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Original poster
Posting Speed
  1. 1-3 posts per week
  2. Slow As Molasses
Writing Levels
  1. Advanced
  2. Prestige
  3. Douche
  4. Adaptable
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Male
  2. Female
  3. No Preferences
Romance, Science Fiction, Modern, Fantasy

A Roleplay by Valor
Co-GM(s): N/A

S T A T U S - R E P O R T




You awake to the soft melody of a woman's voice, raising your gaze to find two women sitting before you at a slanted chess table. A cold chill reverberates through your bones as you peer past to the world behind, a distorted mess of architecture which towers both vertically and unnaturally into the abyss. Where am I? You think to yourself, your mind racing to wake up from this strange dream.

"That's not important." The silver haired women interjects, her eyes watching you as if she could read your every thought. Opening your mouth to respond, you find yourself unable to articulate words... Am I dead? Your mind immediately screams to itself. "No." The woman interjects once again, confirming her ability to read your mind. "Not yet, at least."

Your focus turns to the slanted chess table, the two women before you were not even playing - the silver haired woman randomly moving pieces around the board with her slender digits. The other, a raven haired girl that looked significantly younger, would simply stare - seemingly deep in thought on how to win the game that sat before her. Why were you here? You ask yourself, hoping for answers.

"That's not important, either." Her refusal to answer your questions was beginning to grow old. Thinking yourself clever, you fill your mind with a string of excessive vulgarities. The woman glares at you, unamused by your childish antics - but says nothing as she continues on, "Tell me, stranger... do you fear death? No? How noble of you..."

You watch as the woman picks up a piece in the shape of a horse, dangling the titular piece between her fingers above the board. "I've brought you here because you've piqued my interest. It won't be long now until your world is engulfed into flames. I want to see the one that will be my knight in shining armor... the one that will save me from my boredom."

"When you wake up, head downtown to the safe house. I'm sure you know where to go." She grinned, "But before you leave, take this." Suddenly, she tossed a mess of manila folders in your direction. Paperwork?! You scream to yourself as the papers crash unceremoniously around you. "There's your freedom. Take it... what are you waiting for?"

As you collect the papers, your vision begins to blur... soon you find yourself slipping back into unconsciousness. When you awake moments after, you are greeted by the ceiling of your bedroom. Turning beside you, you find a manila folder sitting on your nightstand...


By submitting a character sheet, you agree to the following:
  • That you will refrain from being an asshole. Being an asshole constitutes, but is not limited to, the following:
    • God modding, power playing, taking control of other people's characters without their permission, ridiculing/harassing other users, (especially me, I will kick your ass.) blackmailing, kicking puppies and/or pissing me off.
  • There is no posting system, you do not need to wait (x) amount of time to respond in thread, but don't be an idiot about it. Obviously, no double posting on the In Character thread. (If you enjoy roleplaying with yourself, go play Mass Effect or the Witcher or something.)
  • Leave yo' drama at the door. This is a drama-free bar and I'm not dealing with your crap, thanks.
  • This RP is rated for ages 16+, while it is absent of overt sexual themes, there may be instances of vulgarity and references to things not deemed appropriate for children.By applying, you agree to sell your soul to the Devil these terms.
  • That said, keep the adult stuff in PMs, if it ever gets that far, please and thank you.
  • Keep OOC (Out Of Character) stuff in OOC, IC (In Character) stuff in IC, etc. Don't make me beat your ass over this because I will.
  • If you plan on dropping out, please inform me immediately, or else I will continue to pester you (or have somebody else do it for me) until you commit Sudoku.
Please contact me or an assigned GM if you have any other issues or questions.


Please note that we are expecting a full RP. The quality of your character sheet directly reflects whether or not you will be guaranteed a spot in this roleplay. Quality posts will always take precedence over ones that were cobbled together in a few moments. Effort generally reflects people's willingness to stick with the roleplay.

It is up to you how you wish to format your character sheets. Here is a general outline of what you need:

FULL NAME: (Please note: The NOAH are not given birth (last) names.)
AGE: ( 16+ )

APPEARANCE: (Picture + Description is best)

BIOGRAPHY: (Please refer to the OOC thread for important RP info)

- Likes: (Puppies, murder)
- Dislikes: (STDs)

WEAPON(S): (Please refer to the OOC thread)

- Skills (Combat):
- Talents (Non-Combat):

ELEGANCE: (Special abilities held by the NOAH)


Accepted characters will be added to the list below. Important NPCs and other profiles will also be listed as the roleplay progresses.

C H A R A C T E R S - R E M A I N I N G





F E A R L E S S - M E M B E R S
Ashlynn "VALKYRIE" (Valor)
Jonathan "FOXTROT" Ziegler (Valor)

A F T E R L I F E - P E R S O N N E L
Julianne (Jill) "STINGRAY" Natalie (NPC/ Valor)
Gillian "GODFATHER" Rourke (NPC/ Valor)
Andre "SARGE" König (NPC/ Bismarck)
Goblin (NPC)

K N O W N - E C C L E S I A N - M E M B E R S
Victoria "WHITE WYCH" Sebastian (MIA)
Tia (Jakers)
Erja "WHITE DEATH" Liikanen (RedArmyShogun)
Ansgar "RAZOR" Staudinger (MIA)
Katherine (Karin) "EMPRESS" Konstantin (KIA)
Aresia "CHAOS WITCH" (Skyswimsky)
Ade "FACELESS" Stafford (MIA)
Arata "LIONHEART" (ERode)
Rubel "BROTHER" Whyte (Astros)
Juniper "BACKDROP" Hamilton (Click This)
Nomine "CORVUS" Mendox (MIA)
Magna "TINKER" (MIA)
Auratta "MISTRESS" (KIA)
Jacob (Jake) "R.I.P." Stein (EmperorsChosen)
Naomi "TITAN" (Winter)
Alexander "CRUSADER" Hilmarsson (Bismarck)
María "MONAD" (alaska)
Ian "SLOWPOKE" Mcomerey (Deathwatch101)
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Original poster
Posting Speed
  1. 1-3 posts per week
  2. Slow As Molasses
Writing Levels
  1. Advanced
  2. Prestige
  3. Douche
  4. Adaptable
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Male
  2. Female
  3. No Preferences
Romance, Science Fiction, Modern, Fantasy

( Constantly being revised as new characters are introduced. )






23 Years Old

Ashlynn takes the appearance of an attractive, raven haired woman of average build. Standing at 5'5" (165 cm), she finds herself on the shorter side when standing among her allies. Dark, shoulder length hair and amber eyes that appear almost scarlet in the darkness, Ashlynn has been described as holding a certain indescribable mystique. Although her clothing changes frequently, she holds a strong affinity for red scarves, almost always wearing one around her neck regardless of the situation. Normally, Ashlynn dons some combination of red and black, though her wardrobe has been noted to change frequently.

Her back is marred by the scars of her ELEGANCE, wounds that remind her of the curse she has been forced to endure for so long.


At 23 years old, Ashlynn is among the oldest of the NOAH, being among the first children used in the ORACLE Project. Like many of her peers, she was a war orphan that knew very little of her past before the experimentation that ensued. As one of the first to receive the genetic modifications associated with the project, Ecclesian scientists were surprised to find one "success" in their first batch of genetically modified mutants.

She spent her first years in a series of white, noise proof rooms and attached to steel operating tables - a horror that still repeats vividly in her mind. It was through her experimentation that the Ecclesians found a reliable, genetic template for children that would be willing to survive the mutations - leading to further, successful generations of NOAH being introduced shortly thereafter. The Ecclesians were happy to find that Ashlynn displayed a great ability to kill, naming her ELEGANCE - RAGNARÖK.

When the ORACLE Project was finally shut down by the Government, the surviving NOAH were systematically executed through various means. Restrained to the very same operating table that she was raised in, she took no remorse in slaughtering the men that attempted to inject lethal poison into her veins. Harnessing the full extent of her powers, she escaped shortly thereafter and hid herself among the poor in the city.

Ashlynn's first years of freedom were spent embracing carnage. Lacking guidance, a sense of purpose or friendship, the NOAH traversed the city, happily killing those that dare cross her path. Even for the Resistance, Ashlynn quickly became a threat to their operations. Rather than take her in, the Ronin Special Warfare Extraction Group was ordered for the first time to eliminate a NOAH. The group quickly tracked Ashlynn to an abandoned warehouse, who knowing she was being trailed, lured them into a trap.

Despite her powerful abilities, she was promptly subdued by several, powerful NOAH attached to the RSW-EG. As FOXTROT placed a gun to her forehead, another NOAH pleaded for her life to be spared. ECHO, who always saw the good in people, saw a hurt soul - one that could be changed and brought to their side. It was on that day that she was taken in by the Resistance, though Ashlynn regrets not having died that day.

After becoming a FEARLESS member, she became close friends with the NOAH that had saved her. ECHO proved to be an enlightening friend, who taught Ashlynn to see the world in a more positive light. Although her new friend was never able to convince her to see the goodness in people, she was able to convince Ashlynn to reevaluate her moral code - which had the negative effect of forcing Ashlynn to see the monster that she was. Vowing to repent for her sins, Ashlynn reestablished what her powers meant to her, swearing to use her abilities to protect the innocent rather than as a tool to harm or cleanse.

Eventually, Ashlynn's newfound moral code placed her in direct odds with the Resistance, who required its members to perform often questionable missions. She quickly became disillusioned with the Resistance, who sought to destroy the New Ecclesian Government rather than focus on helping those in need. Unable to see the larger picture, Ashlynn deserted the organization, becoming a freelance vigilante that works against the New Ecclesian Government on her own.

Despite her desertion, the Resistance still view her as a close ally, often trading information with her and using her as support for their missions. Although she is not an official member of the organization, she is still considered a part of their team for all intents and purposes. Even the Resistance command structure find themselves constantly contacting her to help complete missions that would otherwise be impossible without her unique skill set.


Like ECHO, Ashlynn is a kindhearted and positive individual. Yet, while she tries to see the best in people, she understands that humans are inherently evil. Ashlynn is slow to trust, but is known to develop strong bonds with those that she aligns herself with. Her determination and loyalty make her always the most reliable of allies, willing to throw herself into danger without a second thought at the expense of others.

Ashlynn has a warped sense of justice, seeing justice as more "black and white" than those around her. As a result, she finds herself often at odds with the Resistance, which believes some evils are necessary for the good of the majority. It is because of this mindset that she finds it difficult to work alongside FEARLESS, as she sees the Resistance's goals as amounting to little more than "destroying the enemy" while often disregarding safety of the innocent.

Ashlynn takes great pride in her established moral code, and will not allow any harm to befall those that willingly surrender to her. To her, there is always a better, more humane punishment for crimes than death. Killing should always be considered a last resort, though she is generally quick to strike down those that dare threaten her.

