to a deep rumbling of latent WISP below the earth that can be felt even beyond. Then, in an instant, everything shatters. The burst of Resonance-powered energy echoes the disembodied voices of Angel's mind - their agony, joy & relief all in dissonance.

As it's only mimicry of Shattered Heavens, the reality is that particles are at such a high-energy that a lacerating storm is devastating whatever's within the dome. The aftermath of this manifestation recreates a similar scene of Angel's youth, painting the surrounding area in spilled gore.

Extras

"No autographs."

SKILLS

Public speaking, negotiation, Resonator combat training

PLAYLIST

SAMPLE

Spoiler: Writing Sample - mizton

There was her answer.


First wrinkled by twitching hand during conversation & then snaffled snugly, yes, she supposed that was what he'd thought of it. A souvenir, how one pockets a particularly smooth stone found during an outing. A curious oddity of nature to be plucked from the earth & set on the windowsill of a bedroom. That was all. Lamely, she could only think, with eyes lightly fixed at his breast, I drew that. Now it lay soiled, smudged, creased, & stowed like a receipt. Idly, having devoted herself as a children's maid for the last three months, she thought, That'll stain. He'd have to clean that pocket later. Or she, if she saw it in the laundry later.

Else what, she had mumbled with sharp tongue in response to something Makoto had said, but now she knew. As if she'd been caught passing notes in class, Mr. Madiyarov was scolding her & she suddenly felt very small, as if she'd shrank beyond her own perception. Without children around, there was an odd reality to her appearance in that moment. The wickedness that fueled the frills of her sleeves & apron deflated, her stillness allowed them to lay flatly onto her pointed frame, pronouncing a dress that now felt ill-fitted. It draped much too loosely on her body, swallowing her as if she'd stood inside it on a clothesline, her pointed shoulders as the pins it hung by. When one thought caretaker, round, kind features tended to come to mind. Adelaide was none of this.

She felt too small. This room was too big. Makoto was too close. And now he offered her money. The sight, initially stoked a comfortable flame within her. It dissipated, thought, at the memory it conjured.
For a long moment or two, she could only hold her tongue at the sight of the pounds. It held her full attention, like her teacher really had called her out into the hall. There were three, she'd noticed. Without holding them, that's how many could be seen & she was rather sure of it. By reflex of her past, her wrist lurched up from her side until her mind caught on & stifled the motion. Just as quickly, she looked at her own hand, seemingly insulted by its ability to act without her knowledge.

This much was enough to put her household at ease, she had noted. Her brows gave gentle rise at this. In finding work & board under Lockheed, money hadn't crossed her mind once. Still, she rationed the body never forgot. She'd never lived uncomfortably, her mother made sure, but children always knew & Adelaide had been no exception. Her mother was clever in her storytelling, but no amount of imagination could warm a little girl on cold nights.

Like a little girl, Adelaide too daydreamed then; it was only a moment, but the image of her young mother counting banknotes on the kitchen table was enough for Adelaide to bite her lip at it. It'd been a long time that she thought of a day that wasn't tomorrow; as a realist, one always tends to forget themselves in the everyday. It was impractical to think of the past, she'd come to learn over the years. Particularly impractical at evening time. When hours passed as minutes & morning came ceaselessly, day after day. To wake was a bottle-ache with no beer. Apart from her temper, tardiness tended to be what landed her in fresh air. Here with no commute, with strict routine, & with children expecting her; it was easy to wake up. So when Makoto's offer of money brought forth memory of her mother, Adelaide too faltered as he had earlier.
Her lips parted as if to speak - to remedy this all, to return their dynamic to a time before the ink spill - but to lift her tongue at that moment then felt like a gargantuan task that she couldn't manage. There was nothing to say. Too much had been said already. If she spoke now, she'd surely warble, a clenched throat warned her. Even if by a gesture that she'd seen actors take acted offense towards in movies - that perhaps she should too - Makoto had apologized. His wrong, in her mind, was cleared, but here she was: with inconvenient memories, bothering this near-stranger, in a room too big, Makoto too close. A pit welled in her empty stomach, reminding her afternoon tea was soon. All this & she'd still not finished cleaned. The dust that had fascinated her earlier now reminded her only of her incompetence.

All this time, a heat rose to her cheeks, threatening towards her eyes. After the long moment or two, in spite of her interest of responding properly, Adelaide could only wonder miserably, "What am I going to do with this?"

As promised, her voice wavered. Involuntarily, she blinked & down split the warmth. Simultaneous in both eyes, only a single tear in each. Oh, for fuck's sake, Adelaide gave an inward huff & wiped irritably at one cheek. In quick motion, she now gently held the book to her chest, having pushed back the leaflets offered.

"Never mind," came from her, spiritless. Her words were short & small, "That's quite alright."

CREDIT

CODE /

SEROBLISS

 

[Sharatayn]

Retalis Concordia Legions

Helena Zeresveil

Physique...........◆◆◆◆◆◆◇◇◇◇[6/10]
Willpower.........◆◆◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇[2/10]
Resonance.......◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◇◇◇[7/10]

FEMALE / EDENIS / 27

ATUNITY | FSF ANGELA

14TH MARCH 2137 / NEO-ITALIA

Overview

CODENAME.: VULPES
Playful and seemingly unprofessional, Vulpes appears to have taken wrong choice after wrong choice, ultimately leading to the unorthodox combatant you may see before you. Despite being of the Atunity Resonance, she mostly trained in close quarters combat; despite being well off and having a chance at a peaceful life (at least for a while), she decided to travel to a different Sanctum, and to undertake the Metaphasium Chamber procedure in order to become a Synthetic Resonant.
A girl surrounded by contradictions and nonsensical actions, only making sense to herself. Even so, she at least knew better than to admit she embarked on a journey with such a grim outlook 'because it seemed fun.' Hahah, well, that's only half true, in the first place. To be free...
Free from what? Who knows. Even she's not entirely certain, all things considered. But there is a certain freedom in the way she acts, unbound by logic and common sense, so maybe she's gotten her wish fulfilled?

Physical Identifiers

With bright brown hair and light amber eyes, Helena was an expert in standing out by being the most visually unremarkable person around. So much so, if someone that knew her back then saw her now, chances are they wouldn't recognize her in the slightest, even if she was the same 5'7" tall and had the same lithe build. But well, who else would ever dare travel so far from home, while it still stands?
The long hair that was left messily untied is now held up in twin-tails, almost competing with the fox ears that betray her as an Edenis. And the glasses she wore everywhere are nowhere to be seen - not to mention the rest of her outfit preference seems to have been flipped over its head. One could think the Fractelum may have gotten to her head a little bit, but hey, there are certainly worse things that could have happened inside that chamber, right?

Background

The only daughter born to Arthur Veil and Gina Zeres, Helena enjoyed one of the rare peaceful lifestyles that were still able to be maintained. Not so poor that they had to struggle to survive, and not so rich that they were seen as an important person to be won over.
While her parents were somewhat influential figures in their respective fields (those being Bio-Technology for Arthur and Medicine for Gina,) they weren't so well regarded that they would be invited to any sort of secret project, let alone being informed of them. So as the years passed, and their daughter grew up, they simply went along with what they believed would be best for her; she was far from mistreated, but also not quite spoiled. It was as average of an upbringing as their slightly-above-average family could provide.

That is, of course, all a matter of the past. A past before Shattered Heavens. All things considered, they were quite lucky, especially for how incredibly unprepared they were for such a catastrophe. Still, none of them lost their lives outright. There were some close calls, for sure; it would be stranger if there hadn't been. But they were all left standing, between rubble and ash, all left to figure out a new path to pave in life. A path fraught with danger and horror. Before they could rest, the Corruptants arrived. Before they could establish a new place for themselves, Sanctums were founded, and Resonators became more and more common.

And so the years passed. Before her parents could notice, she had become fully independent, and even moved from Absynthium all the way to Sanctum Andlang without prior notice. There, without a single relative, friend or acquaintance, she finally felt free. Helena felt like she was her own person. And so one of the first things she did was sign up for a very 'healthy' dose of Fractelum Crystal radiation. It made perfect sense, well to her it did anyways, and fittingly enough she exited the Chamber, reborn as a Resonant. Atunity...well, let's give it a little spin. Where's the fun in only scouting and healing others?
It took some time for her equipment designs to be approved and manufactured, and even longer for her eccentric style to be allowed. But beggars can't be choosers, and another able combatant would be useful anyways...even if she could have gone about things differently. Now part of one of the only Fortresses left standing, it was about time she was properly utilized for something. Let's just hope her luck throughout the years has remained with her.

Combat

Primary Armament | Cersen.: With a 6' long handle made up of a strong composite material, a scythe-like KIRT blade measuring 40 inches long, and tiny Hydrogen thrusters all throughout its handle's length, Cersen is the first of many custom-made equipment Vulpes designed for herself.
While somewhat eccentric-looking, the reason behind the thrusters is easy to notice - actioned by specific motions performed within the gloves, Cersen can be made to rush in with force Vulpes could normally never exert, or it can be pulled back closer to her, either to prepare for an incoming attack or to deliver a second strike of her own in quick succession. Granted they are performed in different directions, up to 3 such bursts can take place before requiring some time to let the material cool back down. Within the handle, enough Hydrogen for 12 different bursts is stored, equivalent to a single Boreas burn in quantity.

Secondary Armament | Staff of Boreas.: A staff, about 3' long, with a flared top end that can be used as a sort of mace in the case of emergencies. However, the staff's main function comes to light as the burners hidden within its KIRT flanges engage. By burning Hydrogen directly, the many thrusters within can create a propulsion force that can easily push Vulpes, and have her hover just above the floor. Much like Cersen's burners, intensity and direction is controlled by her gloves, allowing her to travel short distances in swift bursts, or deliver a strong gust of flame in a single direction (so long as she can properly anchor herself to the ground.) After each burst, the thrusters must cool down, lest most of the precise components that went into making them function properly melt down.
While inactive, the staff collects moisture and loose Hydrogen from the air within a Sanctum, gathering it to fill up the reserves in other equipment.

Equip 1 | Marianas Sub-Storage System.: A large and unwieldy Liquid Hydrogen tank, fastened to Vulpes' back as if it were a backpack. Strong yet flexible cables connect it to the Staff of Boreas, and a port near the bottom of its side allows for swift recharges to Cersen. Periodically refilled by an inactive Staff of Boreas, a full Marianas can provide enough burn-time for up to fifty different Boreas bursts. From empty, it takes up to a day to refill passively, but this can be accelerated by providing the Staff with a moisture-rich environment, cutting the wait time in half. The Marianas also doubles as an attachment point for all of her equipment, allowing Vulpes to travel with both hands free, and to reach quickly for her weapons if the moment calls for them; some of its attachment points are magnetically locked, and when released, burrow down on whatever surface Vulpes is standing on, providing anchorage for more violent releases of flame.
Throughout the years, a secondary port, usually hidden behind a port door, has been included on the top of the Marianas. Inserting a bottle of safe-to-drink water on it, and allowing it to close down, will let the tank be filled back up as if it was in a moisture-rich environment, taking 12 hours per bottle to get back to full. This was added after the long trips outside of Fortresses and Sanctums forced Vulpes to realize that she would not be privy to good sources of Hydrogen in the harsh world outside the barriers.

Equip 2 | Calderas Sub-Storage System.: Consisting of two relatively small 'pouches' attached to the sides of the Marianas, the Calderas are Iodine and Oxygen reservoirs respectively. The Oxygen side is present to ensure the Hydrogen flames have a proper burn, while the Iodine side is added to the Staff for stronger and fiercer flames when attempting a direct attack. While they must both be manually refilled, the consumption rate for both is so low that it would take weeks of constant use to deplete them. Certainly much longer than a single Marianas tank could provide.

Equip 3 | Beta Arietis.: A seemingly normal pair of gloves, their insides are laced with dozens of different switches, tactile controls, and wiring. Requiring the most precise and minute movements to activate the proper burner in the right manner, they are likely only usable by Vulpes, the one who designed them and the rest of her equipment in the first place. Interestingly, the outside layer is made of the same material as the rest of her clothes, providing her with strong resistance to high temperatures, in case a burner is close to her hand when actioned. They communicate with the equipment through a series of encoded short-wave signals, making it hard to interrupt or take over by someone else, while still allowing her to use the burners when not in direct contact.

Skill Flair.: About as far from a normal Atunity's combat sense as one can get, Vulpes utilizes her Resonance's boons in order to control her body perfectly, and to know when and where to strike for the best effects. Complementing the limited perception the Atunity Resonance grants her over others with the very unique fighting style that utilizing a Scythe calls for, she rushes in and delivers strike after strike. Furthermore, using the thrusters to increase the strength behind each hit also allows her to pull her weapon back when necessary, both to guard and to strike once more before the target has had time to recover.
All the focus she gave to the other parts of her Resonance rendered the rest of the usual Atunity kit, both tuning to foster their healing and taking on damage instead of someone else, into much weaker versions of what other Atunity may be able to muster. While she is able to perform these, their effectiveness may seem reduced.

CODEBREAKER | Frozen Lotus Grasp.: Grab at what is left of this your world, and do not let go, no matter what.
Pulling at what is left of the Code of Life surrounding her, two giant arms with claws for fingers, seemingly made of ice, are solidified from whatever is left in the surrounding air. These arms float through 3D space at frightening speeds following Vulpes' whims, can self-repair with any gaseous matter in the surrounding atmosphere, and take incredible amounts of force to break in the first place. Once the mental strain of maintaining them is too much for her, they become independent from her wishes, and will simply move to either protect any with Resonant energy within them, or exterminate any that possess or deal with corrupted sections of the Code of Life, such as Corruptants. Without her to keep them in check, however, they can no longer keep repairing themselves, and so it is only a matter of time before they are destroyed beyond usefulness.

Extras

"The one and only Promise all must adhere to. A promise of death, as one passes on, the last to be fulfilled."

Skills.:
Scythe Combat.: Extremely unwieldy weapon, only someone that has focused all their training to making it work (with a little bit of help from the special equipment) could properly utilize it in combat.

Minute Muscular Control.: Not just helping her in combat by allowing precise maneuvers and techniques, the definite control she has over her body has also allowed for the usage of Beta Arietis in actual, real life combat.

Equilibrium.: As the Staff of Boreas can only really head in one direction, it takes quite a bit of mental math to properly ignite and extinguish the staff's burners in a way that allows her to move in a desirable direction, the desired distance, and not end up flat against the wall.

Chemical & Mechanical Engineering.: Only a creative mind could come up with her custom equipment. At the same time, only an educated mind could actually turn those designs into feasible designs. The combination of both is quite dangerous, at least to anything normal arms designers stand for.

