Fantasy The Holy Queendom of Roadalia

[King Ad Rock]

The Roadalian Military



Name: General Leonard Roadalia


Age: 34


Race: Kildran


Description by @Crucified Fear

General Roadalia heard the rumblings just like everyone else. The dull droning in the darkest corners of the taverns and town alleys. An incessant buzzing beyond only the most astute powers of perception. A whispered chant: The True King of Roadalia. And Leonard Roadalia ignored and disavowed these convictions, just as any sane Roadalian would.


He was well aware of Queen Gayana's deteriorating mental state, and was appalled by the actions she took against those deemed unholy, but he saw mutiny and the molestation of the concept his ancestors fought for to be a far greater crime. Leonard didn't think his last name gave him right to anything. Despite being the descendant of the country's first ruling family, he would fight and die to ensure Roadalia remained a Queendom. It was his destiny.


Leonard has in a way tried his entire life to run from his surname. When he was of age, he attempted to enroll into Roadalia's military academy under a false name, to ensure he was given no special treatment. It was a stigma he has battled his entire military career, and the only time the typically mild mannered man would become furious. However, with his regal smile, soft spoken demeanor, unparalleled prowess with a lance and his fearless leadership, Roadalia's men have come to love and respect their General.


Leonard spends his free time in studies, enjoying music and attending the various charities spread out amongst the country. But even the most upstanding men have their secrets. His love of liquor and wine behind closed is often whispered about. He has been seen many times seeking private council from Janer Courtine, Captain of the Holy Knights of Azae. The nature of these meetings are unknown, and none dare question them. But rampant speculation can go unspoken.


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Name: Lieutenant-General Abraham Tomney


Age: 31


Race: Kildran





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Name: Name: (Former) Captain Camphor Irais


Age: 52


Race: Kildran




Character created by @too much idea

Camphor was born to a family of farmers in a small nameless village, one of many spread the countryside of Roadalia. He was the youngest of five, and as soon as he was fit enough his father sent him to work in the field. As a child, Camphor enjoyed it. Working together with his family and friends, planting seeds and watering them daily, watching it grow and then harvesting it together with everyone. But when he grew up, he grew bored. He listened to the news and tales brought home by those who worked in the city, who worked in fishing boats and as soldiers.


Those adventures were exaggerated, like any other story out there, but for Camphor it sounded like a tale right out of the books. Fighting the bandits, saving the innocents, serving the Queen, serving under the captains and watching as the great Holy Knights pass by the main road and enter the castle to report their mission. The dangerous waves out in the sea, the touch of a woman from a foreign nation. Everything sounded so grand to him, Camphor decided to run away from home one night.


Camphor knew his father would never let him leave home, as he heard him talking about having all of his sons work as farmers just like himself. He had disdain for Roadalia's military and government. When Camphor arrived in the first city closest to the village, he joined the military.


Camphor was a rebellious soldier, one who never really followed the rules and one who likes to wander off on his own. He was reckless, too. Rushing in without thinking, since for him, it felt more heroic. But everyone knew he was a good man, one who kept all of his salary and reward so he could send them back to his family. Camphor was also known to be adventurous, volunteering for missions that would require him to travel outside the Queendom.


During one of these years, he met a woman. A kind woman, one who stole his heart with his smile. He never understood why she loved him, a man who ran away from his family. But he loved her so much he was willing to change, and so he did. But his happiness did not last long, as she died during childbirth. It destroyed him, but he had to be strong for his daughter. He watches as she grew year by year, cried when she spoke her first words and taught her how to walk. She grew up, strong and healthy. As smart and as kind as her mother. And the goddess Azae took her away from him too, a freak cold the doctors did not understand and medicine could not heal. Their deaths changed him, older and wiser and more reserved.


When he was 34, finally a Captain, Camphor lead his own team when escorting a church cleric in attending a church meeting between the way of the father and the way of the mother. The cleric wanted to visit an event in Kildra. As it turns out, it was an illegal underground gladiator arena. Nobles and rich merchants gathered to watch a fight. Man versus man, woman versus woman, man versus wild beasts. The sight disgusted him, the cheering and gambling disgusted him, but the cleric's Hypocrisy disgusted him the most. Then came the children.


They came from many different ages. Teen and kids, the youngest was probably just as old as his brother's son back home. The looks on their faces reminded him of a soldier's face after a war, grim and empty with emotion. Then Camphor realized, these kids had seen death and realize that they could die today.