- Her friends
- Red scarves
- Animals
- Stargazing
- Poetry

- The People's Federation of New Ecclesia
- The ORACLE Project
- Smoking


RAGNARÖK is Ashlynn's ELEGANCE, the result of genetic mutations derived from the VALKYRIE strain. An incredibly potent ability, it manifests itself through a series of dark, floating blades of various shapes and design. These blades are created from Ashlynn's supernatural bone structure, protruding through her spine through an extremely painful process before taking its sentinel form.

The many blades hover in Ashlynn's presence, as if tethered together by a strong, gravitational pull. On command, these hovering blades can be used as both offensive and defensive weapons, parrying incoming strikes before slashing out at her enemies. In certain situations, she can command her blades to send themselves out as projectiles, traveling at speeds exceeding 800 meters per second. Once a blade has been used as a projectile, it can no longer be commanded.

RAGNARÖK is an incredibly painful ELEGANCE, the manufacture of new blades forcing Ashlynn to endure unprecedented amounts of pain. Although painful, genetic evolution has made the process not lethal, ensuring that the host will always survive despite the pain. Depending on the pain she is capable of enduring, her sentinels can construct themselves into larger designs, some of which taking far more dangerous properties as they lash out towards those that dare stand in the Valkyrie's way.

Although an incredibly potent ELEGANCE, Ashlynn sees her ability as nothing more than a curse. She hates the use of her powers, as the pain it brings feels as if it is slowly breaking her mind. Although Resistance doctors estimated that she should soon become numb to the pain, Ashlynn has proven that to be incredibly false. She believes that the pain is an inherent design of the mutation, to punish those that dare use it for darker desires.


Jonathan "Foxtrot" Ziegler

Jonathan "Jon" Ziegler

27 Years Old
Ronin Special Warfare Extraction Group (RSW-EG)

The Ronin Special Warfare Extraction Group are a special, black operations unit within the resistance that are specially tasked with rescuing, protecting and aligning the resistance with the NOAH. Formed after the revelation of the ORACLE Project, the RSW-EG are responsible for saving a vast majority of the NOAH still alive today. Comprised of a small group of veteran RONIN, they will often assault and infiltrate heavily guarded BLACK-SITES to uncover information and data on the ORACLE Project.

RSW-EG Operators

Jonathan "Jon" Ziegler, or FOXTROT, is a tall, well-built man standing at 5'11" (180cm). Considered a "poster boy" for the resistance, he has dark brown hair cut to the maximum length that military regulations allow and a pair of vibrant, blue orbs that are generally hidden behind a pair of shaded goggles. When not clad behind his array of tactical gear, he is clean shaven, donning a camouflage patterned military uniform that signifies his position in the Resistance.

The life of FOXTROT has been a never ending nightmare for as long as he can remember. The sound of gunfire and the screams of the innocent always reverberating in the deep corners of his mind. Born to a middle class family of three, his upbringing was cut short at the age of ten, when his family became collateral damage in combat between the Clerics and early members of the resistance. Without a family, FOXTROT was quickly picked up by FEARLESS, who felt some responsibility in the death of the young boy's family.

Although relegated to a non-combat role, delivering messages to and from Resistance outposts scattered across the city, it became clear that the organization had to resort to drastic measures in order to keep fresh recruits replacing the ranks of those that were inevitably lost in combat. At the age of 12, Ziegler was drafted into the RONIN, one of the many child soldiers that were called upon to take up arms against the government.

After his first few engagements, it became clear to his superiors that FOXTROT had an uncanny gift for killing. During a skirmish between Ecclesian Clerics and his squad, the then 13 year old boy was noted for having an, "insatiable and frightening desire for blood," walking away from the engagement with almost a dozen recorded kills. His military record would continue, with his face quickly becoming one of the most wanted soldiers in the Resistance.

Twelve years later, at the age of 25, Ziegler had witnessed hundreds of his close comrades, allies and friends be swept away from his arms by the tide of war. He had been fighting non-stop for as long as he could remember. After a thorough psychiatric evaluation, he was diagnosed with an extreme case of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. While a traumatic stress disorder of this magnitude would make most incapable of functioning as human beings, much less soldiers, Resistance psychologists were surprised to find that FOXTROT coped with his trauma through a heightened sense of aggression, becoming far more violent and even bloodthirsty. Instead of removing him from service, the Resistance had no choice but to place him back into combat due to the dwindling numbers of soldiers in their ranks.

Although the details of the ORACLE Project had been known for some time, it was not until two years ago that the Resistance realized the importance of the NOAH, their abilities quickly giving the Resistance an edge in the previously one-sided fight. In an attempt to take advantage of the NOAH, the Resistance formed the Ronin Special Warfare Extraction Group, a specialized unit in the RONIN to rescue and discover more information about the project. Due to his combat experience, willingness to blindly follow orders and his insatiable knack for killing, FOXTROT became one of the first members in this black operations unit.

Currently, he leads RSW-EG "Crusader Team" in combat raids across Valhalla. His unit has been responsible for rescuing approximately 30 NOAH from execution and have contributed most of the information regarding the ORACLE Project that the Resistance currently possesses.

FOXTROT is a professional soldier, a man that has seen all of the horrors that war has to offer him. Constantly depressed and plagued by terrible flashbacks of the long days gone, he spends most of his time sitting by himself doing little more than think about his actions. He blames himself for the countless deaths of those around him, believing that his failures as a leader, a soldier and as a human being were the direct cause of those dying around him.

He is slow to make new friends, constantly plagued by the fear of losing more people that are close to him. As such, he is cold - avoiding social situations at nearly any cost. He refuses to drink, believing that alcohol inhibits the mind and makes one a less capable soldier or leader. He is however, addicted to morphine - the painkiller being used on him several times after being wounded across many engagements. He believes his addiction to be despicable, though his body has difficulty functioning without it.

FOXTROT has been noted to be dealing with major suicidal tendencies.

Despite all of these issues, FOXTROT has been noted to be a more than capable leader. Having a deep care for the lives of those around him, he is intelligent, cautious and has been known to make the most calculated decisions during extremely stressful situations. Under the line of fire, he is capable of repressing his traumatic history and feelings to get the job done.

- Food
- His Rifle
- ECHO: A young NOAH he rescued a year ago.
- The NOAH
- Morphine

- War
- Social situations
- Alcohol
- People who enjoy combat
- Himself
- His Morphine addiction



For the past eight years, FOXTROT has used the same, Mk. 18 MOD 1 carbine. The Mk. 18 rifle is equipped with a 10.3 inch barrel, making for a short carbine optimal in close quarters engagements. In order to compensate for the shorter barrel, the Mk. 18 features a short-stroked gas piston that improves reliability and initial muzzle velocity of the 5.56 round.

Equipped to his rifle is a holographic optic set in front of a flip to side 3x magnifier, along with a forward mounted infrared light/laser unit connected to a dual pressure switch that can be activated by his support hand.

After many years of use and thousands of rounds put through the weapon, FOXTROT has become incredibly proficient with his rifle.




Julianne "Jill" Natalie STINGRAY
24 Years Old

(Works undercover as a B A R T E N D E R)

"Don't let this skirt fool you... I can put a 5.56 on a quarter size target at 200 meters."
Julianne "Jill" Natalie, or STINGRAY, is a petite young woman standing at 5'6" (167.64 cm). With shoulder height strawberry blonde hair and an empty blue gaze, she is often referred to as an "Ice Queen" among her comrades. She is thin and less athletic than the average RONIN, but is still strong enough to hold her own in a firefight. When working as a bartender, she dons a well-fitted collared shirt and slacks, but dresses far more casually during field operations work and when she is off duty.

"I consider myself an enigma... let's keep it that way."
Not much is known about STINGRAY. She currently works for the SERAPHIM OPERATIONAL AFTERLIFE REGIMENT (SOAR) as a technical analyst, communications officer and contact for active FEARLESS agents. In the event of an emergency, she is capable of directing and sending commands to all of the resistance armed forces. Her anonymity is a key component to her survival, playing multiple espionage roles, including the role of a bartender, in order to evade capture by the government.

She keeps a cyanide capsule in her mouth in the event of capture, as her capture could lead to the government obtaining the identities of the AFTERLIFE division of the resistance. She maintains no friendships, other than a loose, professional companionship with the Commodore whom oversees operations at her command post. Contrary to being a bartender, she does not drink.



Commodore Gillian Rourke

The Commodore is a military commander, strategist, intelligence officer and Chess Grandmaster. He is currently the highest ranking officer in the resistance, though he does not assume a sort of figurehead leadership role. He is currently responsible for the rescue, capture and/or recruitment of NOAH into the Resistance, along with their distribution and training so that their specialized skillsets can be used across the resistance.

He is a cold, calm and calculating man that spends countless hours building the resistance's strategy against the government. It is said that no mission ever gets approved without the GODFATHER's consent and the Commodore has been known to be incredibly meticulous in his micromanagement of the organization. He currently commands Resistance military forces from his command post at the A F T E R L I F E.

Rumor has it that he was once a very high ranking military officer in the Ecclesian government. Why he defected is a mystery to most.



20 Years Old
Combat Support - Ronin Special Warfare Extraction Group (RSW-EG)

ECHO is a young NOAH currently attached to the elite, RSW-EG unit. A member of the F E A R L E S S organization, she was saved like many other of her peers by the RSW-EG during a raid on an ORACLE prison facility a few years ago. Her ELEGANCE allows her to project a large active camouflage rift around herself, concealing those near her in invisibility. This ability requires the user to be static and not moving, but those within a 10 meter radius are allowed to move in relative safety.

The RSW-EG have made extensive use of ECHO's special ability to cloak themselves into well-defended government blacksites before easily wiping the defenders out from their invisible positions. Among the powers of the NOAH, Resistance commanders have taken a great liking to the tactical applications for ECHO's ability - as she allows almost any group to get an immediate strategic advantage over the enemy. Her services have been requested by almost every commander in the Resistance, though she prefers to stay with the RSW-EG as she has taken a particular liking for a certain F O X.

ECHO is an incredibly likable person, her positive, innocent attitude a constant reminder of people's humanity. She is always capable of seeing the best in others and sees all life as being precious. She takes a great interest in psychology, often discussing both her own and other people's flaws to create strong bonds and connections with others. Even the most reserved of personalities that meet ECHO are quickly swayed by her charm and kind demeanor.





His Majesty, Praetorian Alexander von Emmeria, King of Ecclesia

Her Majesty, Praetoriess Aurora von Emmeria, Princess of Ecclesia

Lord Commander Vaskus, Grand Field Marshal
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Andre König
Sergeant/Sarge in reference to his previous occupation.
38 years of age

Andre is considered a rather bulky man, he's much beyond his prime years at this point, his hair having gone white, and his once very toned mid section now sagging with extra weight and age. Though he's still in astonishing shape for someone that should be leaving the RONIN in the next few years. His height around 6'8, and his arms and legs still display heavy muscle mass. Though his hair remains a ghostly white.