KANE

CODE /

SEROBLISS

 

[seasonedcat]

Retalis Concordia Legions

Jupiter Syun

Physique...........◆◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇[1/10]
Willpower.........◆◆◆◆◆◆◇◇◇◇[6/10]
Resonance.......◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◇◇[8/10]
Handler.............JUBILEE

MALE / ECHO / 35

MACHINE SAVANT | FSF XINLIANG

AUGUST 22/ NEO-HONG KONG

Overview

CODENAME: MONARCH
a breath floating, lost in the wind, moving through fleeting and unnoticed. Jupiter seems to be in his plane of reality at times, his head floating too far above the clouds that the real world looks muffled. Walking in a living dream, he is always dozing off; the lines between awake and asleep begin to blur together. He is exhausted constantly and seems confused most of the time when in conversation, missing things people say to him. He often can be found talking to himself or responding to things that haven't been told, listening to the sounds of Wisps he likes to say. Though, it isn't easy to know the truth behind that statement.

He speaks in anecdotes and often says things that don't make much sense. His voice is soft and airy, bordering on monotone most of the time. He is usually the same on missions, looking out at Wisps and mourning for them. Though when it comes to actual combat, he regains focus only seen on the field before falling back into his hazy state. There are times that he is more alert when either off his meds or in times of stress. His mind seems to work too quickly, paranoia rampant, and he is rather jumpy. It is advised to steer clear of Jupiter in these times as he can pose a risk to himself and others. His outbursts can be violent or prone to self-injury due to extreme panic. It is recommended to find Jupiter's Handler or subdue him if possible; if all else fails, dispose of Jupiter.

Thankfully, Jupiter is not often seen in such a state, his dulled emotions and persona being the usual for him. This numbness has spread into most of his life, and through meds and experience, the horrors of this world are often lost on him, especially amid battle. He seemed to offer little response when staring into the face of death. Despite his forgetfulness and absent-mindedness, some of his personality still pushes through. Anything sweet and desserts seem to put him in a good mood, not that there is much difference between that and his every day. He seems to enjoy works of fiction and animals, though he is still detached from them. As ordered, he is not allowed to make connections as it can destabilize his mentality. Past relationships have shown him to cling to those he cares about, desperate to keep them close and for attention. After the █████████ incident resulting in the death █████████, his response was violent; if it were to happen again, there would be a high risk of losing the echo.

Physical Identifiers

εϊз EMPLOYEE WITHOUT MASK FOR IDENTIFICATION
standing at the height of 5'11, Jupiter's body is an almost painful to look at, the mix of skin and bones with just enough muscles to keep it from looking like such. Though Jupiter is rarely seen without his mask or another form of face covering, regardless of the situation. The only time Jupiter is seen without his signature covering is if ordered to, or there is no other choice.

under his mask and usual outfit, the thin man appears to be around his mid-twenties with dark black hair and a dull brown eye. His skin is a porcelain pale from lack of exposure, though that is not the same for half of his body. The other half is a rough pinkish texture that spans over most of the skin on his left side. A deep burn scar stops short of his hairline and leads to his pale left eye. While Jupiter still has vision in this eye, it is abysmal to the point it is easier for him to function with it closed. Despite generally covering most of his scars, most of his body, minus his face, is covered in bandages.

Background

a handful of pills every morning dulls the shake in his hands from dreams he can't quite remember, thankfully for the other handful he took before bed. When he looks in the mirror, he sees a face he can barely remember. Remembering makes his head fuzzy, so with one more blink, the thoughts are forgotten as he dawns on the mask. But the floating shapes that dance around his room of faces he can no longer remember, don't forget.

it used to be so easy. The roll of the dice, the burn of poison in his body. It was simple; with parents rich enough, you could do whatever you wanted. The cigarette lolled in its place, another night wasted in some bar; he could do whatever he wanted. That was until the heavens themself shattered. Life was no longer the same. There was no more family to bail him out, no more friends to get shit faced with, and no more of what it used to be.

one of the privileged few who could survive the world-shattering, and even one of the fewer who could afford SIN before it did. He was swept up by programs he could not understand to do things he did not want to. He did not want to fight. He was scared. The early days when he thought he had a choice. He didn't want to obey; he didn't want to save others. He wanted to be like the ones who got to sit around in ignorance as someone else kept them. That wasn't life for him.

it took losing his team a few times, his handlers, and any friends he made along the way. It took losing his everything every time for the spark to die out. Soon he did not know why he kept going; his will was dying out. His powers grew rampant as his psyche began to crumble. Echos were too few and hard to come by, so they did everything they could. Eventually, the right concoction was found, and his worries seemed to fade. His mind was too hazy to think too hard; the orders of his superiors were the only thing clear in his mind, clearer than his own directions.

Combat

Primary Armament | Name: Pin a white semi-automatic revolver that fires a ray of energy that it gathers from the air. Taking a moment to store the energy it holds six charges in its cartridges before requiring a reload. The energy released is similar to that of a laser, hot enough to burn through the average man-made structure and flesh alike.

Other equipment:
combat first aid kit - a combat-ready medicine kit equipped with the essentials for in-the-field emergency medicine.

Skill Flair: harsh and unrelenting attacks that never seem to end. He hits as hard as he can and as fast as he can. A glass cannon that uses the WISPs in mostly offense, the only defense available being crude shields constructed in moments of need. For close range, the deep blue butterflies, also known as the WISPS he controls, form into either tentacles for medium to close-range fighting or wing-like blades that tear at opponents.

CODEBREAKER | Name: Funeral of the Dead Butterflies a tear drops into an ocean, and the ripples are seen for miles. The desire to live, save what matters to him, and stop it from fading away. The tide is felt around, far and wide; butterflies come from the air, their wings each sharper than any blade you have felt against skin. It tears and shreds all in its way, the blood coating each wing like paint. Though what he cares for is spared, encased in a swarm, protected from all harm.

Extras

"My orders are as follows: fight until your last breath."

Skills:
εϊз high pain tolerance- sometimes it's a wonder if he feels any pain at all
εϊз marksmanship training
εϊз combat training
εϊз gunsmithing
εϊз field medicine - specialized in first aid medicine to be used in the heat of battle or out on a mission
εϊз piano - a skill he can not remember clearly, though his hands flow swiftly on the keys as if he has done this before
εϊз crocheting - a skill he can't remember why he picked up, though he can remember an old friend taught him
εϊз origami - a skill suggested by his doctor to do to help calm him
εϊз wood carving - a skill he is learning from an old book he found about a wooden boy

KANE

CODE /

SEROBLISS

Spoiler: writing sample

When had it all become such a mess? The lavish and needlessly large apartments with one too many windows had once been way too neat. The sheer expense of it seemed to pull an owner into keeping it cleaner than a house should be as if someone did not live there. Now, however, it looked closer to an abandoned house. Every light in the house was on, bright as can be, and a random assortment of sunlight had been bought to fill up every shadow possible. Miss matching lamps sat in corners and on floors; some hung from the ceiling, others tapped to the wall. Every door was wide open, tied to the wall to ensure nothing accidentally shut them. Even cabinets and drawers were left open, none ever getting locked. Paper scattered the floor, blotches of dark ink coating them, scratched images of violent deaths and events, some crumpled into balls, others collapsed from being stepped on many times, left unmoved.

Boxes of fast food lay scattered about, and any plate or reusable dish had long been used and left uncleaned, stacked in a sink in a vain attempt at encouraging a form of cleaning. Clothes were scattered around the ground, used and forgotten, the stale scent of sweat and blood on many of them. Many books lay open or stacked in high piles around the floor, many about anything somehow related to a specific book in some way. More recently, the connection has grown thin, a desperate attempt to find an answer leading to nothing. Newspaper and fabric attempted to cover every one of the many windows in his apartment, blocking out any peering eyes that might be out there.

A familiar sound pierced the air, an ear-piercing noise, an alarm. Theodore shot up, shaking, covered in sweat, the blankets clinging to him like a second skin. He quickly pried off the new skin with animalistic desperation as he heaved out short breaths. He sat for a moment before wiping the sweat from his forehead, his hair moving with his hand, stuck to his face against the work. He turned off the alarm.

Swallowing back another nightmare, he reached out to the book on the table, gripping it tightly as he quickly flipped to the same section, to the same page, where a new entry was placed. His familiar handwriting displayed another scene he did not know of. A disturbing graphic of himself, guts torn out by his own hands, a sickeningly wide smile across his face. His familiar signature is in the corner of the page. A fat drop of blood fell from his hand to the paper, himself unconsciously tearing off another section of skin from around his nails with his teeth as he read. Smearing the blood with his sleeve in a feeble attempt to clean it up, he blew on it a few times to dry it before letting the book fall close. This had not been the first time he found his blood on these pages.

Pushing himself off the floor scattered with blankets, he grabbed his phone and the book and went to the bathroom; today was not like other days. As he showered with all doors open, the book sitting next to the open shower door, in reach at all times. Drying himself, he grabbed the book and his phone before moving to his bedroom, searching for an outfit amidst the piles of forgotten clothing. Finding an almost clean pair of clothes, he dressed, grabbing a suitcase where he placed everything he needed. Several ink pens and shades of ink, pencils, and a few sketchbooks, along with some mints, had also found their home there, though he did not bother to remove those. Of course, the most important thing was the book he placed with much care into the pouch. He also stuck the letter from the mysterious agency he was going to meet and his phone.

He then made his way to his front door, standing in front of the only closed door in his house, several locks piled on its face. Theodore stared at the door for a long moment, unable to move. His hand instinctively went to his left wrist, long scars from deep gashes along them. He can clearly remember the door to his bedroom, how the doorknob felt when he opened it, and how it felt again when he never opened it again. He licked his chapped lips as he stared at the door. If only there were another way out.

Eventually, Theodore turned to making excuses, spending the next few hours searching for his umbrella. He only found where it was left when he decided to check the book pages. Once he did have it, he was back to his spot, frozen before the gate to the outside. He glanced down at his phone; he had long since lost his lead in leaving and now would only barely make it in time. He began to tear away at his fingers again as he stared hard at the door, willing it to open by itself. It did not. He unlocked all the locks but could not move.

Tearing one last chunk off his thumb, he moved quickly, throwing open the door and throwing himself out of the gate in one move. He came tumbling out, causing a woman down the hall to jump, spilling coffee on herself while checking her mail. Heaving out heavy breaths, Theodore almost broke down crying. He carefully shut the door behind him, locking the many locks with his many keys. He made his way down to the parking garage, thanking every god that everything in his building had automatic doors.

Driving his black car again had been strange; how many days had it been since he had driven this car? How long had it been since he had been out? Order food online for deliveries, leaving the door unlocked for them to drop it off inside; he hadn't gone in so long. His hands were slick with sweat and anxiety, causing his body to shake like a leaf, having to pull over many times to stop from crashing.

After a long ride, he eventually reached the street in the letter. Going into the dash, he pulled out a mask he hadn't used in years. Back when he first became popular, he wore it everywhere, something inside him telling him people would somehow know it was him. One day he left it at home, and when no one recognized him, he stopped wearing it. The excitement of being famous back then had pushed back the logic of how he was faceless and didn't even use his real name. He decided to use it today.

He stepped out of the car, gripping the umbrella, even though it was no longer raining. After all the time he spent looking for it, he would not leave it behind. He nervously made his way over to the person with the umbrella; many others had also arrived. He had figured out her riddle rather quickly; having been a fan of puzzles before, it was not difficult. Shuffling, towards the group, his hand firmly over his bag as he tentatively approached. Hovering behind the group, he spoke up after his silent approach,

"Mr. Wallflower sent me to you." his voice horse from not speaking in a long time. Adding only this to the interrupted conversation as he waited for the woman to talk to him or the group in response.

 

[Cresion Breezes]

Retalis Concordia Legions

Niriq Aqsarniit

Physique...........◆◆◆◆◇◇◇◇◇◇[4/10]
Willpower.........◆◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇[1/10]
Resonance.......◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆[10/10]

UNKNOWN / EDENIS / 20

ATUNITY | FSF KATERINA

DECEMBER 24TH, 2124/ NEO-IQUALUIT

Overview

CODENAME: MONO

A sleepy-looking young Edenis who seems unbothered by the literal end of reality. Dislikes being called short.

PERSONALITY

Niriq is a bit distant and apathetic towards everyone, but it's hard to tell whether that is out of malice or simply sleepiness. Niriq dislikes talking about themselves due to it being uninteresting to them, but it inadvertently caused them to have a mysterious air, even though the uninteresting part is mostly true. Even their gender is a mystery to those around them (if there is anyone around them at all). Although they do not like to speak about themselves, Niriq isn't shy or introverted and would speak quite bluntly their mind if conversed with, only that their mind seems to be empty the majority of the time. They're not optimistic or pessimistic, or even realistic, Niriq simply is.

Being an Atunity who's Edenis traits coincidentally synergizes well with their resonance abilities, Niriq is considered a "prodigy" in all aspects of Atunity abilities, being able to subconsciously and continuously active resonance abilities without the usual fatigue that overcomes others. However, their physical talent often becomes overshadowed by their indifference and inert attitude toward everything. They seem to prefer to play video games rather than help humanity survive, and acts rather eccentrically most of the time, often staring into space and doing nothing. Due to this their loyalty has been questioned, however they never actively sabotage...anything likely due to the fact that requiring too much effort. Niriq seems to have some sort of longing for the ocean, they're unfazed and even comforted by the notion of an endless boundless groundless abyss that one can just float in for eternity. Despite their childish behavior, they have near unbreakable nerves due to this longing for an eldritch unknown. They never hesitate to communicate their non-understanding of why others are scared of such things.

Physical Identifiers

Niriq's most obvious feature is the long spiraling horn on their forehead, it is their Edenis trait, and bits of enamel are littered around the center of their forehead where the horn protrudes from. Without the horn Niriq's size is fairly small, being only 5'1 (155cm) tall, however, with the horn they are 6' (181cm) tall. A case of terminal bedhead, their long grey hair is tied in the shape of a whale's tail and is often a mess and unkempt. Their eyes are perpetually underlined by dark circles that betray their sleeping habits (mainly, there is none). The right sclera is pitch black, it is apparently due to the growth of the horn pressuring some sort of nerve, but the exact cause of it is unknown.

Background

BIODATA

Born to a rare and highly experimental line of Edenis based on aquatic mammals, Niriq was always sort of a disappointment. They did poorly in almost everything, from studies to training for the deep-space missions that Edenis were made for, to having any sentiment of a social life. Niriq spent most of their time playing video games, and not even the violent or story-driven kind, the extremely basic ones that went out of style more than a century ago. Some suspected that this was some sort of side-effect of the Edenis DNA infusion, but others from the same line have been produced without such issues. Niriq was simply special, and not exactly in a good way either.