He watched as a gate opened, and a pair of wolf jumped in and started hunting. One of them moved so fast, it leaped and caught a child by his neck. The screaming was drowned by booing, the crowd disappointed that one of the fighters would be downed so quickly. Camphor stood there and watched as the other children started to work as a team, circling the wolves. They were quick, but still outnumbered and outsmarted. But soon, the wolves were dead. Then a horn was blown out of nowhere and the children started killing one another.


Slashing with their sword, tearing with their sickle, stabbing with their spear and kicking and punching when they could. When the dust settled, one was left standing. A girl. Thin and dirty with blood, her black hair brown with dirt and she tiredly raised her arms. The crowd cheered, the announcer proudly announce her as the winner. The girl walked in circle then she stopped. Their eyes met for a second, then the girl turned and left.


It moved something within him.


Camphor took his bag of money and left to find the organizer. Buying her freedom was not easy and was not cheap. She was one of the best killers they had, but he offered them all of his money. It was enough for them, and they released her chain. The girl was quiet when she talked she made sounds that sounded like wild animals. Grunt and growl, Camphor understood that she might not understand his language. But still, he took her home with him. It caused a small scandal, a captain of the military buying a slave? Camphor told him the truth: She reminded him of his daughter, and no one asked any more questions.


Camphor paid a girl to wash her, clean her. When she was all nice and clean he cooked them a meal and was getting ready for dinner when the girl attacked him with a fork. He took her down and laughed. He praised her, told her her ability with a blade was amazing and that it was natural. He gave the nameless girl a name, for her new life. Thera, after his dead daughter.


Camphor taught her to write and to read, to fit in the Queendom, but he did not push her when he noticed that all the religious talk discomforted her, and cried when she called him "Father" like his daughter once did in the past. He also taught her the discipline of a soldier and many combat related lessons she never learned before. He was there when she volunteered for the military, he was there in combat with her by her side, and she was there to save him when his horse was taken down with an arrow and he was stuck beneath the dead horse.


The injury put an end to his military career, to his days of adventure. But Camphor was fine with it, he now watched as his daughter replaced his position and soon offered a place in the Holy Knight. As a father, he could not be prouder of her.


Now retired, Camphor lives in a small town where he helps his family to sell their harvest to bigger cities and even out of the Queendom.​

 

[King Ad Rock]

The Holy Knights of Azae


Name: Captain Janer Courtine


Age: 33


Race: Kildran




Description by: @Lakita

Beloved commander of the Holy Knights of Azae, Janer Courtine is a symbol of virtue and strength in Roadalia. She comes from a very prestigious background, as House Courtine has deep roots in freedom-fighting (having fought the Crown over slavery centuries ago). Despite the power and influence her surname grants her, Janer is known as a very friendly and humble person. She's loved among her people, especially the children, and is often seen in the marketplace humouring the populace. Make a threat on her Queen or religion though, and you'll regret it.


Being the captain of the Holy Knights of Azae, Janer takes her job very personally. Under her personable smile lies the fury and strength that only a Knight's training brings - and she will not hesitate to use it to exact vengeance on her enemies. Still, it takes a direct threat in order to face her blade as Janer is a very moral person as well; taking into consideration each and every case. Whereas her comrade Kira Bamalu might execute a peasant on the spot for not praying enough, Janer is the type to argue that they didn't have enough time due to working overtime thanks to a drought. Lately however, Janer Courtine has become more withdrawn over the past few months. She is more quiet now and her defense of the unfortunate has become more subdued.


There are rumours in the city of the Queen seriously reprimanding the Commander for her actions. Others insist that the strange new adviser has found a way to threaten Janer and shut her up for good. These seem to have some basis in reality, unlike most rumours - before her change, Janer seemed to have been looking into the adviser, Miranda. Whatever the case is, the fact remains clear - Janer Courtine is a changed woman. It has strained her relationship with the public and with her secret lover, General Leonard Roadalia. Sightings have been reported between the two arguing furiously, with the former often leaving their meetings in a huff. No doubt the arguments are about Miranda and her influence on the Queen, however, Janer's detective attitude seems to have been shut down. Even the most zealous of the Knights, Kira, would admit that Janer's new stone-cold attitude is a disconcerting change.


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Name: First Lieutenant Kira Bamalu


Lieutenant Bamalu to her face; The Zealot, Azae’s Hound, or the Silent Fiend behind her back.