Perhaps the color his hair has turned reflects the spirits of his lost comrades, or perhaps it simply reflects how much constant combat has aged him. Andre tends to wear outdated military uniforms, preferring the functionality of the shirts and pants, giving hims plenty of pockets for storage of ammunition and supplies. However he does own a bulky trench coat, for when he must carry a heavy rifle, or a weapon that needs to be hidden until a certain time. To top off his look he is wearing usually a matching beret, ranging from black, to green, or even red depending on the uniform he puts on that day.

Being an aged survivor, Andre is mostly defined by scars, including a large one dragging across his eye, and the light blue orb, looking faded, as it died many years ago. However he seems to function well with just one eye now. His arms, which are usually on display due to his uniform sleeves being rolled up, also show heavy scaring, including bullet wounds, cuts, and slices. His chest is no better when it is put on display, plenty of long scars from blades, circles from bullets, and so on. He truly is a canvas of scars, perhaps more scars than skin even. Each line reflecting either a great victory for FEARLESS, or a great loss of those around him.

"Oh my dear comrades, what a journey I have undertaken to get here. Those bastards have molded my physical body, but they will never mold my mind. For that is my own clay to sculpt."

Andre was never anyone special in his early life. His family had willingly given him up to make him into a soldier, for his father, and mother both displayed traits desired in the military. Those being a very strong build, and height for intimidation of the civilian masses. However the most important trait they desired was obedience, the parents had never dared to deny their government once in the past, and had given their previous son up just two years earlier with great pride to see him become apart of their beloved government. So began Andre's life, a child without parents, only instructors to drill him the perfect soldier from the first days of his life.

As a baby all the way up to the first days he could speak, he was raised much like a toddler would be. However where cartoons may be shown to teach a child elsewhere, instead he witnessed quirky propaganda films. Where bed time stories may be read, he was instead taught about what sat beyond the walls, and to hate those who didn't love the The People's Federation of New Eccelsia. His mind drilled, and constantly prodded to be molded into an obedient slave. Just like the thirty-nine other children that were around him, suffering the same fate. They weren't anything more than tools, they just needed to be crafted first.

His years from seven to ten years of age were much more eventful. Combat training began to absorb most of his life, with simple hand to hand being taught, along with some work with batons. When he wasn't busy trying to best his peers in combat, he was instead attending heavily censored classes. Meant to further instill his love of New Eccelsia. However these had a different effect on Andre, something in his heart never quite agreed with everything he was shown. Yet he was too young to figure it out, and too afraid of not being accepted to try and ask his classmates. He had long given up the term friends, they were simply competition in his eyes, as he wanted to be the best soldier.

Teenage years were the most interesting time for him, Andre's young mind finally grasping at its own self-awareness. Begging each step of the way, to oppose the ideals of the military. He trained each day, earned top marks in combat classes, and had some of the fastest times for disassembly and reassembly of weapons employed by the Federation. However his non-combat classes he began to score very low in. He'd lost focus in filling in bubbles, and obeying every order given. Instead he was more of a free thinker, his mind wandering during lectures, and in turn his test scores turning out lower at each semester.

Images of the military's way of dealing with those who opposed New Eccelsia, struck a different chord with Andre. Where his classmates might cheer, or smile at seeing a helpless civilian protester shot down into a lifeless husk. Instead Andre felt anger at this display, every fight he'd even been in, he was equal with his opponent. Man against man, fist against fist, rifle against rifle. To see a woman, a mother, shot down, and her baby having its rib cage crushed under foot of the advancing soldiers struck anger in him. Yet he knew, and he knew well he couldn't do anything about this yet. Not until he graduated, could he ever oppose these sickening policies.

Eighteen, graduation year. Just one last year of this disgusting regime controlling him. He counted down each month, down to each day on his calendar. Not in excitement, but in rage. His training no longer had classes, just combat training. Where he always had excelled. Running through live fire drills, clearing obstacle courses, doing simulated combat encounters. All of these, Andre seemed to perfect. His squadron, only ever lost a single simulated combat encounter against the instructors. Even against the instructors, they only lost, because it was a new course, only the instructors knew of. However it was probably a good thing, as it took away Andre's sense of invincibility, and made him more cautious of combat encounters from then on. Each day seemed little more than a blur toward graduation. Where he donned a fine suit, and beret to march in front of Generals, and Government leaders.

For a year or so things settled down, Andre was just assigned to a certain ghetto, to keep things in check. His small, "A-Team" squad from the academy, still with him the entire way. They just ran patrols mostly, and occasionally kept people in check with intimidation. This was life he could at least put up with for now. However soon an order came in, one quite cruel. A father had recently let his tongue slip against the government, and was reported. It was Andre's duty, with his four other squad members to slaughter the man, and his entire family, and relatives. As a sergeant, he was tasked to lead the effort. So with weapon in hand, a shotgun in this case, the Sergeant lead his men to the house of the so-called "traitor". In one fell swoop they had kicked the door in, and caught the father, his beautiful wife, and two young, fair-skinned daughters eating dinner.

Little hesitation befell the other soldiers, as the first two in the door gunned down the father, a hail of bullets ripping apart the man, into little more than the shape of a body, dripping blood out of gaping holes. The other two held back in gunfire, deciding to have some fun with the mother. However Andre finally snapped, he couldn't take this brutal display, as the men took to prodding, beating, and even worse with the mother. Four shots rang out, four shells hit the ground, and so did four bodies of soldiers. He had been too late to save the mother, who was barely holding onto life, just long enough to say goodbye to her two crying daughters. There was a hint of love in the woman's eyes, as she looked upon Andre, perhaps the one man that saved the two girls.

Andre was quick to abandon all of his equipment, aside from his pistol, and as many magazines of ammunition that he could carry for the gun. His uniform, a dark black and gray camouflage pattern , with a black beret being all he kept. Slipping the pistol into the holster on his hips, he walked with the two girls, holding their hands, as he tried to figure out what to do with them. He was just grateful the mother had managed to identify him a good man, instead of a soldier. Knowing the ghetto very well, Andre went to an orphanage, leaving the two girls with little explanation...he knew he was going to be forever hated, and judged. As the woman who accepted the two orphaned girls looked at him in disgust. Though he did tell her to look for relatives, informing her they would be alive still.

For the next year or so, Andre lived hunted on the streets of the city. He soon lost his uniform, and was walking in civilian clothing. The only thing he was able to hold onto, being that pistol, and all the ammunition for it. He refused to go down without a fight, and no matter what, would take as many soldiers with him as possible. However, his story soon began to spread. It was quite hard to explain, however the young girls tale of the soldier, who betrayed the others to save them both was told. Their relatives, their friends, many knew of it. Though it was whispered among the people. His way of defecting was quite a loud one after all, which didn't help his chances at hiding. Not until he was given a manila folder one day on the streets.

So began his life in Service to FEARLESS. A RONIN with countless years of experience under the Federation's military before evening entering the organizatio. He was deemed a very valuable asset, though one that shouldn't ever be trusted. After all, he still a soldier for that sickening regime FEARLESS opposed. His own call sign came from his slip-up upon introducing himself, when he called himself Sergeant Andre König. Of course this spread quickly, a running joke almost to call him Sarge. After all, it identified himself as a soldier from the Federation, but it also gave a note that he wasn't just another defector, he was one with experience, and knowledge.

For nearly twenty years now, Andre has served FEARLESS without question. Constantly offering his skills to teach other RONIN. He knew everything from hand to hand, to firearms. He of course was more prone to teaching discipline, and care. Each RONIN he trained, would know their weapon inside and out, and where best to use it. Each member would also know when to fire, and when to hold back. Andre tried his best to minimize casualties, and knowing how the soldiers would react, he could show RONIN how to exploit the federation's tactics with hit and run attacks, or ambushes.

At this current age Andre serves more as a body guard, he's lost countless men, and simply needs a break from his life of combat. He also still teaches new recruits that wish to become RONIN. But it's very, very rare he takes up combat missions. Though if its serious enough, he'll happily take up arms. But it's not often he'll just harass patrols. He'd rather spend his time breaking into an armory, than killing a few petty soldiers. That task is for the young, not for the old, unless no one else is free to do it.

There are still quite a few things that bother Sarge to this day. For instance the old man has met his brother, and in truth his older brother may detail his largest fear, which is the idea that more of his family fights for the government. The two sparred as comrades for nearly a month after Andre graduated from the academy. They traded blows, traded knowledge, and views. The two almost always butting heads on right and wrong. However one thing kept them connected.

They could equally match each other in physical combat. Each swing countered with perfection, each parry stopped by a counter blow. Truly it was a dance of giants, and grace. One that to this day remains in the old soldier's mind forever. It's the one thing Andre seeks, a man who can match him in equal, one on one combat. Someone truly that can oppose him, so far the closest man to that bill is Angsar...but Sarge silently hunts, and tries to track down his brother.

For the old man, knows he's still alive...and he wants to meet him on private terms, for one last fight. One last fight to decide who was truly better. FEARLESS, or New Ecclesia. This is the one mental battle that still leaves the Sarge laying awake at night. A silent scream trailing off his lips as he sits up in a cold sweat, to start training again. He won't lose this fight...or so he hopes. Perhaps it's his greatest sign of the fact he's bothered deeply by his PTSD. The rage induced grunts, and growls, that spill out when he wakes up at 3am, to train against a punching bag, or the wall.

Andre also is disturbed by the simple thought, he's likely killed many of his family members. Who ended up just like him, brainwashed into be Clerics. His parents, his brother, and everyone that was born after him were always highly desired for their physical build. Even the women of his family were built more for war, than any other job. It's a deep belief of his, many of his family are still used to breed future soldiers, which means he's likely, without knowing killed nieces and nephews, even cousins without even being able to try and bring them over to the side of FEARLESS.

After some battles, he can be found looking over the dog tags of some dead Clerics. Silently searching for his last name. Being an old German Name, it's quite rare. But he's found one, and that left him out of commission for several days. He rarely shows it, but Sarge fights to pull the trigger sometimes. It takes his mind shutting down to push him over that edge of consciousness. Andre fights like a barbarian, a rage taking over his body more often than not, to allow him to function like the mindless soldier the Clerics trained him to be.

There is still much to be revealed about his story however. Andre's mind has closed off much of his takes quite a good prod to wake them back up however. It's best not to try and force the sleeping giant's mind awake however, some of his memories reduce him to a crying mess, others put him into a rage beyond even his own consciousness.