Their parents and the researchers of the Edenis line focused more on their other siblings, and Niriq was mostly abandoned and left to do what they wish. This included watching the tundra blankly, watching the sky blankly, and watching the ocean blankly. Especially the last one. Niriq loved the ocean. It seems to make sense for an aquatic-based Edenis, but once against, it was a quirk that only Niriq possessed. They were fished out of the ice-cold ocean water of Northern Neo-Canada many times by researchers and scolded.

This type of quiet but odd life continued until Shattered Heavens. To be fair, for Niriq it didn't feel like the catastrophic universe-ending event that others spoke about, they simply woke up one day and found that the rest of the research team had vanished, along with many objects and the environment shattering away. Niriq watched the ocean during that time as it became stranger and stranger, but it wasn't that strange, it was always a mysterious place, anything it does make sense in the only 13-year-old Niriq's mind. It was a miracle that Niriq was eventually discovered and brought to Sanctum Aaru, being the closest to the arctic area. A lot of snow was eaten in the process.

People were a bit troubled by the child after that, some even thought Niriq was mute or simply too traumatized to speak, but to Niriq, it was only that there wasn't anything to talk about anyways. Niriq kept being quiet and kept to themselves, until they found out about the Metaphasium process. Being disallowed to go outside and see the ocean, the notion of being able to be submerged in some sort of mysterious liquid was enticing, and thus Niriq quite literally plunged into the experiment at the surprise of some. It was the first time anyone has heard them speak after all, and it was a request to "swim" in Fractelum Superliquid.

Niriq became a Resonator that way, and quite a powerful one as well that went to FSF KATERINA to be a combatant. Their Atunity ability seems to be amplified by the horn they have and their ability to stay awake by only resting half of their brain, but what remained is their apathy and disinterest in everything. However, due to the channeling effect of their ability being strong enough despite their usual distracted demeanor, they proved to be an asset well enough to be kept around.

This apathetic demeanor caused Niriq a small period of trouble during the great betrayal and the fall of the FSFs. Their lack of surprise at the SoP's assaults caused many other RCL members to cast suspicion on them or even attempt to attack them, but that was dismissed when Niriq was seen stabbing and "spooning" a member of the SoP during the retreat, for the reason that this cultist was "bothering them too much." Even after their suspicions were cleared and the retreat to FSF ANGELA was completed, those bright blue eyes like rippleless pools of water continue to remain eerily calm, but like the ocean, who knows what lurks underneath.

Combat

Primary Armament | Name: Kakivak A harpoon-like KIRT weapon that is shaped like a trident, spear, or harpoon, however, Niriq calls it a "fork" instead. The reason for this is that it has two other transformation modes, where the tip of the weapon expands extra material into a spoon-like shape. A transformation while the weapon is within something can cause great internal damage, this is what is known as "spooning". It is lightweight and compact, being able to retract itself if needed. There is an intermediate "spork mode", but no one really knows what it does or why it is even a feature.

It is nearly 7" long and is capable of giving off an electrical shock if needed.

Secondary Armament | Name: Ulu A multi-purpose short tactical knife that is mostly used for utility reasons, it is capable of cutting off limbs very well for a quick Resonance-style escape and even comes with a bandage holder to at least stop the bleeding a little afterward. Also comes with a bottle opener, comb, serrated blade, surgical tools, a signal flare, a radio feature, and a backlit screen capable of playing "Tetris".

Equip 1 | Name: Electromorphisis Charger A portable battery that is capable of generating power from kinetic motion, heat, light, and other sources, it provides power to Niriq's weapons, but they'll let others use it if they ask nicely enough. It is fairly small and is only about the size of one's forearm, it is carried in a fanny pack that is strapped behind Niriq's back. The amount of power it can provide varies depending on the source that is charging it, but it is generally made for more lightweight devices and too many people using it would likely bleed it dry real quickly.

Equip 2 | Name: Medicinal Synthesizer Something like an advanced first-aid kit that some Atunities use, it contains basic chemicals and common medicines that are used in field operations on Resonates and the Atunities themselves. However, because Niriq lacks knowledge in medicine, chemistry, and really everything else, only coasting on their innate power Atunity abilities, they are only able to use it in a very basic way. Perhaps someone more experienced can put it to actual good use.

Equip 3 | Name: KIRT NanoGuard Modified .Ver A KIRT protective guard that is specially made to protect Niriq's horn, unlike most Edenis features, Niriq's horn is capable of synergizing with their Atunity ability, and is also chocked full of nerve endings that make it fairly sensitive. As a mostly supportive fighter, this was chosen in place of more general protective equipment in order to maximize the "usefulness" of their ability.

Skill Flair:
Niriq is an indifferent backline supporter who looks at ongoing action with the same ever-distant gaze, always remaining calm...or perhaps it's more apt to call it apathetic. They are the definition of a sustain-based combatant who is capable of using their abilities for an extended amount of time, always there to provide the backup needed at any given time. Their sensory abilities allows them to gather certain amounts of information about the environment, however they mostly keep this to themselves unless someone specifically asks. It is somewhat difficult to get information out of them if one does not know the right way to ask, even more so when Niriq goes into their "Atunity trance" which proves a constant amount of passive healing and shielding at the expense of seeming even more distracted and half-asleep than they already are. It is much stronger than any other Atunity's "default" output, however, this is achieved by trading in the ability to exert sudden bursts of power, which holds them back in more difficult encounters. While Niriq is capable of doing combat themselves to a certain extent, they are more skilled at buying time and stalling through regeneration and tactical maneuvers based on their Resonator abilities, the lack of outright firepower makes it so that they would have a hard time really damaging anything.

CODEBREAKER | Name: Stella Maris Niqirtsuituq Everything...will remain the same...Everything, until the ocean swallows the stars, let it be eternal. Niriq's desire for everything to remain as they are forcefully deactivating their "half-sleep" mode, allows them to utilize the entirety of their Resonator abilities locked away by brain functionality. It grants temporary invulnerability for around 10-12 seconds to Niriq and any allies within range via hyper overdrive of damage redirection and regeneration. It is like the warm embrace of the ocean, the embrace of an eldritch being, the embrace of the womb you came from, it is warm...it is beautiful...and you want to stay here forever. You will be safe here...for eternity...until the end of your eternity.

Extras

"Your gaze...it's very intense. No wonder the abyss...it's gazing back at you."

Skills:

-Gaming/Hand-eye Dexterity

-Spacing Out/Meditation

-Swimming

CRESION

CODE /

SEROBLISS

 

[Euclid Leaf]

Retalis Concordia Legions

Mocking Jay

Physique...........◆◆◆◆◆◇◇◇◇◇[5/10]
Willpower.........◆◆◆◆◆◇◇◇◇◇[5/10]
Resonance.......◆◆◆◆◆◇◇◇◇◇[5/10]

BIOLOGICAL Male / Edenis / 20

Surge | FSF Teresa

AUG 13 / Neo - San Francisco

Overview

CODENAME: MOCKING JAY
PERSONALITY

A sweet boy torn between two worlds. As firm as a stoic flower clinging to a mountainside during a storm, he is simultaneously soft enough to purse his lips and pout like a tender schoolgirl when upset. Caught between both sides of femineity and masculinity, Mocking Jay, or simply 'Jay', faced much confusion and abuse for his appearance during his youth. The sheer violence caused him to develop a strong distaste towards prejudice, and needless conflict. After the RESONATOR procedure, he adopted a fuller feminine wardrobe, with dresses, bows, and frills, an act of defiance for those who denounced him with misguided biases. This was also an attempt to capture the essence of the 'strongest person' in his eyes. He makes use of both the sweet and sour personas, depend on which one the person interacting needs the most. Often, he tries to end conflict by diffusing it with his soft charm. Even if it is built on a white lie.

He simply wishes to see more people smile.

There was a time when he would fume at the gibs and names. Punch as hard as he might, it scared no one. But that has since changed. He was not the hopeless little child clinging to hopes and dreams anymore.

A female or male, it didn't matter at this point. What mattered is fighting the corruptors.
It makes no difference in their cold-hearted eyes, one way or the other.

Physical Identifiers

Despite being biologically born a male, they bear no marks of physical masculinity. A head of lush, faint peach tinted hair, and soft, round features, with a matching gentle voice. The Edanis traits seem only to contribute to this frail countenance. The fluffy rabbit ears growing out of their head, instead having no human vestibular organs. Unclear if this is an intentional mutation, or twisted joke, their feet are also morphed to a degree that they walk in tip-toes, with the only footwear available to them being high-heels.

It is not uncommon for newcomers to mistake him for a female. Though he has been gifted in height, standing at 6'2, his scrawny, almost emaciated body has been a point of contention for many. Himself included. But he takes the comments in stride. If they won't believe his words, they will surely listen to his actions.

When the world chose him to be a lone flower, he chooses to grow thorns.

Having embraced his femineity, Mocking Jay plays off the gender-complex with a cheery sense of pride and humor. Often wearing woman's clothing and playing pranks on people who suspect otherwise. They are not afraid of making a scene and befriending those, so long as they remain open-minded.

Background

The Shattered Heaven, in a twisted way, was a step towards determined evolution. The world was encased in a cocoon forged by the cataclysm, and within the swirling mass of rapturing SIN, humanity has been undergoing violent metastasis. The question now, is whether it is strong enough to break free.

For Edanis, they have also been called the next step for humanity. But some have also called them something else. Failures.

Distant remnants from the Golden Age, though as of late, this historic summit of human achievement has garnered a certain bitterness by certain circles within the sanctums. As an era of lost potential. Of things that should have remained. This includes the Edanis, the orphaned children of lunar stations torn from the starry skies, sprinkled into dust under the whirling rage of the great cataclysm. In some parts of the world, they face scrutiny for their altered genetic code. In the eyes of many, the project ultimately failed to reach its goal. The progenitors born of the project are mere hollow victories. The goal of achieving an ‘improved’ human failed, for the most part. The only result was more… baggage.

Those born of this hybrid genus, the blood of evolution, would carry this weight on their shoulders. Of shattered hopes.

When a bird falls out of its nest, it is forgotten by its old family. Fortune, fickle as it were, would determine that this frail baby bird would be spared that day. The small child, wings crippled from the impact, was taken under the strong wings of another. She appeared young, like a fairytale maiden, but there was a weariness of age in her eyes. A familiar sort of age. A look that many of the survivors of the post-shattering would wear. She was a soldier. At the time, that title meant a much different war than it would in the following years.

He remembered most of her long black hair, split down the middle like wings of a raven.

When the hands arrived to pick up the lone child from the ruins of the old world, his adoptive mother appeared not like a 'bird of death'. In fact, handled him with the tenderness of a mother hen. Soft, cuddly, and coddling him full of love and kindness.

Mocking Jay was always his designation. Or rather, name, that's what people tend to call it outside of the RCL. Apparently, his mother gave him this name because even she mistook his biological sex at first. And that, Jay was a name neither male nor female. But that was before her deployment to the frontlines, to combat the newly arisen Corruptors that swarmed forth from the Fractelum Megaliths. It was a short-lived, as half a decade can be. It is true what they say. No matter how long, one can look back on simpler times and smile. She placed him in the care of her company in the RCL, believing there was no place safer. Besides, she couldn't pull him away from the sight of the iron fleets. Even at a young age, instead of playing ball or roaming out with other children, he stared all day at the sparks flying in the hanger bay.

In this destitute world, they became his starry night. And it wasn't long before the young boy was pestering every available engineer afterhours for tips on how to make work his newest hair-brained invention, or volunteering to help wherever he could.

Calls made to the frontlines for leisure were rare. And even rarer, ones made in video. Quickly, despite her best efforts to hide it, she became aged and haggered from the conflict. Only a few months passed until he noticed white hairs and wrinkles where there weren't any before.

Seeing this state, he was not satisfied watching in the sidelines for long. It was when he laid eyes on the first VECTOR, as it battled the third waves that he knew his path in life. Despite his crippled wings, he desired to fly. A triumphant flight, whether by feather or iron, and join his mother's side on the battlefield. Just like she did for him. He immediately applied to the junior piloting program, spending years in the academy studying and mock training. But grit as he might, and as promising as his skill in the simulated cockpit, his body was not capable of the strain caused by neural integration of the giant mechanoid walkers.

For the same reason, Mocking Jay also never really found footing as a soldier. He barely passed the physical exams. Others bemoaned having him in their team, as they often needed to pick up his slack. This strife, needless in their eyes, caused many young cadets to resent him. It is no surprise that the fighting began soon after. And the frequent visits to the infirmary.

Recognizing the issue, both in his combat effectiveness, as well as his failure to integrate into any of the companies, the lead operators were able to find use for him elsewhere. Despite his protests, as he still wished to one day be on the frontlines, Mocking Jay was assigned to a rear echelon division.

Once a place he adored, a boiling fury burned in his body when he set foot inside the hanger bays. The shame and frustration stoked a fire that caused him to act irrationally and impulsively. Mocking Jay did anything to get stronger, to prove people they were wrong about him. He spent the next years limit testing his skills with any vehicle, some even by his own making, nearly crashing multiple times. He hoped the reckless abandon would prepare him. Unfortunately, his temper reached beyond just a deep self-loathing. The isolation of the mechanical workshops alleviated contact with others, but did not eliminate it entirely. Some from his older units thought he was receiving special treatment, avoiding the frontlines while they were required to fight. Thus, with their jeering comments, and his hot-temper, the brawls followed to this new doorstep.

None of which he would win. Still, he curled his fists and fought anyway. Only, this time, he avoided the infirmary altogether.

Though, no matter the bruise or injury, his bones never hardened. Trial, after trial, he would fail the VECTOR licensing test. He hid all of this when he spoke to his mother, hoping to selfishly spare them both. Keeping to the façade, he started to avoid video calls.

In this uncertain time, Mocking Jay clung onto dream; that one day he would meet her again in person.

That hope ended one fateful morning, when an old colleague entered the hanger bay with a twitch and a loaded carbine. Many of the unsuspecting crews were eliminated in the first volley. He wasn't unfamiliar with seeing the dead, as a survivor the cracking of Heaven. But that day, for the first time, he was forced to take a life. This bloody, teary scene, of a boy surrounded by dead faces and his own bloody hands, was but a small glimpse of the chaos that would spread across humanity. If only tears were enough to bring back the dead. There was a vast ocean available. And countless waves.

The great betrayal by the cult of Pythagoras was the incident that caused his mother's death. But not him alone, many children would never see their parents again. This image of crying faces pursued him relentlessly. For weeks he would be made to witness the repeating tale, in the great exodus to the inner sanctums. A single thought stirred in his mind.

"If only I was born in a different body..."