Age: 29, though her advanced knowledge of the deadly combination of scripture and oligarchy is usually found in those of a much older age and much crueler history.


Race: Nomasdae




Description by: Kayso

Ask any of the Holy Knights of Azae which of them is most likely to stab their comrades in the back at the first given opportunity, and they will unanimously answer Lieutenant Bamalu. Kira herself would have to agree. As First Lieutenant of the Holy Knights of Azae under Queen Gayana Dasa of Roadalia, her unrelenting nature has begun to flourish and thrive as the mental health of the Queen has withered and turns more and more to ferocious, unforgiving punishments. Her ruthless devotion to the Religion of Azae has made her both nearly unmatched in self-venerated combat, and hated by those with a more balanced and merciful disposition.


Because of her extreme opinions on the Ways and their Punishments, which none but the consistently-waning Queen and her mysterious new adviser Miranda seem to share, most other members of the Holy Knights, as well as both royal and commoner alike who know well enough to keep their distance, seek to spend their time outside the presence of her ever-watchful eyes. These eyes, however, always seem to know when something is not as she would have it.


Born to a family she never knew, Kira spent all her young years in an orphanage in Ashah. The orphanage appeared to be the same as any other, teaching the Ways and raising young men and women who would be able to contribute to the holy society in ways pleasing to the Goddess Azae, and Kira learned well. But she eventually began to notice things weren't as they seemed. When she was about 14 years old, she overheard the orphanage manager making a deal for a few of the children to be sold into slavery to a merchant from a neighboring kingdom. Orphans were not sold in Roadalia, and slavery was frowned upon. Many didn't understand this, or chose to ignore it, but slavery was in opposition to the Fifth Way, which stated that all are sons and daughters of Azae, which then presupposed that slavery was an unholy action. Kira was surprised at this sly act of rebellion against Azae, and decided to keep a closer eye on the manager.


Over the course of the next six months, Kira collected more and more evidence of the orphanage manager's heresy, but didn't know what to do. She couldn't confront him, because that would mean that she could end up back on the streets, or worse, considering the manager's weakening moral code. One day, he was last seen right before afternoon prayers and didn't return for several hours. When he returned, obviously drunk, he grabbed the nearest child, who had been reading scripture at the dinner table, and threw her to the floor. He began to kick and scream in horrible drunkenness,


"Filthy DOG! You are nothing but a BURDEN! Azae damn you, you are NOTHING!"


All are sons and daughters of Azae...


"You will NEVER belong anywhere, I should just take everything you own to pay for your WORTHLESS WASTE OF SPACE!"


Steal not...


"I should just KILL YOU ALL NOW! My misery will END!!"


Kill not...


What should she do? Kira had never witnessed such horrible acts of sin in her entire life, and was completely lost; horrified. But soon, a new feeling began to rise in her: anger. She allowed it to rise and bubble and fume as she watched helplessly until she realized that she wanted to violate the Third Way - no, she needed to, or this innocent child would die. But she couldn't...she couldn't violate the Ways. They were decrees from the Goddess Azae herself and were the fundamental Ways of staying on the path of righteousness. How could something so unjust be tearing her mind to pieces? Suddenly she remembered: "Separation from The Ways done in holiness to me is condoned in the midst of unholiness.” A passage of scripture she had read and memorized, along with so many others, its meaning was now clear.


She allowed the feeling to burn in her, to grow to startling magnitude, until the sickening heap of sin lay dead upon the floor, the once-proud remains of the orphanage manager. Dead at her hands. Killed in holy justice. Word traveled fast when one killed in the name of the Goddess. For 4 more years she remained at the orphanage, a new manager was appointed, and Kira served as the first Guardian, a protector of religious orphans, but also their combatant teacher of the Ways. This position grew more and more popular in Roadalia until all orphanages had one or two Guardians, a very effective program for instilling both the Ways and military force into young children, which created a larger and more skilled pool from which to recruit new soldiers. At the age of 18, Kira joined the general standing army, from which she worked her way up, gaining ability, favor, and ruthlessness as she did so.


Eventually her reputation preceded her and she was sought out to fill a vacancy in the Holy Knights of Azae, which she eagerly accepted. Her reputation has continued to grow with an alarming thirst for blood.