"A round of drinks for my friends, and a bullet for my enemies! FEARLESS we remain ever undaunted!"
Andre could be best described as the friendly old man. His smile, while always looking a little pained, is still welcoming. He suffers heavily from his life, yet instead of forcing his problems on people, or having mental breakdowns he tries to hide it. Behind a friendly face, laughter, joking, and so on. For him, his greatest joy is to make other's happy. Whether it be through a small gift, a well told joke, or just his usual antics. In his free time he's usually just found drinking, and is usually posted up near to high ranking SERAPHIM, RONIN leaders, or even a NOAH on rare occasions.

In combat Andre is much different, taking on a very serious attitude. There is no nonsense in combat. Each step executed perfectly, or if isn't, quickly corrected to avoid failure. Orders are yelled, or spoken, but they are never requests. He's like a machine almost, meticulously killing anything in his way, and completing objectives before reinforcements come to put him down.

"There is much I love in this world, and much that I hate. Perhaps it's best I tell you a few, so we don't have to disagree down the road."
-FEARLESS devotedly loyal to the cause
-Physical training
-Most non-reptilian animals
-Enjoys the company of others
-Fixing firearms
-Training new recruits
-Practicing with new weaponry
-Very old History Books detailing the various wars before his time
-Men and women alike, just have to catch in the right mood

-Being alone
-Losing friends
-Injury or death of innocents
-The People's Federation of New Eccelsia
-Training NOAH, for him it hits too close to home. He'd rather shelter them, but due to orders, he still trains them, begrudgingly. Though against orders, he'll teach them how to be kids, how to be young like he was never allowed to.

"Dear Old Faithful, never leave me. Always hold my hand, through the war, and always stand by me when all else is lost."
A very aged, M1911 pistol, the one he has carried since he first abandoned the military. Where he has lost teammates, friends, and so on, he has always kept this wonderful piece of weaponry. It holds strong even with the hundreds, possibly even thousands of rounds that have flown through it. The .45 caliber always resting comfortably on his hip, the leather matching the aged slide, and the worn hand grips.

The story behind this weapon is one that spans years of use, it's killed more Clerics in its time than most young RONIN can ever dream of. It's reliable nature has kept it functioning for quite a long time. Whenever he goes out, even on the open streets, this weapon still finds a place on his body. For him, there is no greater choice. Only substitutes that would dare to oppose Old Faithful.
"Modernized weaponry. Certainly has a place in my hands, though I will always fall back on something reliable. In this case a 12 gauge shotgun."
A customized semi-automatic 12 gauge shotgun. Among his various tools of war, this shotgun is by far Andre's favorite piece of weaponry he's gained over the years. The SK-12 Shotgun functions flawlessly, and being supported by 10 round magazines it's quite good for room clearing.

His choice in ammunition tends to vary, from lethal Buckshot, a round that not many know why it's called that. To slugs, for the longer range engagements. He also carries a small stock of dragon's breath rounds, a round that can light a small building on fire, or even catch a soldier ablaze. It's mostly for fear tactics, than actual effectiveness against human targets, since the flames can easily be put out by just rolling around.

"When all else fails, I will attack like my ancestors, I will fight hand to hand, blade to blade. And hopefully I'll survive long enough to pick up a new rifle, and gun down as many as I can before I'm shot."
Finally as a last resort, Andre carries a combat knife. This weapon is his last defense when he runs out of ammunition. This blade is his life, when everything else is gone. For him, he holds as a best friend, and will happily charge at an enemy, in hopes of killing them quickly enough to get another weapon, or at least save those around him.

- Skills (Combat):

-Close range firearms combat
-Breach and clear missions
-Hand-to-hand combat
-Heavy weaponry(Light Machine Guns, explosives, etc)
- Talents (Non-Combat):
-Care and cleaning of weaponry
-Able to drink most people under the table,
-Taking care of the young. A small passion of Andre's is to care for children, hoping to give them a better childhood than what he had. So he occasionally leaves for orphanages or other public places to read stories, or play games. Even offering some of the older children, those around sixteen to eighteen a chance to join FEARLESS so they don't have to live a life as obedient slaves.

"The Warpath is the only path I choose to follow, I only have a few good years left in me, and I will either slay the dragon that runs this land, or I shall die in a glorious fashion. Bringing as many Evil Clerics, and Paladins with me as I can. For I am one of the few knights to emerge in shining armor, instead of blackened plates."
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Flying In A Blue Dream
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Sci-Fi, Magic, Modern-Fantasy, Mecha, Super Power, Fantasy of any kind, Etc
[BCOLOR=transparent]Victoria… but, someone blessed me with the last name Sebastian. So, I guess,[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]Victoria Sebastian.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]CALL-SIGN // ALIAS: White Wych[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]GENDER: Female[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]AGE: 19[/BCOLOR]


[BCOLOR=transparent]Standing 5’6” Victoria is not a large girl by any means. Appearing significantly smaller than even others of her own gender she is a thin and weak individual. The muscular structure of her body has never fully developed leaving her significantly limited in what she is able to do and for how long she is able to do it. Despite this her outward appearance seems to reflect the opposite of her internal body. Beauty, lavish hair and a body that while thin flows and fills within her small frame.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Internally she is in fact incomplete. She is incapable of long term assignments without significant support due to the fact that she is a partially failed experiment. The effects of her own powers on her body cause significant damage to her mental, physical and emotional state. These often leave her without an inability to stand or leave her ill for hours at a time.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Who am I, Am I even human…? I question this myself. I sit often wondering on how I have come to be in the position I am in.” The white haired girl spoke out to one of her handlers. Milky blue eyes glaring around the room. Waving a hand in front of her face she seemed to begin to tear up “I don't… I never seen the sun with my own eyes. I’ve never looked upon a beautiful boy with my own eyes. I don't even know if I have eyes… Do I have eyes?” She asked suddenly and almost violently. Her Seraphim handler didn’t take offense or even budge at her sudden emotional spike. “Yes love, you have eyes. They are beautiful like you are.” The woman cooed to sooth the girl.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Cackling filled the room as a disturbing amalgamation of a creature stumbled into the room. Looking around the stubby stitched rabbit seemed to point “Bah! Hahahaha” Before chugging something that looked like piss water from a container it held. Waddling over and climbing up next to Victoria the rabbit suddenly gazed around as if taken control. “Ah, now I can see you.” Victoria said tears streaming down her natural eyes. The woman leaned forward and wiped the tears from Victoria’s eyes “Please, if you need to cry let it out.”. With no bars holding the girls fortress of a mind shut she immediately began to cry, loudly and without anything being held back.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Latching onto the woman Victoria buried her face into the crook of their neck. The stitched rabbit suddenly began to twitch and surge with the sudden onset of emotional power. Teeth elongating Victoria felt what she was doing and suddenly stopped crying as if a inbuilt switch was flicked. Turning to the creature she drove her hand into it causing it to begin to shift as the chaotic side of it began to suddenly surge to the fore. Gritting her teeth for the first time her handler stepped back. With a turn of her hand the creature stopped moving and slumped over. Its seal was broken but, it could be fixed.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]I can't see you anymore… It's dark.” she mumbled out tears starting again as if the switch was flicked off.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Dalia embraced the smaller girl and didn’t let go “Can you tell me how you survived?” She asked the blind girl. Taking a deep breath she stared forward as she shook slightly. Despite not having natural sight, it seemed as if the question caused her to see beyond that which the human eye was capable “Yes… I can.” she said very slowly before shifting and placing her hands suddenly on the woman. “Dalia… I don't like violence... I do what I do because I have never known anything else. I can't do anything, these men and women lay down their lives.. what do I do…? I exist.. I can barely lift a cinder block let alone run a mile.” she said without emotion.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Turning her head in the direction of the lifeless creature next to her she motioned to it “These, I do not know entirely what they are. I do not ask for them to exist… I did not ask for them to follow me nor do I wish for them to follow me. They are annoying, they are obnoxious beyond words but…” She trailed off taking a breath. Hand going over the lifeless creature it suddenly contorted sickeningly before snapping back into a form. Lidless red eyes staring out it clapped its stubby paws together before jumping off the bed and running out of the room cackling. “They saved me.” She sighed out.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]The woman began to write down what Victoria was telling her. Turning her head back to where she new Dalia was Victoria smiled a little the wavering smile holding itself for a few seconds. “I hate them… so much but they only try to help. They’ve laid down to allow me to sleep on them rather than the cold ground while I was surviving outside of… all this. They allow me to see things, I can't eat without knowing what I am eating. I can't walk without knowing where I am going. I can't dress without knowing where my clothes are!” She seemed to begin to get worked up again. Dalia grabbing her face and turning it she let Victoria’s forehead rest against her own. Wrapping her arms around the girl's back she began to rock back and forth “You don’t need to go on.” Dalia said but Victoria shook her head “It's too late… I am going through the motions.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]We all know how the world is outside of this bar. It is not safe, it is a lie built upon the rafters of a failing society.” Victoria began to say the emotion once more leaving her. The intelligent part of her burst to the fore. “Following their inclination to commit… genocide on my brothers and sisters I was forced to flee. I am not an easy individual to put down… I may be weak but what I command is the very fabric of what we build our world upon. Do not trifle with me.” She began to say her anger coming out. Fist tightening Victoria’s eyes began to flare blue as the room shifted and began to warp. Almost like an abstract painting the walls bowed and shifted. The very fabric of the room seemed to be breaking at the seams “They thought it would be simple for me to die, oh let's go beat on the blind girl.” She laughed.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Dalia put a hand on Victoria’s fist “Relax my dove. You are reacting to your emotions.”. Blinking the flare stopped and she seemed to begin to blush. She had been working on control and to lose it in front of Dalia was embarrassing “I'm… sorry.”. Sucking in a deep breath Victoria laid back on the bed breaking from Dalia’s grasp. “I thought I would be free. But, as I said… our world is not fair, it is not freedom it is a lie. The people who we try to protect would hurt us… they tried to rape me so many times… because I am small.” Despite the harsh and sudden onset of previously undisclosed information Victoria remained calm… at least outwardly. “Those rabbits, they just eat everything when I get upset. The gore… I see through their eyes and I saw their destruction of those disgusting individuals. It was so, enjoyable it was so… uplifting.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Closing her eyes now she let out a long sigh “One night… I… two women.. I… I was guided here.” She trailed off trying to bring the thoughts to the fore. “I don't know… It wasn’t easy. The folders… so many folders. Why do you use folders so much? Manila folders to be exact…” Victoria asked tilting her head. Eyes tearing up it was obvious she was changing the subject at this point. Others had said of the women and Dalia knew where it was going. Crawling over the girl Dalia was greeted by Victoria’s eyes staring blindly up at her. Feeling the woman over her Victoria tensed up but a kiss on her lips made her relax. “You are safe here. You will be safe.” Dalia said again kissing the girl more before Victoria wrapped her arms around the other girl and the two rolled over onto their sides “Please don’t let go.” Victoria pleaded before closing her eyes and relishing in the long wanted embrace. She felt loved… how alien.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Holding a picture up Victoria stared blindly at it but the rabbits gathered around her granted her the sight she needed. Sitting in her room she exhaled. Dalia was gone… taken from her two weeks before. Still reeling from the pain of losing the one she had begun to love Victoria felt her mind scream. Eyes flashing she put her face into her hands. Room warping, distorting and becoming otherworldly she suddenly looked up “I am not human… but neither are they.” She laughed no longer blinking. Her new handler had disappeared out of fear of the girls rising emotional state. Suddenly three people ran in and almost restrained her causing the room to only distort more. “It's okay! Victoria it's okay! Let it out… she's gone but she will always be with you!” One of them called out making the girl bawl her eyes out “I don't want to be alone!” Victoria continued on signs of obvious self mutilation present. The last few weeks were hard and she was slipping farther and farther into the very darkness the government tried to drop her into. Luckily, the resistance wanted her to live a life… despite the hell that they existed in.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Heish! Klraw!” The creatures around Victoria suddenly hissed at those running into the room. Their bodies contorted with the surge of dark energy. While looking like rabbits, their forms now appear far more disturbing. Their true reality coming into the fore. Backing away from Victoria the creatures seemed to slowly come down from their Dark energy surge. Swarming around the mewling girl they all wrapped their arms around her. She felt cold, alone and without any sign of a light. The light she latched onto was taken and destroyed utterly… she didn’t even have a body to say goodbye to. “Dalia… I miss you…[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent](Can also be reflected in the Bio Above.)[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]- Likes:[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]Fluffy Materials[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]Blood, Gore and Construction Materials[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]True Love[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]Signs of Endearment[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]Physical touch[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]Her Rabbits[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]Alone Time[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]- Dislikes:[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]Her Rabbits[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]Being Restrained[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]Unwanted Physical Contact[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]Loud Noises[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]Extensive Pressure[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]Forced Action[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]Help (Even though she knows she needs it)[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]Feeling Helpless[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]WEAPON(S): None[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]- Skills (Combat): None[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]- Talents (Non-Combat):[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]Scientific: Despite an inability to see Victoria has a natural affinity for the sciences. This seems to have been bred or burned into her memory at a point that she can not recall. She is capable of high end mathematics without paper, capable of figuring out genetic information by pouring through charts. She is a scientist bred for the single purpose of experimentation, repurpose of useless materials and the re-creation and building of new materials and entities.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Singing: Despite what many believe Victoria is a very talented singer. Relying on this at times when she is unable to see she will use her voice to mend and mould objects to her minds delight. Outside of this it is one of the few coping skills she has that makes her truly feel better. When she is upset she is often found singing quietly or singing in a place where few can hear her. Due to her own personal history, she is self conscious of many of her abilities and talents. [/BCOLOR]