Maybe then, he might have been able to do something more than watch and run. So no one else has to face that wall and those empty names.
It was no surprised when the desperate call to make resonators came, that he didn't even hesitate to volunteer. He didn't see the high mortality as a risk. Rather, a long-overdue opportunity. What else was there to live for, anyway? Humanity was on a fast-track to a second apocalypse. If things were to end, he wanted to at least give people a glimpse of hope.

Once a name he rescinded, the irony of a Mocking Jay only felt fitting now. A genuine that was also a mimic.

After the RESONATOR procedure, he adopted a new persona, in honor of the person who inspired him. And when he wasn't on an assignment, Mocking Jay began to use his free time to visit shelters and orphanages. His old repution of a troublemaker soon was replaced with a new 'Big Sister' title given by the children, as he brought gifts, baked treats, and entertained them with his stories.

Just like his mother, the old Raven. In his eyes, no one was ever stronger.

Combat

Primary Armament | Name: 'Sutyr' - Heavily Modified Kirt Core-Weapon

A rather straightforward weapon on the offset, with a twist added by its slightly overzealous creator. The weapon in its inert form is carried by hydraulic arms, and the bladed chain and rotating chain is hidden. When activated, it snaps open, and functions traditionally as a chainsaw would. The contained system of the engine, along with electromagnetic advancements that eliminates combustion or propellants, allows the weapon to be far quieter despite its vicious output. However, its true form comes when it is a safety switch is flicked, causing the blades to snap back into the casing once more. What is revealed, a glimmering white energy core. The core utilizes compressed thermic energy from hyperion fission cubes, a distillation of Fractelum, to generate condensed spikes of ultrahot plasma, which can now be shot down a large exit port.

An explosive, over glorified jackhammer, the engine is capable of over 200 full pulse cycles a minute.

This allows the tool to be used in various ways, either superheating surfaces, melting metals at alarming speeds, or softening hardened objects with pure concussive force.
As a last resort, by overheating and causing the core to 'burst', the weapon is able to hone the remaining charge into a powerful, straight beam.

Secondary Armament | Name: 'Jackhammer' Ironwood MK.2 - Modified / Scoped
A modified shortened ‘Ironwood’ assault rifle capable of firing multiple calibers due to its unique compressed chamber and manual feeder. More of an SMG, the firearm utilizes electromagnetic currents from EM Drivers affixed alongside the barrel, a much smaller version of those used in railgun defense platforms, it is capable of unleashing projectiles at higher speeds than traditional gunpowder.

Equip 1 | Name: Standard-Issue Battleground Triage kit.

Equip 2 | Name: Multi-tool - Powered.
A power tool with detachable mounts, and in-lay folding mechanisms, allowing for a great degree of versatility.
For reference, it can be used as a screwdriver, a wrench, a clamp, a plier, a bolt-cutter, and a crowbar.

Equip 3 | Name: Grapple/Harness.
Has an automated gear system, capable of lifting a little over half a ton.

Skill Flair: Flight Against the Storm
As someone who fought alone, outmatched, and outnumbered all their youth, Mocking Jay has an affinity for being in the thick of combat. At least, in enduring the frenzied chaos. He is capable of taking heavy hits, and fighting through remarkable pain. His movements have since grown markedly more refined and elegant, in part to their new persona, weaving between the precise swings of their signature chainsaw, and a dazzling snow of bullet fire. To their mind, the flow of melee is nothing more than a complex dance. That said, they are avoidant of confrontation, only seeing it as a last resort. Their experience with the Corruptors is one of heartbreak. Many comrades much stronger and smarter than him, have fallen to the twisted abominations from the void.

Due to their expertise as an engineer, familiarized with many specialized tools and blueprint pattens, they are often employed on breach missions along mechanized forces. Sometimes even acting as an emergency salvage depot due for emergency repair of priority vehicles, and weapons platforms. When certain tools or weapons malfunction, if not too severe, Mocking Jay is the best shot at being be able to get it working again.

CODEBREAKER | Name: Bête
Frenzy without restraint, a world of neverending delights await the one willing to relinquish themselves to the twisted rhythm of change.

As a final breath, the fractal energy erupts around their neck, forming long a chain affixed to their inner soul, at the end a creature of pure resonance aura. The rabbit sheds its skin and becomes the predator. The beast spirals into a fury similar to that of derailed train, listening only to the desperate desires of its maker. Even without making physical contact, the resonance creature is capable of unleashing crushing waves with its roars. The beast is attached to Woodpecker, and cannot be separated. It is surmised that the full duration of this last stand would be less than a minute.

If they won't see the light, we will make them feel the heat.

Extras

"A mother makes the ultimate sacrifice, in giving life. If I can play a part, small as it may be, is there no greater honor?"

Skills:

1] Top-Graded Mechanist of the RCL - Fourth Mechanized Division
2] Piloting [Various vehicles, mainly land-based. At one point, a potential VECTOR cadet. However, he ended up flunking out of the program due to health issues.]

Out-Combat Skills.
1] RCL Military Standard Training, along with Combat Medic Liscence
2] Orphanage Volunteer
3] Adept Baker

KANE

CODE /

SEROBLISS

 

[Wilder28]

Retalis Concordia Legions

Damien C. Harte

Physique...........◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◇◇◇[7/10]
Willpower.........◆◆◆◆◆◇◇◇◇◇[5/10]
Resonance.......◆◆◆◇◇◇◇◇◇◇[3/10]

MALE / HUMAN / 23

SURGE | FSF MAGDALENE

OCTOBER 30th, 2141 / Neo-New York

Overview

CODENAME: QUIETUS

For a trained soldier, one might find Damien to be a surprisingly chaotic individual - one who, while certainly having a strong sense of morals, doesn't seem to have much honor or discipline to match. This is due in part to spending quite a few years fending for himself on the streets, bouncing about from place to place, city to city; such a lifestyle has allowed him to develop a mentality centered largely around survival and self-preservation. He's learned to think pragmatically above all else, because if there's one thing he's learned out here, it's that the world is hardly a safe place. Rarely is he ever gonna take his chances with it.

Now, one might be forgiven for thinking him to be of the level-headed sort. After all, with how little he speaks, and how often he observes, he does tend to come off that way. However, this isn't exactly the case; he's far from the most hot-headed guy you'll ever meet, but when things get intense, then usually, so does he. In any battle, he'll fight viciously and unpredictably, thinking on his feet and doing whatever he can to put his opponent down. In any argument, he'll stand his ground and push back against his opponent with equal force, sometimes even when he knows he's in the wrong. And in any situation in which it seems like he's up against the wall with no possible recourse, then you'd better believe that he'll strike out with every ounce of fury he has in him.

That being said, he isn't all rough and tumble. Towards most people, he's fairly closed-off, and hardly personable; but towards those he's more familiar with, he's at least somewhat more inclined to open up, albeit slowly. Those few who get to witness this side of him come to find that while it may seem on the surface that he doesn't care for others, it's actually quite the opposite, at least to an extent. If someone's in danger, he'll usually be compelled to go and help out, and he does have a soft spot for young children, as well as the generally disadvantaged.

What this means is that he does indeed have a fair bit of empathy in him, even if it doesn't seem like it. What it does not mean is that he's open to making friends. After all the betrayal he's had to face, he doesn't have the trust for that. At least not yet.

Physical Identifiers

Fairly tall, standing at around 5'10, with a lean, athletic bodybuild and an olive complexion marred with scars all over. Has fairly long, somewhat curly dark hair, and hard, steely eyes the color of amber. Outfit is usually casual when not on the field, and often consists of dark colors. Very rarely smiles, but when he does, it tends to be genuine.

Background

Even before the universe went to shit, even before the Betrayal, it wouldn't have been inaccurate to say that Damien had a pretty rough life going for him - even if he prefers to keep some of the details under wraps. However, what most don't know is that while he was born and raised in the city of Neo-New York, his early life actually wasn't so bad. In fact, as the son of a librarian and a doctor, his household turned out to be fairly safe and stable, which in turn allowed for a bright and joyful childhood in one of the largest and most advanced cities on Earth. In those days, he was a far cry from the person he is now, having been so much friendlier with an idealistic, even whimsical outlook on the wide and wondrous world he lived in.

And then reality hit. Like a damn truck.

He was only twelve years old then, but he can still remember the exact date, clear as crystal. November 26th, 2153. It started out as a day like any other: He got up, ate breakfast, went to school - the standard morning routine, basically. And when he came home that same afternoon, he found his house a smoldering wreck.

The fire department had already gotten on the case, and according to them, the fire had been the result of a gas leak explosion. Both his parents had been home at the time, and so presumably one of them had tried to light a flame without knowing of the danger. Why, they didn't know, and with both of them lost, they never would. All they knew was that Damien, their only child, was all that remained.

Luckily for him, he wasn't without a place to go. He had an aunt on his dad's side who lived fairly close by, and since she was entirely willing to take custody of the boy, it wasn't long before she became his legal guardian.

Now, while that may have been for the best, it was by no means an ideal situation for him. She hadn't been on the best terms with his father, and the rest of his family by extension, so that alone was enough to cause some issues. Then, on top of that, while she was neither neglectful nor outright abusive, she was exceedingly strict in how she ran her home. And for a kid who was just making a very sudden shift from a much more relaxed household, her expectations were a lot to deal with. Previously an easy-going child, he quickly became much more troubled and rebellious, which contributed to a growing rift in their already strained relationship. He'd never much liked her before, and he really wasn't starting to now.

The tension between them continued to build up for months, with Damien growing increasingly unruly, until it all eventually came to a head in the form of a massive argument, in which threats were made and some very nasty things were said - on both sides.

After that, Damien decided that he couldn't stay. Not unless he wanted to get sent to juvie. So that very night, he packed his bags with what little he cared to take, and headed out for the streets.

A pre-teen on his own wasn't likely to last long on the streets of post-modern New York. But as it so happened, he wasn't on his own. During the time spent at his aunt's, he came to meet a boy named Luke, during one of his more... illicit outings. Luke was only a couple of years older than he was, but they nonetheless got on rather well, and over the course of various meetings between the two of them, he became something like the big brother Damien never had. Closer to him than any of his school friends ever were.

With this in mind, it only makes sense that Luke was the first person he'd go to after leaving home. He hadn't really thought through the details of how it'd work, but he'd been hoping that maybe he could integrate into whatever household Luke was a part of, and hopefully lead a better life there.

There was just one caveat to this plan, one twist that he hadn't anticipated: Luke didn't have a household. He was part of a gang.

This certainly came as a bit of a shock to Damien, but ultimately, he found that he didn't really care. It was this, or he'd have to go solo. And he knew which he would've preferred.

When the time came for it the next day, he was forced to go through a rather violent hazing in order to prove himself worthy of living among them. He managed it, in the end, but he barely came out in one piece.

Of course, even after all that, life was hardly easy. The kind of life they lived was harsh, and in the beginning particularly, Damien didn't have the full support of the group. Only Luke and a couple of others really had his back at first, and even they couldn't do much to change the situation; if he wanted the others on his side as well, he had to earn that. As a result, Damien had to learn very, very quickly to toughen up and harden himself to the world around him. His innocence now well and truly shattered, it became clearer than ever that the kid he used to be wasn't the sort who would thrive out here. If he didn't adapt, he'd be eaten alive.

He lived this life for roughly four years before that fateful day came when the world itself seemed to crash. No one knew what was going on at first; one moment, they were on the move, fleeing the scene of a crime that they had just committed - and the next, more than half of them were in pieces. Most of whom he'd come to bond with on some level, his relationship with them strengthened over the years by the trials and tribulations they had gone through.

By the end of that night, there were only a handful of them left, fortunately including Luke. After that, they made sure to stick especially close together, unwilling to lose any more of them. But unfortunately, over the course of the next two years, they fell one by one to the newfound abnormalities of the world, until eventually, Luke and Damien were all that was left.

At this point, the first of the Corruptant had begun to emerge, and at that point, to live outside a Sanctum was basically certain death. Given this, it was no surprise that the two of them eventually came to join the Retalis Concordia Legions, who turned out to be entirely willing to overlook their past - and in fact, didn't even inquire much into it - if it meant having a couple more soldiers to push back against to incoming tide of monstrosities.

From here, after undergoing the requisite training and induction period, Luke and Damien fought side by side, Scrim and Surge in accord, for eight long years.

Not everyone around them survived. Indeed, they lost one teammate after another, and sometimes even an entire squad. But no matter what happened, the two of them managed to push through their adversities with grim determination, adamantly sticking with one another no matter how many teams they were brought into. Damien always did mourn the loss of those he few did manage to form a bond with, but so long as he had Luke at his side, he felt that he could manage well enough.

Then came The Betrayal.

It all went down during a mission, one which Damien had thought to be perhaps their most important. Finally, after the better part of a decade, the Corruptant seemed to be on their last legs. Just a few more battles and it'd all be over.

Or at least, that's what he'd hoped.

At the time, he'd kind of been striking it out on his own. He had a squad of course, and he generally stuck with that squad, but as the RCL had come to find over the course of his service, Damien wasn't the most rule-abiding soldier in the force. He had a tendency to go off on his own when he saw fit, even if it wasn't exactly allowed. Often, this would turn out for the better, and so they'd let him off with a warning or a slap on the wrist. Sometimes, not so much.

This time? That same tendency probably saved his life.

He'd gone out of his way a little to scout a little, going to investigate an adjacent area while the rest of his team went on ahead. He hadn't told anyone he was gone, not even Luke - though his friend was well aware of Damien's tendency and tended to take it in stride. However, while they didn't know where he'd gone, he still kept tabs on them through their radio, listening to what was communicated so he could know when to return.

That moment came when he heard the screams.

By the time he'd got back, they were already gone. Not all of them - just the majority. The only ones left standing were Luke and a trio of others, who Damien at first thought were the survivors of the attack.

Then he realized that it was they who were responsible for it.

He remained quiet at first, skulking about the chamber while they talked among themselves. Listening. Waiting. Watching. The rage and despair he felt when he heard their reports, learning of what had happened, was indescribable. It twisted him up inside like a heated knife, growing worse by the second. For what felt like the longest moment, he wasn't quite sure what to do. He could have tried to fight them, but while quite formidable on his own, he was by no means capable of winning a four-on-one encounter. Not without some serious stroke of luck.

Eventually, he decided to take action. But when he did, he went a different route.

He spoke. His voice echoed in the chamber, making it hard for the others to pinpoint where he was - especially since he made sure to keep moving.

The others didn't seem keen on conversation, but Luke didn't feel quite the same. He decided it was worth engaging Damien, and bid the others leave them, so that they may talk one-on-one.

Tentatively, they did as requested, and what ensued was probably the most painful confrontation that Damien had ever been in. Worse than anything he'd been through with his aunt, worse than anything he'd been through in his gang years. Luke tried his damnedest to convince Damien to join his side, to become his brother in the Sons of Pythagoras. But, as much as he'd loved Luke... he couldn't even consider it.