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Name: Amber Genelynne


Age: 27


Race: Kildran




Description By: Kayso

Amber Genelynne was the epitome of innocence. Growing up in Little Town with her mother and father, she never had much, but at least she was happy. At least, until her father left and took what he could with them. The next few years were a struggle, to say the least. But Amber and her mother thought they had found the one to fill the empty void in their life in Leto, a kind-hearted carpenter who, at first, simply tried to make their lives easier where he could: sparing some leftover food, bringing an extra bucket of water, patching up holes in their house. As time went on, however, the relationship between Leto and Amber’s mother deepened, and they eventually married. They were very happy, but it didn’t last.


Leto was abusive. Anything he could do to Amber’s mother he did, including insults, threats, black eyes and cracked ribs. Amber could only sit in her room, trembling, praying, hiding. But it didn’t take long before he came for her. Almost every night he would sneak into her bedroom, close the door and take advantage of her. She was 13. Her innocence was lost. She didn’t know what he was doing, but she knew for a certainty that it wasn’t right, and she needed to stop it. Nobody would help her but herself.


She kept a knife in a drawer next to her bed, practicing with it every day. When she finally decided his time had come, she was too afraid; she lost her nerve. She decided she would need to keep it somewhere she could reach it, the moment he came into her room and got down on top of her. Placing it under her pillow, she was ready, and when he came in that night, she wasn’t afraid. She didn’t stop stabbing, not even after his screams had ended and his body stopped moving. Amber’s mother flew through the door, slipping in a pool of blood. She was absolutely horrified; she couldn’t so much as look at her daughter anymore.


Amber left to join the church at a nearby abbey, where every day was spent in scripture, prayer, and reflection. She was not sorry for what she had done, but she couldn’t help but wonder if she should have gone about it differently. Amber grew in size and ability, quickly shooting up over the heads of the others her age, even the boys. This abundance of girth gave the sisters of the abbey the idea to outfit Amber with weapon, armor, and training, so that she might guard them from the criminals that sometimes made their way inside their walls. Amber learned well, and spent many years here, until, one day, she was sought after for the Holy Knights of Azae.

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Name: Rabiah Awolowo


Age: 26


Race: Nomasdae

(Description written by Khadame )

These chronicles have been written so the family Awolowo would be remembered even in death, as it has been tradition since our ancestors were fighting for Roadalia, a country that granted them their freedom. I, Faran Awolowo, will continue this tradition and swear on my honour that any events transcribed are true, and are not lies to slander the proud name of our family.

Rabiah, my sister and the youngest of my siblings, is the one I will write about last, simply because she deserves to be the conclusion, the last and best entry. I respect my sister more than any of my siblings for being a force of nature on her own, and even as she was little, there was a strong fire, a burning passion, inside of her, waiting to be unleashed.

But let us start there. Rabiah Awolowo was born on the 25th of the seventh month to the father and mother we share – a captain in the military and a simple baker that caught his eye. I was 3 years older than her at the time, and so were my brothers, Falid and Farhad. Ismal, the second-oldest, was 7 and Komal, the oldest, was 10. The story of her name is a funny one – 2 weeks after my parents simply could not decide on a name for her, she bit Falid in the hand after he upset her and just wouldn’t let go – my father joking called her “rabid”, and my mother seemed to take that word too literally. Rabiah the Rabid, huh?

She was a rowdy kid, for sure. Always challenged every boy in sight to a fistfight, and even though it wasn’t hard to win against a seven-year old with a missing tooth, she never failed to stand back up and demand a rematch. Especially when girls were involved – Rabiah would “fight to the death to protect the honour of a maiden”, as she liked to say. Perhaps this was where her late attraction to females stems from, but I digress. Not only was she stubborn and more boy than any of them, she also had the biggest mouth and never backed down from a challenge, either. Sadly, she didn’t change much as the years went on.

Yet, her personality wasn’t what was unique to her. I have met any girls like her over the years I have lived, and while her shenanigans make for many funny tales, they do not differ much from others. What shaped her up to be the woman I know now is an event no child should have to witness – the abduction of her own brother.