[BCOLOR=transparent]Construct Magic[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Drawing from otherworldly sources Victoria is capable of stepping between worlds to grabs and pull whatever it is on the other side over to her own. This ability manifests itself in many interesting creatures, objects and entities. As such they are almost always far different from what is seen in their own world. Having used this ability more times than she can count it appears as if she is shaping these herself. It is not true, while she can command them she has no pull over their appearance other than grasping the entity/object she wants. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]These creations may vary in size. The larger the project, the longer it will take to phase in. The larger the construct the more it rips from Victoria causing fatigue and at times physical injury. Creations of a mind gone wild they are often odd, mis-shapely but prove their usefulness in combat styles by backing up and supporting individuals in their activities. The larger of the creatures can even be used to topple buildings but are slow, lumbering and require Victoria to take direct control over them putting her in the line of fire.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Mentally staining Victoria is limited to a near limitless supply of menial rabbits but is limited to 2 medium sized constructs or one large construct. These objects/entities can not stray more than 100 meters or be dispelled as Victoria can no longer keep them tethered to reality as to stretch one's mind farther could mean disaster. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Large Constructs: Able to maintain sentience and act accordingly they still require Victoria to be within a certain distance. Able to still take direct control of these large creations they are not as lumbering as their massive cousins but are still a formidable sight.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]Medium to Small Creations: These creations can act accordingly and are able to follow the instructions of those Victoria tells them to follow. They are faster and less durable than their larger cousins but are no less as varying. Often acting as bodyguards or even shock soldiers due to their ability to be made quickly and act through sentient actions. [/BCOLOR]


[BCOLOR=transparent]Drawing from the same energy spectrum as her Emotional powers this ability allows her to reach out beyond her own body. Using the shadows of the world around her she can cast what appear to be needles to objects. Enough of these can allow her to carry objects which she would not be able to otherwise but the more that are in existence the more strain it leaves on her mental state. Just as her dark manifestations drain her mental willpower, this drains her physical strength leaving her exhausted and helpless beyond any other. It is her only way of defending herself outside of that which she has around her.[/BCOLOR]

Also Victoria's voice.

Example of her Incantations of creation.
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' T I A '

"Y'know, it's a funny story on how I got my name. First time I sit down in the Afterlife, I was so damned tired... then, the bartender asked me what my first name was. Truth was, I couldn't remember, and there was no way I was gonna say that. So I look at all those colorful drinks behind the bar, and I see some coffee liqueur called 'Tia Maria'. And - yep, you guessed it - that's what I said. They made the connection, and we laughed the whole night about it. Tia's what I go by now."


From the outside, Tia looks surprisingly 'normal' and inconspicuous for a NOAH operative. Her smooth, blondish-brown hair is done up in a medium-length ponytail. She has a well-set pair of strong, greyish-green eyes, and her pinkish-pale skin is smooth. She's always found wearing a plaster across the bridge of her small, thin nose. Her mouth's natural position always seems to be set in a smile, making her come off as cheerful just from looking at her.

Long legs and a slender frame put her at 6'2, and she weighs 157lbs. Her unclothed body, particularly around her arms, is heavily scarred from what looks like a series of surgical cuts, likely from government testing. A hollow, circular wound hides underneath the plaster atop her nose. Another much larger burn scar trails from her lower right leg all the way to the buttock.

The clothes and armour she wears in combat is shown on the right. Otherwise, in her down time, she always wears a navy, long-sleeved shirt with the symbol of two electric guitars clashing, along with a pair of loose, grey tracksuit bottoms that are often mocked.



(What I've got is very long, and might take up a bit too much space amidst other CS's. To read it, click the spoiler below.)
Tia can remember barely anything when it comes to her past within government hands. All she remembers are a series of bright lights, grotesque imagery of scalpels slitting open areas of her arms, and masked individuals transporting her handcuffed body from place-to-place. She can faintly remember some sort of lectures about a 'wonderful' government, but that's all she can remember until the decision came to execute her and all other NOAH's. Tia was unresponsive as a NOAH, only showing faint signs of a tremendous power every now and again, but never utilizing it to her full potential. The one thing that seemed to activate her brain was the sound of music, and she often clapped along to it, which caused metallic objects to fly across the room or appear in places they shouldn't be. Her lack of ability to speak and understand most others led her creators to believe she was 'brain dead' or 'deficit' compared other orphans, and wasn't considered very dangerous because of it. Whilst still up for execution, her hanging was of a lower priority than others.

Before her execution came through however, she caught everyone off guard when she suddenly snapped into action, revealing she wasn't 'brain dead' or 'deficit' at all. It was instinct and her power that allowed her to rip open doors with her metal-based powers, snap open locks, and unbolt bars that covered windows. Parts of various machinery seemed to circle her that protected her from gunfire, and she used hovering parts like a floating 'staircase' to escape the high walls of the outside of the facility. However, before she could run too far, a rooftop sniper shot a bullet that entered the middle section of her nose bridge. Such a bullet caused the girl's body to slump to the ground instantly, and she was assumed dead.

However, Tia wasn't dead. Whilst in pain and on the verge of unconsciousness, and instinct of power within her had made the metallic bullet 'stop' within her face before it could pierce the cerebellum and instantly kill her. Playing dead, people were coming to retrieve her body, and she was sure she was going to die despite her efforts and miraculous survival of a shot to the face. Her last memory before passing out to pain was the sound of a motorcycle, and the sound of a beautiful rock song on the radio. A warm hand was holding her body, and the seat of the motorcycle was the comfiest thing she ever sat on. She never caught a glance of the driver face until later on, and she passed out as the bike soared through the streets at high speed, outrunning pursuers.

When she awoke, she was on a makeshift operating table, a plaster covering and hiding the healed bullet hole within the bridge of her nose. She instinctively called out for someone, and a grinning man looked down at her, jokingly saying she 'polluted the audio' of a 'recording'. A confused look came from Tia, before it had been revealed that she'd been taken into a abandoned recording studio in the middle of nowhere, a place where a group of three rebels (who weren't FEARLESS members) had cooped up. It was only a small group of three people: two guys, one girl, called 'Mike', 'Xunan', and 'Kiah'. The three had apparently been rounding up NOAH members that had managed to escape, but she'd been the only one they'd managed to retrieve before some 'other' organization snatched them up first. When Tia wondered what they wanted from her, it seemed like they didn't want anything. They were just doing it from the goodness of their hearts, giving people a chance at life where the government had denied that right. They were a group that used the old recording studio to distribute songs throughout the web, and hosted a radio station out of the prying ears of the government.

Life for the following year was bliss. Whilst Tia still didn't have a name at the time, and adopted the nickname 'lanky' due to her considerable height over the other three, her personality was shaped and she was taught a multitude of things by the kind three individuals. She learnt how to 'ride' the gorgeous motorcycles the three possessed. She learnt a love for music. She learnt jokes, and unlocked a bubbly and happy personality within her. She even learnt to play electric guitar, where the four of them created various songs for the illegal radio station. Drinking cruddy beer and watching the sun rise in the fucked up city, they lived a life that was somehow away from the government. The NOAH girl felt happy, and could forget everything that happened to her, even if it was just for a little while.

But such a thing was bound to not last forever. It wasn't long before government officials had traced back the source of the radio after hearing about it from traitorous individuals, bypassing the firewalls and proxies that protected the position of the 'illegal' radio. It was when Tia was riding on the back of Mike's motorcycle with him driving it when they say government soldiers closing in on the studio from a distance, heavily armed and hurling teargas into the building. In a rush, Mike turned to Tia and told her to 'take the motorcycle'. He was going to form a distraction so she could get away, and he was going to 'take as many of those bastards with him'. Before Tia could argue he ran off the motorcycle, yelling for her to check back in a couple of months as he pulled a pistol from his back pocket. All she needed to do was clear: ride out of here, and hide.