He struck out. Luke had still been speaking, but he'd only just managed to react before Incendium could cut him in two. That was it; after that point, it was pure combat. Any attempt by Luke to talk his old friend down would prove to be in vain, for Damien hardly even gave him any openings. He was forced to commit to the fight, or die.

Having spent so long together, learned all each other's moves, the two of them were pretty much evenly matched. And so, for what felt like an eternity, there was a stalemate, with neither being capable of getting the upper hand.

Then, once, Damien found an opening, and he went for it. With Incendium now in scourge mode, he was able to take Luke by his Splinter-shifted arm, and cut it off. That was enough to end the fight.

With his ex-friend properly incapacitated, Damien now had to chance to put him down for good. And given the time, he would've.

But he hesitated. And in that short timeframe, he missed his chance.

Before he could land that last blow, he heard a disturbance, and he was able to throw up Aegis just in time to block a shot from one of the other three Sons, who had finally returned to come to their brother's aid. Could he have taken all three of them? He didn't think so. But he didn't have to.

For a short time, he engaged them, three-to-one. A Galvode, an Atunity, and another Surge like himself. It was a lot at a time, to say the least, and he was just barely managing to keep up with their assaults.

But he did. And when the time came, he brought the fight to a screeching halt. It was then that they all got to learn: While he was cloaked, before he had revealed himself, he had planted his bombs around the chamber. And now, he was setting them off.

The entire room was brought down, and along with it, most of the rest of the building. Damien had been hoping to get all of them, but whether or not he actually did, he didn't get to see. Because in the ensuing rubble, he was buried as well.

He didn't know how long he laid there, underneath what felt like tons of debris. How he'd survived, he wasn't sure; he hadn't even expected to. But when he awoke, hours or perhaps even days later, he decided that if he wasn't dead already, then he had no reason to die now. Yes, he was dejected. Yes, he was hurt. Yes, he felt hollow. But he also felt something else - a deep, primal rage. Not just toward Luke, but toward everything. The Sons of Pythagoras, the Corruptants, Shattered Heavens, the rich bastards that caused it - everything down to the explosion that had taken his former life away. It was there, and it burned brighter than anything else.

It was that rage that fueled his escape.

After much straining and pushing, Damien used all the Resonance he could possibly channel at a time and eventually managed to break free. First, just a hand, then his whole arm, and finally, the rest of him after it.

When he had emerged in full, he found himself surrounded by ruins. The building they'd been in was hardly even recognizable anymore; but nonetheless, perhaps out of some morbid curiosity, he figured it worth looking to see if Luke was still there. His body, anyway.

He would be sorely disappointed, though. Because when he looked, investigating the very spot where had last been seen, it turned out that that son of a bitch was gone. And since he hadn't been in any condition to escape on his own, that meant at least one of the others had escaped with him.

To say that Damien found that frustrating would be an understatement. But oh well; suppose he still had one more mission, then.

He took a moment to patch himself up. By some miracle, his injuries weren't too serious; he was hurt, for sure, but he could still get around on his own well enough. If nothing else, he was still a step above where Luke had been.

Once he felt he had recovered enough, he set out, and the next couple of days were spent prowling about, hunting down the Sons of Pythagoras that he could find. There weren't many left in the area he had been in - he could only presume that they had departed. But when he had returned to the fortress, he found that not only was it also a wreck, with most of his former friends and allies slaughtered like pigs, but also that a good few of the Sons were still there. Clean-up clew, perhaps, or maybe just stragglers who chose to stay behind for some reason or other. He didn't really care; he targeted them all the same.

Each kill was quick. He had a formula: he'd stalk them down, wait until they were separated from the rest, and make his move then. Some of them he didn't recognize. Most of them he did. Few times was there ever a fight; only when he found the remaining two of those bastards he'd seen before - the ones that were with Luke - did he let it drag out a little. And even then, only so he could interrogate them. He demanded to know where Luke was, if he was even still alive. But aside from confirming that he'd survived the explosion, they told him nothing. Either because they didn't know, or because they simply didn't know.

That was enough for him. He could only infer that, being injured, he was probably taken in by some of the other Sons to their headquarters or something, wherever that was. He didn't have the resources to go out looking for him all on his own, especially not as he was. So for now, he didn't bother. That would have to come later.

A few more kills were made, but in general, there weren't a lot of people around the Fortress, and more seemed to be leaving by the minute. He could've gone to Teresa to see if there were any more there, but he decided it wasn't worth the effort. By then, they'd probably have mostly departed anyway. So instead, he figured it was best to head for Angela. It was the nearest of the two remaining FSFs, after all, and there he'd at least be able to properly recover and replenish his equipment. Not to mention link up with the remainder of the RCL.

Off he went, then, leaving behind the ruins of his hold Fortress in search of proper refuge. It was only days later that Angela's border patrol would detect the lone soldier emerging from the shadows.

Combat

Primary Armament | KIRT Incendium: Damien's preferred weapon, a collapsible broadsword forged of high-end KIRT technology. With a blade formed of multiple interlocking segments, it can not only retract into its hilt for improved storability, but it can also be expanded, as these segments can unlink themselves and transform the weapon into a bladed whip. There are more of these segments in reserve, used for repair in case the weapon were to break, but there's only a limited amount of them. And on top of all this, the weapon still has one more function, that which gives it its name: The ability to set itself alight. In this state, Damien can use it to inflict serious damage and cut right through substances it otherwise couldn't, up to and including certain metals.

Secondary Armament | KIRT Firestorm: A powerful KIRT tech blaster that fires bolts of plasma, used mainly when Damien would prefer to strike at a longer range than Incendium can offer him. Along with its typical function of firing at a pretty decent pace, it can also be used to charge up a particularly powerful shot for a good deal of extra damage, although this will require a good bit of recharge afterward.

Equip 1 | Spectral Armor: A custom-designed nanotech suit of KIRT tech armor that was conceived primarily with stealth in mind. While it does provide adequate defense, enough to save his life in a pinch, its real strong point comes in the form of its more specialized abilities - most notably its ability to cloak the wearer, mimicking what is reflected on one side to change the opposite end, and mask the sound of their footsteps, so that they may remain unseen and undetected. Alongside this, it also has a built-in Dash function that allows the wearer to experience a short burst of speed in any direction - handy for maneuverability. This can be used a grand total of three consecutive times before a brief recharge period of thirty seconds must be enforced.

Equip 2 | Aegis: A simple energy shield formed of orange, interlocking hexagons. Produced from a watch-like device around the wrist, which integrates well into the Spectral Armor. It's used to defend against heavier attacks, those which the Spectral Armor wouldn't hold so well against. However, it's also limited in its capacity; enough force will shatter it, whether applied all at once or gradually over time, and it'll take some time to charge up again.

Equip 3 | Utility Belt: Where he stores his weapons, as well as a selection of other gadgets and devices that he may whip out when needed. This includes a couple of multi-purpose knives - handy for when he finds himself engaged in melee combat and Incendium isn't an option - as well as a high-tech flashlight, a canteen of water, and a trio of self-made incendiary explosives, which can be activated, thrown, and detonated remotely. Though shooting them with Firestorm also works just as well.

Skill Flair: In combat, Damien utilizes an odd mix between tactics, stealth, and aggression. When on his own, this tends to manifest in the form of him stalking his opponent, waiting for the best time to dive in. When a proper opening is found, he'll go forth and strike from the shadows, typically aiming to catch his opponent off-guard and dispatch them as quickly and efficiently as possible. If that fails, he'll simply continue to rain down increasingly vigorous blows until he's forced to disengage, retreating into the shadows. He tries to keep it as simple as possible, meaning that ironically, he won't usually use Incendium's incendiary feature unless he figures it necessary, nor will he shift it into scourge mode. If he can get by using just a sword, then he will. He only gets explosive when things get more intense - when going after multiple enemies, for example, or one really strong one. Melee combat is preferred in most cases, but if that's deemed too risky or impractical, he'll default to using Firestorm instead to try and smoke his opponent from a range. In a team context, he'll generally stay back and let the others draw the opponent's attention, before dropping in with a sudden, ferocious blitz when the opportunity arises. Alternatively, in the case of multiple enemies, he'll watch his allies' backs by taking on those foes which aren't being attended, preventing them from taking the others by surprise.

CODEBREAKER | DESOLATION: Damien draws upon his inner rage and turns it outward, setting the world ablaze. Fueling himself with all the Code of Life around him, he quite literally ignites, channeling into his body all the Resonance he can muster while shrouding himself in a cloak of flames. From here, he goes on a bit of a spree, springing from one foe to the next and tearing through them all with an utter lack of mercy or restraint. This lasts only briefly - perhaps just a minute - before he finally draws the remainder of his power inward, then sends it all out in an omnidirectional explosion. When the smoke clears, there shall be only ash and dust.

Extras

"Stand back. I'm lighting this bitch up."

Skills:

• Thinking on his feet; he's no strategist, but he can improvise like nobody's business.
• Resourceful thinking. Where needed, he can and will put his environment to use, bringing to bear all his wit to work out a quick and clever solution to his problems.
• Cooperation. Despite not being the most sociable person, he can still work surprisingly well with others - although he does retain a tendency to kind of go off on his own every now and then.
• Technology. While not the greatest technician in any Sanctum, he knows his way around his gadgets and he's more than capable of repairing his equipment or improvising something new - especially if that something happens to be explosive.
• First-aid. He knows how to treat an injury in a pinch, especially if it's his own.

Theme Song:

KANE

CODE /

SEROBLISS

 

[Xel]

Retalis Concordia Legions

Rika Solari

Physique...........◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆[10/10]
Willpower.........◆◆◆◇◇◇◇◇◇◇[3/10]
Resonance.......◆◆◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇[2/10]

FEMALE / HUMAN / 28

SURGE | FSF HIMARI

AUGUST 3RD, 2136 / NEO-TOKYO

Overview

CODENAME: SHADE

PERSONALITY:

Rika can be best described as macabre with the way she views the world. Even as a young girl she was fairly reserved with her personality. Not to say she was a quiet girl who just sat in the corner by herself. She has always been, and very much still is, a very outgoing sort. It's just she speaks in a fairly soft-spoken manner and has an incredibly dark sense of humor made only worse with the way the world's gone. Outwardly she projects an affable, if not grounded personality. Dry jokes at the misfortune of both herself and others coupled with attempts to cheer up those around her as best she can.

And while it's not wrong to say this is who she truly is, she is no one special. She carries the scars of the world the same as anyone else. The deaths of friends and family, the continued struggle of mankind, the endless fighting, the betrayal of those she fought alongside. All of these things are pushed down and stifled with a pillow in the hopes they'll wither and die only for them to come clawing to the surface whenever she makes the mistake of letting her guard down.

Even so, despite the hardships she does well to retain the darkly vibrant personality she's cultivated throughout her life. Any moments of weakness will be far from prying eyes as she very much wants those around her to see her for who she was before the world came shattering at the seams.

Physical Identifiers

Rika is a... short woman. Standing at only 4'10" she is often towered over by those around her. Even more so when stationed abroad away from her homeland. Though with the proportions she carries no one of any sound mind would mistake her for being a child despite her height. A full, well-honed figure with a clear definition of musculature should one care to truly scrutinize the woman. Black hair with red hightlights hangs loosely down to her shoulders. It's clear that the only styling she puts into it is a simple comb or when she puts it up into a quick and dirty pony-tail during missions.

Background

What her life was before everything came shattering to the ground really doesn't matter. Doesn't much matter for most people. All that does matter is her family was gone. Her friends were gone. Her life was gone. And she was left to pick up the scraps. Blessed, or perhaps cursed, with a new power it saw her end up with the newly created Legion. She'd never been a soldier, most of those people weren't. When more than half the world's population gets ground into dust it tends to take a chunk of the military with them. But with nothing left she had no reason to resist. So she trained. She learned to fight. Turns out she was a natural when it came to shooting. Who knew.

Her training came to a conclusion and it was off to fight the horrors of the warp to defend mankind. And for eight long years that's precisely what she did. She fought. And for eight long years history seemed to repeat itself. Locked in a never-ending cycle. She'd make friends, she'd fight by their side, they'd make gains, only for one slip-up to leave her alone and transferring to a new unit to do it all over again. Given her role as a backline support she was spared the gruesome ends, instead she was forced to watch through the scope of her weapon time and time again as her friends and comrades fell to the Corruptants. You get numb to it eventually. Doesn't even take that long. It never stops bumming you out to be sure. But it stops being a huge ordeal. The first time you're left a sobbing mess, vomiting in the toilet in the middle of the night as your mind conjures up dreams of those last few moments. But eventually it just stops phasing you.

But no matter how numb you get to the life you live, there's always those things that create entirely new wounds. A sharp dagger right into the heart to remind you that you very much still feel. And that dagger came just a few scant months ago. Fighting out of FSF Himari with her unit as always. This one had lived quite a while. As the war dragged on humans learned how to fight so the casualties were much more spaced out. That truly allowed her to get in close with her comrades. A fact made so much worse when the inevitable betrayal came. Sure she'd seen her allies killed in action. Their blood sprayed across the ground, their mangled corpses strewn about by some Corruptant. But no amount of gore could have matched this. The sight of her team dead, not by a Corruptant, but by their own. Betrayed and cut down by those they trusted. It was dumb luck she wasn't one of them. With her stealth suit she was undetectable to her allies. She had one of her teammates with her for support and defense and spotting duties, as she often did. But while he was taking a quick look around she had adjusted her position ever so slightly to get a better angle.

Just a single foot skootched to the side. And so she lay there, silent, invisible, as her teammate came back. Only he didn't lay back down beside her as he should have. Instead he pulled out his weapon and unloaded entirely into the spot she had just been. Shocked by the attempted murder Rika was left as stunned as her teammate who's bullets met dirt instead of flesh. His face darting around to try and find the missing Rika. It wasn't until he reloaded and started spraying wildly that her stunned paralysis broke and she was forced to gun him down in turn. The altercation left her shot in the leg and limping her way back to the rest of her unit. In hindsight she should have realized. Should have known it wasn't just going to be one. But at the time her only thoughts were regrouping with her team and telling them about what happened.

But as she rounded that rocky outcropping what she saw was a figure standing there. Bloodied sword in hand. And the rest of her team laying dead before him. For the first time in years those emotions came rushing back. The sheer agony, the fear, the disgust. It'd been so so long since she felt them so vividly. It left her stunned, holding her breath as she hid behind the rock. At this distance, against one of their frontline fighters, there was no way she'd stand a chance. But hearing him try to contact a now very-dead accomplice urged her forward. There was a reason she got her own personal hitman. She may not have been a frontline fighter, she may not be that good at direct combat. But those things didn't matter if you never got to that point. With her suit out of commission she had to move slowly, quietly. Raising her weapon she took aim and, without waiting, fired. But were it so easy she wouldn't be the last survivor.