Rabiah and Komal were very close, despite their age difference. He taught her how to fight when father was too busy, and in return, she helped him with baking edible desserts and treats for his lovers. It was a weird, but fair exchange, and they understood each other very well. One day, a week after my sister turned 10, a bandit group whose leader was “unfairly” executed by my father wanted their revenge and decided to strike when only Komal and Rabiah were home. The rest of us deeply regret this decision - we had planned on visiting my grandmother, but Rabiah was sick and someone had to watch over her. I wasn’t there on that horrible day, but when my dear sister told me years later what had happened in great detail, I couldn’t help but weep over the misfortune that had befallen her childhood. Komal had locked her in a closet in our home upstairs when he had heard the bandits screaming and breaking things below – he knew something was wrong. Rabiah kept deadly quiet, fighting back sobs and screams as Komal fought for his and her life, but was eventually overwhelmed by their sheer forces. He was well trained, but 6 against one was simply not in his odds. He was gone, a trail of blood in his stead, and Rabiah couldn’t even check what had happened. My father broke the closet door down when we returned late at night, only to find her shaking in a corner, obscured by Komal’s clothes.

Over the next years, her personality didn’t change – but there was a fiercer, more concentrated aura of sheer determination around her. Rabiah didn’t believe that her brother was dead, even when she stopped asking our father if he had finally found Komal. Instead, she made to herself a promise – to bring him back, even if it was his rotting remains. She kept training for this cause, still challenging all her brothers to fist- and swordfights whenever she could.

Ismal soon parted ways – he joined the Roadalian Navy. It surprised no one. He had always loved the sea perhaps more than his own family, sometimes. Falid, Farhad and me instead opted to follow in our father’s footsteps and became soldiers under his command, like Rabiah chose to do when she turned 18. The four of us made a great team. Sibling bonds tied us together like nothing else would, and everyone would give their life for someone else’s, even if we never mentioned it. We took down countless people and groups together, and fought our best and hardest to keep our country safe, like it should be.

The moment Rabiah – and my triplet brothers and me alike – came when she turned 22. Our father had finally located the bandit group that had abducted Komal so many years ago, by sheer accident, as well. He told us quite sternly to not try anything until he ordered us to. It wasn’t unexpected that we wouldn’t listen to anything; Rabiah refused to give up revenge, and we would follow her no matter what.

When we invaded the massive camp after a month of meticulous planning and mapping, the fight was short and brutal. My brothers and I let Rabiah incapacitate most of them; she deserved to more than we did. In the end, all we found was a note with a certain “son of that motherfucking captain” mentioned, but it was enough to light the fire within my sister with an intensity I thought that absolutely captivating. I called her a force of nature in the beginning of this entry, and this was the moment that she turned into one.

The Holy Knights of Azae saw this force in her just as me and my brothers had – she accepted the badge when she was 23, and we cried tears of joy for her. Even Ismal tore himself away from the sea to smile with her and give her a hug that nearly broke her ribs. Our father wouldn’t admit it, but our mother would cheekily tell anyone who was willing to listen the story of how her husband cried over his babies growing up too fast.

Rabiah still writes us letters. Everytime we see the same, old, messy script my brothers and I fight to read the letter – and most of the time, it wasn’t even that important. But we love our sister; no matter what will happen in the time I will lay down the pen and let the ink dry on this paper, even if she brought down the foundation of the world herself, nothing will stop us always holding her in the dearest memory.


- Faran Awolowo


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Name: Ashlynne Bennet


Age: 30


Race: Kildran




Dear Elizabeth,

You asked me about my past. This letter is meant as an answer to any questions you might have – I thought this was only fair, when you told me about yourself so often. I don’t know why I would have a reason to hide this from you, anyway. Keep in mind I’m not... very good with words. I will probably never write a letter this long, so if parts sound weird... I apologise. I hope you are able to look past my penmanship.

Also, I don’t like using your full name. Sounds weird. I’ll call you Lizzy instead, it fits you kind of better. I think.

I was born in a small village called Wimborne. It’s somewhere north if I remember correctly, but I’m afraid last time I was there, the place was falling apart. It’s probably not even on the map anymore. We can still go there, if you like. A lot of berries and fruit grow there, and you can help me make a nice cake, too.

If you are wondering, I have been unable to speak even back then. I don’t know why. It’s not that I can’t, and it’s not that I don’t want to, but somehow I’m stuck in the messy in-between of these words. I don’t think I mind, though. You don’t mind either, so that’s enough for me. My parents did mind, for a time. They sent me to a church nearby for a while, to help me speak. Maybe they thought I was just embarrassed.