Later, Tia returned after months of hiding as promised, returning to the old abandoned recording studio she and her friends had practically lived in. As she entered the building however, there was nothing but a touch-screen tablet sitting neatly in the middle of the recording studio. It was a paused video. Thinking it was some message left by her friends, Tia eagerly pressed the 'play' button. What unfolded in front of her eyes was an hour-long footage tape of her friends slowly being tortured to death with acid, white-hot blades, electricity, and the slow and surgical removal of various body parts. The screams she heard haunted her, before she bolted out of the room, knowing it was a trap. The 'play' button had signaled an alarm to government soldiers, but she managed to outrun them on her trusty bike, riding it just how 'Mike' had taught her. She stopped at an abandoned garage when the sirens and gunshots in her direction stopped for a good hour, parked her near-drained motorcycle, and huddled in a ball as she sobbed at the top of her lungs in the empty darkness. Posters of the escaped NOAH were put up around the place, meaning she could never leave, surviving off scraps and creatures that dared to come in the derelict building until even those ran out.

Her presence was soon heard about by members of FEARLESS, and they managed to find the dirt-coated, malnourished girl hiding within an abandoned garage, her unconscious body slumped over her motorcycle, embracing it as if it were a parent. The surgical scars and the lack of a bellybutton made it obvious that this girl was truly a NOAH, and so, she was taken back by FEARLESS and nursed to health.

After a demonstration of her bizarre abilities to utilize her motorcycle in a multitude of ways and make metallic objects move without even touching them, the broken girl was given an opportunity to fight back against the people that she swore to God she'd eliminate. However, as Tia got her name and grew as a person, she didn't become hateful and vengeance-filled as most people expected she would be. As she grown as a person, she became an optimistic and smiling member within FEARLESS, often laughing at her failures within training and getting in the good books of many instructors that she rarely failed to make laugh, despite the seriousness of training. She was deemed fit to fight within FEARLESS, and her top-of-the-line driving skills and usage of her motorcycle made her a fairly unique operative. She could hit hard, fast, and as long as there was petrol in the tank, her speed to get things done and transport injured allies or deliver key objects was unmatched.

She fights simply so things that happened to her can't happen to anyone else. The loss of friends, the loss of family, the loss of everything you cared about just because you didn't 'agree with the system': just like many others, she fights to make such things an impossibility. It's easy to look past the wrath of the cheerful NOAH comically known as 'Tia Maria', for she will not hesitate to watch the people who wronged her slowly burn with a killing intent to nearly be on par with the most ruthless individuals.


From talking to Tia, it would impossible to know the things she's done, her brutal past, and the things she's capable of. For the most part, she could be described as a beam of positivity and a bag full of bad jokes. She's cheerful, outgoing, and isn't afraid to make other feel uncomfortable by poking playful fun at them. Her talkative nature is either a hit-or-miss with other people, but she's undeniably friendly, even to strangers. She can sometimes act confused and dopey when it comes to old traditions such as card games, history, and popular books/films, as she wasn't exposed to any of these when she was 'government property'. People prying to deeply when it comes to her past can make her somewhat upset, giving her a moment to be alone, but she'll never be angered at people for asking. She can be seen as too 'loud' or 'arrogant' by some people, although she doesn't want to come across that way, causing certain more 'serious' groups to mostly reject her presence.

Despite how well acquainted she might get with some people, her best friend above all others is her trusty motorcycle, who she names 'Mixuki', apparently a combined name of her three oldest friends that got her out of execution, and taught her how to drive the thing. She polishes and cleans her motorcycle twice a day, performing repairs on it whenever possible. She's known to snap at anyone who suggests changes of parts, paint colours, and will lose her mind if anybody other than her touches her motorcycle. It is only acceptable for someone to do this if she needs to give somebody a lift in the midst of combat.

In combat, she still remains optimistic and tries her best to cheer on others when they find themselves mentally or physically struggling. Whilst she tries to keep a clear head, she can make poor and overly bold decisions that could describe her as somewhat 'reckless', but not dangerously so. Atop her trusty motorcycle, she doesn't seem to fear anything, but feels oddly insecure without it. Despite how 'nice' she may seem, she will never hesitate to pull the trigger, and will only feel remorse if eliminated personnel have no associations with the government. Despite her bubbly personality, she knows when to take things seriously, but she likes to think seriousness won't stop her from smiling. Optimism is her strongest shield against defeat.

In her downtime, she likes to be social and can often be seen drinking or gambling even though she doesn't know how to play poker, which often causes uproarious laughter when she confidently puts down a trash hand; thinking it's sure winner. Whilst she doesn't have a heavy problem with alcohol, it isn't rare to see her somewhat intoxicated. She sometimes plays an electric guitar within the bar, which is mostly well received by people. ('Mostly', because some people dislike it when she goes too crazy on the fretboard.)

Tia is a fan of a stiff drink, metal/rock music of any form, and most sweet foods. Above all, however, she loves the smell of petrol. She oogles over vehicles of most kinds - particularly motorcycles - and it isn't rare for her to stroke/pet fine vehicles and talk to them like humans. She tends to get along well with most people, particularly those who are optimistic and can enjoy a joke or a laugh even the darkest of times. No matter their personality, Tia has a strong respect for medics and doctors within the resistance above all else.

As for what she doesn't like, even though she occasionally smokes, she absolute hates cigarettes/tobacco, and is making an effort to quit. She has a particular distaste for coffee, the smell of strong perfume, and most low-percentage alcohols (such as beer.) She isn't a fan of people who are quiet and pretend to be 'mysterious', and doesn't seem to get on well with a majority (but not all) of other NOAH's, mostly because she feels like she doesn't 'fit in' with them. She sees those with 'lone wolf' personalities dangerous and potentially damaging to missions that require more than person, as she's a firm believer of teamwork. The thing she seems to hate the most (other than, obviously, the scumbags within the government) is people touching her motorcycle where it isn't necessary. If you put your fingerprints on her bike, Tia always seems to know about it, and has got into a few fights because of it. She becomes completely enraged, and treats it as an ultimate sign of disrespect. Unless you're looking for her to eternally despise you and have a brutal fight, just don't touch the motorcycle.


Compared to other operatives, Tia keeps herself relatively lightly equipped. She wears light but substantial body armour (shown in her picture), wears a customized motorcycle helmet with reinforced glass that could potentially (but not reliably) block a headshot, though concussion and shock from the shot will still occur in most cases. She also carries small first aid kits (though they will rarely save lives), and a few other miscellaneous tools that likely won't see use (such as a small combat knife, but her melee skills are extremely average).

The one firearm Tia carries is a signature SMG (shown right). The RM28 submachine gun (nicknamed 'Baby Drake') is a compact SMG that can effectively be used in one hand. It has a slowish fire rate for an SMG, low-medium effective range, and holds a magazine of 50 nine-millimeter bullets. The bullets also pack an incendiary 'kick' within them which gives the SMG its nickname, but the weapon is still mostly experimental and is very unreliable when it comes to starting fires with its rounds. It's considered undesirable by most, but is the perfect weapon for Tia. Her version of the RM28 makes it effective to use on the back of a motorcycle, and all recoil that can be dampened has been dampened, making it fine to shoot with one hand without crashing your vehicle. It's considered quite a 'poor' weapon by firearm connoisseurs within FEARLESS, but Tia has proven she can put it to good use.


Tia's abilities are closely tied to her 'CX0020VI Blackbird Ultra Motorcycle', 'Mizuki'. The motorcycle is a high-end, sleek model that can reach 0-60 in roughly 3 seconds, and 7250rpm allows it to reach top speeds of roughly 190 miles per hour. The motorcycle is heavily armoured and durable, particularly around the fuel tank area, but is still light enough to be a very swift machine. To explain the powers she's harnessed along with it, I've split it into three parts:

>Phase Motorcycle - Tia is able to 'bind' a metallic, complex object between two set points, and phase it between those two points at will. Using this power, she binds her motorcycle to a private garage within FEARLESS headquarters, and the other to a spot near herself, allowing her to almost instantly teleport her motorcycle between those two positions. When it's teleported to her garage, mechanics within FEARLESS headquarters will work hard to repair it if it's damaged. She can leave marks and notes on the motorcycle to request for supplies to be put inside a compartment within, though the thing can't carry much. If the motorcycle is completely destroyed, there is no saving it, but Tia will lay dead before she lets that happen.

>Disassembly/Magnetism - Tia has a magnetic control over metallic objects, and can fling small to medium-sized parts at very high speeds in this manner, or move them at will. She has adapted this to fit her motorcycle style, and can disassemble parts from her motorcycle to use as weaponry, makeshift scrap shields, floating 'staircases', and so on. She comprehensively knows the ins and outs of her motorcycle, meaning she can usually get the part she's looking for, and reassemble it at will. Whilst she can disassemble other objects in combat and use them as weapons - such as guns - she has to be within a close range to do this, and the process isn't instant. Whilst she could effectively disarm an enemy in this manner, she'd have to be essentially right in front of them for a good three seconds; more than enough time for the enemy to just shoot her. And whilst she 'stopped a bullet' once, that was by mere chance, and will likely never happen again. Therefore, her disassembly is usually exclusive to her motorcycle.

>Projectile Fuel - Tia's final unique ability ties in with her 'Phase Motorcycle' ability, but isn't exactly the same. She is able to effectively teleport fuel from 'outside the tank' spray it on enemies. Whilst still a form of petrol, the fuel Tia uses is especially volatile mix, meaning that when it's ignited, it'll erupt in a burst of potent flames. This is the reason for her incendiary rounds. This also means, however, that she has to be especially careful around enemy gunfire. Whilst her fuel tank is very well armored, it isn't impervious to everything, and a well-placed shot or an explosive could still blow her sky high. She can only control this fuel because it has small amounts of powdered iron mixed in, and she doesn't have control over any fuel outside of her motorcycle.

>CHAP 2: Wire Focus - Though strictly not a new power, Tia has discovered a much more way to effectively convey her magnetism energy in the form of metal wire. Flowing her energy through wire allows her to concentrate it much more effectively, allowing her to affect metal objects as long as they're touched by the wire she has control over, giving her much more potential in terms of range. Magnetism/disassembly energy that flows through this wire seem to be more powerful compared to when she does it without. With such a simple addition of kit, there is a lot more versatility in what Tia is able to accomplish.

>CHAP 2: Nail Shot - Tia has learnt to fire long, iron nails from three protuded fingers, that shoot out at great speeds and create an impact that varies from a low power shot, all the way to something a .50 caliber bullet would create, depending on the amount of concentration and effort she pours into the nail shot. A powerful feature of this otherwise simple move is that she can also 'store' disassembly energy within a nail shot, allowing any complex metal objects she hits to fall apart to a certain extent, similarly depending on the amount concentration put into it.