Their confrontation ended up being far more upclose than she would have liked. But in the end she prevailed. Wounded, dirty, her chest heaving with every breath as she lay on the ground staring up at the starless sky. With it nothing but her painful injuries and dead comrades she couldn't hold herself anymore and simply lay there in the desolate fields sobbing.

That was months ago. A wound she'd never recovered from, and one she doubts she ever will. Even as she sits there in the transport she can't help but look at each and every soldier sitting there with her. Both wondering if they, too, will suddenly stand up and try to kill them all. But also knowing they, too, went through the same thing she did. With how decimated their forces were, there wasn't a soul left in the Legion that didn't go through what she did. How do you even compose a fighting force where every single member suffers from the sting of betrayal? The thought left her shake her head and giggle softly to herself. They were screwed, but it was obvious all of them were the stubborn sorts who wanted the world to end after they'd lashed out one last time.

Combat

Primary Armament | AC-40 "Takemikazuchi" Hyper-Velocity Linear Cannon: Rika has ever been one to enjoy contrast and awkwardly paired things. Her choice of weapon is no exception. The weapon, originally designed to be a vehicle-mounted cannon for dealing with Corruptants. Utilizing her Resonant powers she wields the weapon in much the same fashion as one would a sniper rifle. Her modified and stripped-down version stands at 7 Feet long propelling 40mm KIRT projectiles with hyper-sonic velocities. Modified to function more akin to an over-sized anti-material rifle it is fitted with advanced optics for target acquisition and stabilizing struts to help compensate for recoil. Due to the rather not-single target nature of the weapon she can dial down the power to give her shots a bit less kick to better aid allies in the thick of things. Given that the weapon was originally designed to be belt-fed from magazines stored in the vehicle carrying it, her ammunition is limited and her rate of fire is like-wise hampered. Even with the large ammunition pack she carries along with the rifle, the sheer size of the rounds limits her combat longevity on the battlefield. As such her weapon is primarily focused on larger, more dangerous targets while her allies deal with the smaller foes. Due to it's large and cumbersome nature the weapon can be disassembled and stored for easier transport, requiring a bit of time to re-assemble it when it's needed.

Secondary Armament |AC-15 Automatic Rifle: A much smaller and compact rifle, the AC-15 is Rika's secondary armament for when long-range support fire is either unnecessary or impossible, and for when the enemy gets too close requiring more immediate self defense. Capable of a high rate of fire this weapon gives Rika a bit more staying power in longer-term engagements, though it lacks the firepower needed to take down the more powerful Corruptants.

Equip 1 | Ammunition Case: An almost comically large backpack for carrying the ammunition used by her rifle.

Equip 2 | Stealth Suit: For protection Rika goes into combat with a suit composed of thin nano-fibers, much like those used by other Resonators. Her suit, however, offers little in the way of protection as it instead is focused on keeping her hidden both from visual and audio. The suit isn't limited to just her as it also encompasses her weapon allowing the cannon to be fired with minimal sound and no flash to give her away. The suit has never been tested against the rarer, more advanced types of Corruptants that exist and as such standing protocol is to, well, not test it. Should the suit take any damage it becomes unable to properly phase and renders her entirely visible in all respects.

Equip 3 | Standard Utility Belt: When on a mission Rika carries a utility belt around her waist with a variety of pouches to hold the numerous minor equipment one might need on the battlefield. From triage medical supplies to rations to navigation equipment to a grappling hook. If it's small enough to fit and seems useful, it's probably in there somewhere.

Skill Flair: Rika is, as anyone can tell you, a walking contradiction in many ways. Her resonance was never something she was very skilled in and so instead uses it passively augment her physical attributes, namely her strength and durability. Like one would expect she can shift her resonance to increase her agility when needed, but given her lacking abilities she relies almost exclusively on more traditional combat methods. Despite her immense strength she avoids frontline combat. Instead she posts up in the back lines to provide pin-point accurate fire support with her primary weapon. Her strength allows her to wield the weapon and compensate for the recoil and, when combined with her own sharpshooting skills, allows her to be a miniature mobile artillery platform. While she does her best to stay as far from direct combat as possible she is capable of turning that brute strength against enemies that get close, though even then she's more likely to rely on her backup weapon.

CODEBREAKER | Hitobashira: Rika's longing for the old days, away from all the fighting, the death, the backstabbing, the suffering. It all manifests in her unleashing a burst of reality-warping energy that transfers everything she considers friendly in a 50 meter radius away from harm. In practice this means allied soldiers, resonators, even VECTORS, 'away from the enemy', where that is nobody knows. All that can be certain is when they appear there, they will be far from immediate harm. They'll just find they're missing their loveable sniper.

Extras

"A quote? What? Why? Who's going to be looking at this? I thought this was just a profile. Wait- Stop! That doesn't count! Give me the record-"

Skills:

• Marksmanship
• Stealth
• Weapon-handling

KANE

CODE /

SEROBLISS

 

[Juju]

Retalis Concordia Legions

Brigitte Lefèvre

Physique...........◆◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇[1/10]
Willpower.........◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆[10/10]
Resonance.......◆◆◆◆◇◇◇◇◇◇◇[4/10]
Handler of.............Monarch

FEMALE / HUMAN / 30

SCRIM | FSF AGATHA

FEB 29 2,134 / NEO-PARIS

Overview

CODENAME: JUBILEE
While she can easily be considered odd, Brigitte's more eccentric qualities are somewhat dampened by her friendly, attentive, and jovial personality. It's easy to talk to her about almost anything, not just her research, and she is happy to help where she can. She is known to act like an aunt figure to those stationed below her and even brings home-made snacks to meetings with her research team (often in the likeness of splinters, which doesn't always go over well with other divisions). Her eccentricity comes from an all-encompassing fascination with Splinters. Brigitte has dedicated her life to studying the creatures, and her excitement and fondness towards them can often be off-putting to those around her.

Physical Identifiers

Brigitte is someone who doesn't really stick out in a crowd, and she likes to keep it that way. She wears her short brown hair in a low-maintence bob that frames a pair of grey-blue eyes. In terms of physique, she stands at around 5'8" and has a build that is neither athletic nor unfit; just enough to pass physical qualifications for missions. Likewise, she keeps herself in shape by running around on missions and carrying samples. Due to the latter, she actually has a surprising amount of stamina and upper body strength. Although she keeps up an unassuming appearance, hidden under her clothes are a latticework of scars. Some are thin and precise from the vivvisections during her 'coma', while others are ugly and jagged from Splinter claws.

Background

Brigitte's parents did everything they could to give her a happy life in the urban wonderland of Neo-Paris, and as Brigitte grew older she made it her goal to ensure all their sacrifices wouldn't be in vain. While her parents worked to keep them fed, Brigitte honed her wit, graduating top of her class with a comfortable amount of scholarships. She was a promising young woman, as her professors would say, but in reality she couldn't be farther from the word ambitious. She didn't want to battle on the cutting edge of science, she wanted a niche she could exploit so that she and her parents could live a comfortable life.

After careful consideration she found just the thing; livestock research genetics. In this age food was in amble supply, yet still out of reach for many, something painfully clear in her chosen field. Food waste was widespread, and genetic improvement was spent on improving meat quality for the wealthy. Still, Brigitte ignored the ethics of humanity's cruel food system, and made a budding and prosperous new career... until the heavens shattered.

What came after is still quite a blur in her memory. She remembers evacuating for another sanctum aboard a ship, her position secured by her new-found research status. Even now, she cannot remember if her parents were there, but she will forever remember that ethereal song that made her rush out onto deck. From the depths of the sea came a great leviathan with a shadow like a mountain, and fins that glowed with the unnatural lights of a broken sky. Before she knew it her world had turned sideways, and black water rushed around her, filling her lungs and vision with cold.

Brigitte dreamed of strange and forgotten things, but the reality she awoke to was even stranger. A year and a half had passed since the day she fell into the ocean, and during that time she had succumbed into what her caretakers compared to a coma. Normally, resources wouldn't be spared to support a patient so long, but Brigitte found out another thing; she was a natural Scrim resonator. It was apparently quite rare, as during her sleep she had been used as an experimental subject and had been instrumental in the understanding of resonance.

The end of the world had left biologists in short supply, so when Brigitte recovered she was offered a position on the splinter research branch of the military. It seemed like the best way to understand her situation, so Brigitte accepted the offer. She rose through the ranks easily, with her understanding of blight and splinters almost coming to her with uncanny ease. To this day, she remains a top researcher on splinters, and works on several experimental projects that aims to understand splinter biology in an effort to contain them.

Combat

Primary Armament | Prototype EZ-Sample Gun Mark II ("Peggy 2"): [seen in her right hand] Brigitte's newest design for the Ez-Sample gun, which includes an reverse function to the bio-collection cartridges. In addition to collecting samples in capsules, Mark II can shoot canisters of the same size containing a variety of other substances. Unfortunately it has a pretty short range as of now, but Brigitte is currently testing splinter-derived 'ammo' that she hopes will be useful for military use. As of now, she currently has a couple dozen trial canisters filled with the following;
B7-E56: a substance that was observed to cause a painful reaction in swarm-class splinters. It has been further purified and concentrated in hopes of acting as a temporary deterrant. It might even just enrage corruptants... but that is what testing is for!
H-744: modified goo taken from archer splinters. In lab tests it was found to dissolve splinter-flesh, but it is in need of practical testing. When shot at corruptants, it is hypothesized to act as a corrosive or poison depending on the size and nature of the corruptant.
4F-211: a specialized canister with two thinly separated compartments, one containing shield-splinter chitin cells and the other containing stimulant. When shot at something, the glass divider breaks, combining the two substances, resulting in a rapidly hardening mass of chitin. While in dire need of field testing, it has been hypothesized to weigh down, or possibly 'glue' limbs together or to hard surfaces, immobilizing the target.
Emergency Sedative: surprisingly, not meant for corruptants. This canister is meant for Monarch should he go berserk. It's standard for all handlers, but Brigitte has adapted it to work with Peggy II.

Secondary Armament | Anatomist's Best Friend: A small, yet highly efficient energy-grade weapon, built for easy storage during missions and attuned to the vibrations found in splinter flesh. This blade may be small, but it can cut through splinter armor like a hot blade through butter. It is used mostly for field-dissections and sample collection, but in a pinch and the hands of someone educated in splinter anatomy, it takes on a certain deadliness.

Equip 1 | EZ-Sample Gun: (shown in her right hand) a custom-made tool designed with the help of Brigitte herself, and made standard for any field researchers. It is a hand-held device similar to a bolt gun that takes uniform and perfect samples for lab testing. Wonderful!

Equip 2 | Sample Preservation Kit: (shown in her left hand) a bulky, yet durable canister that both protects and preserves samples (many of which are quite volatile!). It keeps samples preserved with liquid-nitrogen cooling technology and is divided into 4 handy compartments! Brigitte fills this up when on missions and also uses it to store her experimental 'ammo'. It can be held by hand, or strapped onto one's back for better mobility.

Equip 3 | Self-Adhering Tracking Tags + Tracker: Small, hand thrown devices that attach themselves to a target corruptant and track them with a GPS for observation. Doesn't work on all corruptants.

Skill Flair: Brigitte's fighting style can come across as quite alarming for those who do not know her. She walks into the battlefield as if it were a lab, focusing on collecting data while casually AND dangerously getting in the middle of things. Brigitte is known to talk to herself, others, and even the corruptants as she works, maintaining a cheerful air despite being in the middle of combat. Sometimes she will even stop in the middle of a fight to collect samples or take note of something that catches her eye. Unless in serious danger, her primary fighting style is to unleash her experimental and often unreliable "prototype ammo".

It is only when Brigitte is content with her tests, needs 'additional data' or when pressed with danger that her serious fighting capabilities are unleashed. During these moments, her arms will be engulfed in large splinter-claws, and she quickly makes mincemeat out of her enemies with surprising speed and strength. If there are splinters available, Brigitte will highjack their minds to aid her allies, pressing the charge with her temporary minions at her side. As always, she will assign nicknames for her overridden splinters.

CODEBREAKER | The Fruit of Understanding: Brigitte often said that in order to defeat an enemy, you must first understand it. However, this reveals a burdening truth; enemy and ally are defined only by words and spare strands of circumstance. Why should one life have greater value over another?, she would think to herself in secret. Is it cruel to even think like that? To another set of eyes, perhaps we are the monsters. If she could just step into the mind of an Albedo perhaps she would know the truth. Then, would human and monster become one heart and soul? Would it be beautiful or terrible? If she knew the truth, would she still look fondly on humanity or join their crusade to end it? She shudders at the thought, both a desire and a dread to partake of that forbidden fruit of understanding.

Extras

"ICARUS ONLY REMEMBERED HIS WINGS WERE WAX WHEN HE NEARED THE SUN. IT IS SIMPLY HUMAN NATURE. PERHAPS WE ONLY LEARN FROM BROKEN BONES AND FALLEN SONS. PERHAPS WE LEARN NOTHING AT ALL."

Skills: cooking, confectionary decoration, dissection, sketching (usually for anatomy), fluent in several Agatha languages, genetics splinter research

Theme:

Spoiler: English Lyrics!

I went on a boat
to leave behind the land
I saw a fish
larger than the sea
when I had returned
and told you about it
you said to me "you're dreaming,
go back to your bed"
you said to me "you're dreaming,
go back to your bed"

I passed the winter
in my bed
they said you've been sleeping
for a year and a half
I said "no, I was thinking",
and you laughed
I spent my nights
thinking about the day
I spent my nights
thinking about the day

I went outside
to look at you
you seem so strong
but you're trembling
they said "you must wait
before you fall"
I said "no, I'm leaving",
to make things right
"no" I said "I'm leaving",
I will make things right

I've been gone a long time
a long time, it's long, a long time
I've been gone a long time
I've brushed with death more often than life

KANE

CODE /

SEROBLISS

Spoiler: writing sample

'What goes up when the rain comes down?'

Brielle clutched the now empty cassette in her coat pocket, furrowing her brow. Without the assistance of the internet, she probably wouldn't have guessed the answer to this by herself. Unaided by the wit of strangers, she had guessed the answer to be clouds. When sharing this theory with a friend it had earned her some laughter. Was the riddle that easy to guess, or did she just see things differently? Maybe she really had gone bonkers.

With a sigh, Brie glanced up at the dreary sky, bloated with puffy clouds. 'Not all umbrellas are blue. It could just as easily be red. What if its just a huge metaphor?'

Did she feel a spot of rain on her face or did she just imagine it? Had the forecast called for rain today? She had been so preoccupied on remembering the tape that she had forgotten to check. Maybe she should have brought her umbrella.