The church was very nice. There were some other children there, and we would play from time to time. But most of the time I would just go and read up on stuff. On Azae, and Roadalia, and the stories on Her Holiness. I still remember them like it was yesterday. I think I wrote some of them down somewhere, and if I can find the pages, you could try reading them

Actually, I don’t want you to. They’re too awkward to read. Sorry.

I devoted my life to the goddess when I was in that church. My parents were religious, too, and very kind people. I wanted to become like them, I think. And like all those other nice people I met when I was little. Villages are always very devoted to Her Holiness, and we had a lot of shrines and altars built in the fields and some mountains. I always had some incense, candle, and flint and steel with me when I happened to walk by a holy place. In return for my devotion, Azae gave me a nice life. I think. It seems like a nice life right now.

I joined the military because I wanted to work towards being in the Holy Knights ranks. I always looked up to them. They were so incredibly devoted and looked so cool when they were fighting. I saw a spar between two of them once, and it was like some sort of deadly dance. It sounds weird, but that’s what I thought. I was 16 and something when I started with my military career and it went well, I think. I did well and people didn’t mind I was mute. I just gave out orders with some notes and sometimes I gestured. It’s what I do now, still, and it works so if it’s inconvenient, it’s unimportant.

You know the spear that someone cracked once and I was kind of upset over it? That was the one I used in the military when I was part of a scout team. I used to tie a flag the pole and wave it in the air when we found a safe spot for the rest of the army to rest. It kind of sucked when we were in a forest and I had to climb trees a lot, but at least I can climb trees now. I think. I might still fall down.

By the way, if you were the one who broke the spear, you can tell me, Lizzy. I will only be a little bit mad.

I joined the Holy Knights at 26 and I felt really cool back then, I admit. I never had seen such a big celebration for me before. I also admit I didn’t really take my job seriously for a week and all I did was steal food because I thought all the Holy Knights did was look cool. The Captain was kind of angry about that.

And that’s all. This is too long already. I don’t like writing. Don’t show this letter to anyone or I’ll quit our friendship. Probably not, but maybe I’ll be angry for a while with you. But don’t do it.


Don’t do it,
Ashlynne

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Name: Elizabeth Dering


Age: 29


Race: T'Odis




Elizabeth is one of the most respected knightesses in the Holy Knights of Azae. She tries to remain aloof to other knights and her superiors, under the belief that they can spread scripture faster when separated. Spread of their faith had always been near the top of Knightess Dering's priorities, believing that love of their deity would end strife swiftly.

She experienced, in her younger days, only the cold, chilling hardship of living amongst a lawless band of T'Odis raiders. When she received her knighthood, her past was all but lost to the sands of time. No one is sure if Elizabeth had all but forgotten her roots, or was adamant in burying her previous sins in the past.


She is one of the more loved and respected Holy Knights by the people, and never fails to be sought for wisdom or scripture. She is considered the stark opposite of Kira Bamalu, whereas Kira is bitter and unforgiving, Elizabeth is jovial and always believes in second chances unless death is involved. Her tendencies to forgive go beyond even Kira's ruthlessness, for to spread the faith, she states: "love is our most powerful fuel." Many have used Elizabeth's forgiveness and naivety for their own benefit, and the silver-tongued tend to get away with anything short of murder.

Anyone that knows Elizabeth on a personal level may bask in her sunny disposition, always so jovial and carefree. Though she is quite forgetful and airheaded, and tends to forget names easily, or ends up mispronouncing them. Even her voice reflects this, as it is quiet, gentle, almost like a dove's call.

Her service to faith and to the people does not stop with her duty as a knightess. Even when off duty, she donates her payment to charities, providing a promoting voice to smaller ones.​

 

[King Ad Rock]

WIP

 

[King Ad Rock]

WIP

 

[King Ad Rock]

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[King Ad Rock]

Military

The Holy Knights of Azae

The Holy Knights of Azae are both the most devout and most skilled female soldiers in all of Roadalia. They are handpicked by the Queen and the Captain of the Holy Knights together based on their service record and recommendations by their peers. There are always twelve serving members along with one Captain.


Current Serving Members:
Captain Janer Courtine
1st Lieutenant Kira Bamalu
2nd Lieutenant Arturia Vanguard
Seraphina Aeritheos
Amber Genevieve
Elizabeth Dering
Rabiah Awolowo
Ashlynne Bennet
Guinevere “Jin” Von Vasten
Thera
Catalin Kanzar
Laycie Ashwood
Todha Rhados



Political

Criminal

Mercenaries​