The rest of Tia's 'ELEGANCE' abilities lay unknown, as she seems to not want to push herself to her limits, and is only comfortable using her oddly specific-seeming skillset around her motorcycle. There may be some untapped potential within her, but she seems of a low (but still useful) power compared to most NOAH, and doesn't want to explore her abilities any further than they've already gone. She considers it 'enough'.


>Combat Driving - Tia is an extremely honed and skilled individual when it comes to using her motorcycle in the midst of combat. As well as her uncanny ability to use it like a weapon, she can perform maneuvers, turns, and bold moves that would usually be considered 'suicidal' to overwhelm her enemy with intense speed. She knows how to use her SMG along with her motorcycle, and is knows where to aim to compensate for her extremely fast movements. One would think Tia is only capable of random fire atop 'Mixuki', but she can be deadly-accurate, hitting shots more often than not. Her aim is nothing special when dismounted from her motorcycle, however.
>Dexterous - Tia has very quick fingers, which may have something to do with her NOAH modifications. She never seems to drop anything, her fingers never seem to slip, and she can reload at speeds to match high-end RONIN members. Whilst some of the things she does with this dexterity may seem 'showy', it's usually necessary.
>First Aid/Ally Repositioning - Whilst no amazing doctor or surgeon, Tia knows how to patch people up like most FEARLESS operatives. What makes her form of first aid especially good, however, is that she can do it whilst on the move, and transport people away from danger with the help of her motorcycle. She's saved many lives in this fashion, delivering people to safe areas so medical experts can get to work. She can also pull people out of sticky situations on the fly, or even pair up with skilled shooters to make her motorcycle a thing to be feared.

>Mechanics - As one would expect from a biker, Tia knows the ins and outs of vehicles, and is very handy with a wrench. Getting knee-deep in grease and oil to fix various vehicles for FEARLESS is one of her hobbies, though she isn't capable of fully fixing up things more complex than a sports car.
>Musical Playing (Electric Guitar) - Tia is an extremely gifted guitarist, and could be considered 'Grade 7' by modern standards. She can bust a solo, improvise, and play chords that'll get even the most miserable people tapping a foot.
>Therapy - Whilst it could be considered more of a personality trait than a skill, Tia still has an uncanny ability to cheer people up, or help them get through tough times when they're experiencing serious problems. Whilst she can't save someone from the pits of insanity, she's been there herself, and knows how to help.


Andre König
"Who, Sarge? You mean the Sarge? Oh, man...! I love that guy; he's a total legend! I'd buy a drink for Andre any day of the week, and whenever I get to go under his command, ohmygod... being led into battle by the man himself, hearing that bellowing voice of his say all sorts of heroic shit makes my day every time. He even brings me parts sometimes, to boot~. But now, time to address the elephant in the room. Here's my theory about the '38' thing, right: I think that he works his body so hard that it somehow accelerated the aging of his skin and hair. That's gotta be why he's still young enough to still be a RONIN. Pretty solid theory, huh? That reminds me, I've still gotta challenge him to a drinking contest one day just for a laugh."

"...Oh, uh, the blind chick? She's a funny one, and sometimes looks at me in this really weird way, which kinda creeps me out. I-Isn't she supposed to be blind? Well, anyway, despite all of that, I like her quite a bit. She was one of the first other NOAH that came in after me, and ever since I heard she got it on the hard side when it came to government testing... I felt her pain. I've been there myself. Lights. Scalpels. Those fuckers gave me and her hell. She's a bit timid when it comes to violence, but she'll grow more of a spine when she realizes the animals those govs' can turn into. Apparently she's getting ready to start going into missions, so I've been warming a spot on 'Mixuki' for her to see what she can do. Besides, helping a blind person counts as my good duty for the day, right...?"

"Hrmmm, I dunno about this one. Sounds like a bit of a weirdo if you ask me; who gets their name from a coffee liqueur, anyway? Personally I'd just avoid them, hehe. ...Seriously though, what do I think about myself? I dunno. ...I'm still getting used to things, and it's been a long road for me and Mixuki, but I'm feeling pretty at home here. I guess I fit in with most of the others. But... not all of em', that's for sure. I think some people see me as a joke. When they see me laughing drunk in my down time, they wonder how FEARLESS can be partially riding on my shoulders. I never asked to be a NOAH, so I just wish they'd back off. All I want is to make those bastards pay, and I'll help how I can. Screw me for wanting to smile and goof around every now and again, right...? Eugh. Maybe I'm just overthinking it..."

Ji Yun
"Who's that? ...Ohh, that guy. Hah - well - what I know about him is a damn good question, as he rarely ever seems to wanna talk and seldom comes out of his room! I did catch his eye once, but he seemed to be judging me intensely; dunno what that was about. I still have a plan to get to know him better, though. I'll challenge him to one of those 'video game' things of his; I bet that'll get his attention! Hah, well, either way, he's got a lot to prove when it actually comes to him being useful on a mission; I sure wouldn't want my life in the hands of a guy who brings a frickin' yoyo to a gunfight. Pfft...! A yoyo, God, I can't get over that...! Don't tell him I laughed at it though, he'll probably 'hit me in the face with it' or something. ...BWAHAHA--"

Erja Liikanen
"...White death, huh. Yeah, I know who she is... the sniper. She doesn't scare me. Someone said to me how she could probably cleanly shoot me in the heart when I'm taking Mixuki for a ride - at max speed - without even breaking a sweat. Hmph. I still bet she couldn't. Now whether that's true or not, I've never been a fan of people who like to do things alone. If she's gonna work with me, she's gotta learn to open that mouth of hers and make herself known to the team. All I know I can count on her for is shooting a guy from far away. But what else? Maybe I'm judging her wrong, but I don't fully trust her yet."

Ansgar Staudinger
"I see the dude in the bar pretty often. First time I saw him, from those clothes he always seems to wear, I thought he was a bartender slacking off. I've tried approaching him every now and again, but... uh... let's just say he has that 'leave me alone' look when I start walking towards him, so I kinda lose confidence about three steps in? I just don't know about him. Someone told me he thinks us NOAH are an insult, so I guess sharing a drink with him is out of the realm of possibility, huh? If there's one thing I can say about him, it's that seeing him and Sarge bicker like old men never gets old. Sure, he's a tough nut, but if it came to a real fight though, my money would be on Sarge any day of the week. Though I'll admit that the rumor about him stabbing, like, twenty govs' in one night sounds impressive."

Karin Konstantin
"Karin? ... Okay. Look. She's really handy, she's a genius, she has friggin' robot dogs, all of that's enough to reassure me a mission's going to go pretty smoothly when I get picked with her. But... I dunno, there's something about her that I don't like. It's almost like she's too clever for me to understand. Whenever I dare to say something out loud like 'man, Rubik's cubes are impossible, I don't get how anyone can do those things,' she always stares at me with this 'judging look'. Hmph. At least I can gloat about the fact that she's an absolute midget compared to me, but that's all I've got on her, honestly. She may think I'm an idiot, but I'll beat her in something technical one day. That'll show her... *grumble*..."

"This woman is an absolute freaking weirdo. She grows fruit... inside dead people... then eats the fruit?! Like, really? Do you expect me to feel even slightly safe when I'm within ten meters of her because of that? ...Well, anyway. If I'm honest, she's not actually that bad most of the time, but sometimes she can be so arrogant that I just wanna damn smack her. I'm fine with her presence out of combat, I even kind of like her sometimes, but her arrogance and her love to cause 'chaos' and grow freakin' death fruit or whatever to get more power makes me dread the day I'll get picked to go along with her. I bet if I was about to die in the middle of a fight, she'd plant one of those weird seeds inside of me and steal my ability. Maybe there's a good person in there, but frankly, I think she and a few others are what gives us NOAH a bad name."

Ade Stafford (Assuming they get accepted)
"It's a girl. Me and a few friends made a bet, and I'm totally convinced it's a girl. ...Huh? What do I think of them? O-Oh, uh... right. Well, the way she - okay, fine, they - always go around pranking everyone is actually kind of hilarious. Even when I open a door to find a bucket full of paint falling on my head or whatever, I just think it's the funniest shit 80% of the time. Probably because I'm as immature as they are, hehe. However... I know they're a mischievous bastard, and if they get any ideas with my Mixuki... *knuckle crack*... let's just say I'm gonna give them 'a word'. As a person, they're sort of reliable, but just like Aresia, their love of 'chaos' or whatever sorta makes me question if I want to be in the same squad as them. Either way, I guess I get along fine with this oddball Seraphim compared to some of the others talked about. Seriously though, it's a damn girl."

"Don't even get me started on this absolute nutbag. Every time I try to say 'hi' to him, he looks at me as if I'm going to suddenly pull a gun on him or whatever, so I just end up backing off so I don't drive him over the edge. I sometimes try to send him gifts to ease him up a little bit and make him feel more at home, but... I just don't think he 'understands' emotions like I was taught to do by my friends. Let's just put it this way: if I think I had it hard off in the testing labs, then I don't know what the hell this guy went through to make him so twitchy of everything. The scariest part about him is that, at least my theory is, all that 'fear' he builds up in the battlefield turns him into an absolute killing machine. You'd usually laugh at a guy who brings just a sword into a fight expecting to win, but I'd laugh at a whole squadron going against this guy expecting to win. I just dunno about him. ...As much as I feel for the dude, there's just something about him I don't trust at all. Like he could snap out at any one of us at any moment."

Rubel Whyte
"Rubel is a pretty solid guy, even if he looks, like, twelve. I sometimes tease him about that. Even if he can be pretty hard to read sometimes, one thing that's obvious about him is just that he's a good guy who genuinely likes helping other people out. But... despite all the things I could praise him for, refusing to 'kill' govs' in the middle of a fight, and using all these little intricate gadgets of his just to knock people out is way too much trouble than it's worth. Doesn't he know what the govs' do? What they're capable of? I just wish I could get it through his head that they'd never give him the same merciful treatment. Whenever I hear he's done another mission without killing anyone... I-I... I just think that one of those people he let live... c-could of been one of those fuckers that... ... Whatever. Enough questions. I'm gonna... I'm gonna go polish the missus."

Juniper Hamilton
"...Y'see, Juniper's a funny one. On a personal level, I get along just fine with her, and she's the kinda gal' I could talk to for a huge while with a drink in hand. A lot of people tend to avoid her because of how 'posh' or whatever she is, but I just think that adds to her character. ...Despite all that though, I've heard about what she used to be. Some sort of hacker for the other side before she realised she was fighting for the wrong side. Just like Andre, I can respect her for stepping out of it... but.. I... I don't want to think about it, but... she could've been one of the people who traced back our old radio station. She could've been why us four back in the day got found out. I never have the courage to bring it up to her... but... one day, I just want to be sure that definitely wasn't her doing. Either way, it wasn't her who... y-you know... ... can we please go to the next one?"