Brie stopped walking suddenly, eyes wide and face paled. Where had she left her umbrella? She usually just pulled her hood up during a downpour, so it had been a while since she needed it, and unfortunately could not remember where she left it in the house. A sense of impending dread hung over her like the clouds above. She knew that whatever she'd find when she returned home would not be her umbrella. Someone bumped into her, their angry words nothing but a faraway mumble.

Out of habit, Brie began to meticulously run through everything in her bag, from her phone to every content of her wallet. She kept only the essentials, and kept everything in the same place. It made it easier to remember, to memorize. It made it easier to avoid "replacements". Also out of habit, Brie stepped to the side of the street and flung open her bag, filing through the contents. She let out a shaky breath when thankfully nothing had been replaced. To be sure, she double checked her list of possessions. All accounted for, unless she forgot something. She really hoped not.

Many people had that feeling of 'forgetting something' when they left their house or a restaurant, but Brielle was certain that nobody ever felt that crushing sense of doom that came along with it.

Now that everything was where she left them, Brie was reminded of the task at hand. A Wallflower Agency member was supposed to meet her here. It didn't take her long to see two girls talking, one holding a blue umbrella.

Brie dragged a hand across her face and muttered, "Blue umbrella. Literally an umbrella. I was overthinking this for nothing...ugh."

It also occurred to her how openly the lady, who she eavesdropped to be called Corki (a cool name), was talking about Wallflower. 'Wait, are we allowed to just say the name of the association out loud? I've watched too many movies to know that might be a bad idea. Spooky stuff is happening, and I don't want spooky enemies. Oh no, what if THEY are the spooky enemies? What if its a trap?'

Panicking slightly, Brielle tried to play it cool by scrolling through her phone while watching the nearby conversation carefully. A chill ran up her spine when the lady spoke so casually about knowing everyone without the need of introductions. Even if she did try to stay back, the lady likely could recognize her. Cramming her hands into her coat pockets, Brie inched towards the duo tentatively. She stood a little awkwardly, trying to think of something to say.

Finally it came out as a simple, "Hey, I uh, got your message..."

Pretty intimidated by both women, Brielle fell quiet and only mustered up enough courage to simply nod in greeting to Corki.

 

[SirDerpingtonIV]

Retalis Concordia Legions

Natalie Welles

Physique...........◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆[10/10]
Willpower.........◆◆◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇[2/10]
Resonance.......◆◆◆◇◇◇◇◇◇◇[3/10]

Female / Human / 27

Surge | FSF MAGDALENE

Jun 21st, 2137/ NEO-TOPEKA

Overview

CODENAME: HAMMER
Natalie is abrasive by nature, and hard to get along with. She'd always been a bit like that, with a hot head and an inability to hold her tongue, but these days her constant foul mood only makes it worse. This soldier is bullheaded and stubborn, difficult to stop once set in motion, though these days its hard to get her moving. She lacks motivation and resolve, having lost much of the drive that a younger Natalie possessed. Despite that, she is still a soldier, and will still (mostly) follow orders, seeing her missions through without objection, as long as she doesn't show up drunk or hungover.

Natalie is blunt, direct. There is little point in lying or beating around the bush, unless it's to hide how much of a disaster her life's become. She is straightforward, if not a little crude in conversation, getting straight to the point and wasting little extra time in conversation if she can avoid it.

Natalie is by no means a horrible person, but the betrayal of her previous team has led her to become paranoid, mean, and drowning in her vices. There is little trust for other people, and so Natalie avoids making attachments, viewing her comrades with suspicion, and often lashing out if she feels threatened or annoyed by them. To cope with the pain she feels, Natalie smokes and drinks heavily, and grows quickly angered when prevented from doing so, or criticized for it. Once called Hammer because of her capabilities in combat, people around the base call her Hammer because of how often she's hammering down drinks.

Physical Identifiers

Natalie is a tall, muscular woman, well-built and weathered through battle. She stands at 6'0. Her body is marred with scars from her career of combat. With a head of pale blonde hair and a dull gray eye, Natalie often just looks tired, her eyes rimmed dark. She often reeks of alcohol or cigarette smoke, and visibly takes little care of herself.

Background

Anger. Struggle. Futility. Natalie's life has been a series of struggles, many of which cannot be fought. Natalie struggles anyways, for that is all she has known.

Born to a poor family in Neo-Topeka, Natalie's life started with difficulties. Her mother, Leela, was a driver for American Postal Incorporated, the company that had emerged to dominate after the collapse of the U.S. Postal Service and resulting selling of its pieces to corporations. The job made decent income, but having to rent the truck from the company meant take-home pay was minimal, especially with the impossibly high rents on the micro-apartment the family lived in, and the leftover medical debt from Natalie's birth and the broken arm her father had obtained the year before. Her father, Harold, was fortunate enough to work as a teacher for Topeka Primary Charter, the sole school for 100 miles still offering acceptable payment plans for low-income students. It was the only reason at all Natalie received any education, for outside of TPC, there simply was no education for anyone without the substantial income required to attend a private school.

Of course, this was not to last. When she was twelve, API phased out human drivers entirely, in favor of remote-controlled drones and self-driving trucks. Leela was lucky enough to be related to one of the District Managers through a distant cousin, and thus got the transfer to being a remote drone pilot, though this job paid substantially less. But, at least the equipment was cheaper to rent from the company. This too however, did not last, for only two years later, the remote pilots would all be fired, and replaced by pilots from Neo-Manila, who legally could be paid much less. Soon after, TPC collapsed after it was revealed that its CEO had been skimming most of the school budget off to pay his Mind-Stim addiction, and had been fudging on reports to investors. Of course, the investors paid the police off to assassinate him, and in the resulting mess, TPC was looted by all its vultures, and Harold too was without a job, and Natalie was without education.

Although she'd done well enough in school so far, being separated from her closest school friends upset the young girl. As things got worse, Natalie had a rebellious streak, and throughout her early teens she roamed the streets, picking fights and getting into trouble. Of course, despite being a relatively big girl, she lost most of these fights. Eventually, the family was kicked out of their micro-apartment without the income to make rent, joining many in Neo-Topeka's slums and homeless encampments. Of course, the city still had a civil government at the time, even if it was just a front for the regional branch of the Walmart Corporation, so the now homeless family often had to move from place to place, avoiding the constant efforts to round up the homeless and bus them out of the city to show that the mayor was "tough on crime" and "cleaning the streets".

To avoid "catching a bus", Leela and Harold needed new jobs in order to pay the bribes and protection fees the city's private cops demanded of those who lived in the slums. Leela got a job in retail, and Harold got into gig work with Gigz, a debt-slavery company, whose peons were rented out to other corporations as cheap, expendable labor given the utter lack of benefits. Eventually Leela had to quit after the store was shot up and the resulting trauma prevented her from going back. Harold began to drink, and although he had always been a loving father, he was often out to drink when he wasn't working, and so as she grew, Natalie was more and more without a father.

Their luck ran out however, and at age sixteen, Natalie's family was rounded up, beaten, and bussed out after failing to make the proper bribes. They were all separated in the process, with Natalie being bussed out to the CaliCorp Regional Success Zone, or what was once California. Most folk couldn't read enough to know the full name though, so CCRSZ Ceerez was what most called it. To this day Natalie has never learned where the bus her parents were forced to board went. Corporate guards intercepted Natalie's bus close to the border, and everyone onboard, mostly homeless from Neo-Topeka, or at least people who had been there, shipped from elsewhere, ended up arrested.

Tossed into a corporate prison in the deserts of southern Ceerez, the arid, lifeless land just called "the Wastes", for the crime of trespassing on private property, Natalie was hit with a Work Improvement Program Chapter 5, or a 'reeducation program' of four years forced labor and training to perform low-skill labor for CaliCorp as one of their "semi-free employees". The desert was harsh, and the labor back-breaking, tearing up old shipwrecks in the dried out Salton Sea, and salvaging metal from abandoned towns. Of course, it wasn't safe either. The prisoners were provided with second-rate, used PPE, and the toxic dust kicked up by the wind blasting over the barren sea bed was deeply carcinogenic. In this time of her life, from sixteen to seventeen, Natalie's rebellious streak grew darker. Rank alcohol smuggled and traded between prisoners, bloody fights, and exploitative labor were her days, and Natalie held no hope for the future.

Of course, Ceerez in not only hostile, toxic, and barren, but infested with raiders. The land's former inhabitants, trapped migrants, and corporate mercenaries infest the land as roaming marauder bands, waging a dirty, wild-west style conflict across the land. In truth, the Wastes extended out of just south-Ceerez, stretching from the edge of Neo-LA to the Gulf in the east, north into the Plains, and south into the Mexican region, full of its corporate pirate-lords. All those unfortunate souls caught out in that sun-blasted land ended up having to move, raid, or scrape from the earth to survive, in the land even the corporations abandoned. So, it was hardly a surprise that one day the prison laborers, tearing up some abandoned rail line, would be set upon by corporate mercenaries. The guards were killed, ripped apart by the guns of the fast moving vehicle, and the prisoners rounded up and forced into a new kind of slavery.

Those with capable bodies ended up working for the mercenary band, fighting at the whims of the Walmart Corporation to defend its Cross-Waste supply chain against other merc bands and raiders, working in the midst of dust storms that raiders tended to prefer. The kind of weather that prevented the corporate drone craft from simply blowing them to pieces. As a soldier, Natalie found something suited to her. She was no great student, lacked the patience to perform the sort of body-shattering low-skill, low-pay labor that was open to her, and had no connections to improve her standing. But in war, she found her place. War was something to understood, it was an order, an understanding, a belonging she'd never had. War was an industry that was forever, and despite the advances in machines, in drones and robots, the bodies of the poor, of the unlucky, of society's victims, would always be shoved into a grinder. After all, machines were expensive, and the lives of those who couldn't "pull themselves up" weren't.

Perhaps a different person would have learned from this experience. Would have taken the training and all they'd seen to build a new identity. To fight for what was right, to try and make a better world with their own two hands, no matter what stood in the way. But Natalie wasn't that person. Lacked the optimism, the drive, the dream of a better society, an equal world. Natalie just wanted to survive, and to drink and smoke and numb out everything outside of that blood-pumping combat.

So, she developed in a different direction. By age nineteen, Natalie had several successful ops under her belt, was trusted with better gear, and had grown fully used to this life. For a bit, it seemed Natalie's struggle was over. She'd found her place, found satisfaction in life, even if it was messy, bloody, and short. Most of all, she was good at violence.

Then the world broke. For men in suits and men in labcoats, there were all kinds of words for it. Experiments gone wrong, wasted ventures, radiation and fractals and space time and all sorts of shit. For the rats of the world, for people on the low like Natalie, the only word for it was ruin. The sky cracked like a plane of glass and new suns burned to life across the horizon. Nuclear warheads, illusions, or spontaneous combustion of matter, it didn't matter. The world was fire and death, and out here, away from the stabilizing effects of certain tech, the Wastes turned to hell. Everything was blood and fire, twisting flesh and screaming metal, in the trek east. Survivors, raiders, wanderers and madmen, all flooding eastward, towards rumors of safety. Corruptants and mad machines, desperate men and mutated animals. The world had gone mad, and flesh melted down, warped, changed.

The human flood rolled over the lands, the world turned inside out. Eventually, the sun stopped in the sky. Then it broke. At one point, the flood numbered almost fifty thousand. By the time it reached the foundations of one of the safe places, the FSF's, they were fifty two. A different person would have been a leader. Would have brought the flood together into a caravan, united against threats, working together to survive. Natalie wasn't a leader. Wasn't that person. She walked on her own, hoarded what she could, and killed when threatened. Those who walked with the flood were just as much a threat as the beasts and the madmen and the whole world gone rotten. They were all hungry, and so was she. But she was armed, was strong. To kill someone for bread, to wrap your bloody, calloused hands about their throat, to squeeze and choke, to crush the life out of them like a crumpling soda can. The days of the Flood aren't days Natalie will ever forget.

When she reached one of those RCL strongholds, there was no hesitation. Natalie signed up, willing to become their hammer as she'd been for the mercenaries before. As it turns out, for the RCL she'd be a damn good hammer. Natalie participated in offensive and defensive ops, pushing out into the blasted lands, fighting close-quarters in ruined cities, and just generally helping put down the Corrupted swarms alongside the rest of the army. It was a good life, and away from the exploitation and ruin of the past, Natalie excelled amid the RCL's order. Once she'd dropped the drugs she proved herself an excellent soldier. Natalie excelled with heavy weapons, and often was the first into combat, blasting a hole for her comrades to follow through, taking enemy fire as necessary. Her team could trust her, rely on her even. She did her job well, after all.

Her comrades however, trust her in war as they could, couldn't talk to her. Natalie was just difficult to get along with, hot -tempered and loose with her words, quick to take offensive and quick to make it. So, even as her squad advanced, proving themselves enough to be considered for Resonator status, they didn't grow much closer. Natalie's Resonator powers were simple, as she was. She was a Surge, and not a fancy one either. Being a Resonator just made her stronger, made her more durable. She could regenerate well, could take inhuman amounts of damage, could crush and destroy. Others wielded powers like magic, could turn invisible or fly or control the Splinters. Natalie's power just made her a better hammer.

Even with the powers, with yet another thing drawing the squad together, Natalie didn't relate to them, didn't become their friend. If they had become her friends, if Natalie had cared enough to pay a little more attention, had trusted a little more, she might have noticed the ways they changed. The more radical leanings some of them held, the people they'd been listening to. But she didn't. She didn't try, didn't want to try. People were confusing and bothersome and opened her up to getting hurt. So how could she have known that over half the squad were cultists if she barely even spoke to them? She cared about them in her own way, could rely on them, and spoke to them more than she spoke to other people, but it just wasn't enough.

Natalie was blindsided when it happened. Out on mission, delving through the ruins of Denver, Natalie's squad of Resonators were on task to plant the bomb that would wipe out a relatively large nest of Splinters. The mission was dangerous, the type of job they excelled at, but still dangerous enough that heavy casualties could be safely attributed to the enemy over the truth of the betrayal.

They moved through an old office complex, a dusted colossus of steel that overlooked the heart of the nest. With ranged support from the squad's sniper, and scouting by its stealthed up Agent, they'd gain access to the underground tunnel leading down into the underground parking garage that formed the nest's heart. There, the squad's backbone, Natalie, the Commander, the Engineer, the Scrim, and the Medic would seize on the opportunity the Engineer had made in distracting the hive, and plant the bomb. Of course, little did they know that the Scrim had alerted the hive to the Sniper and Agent's positions, and the Engineer had disabled their comms.

The Medic and Natalie volunteered to move forward and press first into the hive. Of course, the Commander approved, and once they'd past through, it was all too easy to close the door behind them, and alert the hive. What resulted was a horror, a bloody, messy fight as Natalie tried to hammer through the blast doors while the Medic could only try to fend off the Splinters. The two of them could barely break through, engaging in combat with the traitors as they fled from the Splinters. It was nothing short of messy, and between the guns and the bugs, the Scrim and Natalie would be the last ones standing. The Medic went down with the bomb, collapsing the tunnels behind them to provide an escape, and in the gunfight around that, the others had been dispatched.

So, the Scrim, Olivia, and Natalie were alone, in the lobby of the old office building. The words exchanged between them never left the room, as Natalie has refused to speak of them. In those moments, Olivia spoke true. She told Natalie that she was a hollow person, a shell that just walked forward, forever, unthinking, unfeeling. She was a tool to be used by whoever would point her in a direction, give her something to do. Natalie didn't believe in anything, didn't fight for anything. She didn't care about humanity, about progress or truth or justice, or even friends. Natalie was just a tool. And Olivia was right. But Natalie didn't need to believe to fight. She didn't need good motives or ideals or even friends to kill. She didn't need to be a person to knock Olivia down, no beliefs required to break the hand that held the gun. The words hurt, the barbs hurt. Olivia was capable, and with long, powerful claws pulled forth by power alone, she thrust out, piercing Natalie's helmet, destroying her eye, nearly killing her. It would have killed her, if Natalie's powers were more flashy, if she was anything more than a walking gun. But she wasn't, she was all durability, all monstrous strength. It was simple, instinctual, to grab Olivia by the hair, to lift her up and smash her skull against the tiles, over and over. Natalie's fists were like stone blocks, bludgeoning Olivia beneath them, cracking bone, breaking flesh, beating the Scrim to death. Olivia cried and screamed and begged, words about ideals and mercy and belief tumbling out of her mouth along with the blood. But Natalie didn't listen. She couldn't listen. She was a weapon, and weapons don't listen. They destroy.

When Natalie returned alone, in the midst of the betrayal, it was understood what had happened. Her loyalty was never in question, no one had even presumed her capable of it. Natalie returned to combat soon after, though her composure was gone. Stoic silence and an inability to talk was replaced with anger, and her vices returned in full force. Drunk, angry, and violent, Natalie fell apart. In FSF Magdalene she became known for getting herself thrown out of places for causing problems. Drunken brawls, beatings, near murders. Natalie drank herself half to death over and over, drained her savings on drinks and smokes and drugs. In any different situation, in any different world, she would have lost her job. She'd be cast out, imprisoned, taken care of, even. But the world had shattered, and times were different. Even as a complete mess, as an anti-social failure, she was still used. Still sent on jobs, still used. After all, even in her current state, she was still a good hammer.

Combat

Primary Armament | BNR Industries PVSW C-6 "Cannibal" KIRT Heavy Shotgun: A monster of a weapon, specially made to be wielded by a soldier in a R-42 Vanguard Suit, though it is also wielded by small VECTORs. The Cannibal is a weapon that can only be described as barbaric, a double-barreled shotgun firing 37mm shells of KIRT-enhanced ammunition. The weapon is overkill, requiring two additional machine-arms to handle the bulk and kick of the weapon. Each slug is capable of obliterating a human being, of knocking out vehicles, of piercing steel and shattering stone. This weapon is certainly heavy duty, meant to deal with larger Corrupted forms. The weapon is breach-loaded and double-barreled. It can be loaded with all manner of ammunition, from scattershot to slug, incendiary and explosive.

Secondary Armament | Argelaux PDW W-2 "Mauler" KIRT Wrist-Wrapped Defense Shotgun : A "Personal Defense Weapon" designed for the insane. A double-barreled 12 gauge shotgun meant to be attached to one's wrist, it serves as a weapon for Resonators and mechsuits, the only beings strong enough to wield the damn thing. It can be loaded with all manner of ammunition, from scattershot to slug, incendiary and explosive.

Equip 1 | BNR Industries PVS R-42 "VANGUARD" Suit: The Vanguard is a suit of power armor, bulky and heavily armored. It is larger than standard infantry powered armor and much heavier, meant to take a beating while leading a push into hostile territory. The suit is specially made to wield heavy weaponry, specifically the C-6 Cannibal KIRT Heavy Shotgun, though Vanguards have been seen alongside other weapons, often heavy machineguns, railguns, and particle cannons. To do so, the suit is equipped with two shoulder-extended stabilizer arms, capable of absorbing recoil and stabilizing the firing platform for the heavy weapon wielded by the suit.

The suit has an inbuilt HUD, temperature control and life support system, comms, and computational systems for calculating battlefield necessities, such as assisting with aim, maintaining the miniature cameras mounted on the suit to enable 360 degree vision for the user, and other quality of life features.

Most other BNR suits and VECTOR's have their origins in construction, mining, and otherwise industrial mechanized platforms, adapted and transformed into hardy and reliable military equipment to help humanity defend against the Corrupted. The Vanguard is an exception. The Vanguard is designed to exterminate.

Equip 2 | Mobility Jets: Mobility Jets are mounted jets often used by Power Armor wielders. Although powerful, Mobility Jets do not function as jet packs and do not allow flight. Instead, their purpose is to serve as short-burst jets to aid the user in quick movement, often to dodge attacks or to aid in jumps. The Mobility Jets used by Natalie are short burst, prone to heat, and limited in fuel. So, Natalie has only enough fuel for about ten uses a mission, and it can take thirty seconds to a minute to disperse sufficient heat from the jets to enable another use. The Mobility Jets are mounted at the hips.


Equip 3 | Argelaux CCW GR-7 "Growler" Grenade Launcher: The Growler is a Crowd Control Weapon meant for dealing with large groups of Corrupted hostiles. Inaccurate and using lower-yield grenades than its much larger, more potent cousins, the Growler is meant as an infantry support weapon, fired ideally into large hordes of Corrupted. Although not as devastating as other, larger weapons, it is small, compact, and able to be used in situations that other launchers are unable to be used. For power armored soldiers, the Growler is often a side weapon, meant for dealing with crowds. The Growler is meant to be easily and quickly reloaded in combat, so it uses drums of six grenades. An empty drum can be easily ejected and replaced. This grenade launcher is capable of using multiple types of ammunition, including Bouncer grenades, gas grenades, and more.

Skill Flair: Natalie wades into battle, an unstoppable force that moves straight into the enemy, drawing attention off her allies and slaughtering enemies until she stands knee-deep in the dead, none the worse for wear given her incredibly durable armor, and her potent defensive and regenerative capabilities. Capable of dealing with targets large and small, few and many, The Hammer is a war machine indeed.

CODEBREAKER | SUBMERGANCE: More than anything, Natalie just wants to be done. She wants to sleep, and be free, and at long last, feel nothing. To sleep, forever. In the hypothetical scenario of Natalie reaching a breaking point, her innate, disconnected power would grow unstable. In this state, reality itself shivers about her. The Code of Life that makes up the air, the water, and most physical objects within a large radius is warped. Tears open in the space around her and from them pours a mirky, gray fluid that is difficult to see through, liquified Fractelum. All within the space of fluid find their senses numbed and pain dulled. The liquid begins to solidify, turning into uncorrupted Fractelum crystals. All who are unable to escape it are trapped within. Natalie surrenders to the numbness and becomes comatose in the midst of the crystalline structure feeling nothing and free of her burdens. Then, she would at last die.

Extras

"Stop talking. We have better things to do."

Skills:

• A capable markswoman and close-quarters-combatant.
• Physically fit with impressive endurance
• Understanding of her own equipment, able to perform maintenance and repairs herself, as long as she has the equipment.
• Despite her moods and vices, Natalie keeps a cool head in stressful situations.
• Before Shattered Heavens, Natalie was into bird-watching, and was able to recognize most of North America's remaining birds.

KANE

CODE /

SEROBLISS

 

[FabulousTrash]

Retalis Concordia Legions

Song "Kyu" Kyung-Min

Physique...........◆◆◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇[2/10]

Willpower.........◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◇◇[8/10]

Resonance.......◆◆◆◆◆◇◇◇◇◇[5/10]

Handler: Mocking Jay

Female / Echo / 26

Machine Savant | FSF HIMARI

June 3, 2140 / Neo-Seoul

Overview

CODENAME: SHRIKE

Quiet as can be, out of choice, you'll never heard a word out of Kyung-Min. Nor is it easy to read her. But behind her eyes, Kyu is a complex ball of emotions. Overall, Kyung-Min is an approachable person. She enjoys the small comforts of life and doesn't take much for granted. When appropriate, she may sometimes initiate a "conversation", but otherwise stays to herself and occupies her time with hobbies and other things. You may sometimes think she isn't paying attention, but Kyu's eyes and ears catch every detail and commits it to memory.

As a soldier of war, Kyu is quick-minded and adaptable. Her tenacity knows no bounds and she'll continue to fight until it's completely over. That includes wiping out enemies, however she tends to overkill whomever she's fighting. In some cases, Kyung-Min won't stop attacking a dead body until she's pulled away. No one knows why, but if they heard what was in her head, maybe they'd understand. She finds herself responsible for everyone's safety and will do her best to protect the ones she silently cares for.

Physical Identifiers

Kyung-Min stands at roughly 5'5", weighing in at 125 lbs. Her frame is small, but toned and developed. Her jet-black hair is typically messy and just barely upkept. Occasionally, it may appear more presentable and tied in a certain way.

Her clothing choices are casual and comfortable, but practical as well. What remains constant is the mask she wears on her face, never coming off in public. Anyone who tries to remove it is met with retaliation in various forms.

Background

아버지, 나 죽을 건가요? ("Father, am I going to die?")

뜻이 있는 곳에 길이 있다. ("Where there is a will, there is a way.")

Those were the words spoken to Song Kyung-Min, after receiving a terminal diagnosis at the age of 7.

Until she was old enough to receive Self-Regulating Iatric Nanites, the girl's growing years were spent in hospital beds. And when she wasn't there, she was stuck at home in Seoul, South Korea. Diagnosed with a late-stage illness, her father worked tirelessly to pay for Kyung-Min's medical expenses. Her mother remained at home and took care of her, while her 2 siblings lived a normal life. Kyung-Min attended school remotely from her home. When she wasn't studying, she spent her time exploring her hobbies. Robotics, computers, anything to keep her mind away from her death timer.

It wasn't until she was 18 when she finally received SIN. Within the next few days, her disease vanished, and she could begin her life for the first time.

It didn't last long.

After the Shattered Heavens, Kyung-Min was left only with the memory of her family, as their bodies were mangled beyond recognition. The lonely girl buried what was left in the backyard of her home, then remained. She had no where else to go. The next few days were spent learning to survive on her own.

As time passed, she eventually left her home with the growing threat of Corruptants nearing her. She found refuge among strangers in a camp that would eventually become the RCL's FSF HIRAMI. Though silent, Kyung-Min found another family among the strangers that surrounded her. When the RCL officially took over operations, they screened everyone that was present, offering the ultimatum of joining their ranks to aid in the fight against Corruptants, or be reloacted to one of the main sanctums.

Perhaps it was the untapped burning hatred towards Corruptants, or her endless desire to honor her family's memory. Whatever the reason was, Kyung-Min opted for the former. She was processed and assigned a squad, where they all underwent the metaphasium process. It was curiosity in her eyes when the RCL found out what her resonance was.

Kyung-Min was like an idol in the RCL's eyes. But she strayed away from attention. Many people kept asking her questions about her past, prodding at what resonant she was. Eventually, she resorted to muting herself. Kyung-Min fabricated the mask she wears today, sealing away her lips. Now when people approached her, all they received was silence.

Each day, a new mission. At the end of that day, it was a mission completed. Over time, Kyung-Min got more comfortable with her life, her abilities. She began to warm up to those around her. But she remained silent. It was hard to hear herself when there were many other voices in your head.

Things seemed to be looking towards a positive note. up until that fated day, where Kyung-Min's new family was torn apart.

Back to square one. Almost.

Unlike the Shattered Heavens, many were still alive after the Sons of Pythagoras attacked. But the RCL's numbers were not enough. All the process made against the fight of the Corruptants reversed. However, Kyung-Min's resolve didn't falter, as she retreated with the rest of the RCL to safety at FSF ANGELA.

Combat

Primary Armament | "Legacy"

A mimic of a family heirloom from her mother's side. The original was lost in the wind after the Shattered Heavens. Its one of Kyung-Min's main reminders of her past. The blade is nothing special, infused with KIRT to be effective against Corruptants.


Equip 1 | X01 Mask
The mask Kyung-Min wears isn't just for show. Its functional too. It contains a variety of utilities including air filtration, embedded commlink, and a small HUD that displays on the glass in front of her eyes, showing data such as map location and other useful info. It can also provide Kyung-Min with both night and thermal vision. Another feature Kyung-Min recently added, though not practical in a fight, is the ability to generate smoke from out of the sides of the mouth.



Equip 2 | Severant Autoinjector
An epi-pen style device that injects Severant. While some Echos doing carry their own, Kyung-Min opts to carry her own in case her handler cant get to theirs quick enough.



Equip 3 | Standard Protective Armor
Kyong-Min wears standard armor under her clothing. Flexible enough to pass off as skin-tight clothing, but strong enough to withstand most light / medium impact attacks. It is susceptible to stabbing attacks however.


Skill Flair:
Kyong-Min is a balanced fighter overall, being able to mix using her resonance abilities and traditional combat training. Where Kyung-Min excels however is using WISPs in a variety of ways, ranging from forming giant fists, firing off lances of them, or forming barriers to protect herself and others. Kyung-Min likes to keep her distance from her opponents but isn't a stranger to close-up combat. She can adjust on the fly to synergize better with others she's fighting with.



CODEBREAKER | "Intervention"
Kyung-Min draws all the surrounding WISPs nearby, creating copies of herself until a small squad is formed. Kyung-Min can mentally control these copies, but they can also act independently. The copies cannot utilize the WISPs like Kyu can, but they're deadly melee fighters and move a lot more quicker than the original. The copies can only last so long however, as maintaining them requires concentration. In some cases, Kyu will remain behind while the copies take to the front lines.

The copies are impervious to most attacks, as they can quickly reform if they take some sort of damage. But the damage they take, the original can feel. As more and more damage is taken, Kyu's ability to maintain the copies gets shorter.

Extras

"..."

Skills:
- Multilingual
Her mother was Japanese, while her father was Korean. She learned additional languages in school.

- Well versed in technology/engineering
Kyung-Min study engineering while in school, and continued to reinforce her learning with her hobbies. It was her skills that allowed to her fabricate her mask

- Cooking
- Combat Trianed
- Parkour


Theme:

KANE

CODE /

SEROBLISS