Nomine Mendox
"I really dunno about the guy. He's a bit quiet and twitchy, so I find myself leaving him to his own devices most of the time. I've never seen him on the field, so I'm not sure what he can do, but bringing just a revolver with you to battle is kinda questionable in my opinion, but apparently he's a handy medic, so he has my heartfelt respect because of that, at the least. I'll give him a light for those cigs of his every now and again, but I wanna see him in action before I'd start thinking about sharing a drink with the dude."

"Yeah, I like him. Magna is a real cool guy... and by 'guy', I mean 'kid', hehe. Dude looks, like, ten years old. He'll chase sweets just about anywhere you throw them, which is kinda funny, and he always has that curious and inquisitive attitude that's just plain soothing to talk to every now and again. Also, it's not often I see us NOAH as having 'gifts', but... hear me out, what he does is actually kind of awesome. His ability is a real cool one; almost like an advanced version of my own, but definitely not the same. It's a weird thought, but... maybe we were both 'designed' around similar genes...? Designed to be mechanics for the govs', before we decided to high-tail it out of there? Euch, well anyways, all I can say is that those government bastards have another thing coming if they try to hurt the kid with me at his side."

"Auratta... Auratta, Auratta... oh! Yeah, I know the one. Another one of the snipers for the team, who lugs around a gun packing a punch way harder than necessary, but at least watching those things tear things up is pretty glorious. She doesn't seem to be as much as a lone wolf as that masked girl, so it's not like they're cut from the same cloth, but there's still something that makes me a little uneasy about her. I'm not even fully sure what her power as a 'NOAH' is, but whenever I try and sneak up on her as a joke, she always seems to know when I'm coming, and doesn't even find it mildly funny afterwards. In fact, she seems to know damn well everything on the battlefield. I've never really talked to her much, so I guess we'll see what happens? Maybe a few shots one day will bring her out of the shell of hers."


"Yeah... this is the song we always used to listen to. We never knew who made it. I really wanna meet them, because hearing it always cheers me up. Whenever I felt alone whilst the others were out, I always used to ride with this in my ears. I used to play those chords towards the end, day by day... those were the times, huh, guys...? ...Guys...? Hah..."

"Godspeed, lanky. I don't know where these roads will take you, but that's because they go so far."
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Lazy Stony Cat God
Invitation Status
Posting Speed
  1. 1-3 posts per day
Writing Levels
  1. Advanced
  2. Prestige
  3. Adaptable
Preferred Character Gender
Fantasy, Romance
Who am I

NAME | Ji Yun
ALIAS | Netrunner
AGE | 24


Once upon a time, Ji Yun had an identity which defined his appearance. Though, those days had been long relinquished to the past he had been forced to flee from. The new world was a cruel place for a Noah teen to survive, yet despite the conspicuous outfit Ji Yun chose to wear, he remained strangely at ease when traversing the streets of New Eccelsia...oblivious to the naive society crumbling all around him.

For a male, Ji Yun's body is defined by a highly slender frame that gives him an air of femininity, if not for his towering height of 6' 4". Nonetheless, he is nothing more than a collection of skin and bones which holds a weight of 140 lbs. Based on historic medical records, Ji Yun was born with a head of black hair and a pair of amber eyes; however, given that his upper body is usually veiled, it remains an on going mystery whether this information is accurate to date.

Compared to the other members of FEARLESS, Ji Yun is likely the most peculiar when it comes to his outward appearance. In terms of actual clothing, he wears nothing more than a loose-hanging jacket and a pair of baggy pants; both of which are covered by a full-body cloak that hides his face and the secrets strapped against his sides.


"Today is the big day, ya autistic sonavabitch. Do ya job right for once, and maybe I won't have to beat ya ass tonight. Though, for good measure..."

There was a loud crack that echoed throughout the white walls which defined one of many medical rooms in the present facility. Following the crack, there was a dull thud as Ji Yun's head fell onto the tiled ground and blood began seeping from a fresh wound above his eye. Standing above him was a buff man dressed in combat gear with a collection of holstered pistols and knives along his waist. Pleased with his attack, the man proceeded to crack his knuckles all while a gruesome grin formed just before he grabbed the youth's hair and forced him back onto his feet.

"If the white coats ask, you tripped and you fell. Now let's get moving.
You've already gone and fucked up any sort of raise I might have gotten. Not about to have ya fuck up my job as well."

The walk throughout the facility was a solemn one. For nearly a mile, it was nothing more than guards, white coats, and the occasional child who looked just as dull and expressionless as the next. To the adults, the children were nothing more than a scientific experiment...not human...not something to be cared for past the basic human necessities and their individual performance. Of course, there were the occasional exceptions. He had heard stories of guards and handlers who bonded with their assigned child, but those relationships never lasted long. It was unnatural; a security breach that could not be allowed by the officials in charge of the Noah program.

Everyone around him claimed that it was a big day today. It was supposed to be the ultimate test of his Elegance. Were he to succeed in meeting the expectations of the uppers, then he was promised a good life moving forward...a soldier of the government. Under his breath, Ji Yun scoffed at the idea which had been planted in his head. A good life they called it, when every soldier he had seen was nothing better than a brutish pawn that gleefully followed their abusive orders.

It was a rumor amongst the children that those who failed to exceed their tests or comply with the orders from above, were never seen again...disposed of as a failed project. For many it was a feared fate that drove them to the reaches of madness in order to perfect their capabilities as a Noah. For Ji Yun, however, he couldn't help but wonder if disposal was the better option for his life. There would be no more more trials and more puppet masters pulling the strings on a life that was never his. But were he to die, then it only meant another child would be cursed with the fate of his handler's abusive nature. He couldn't let that happen...unless the bastard was coming with him.

Since birth, Ji Yun had always been a quiet child. He never spent time engaging with those who surrounded him on a daily basis. Rather, he kept to the confines of his mind where the potentials of imagination were limitless. There, he could plot silly plans of escape or dream of a life outside the confinements of the facility. He could dream about a world he had never seen--only heard bits and pieces about. But anything had to be better than the life he was cursed to life...or so he thought.

His final destination was a large testing facility that contained a series of turrets and dummy targets scattered across the ground and up towards the ceiling of the elevated room. Towards the top, there was a control room protected by defensive barrier that remained transparent for scientist view. Upon his arrival, Ji Yun was quickly ushered towards one of the turrets all while a pair of circular devices were strapped onto his waist. Several checks were run to confirm the performance of the devices before Ji Yun was left alone until further instructions came from speakers in the room.

"Subject Netrunner.
Your task is to utilize your Elegance and take control of the foreign weaponry which stands before you. Once you have successfully hacked the enemy systems, utilize the attack functions and accurately undermine the threats which endanger our soldiers. You have under a minute to find success. Good luck, Netrunner."

Everything within him wished to disobey the orders that he was given, but it was obvious the turrets were under the control of the scientists above. He didn't put it past them to simply open fire were he to become disobedient. A small sigh escaped his lips as he extended a cord from the devices at his waist and plugged them into available ports on the nearest turret.
At least they were nice enough to give me a port, he scoffed in his head before his conscious was trust from his body and into the network that interconnected the turrets. For as long as he could remember, Ji Yun was gifted with an affinity for cybernetics that only grew stronger as his power further developed. What had started as a minor connection between his body and the net had become a full on injection of his conscious.

It was an experience like none other; ethereal, as if his soul was floating in a unique realm that only his eyes could perceive. It was a collection of signals and Boolean values that seemed to make perfect sense despite never being trained in their purpose or understanding. Every element within this realm had their subtle differences, be it a firewall or a control module, yet nothing was too difficult to take under his control. It was at times like this that he felt like a virus...some unstoppable bug that was yet to be squashed by the technology of the current age. One by one, the protective defenses of the turrets fell, and in half a minute he had assumed control of each turret within the room. The final step in his task was but an input away, yet for a second, he hesitated in firing the barrage of bullets.

Perhaps on an ordinary day, he would have simply finished his task and been back on his way to his holding cell. Today was different though. Be it the abuse he received prior to the test, or simple his frustrations reaching a breaking point in control; Ji Yun was in a rebellious mood that made him all the more conscious of his surroundings. It was a well hidden trick, but nothing could remain a secret when he was in control of a network. Reaching forward, he quickly dismantled the covert firewall and found himself traversing a hidden connection that was not meant to be.
A limiter, the realization crossed his mind a split second after his illegal access, and immediately, a sadistic sense of glee began to bubble within himself. All it would take was a simple flip in value, and the turrets would be capable of managing their maximum potential.

Again, perhaps on an ordinary day, he would have simply finished the task at hand, but today was not an ordinary day. In an instant, alarms began to scream across the facility block and the scientists sprung into a sudden panic. Rapidly, guards began to rush into the room, but it was all too late. Bullets riddled the walls and flesh alike--from woods to metals, from guards to scientists, none were spared by the machines of war that were all too apt at the job they were engineered to perform.
Sirens and alarms continued to extend across the facility, but all Ji Yun could hear was the euphoric sound of his rebellious actions.

At no moment in time did he doubt his life was forfeit for his actions, but deep down inside, he knew he had become a spark that would spread like wildfire across the facility. Deep down inside, he knew he had become a permanent scar upon the Noah it better or worse for the children who were cursed to share a fate such as is.

With nothing left to manipulate in the net, Ji yun returned his conscious into his body where he began wondering what death might feel like. Would it hurt, or would it be a gentle release from the pain he had been forced to endure? Regardless, none of that truly mattered in light of the simple joy he had discovered this day.

Who knew rebellion could taste so sweet?


"Ya know, its been how many years now? And I still don't know jack shit about ya Yoony...Well other than the fact that the government hates you and all, but that's besides the point. Surely there is something you enjoy other than hiding in computers all day?"

A rough looking man spoke in an exasperated tone while impatiently tapping his foot as he waited for a response from the teen who remained ignorantly focused on computer screen in his room. The minutes went by without a single sign of acknowledgement to which a heavy sigh escaped the man's lips before he walked forward, disconnected a set of wires, and began forcefully dragging the teen out of the room.

"I'm sick of this personality of yours, boy. Today, we are going to spend the day doing something I want to do."

The sudden turn of events forced a whimper from the teen who could only whisper a rebuttal against the forceful treatment. "We play chess."
Laughter suddenly exploded into the room as the man came to a stop, tossed the youth onto the living room's hardwood floor, then began grinning at the dazed expression which defined the child's face.

"So you were listening to me. Regardless, a man can only lose so much at chess before his soul is broken. I'd like to maintain some form of dignity.
Now, let's see here..."

The man fell silent as he began rummaging through a set of boxes which littered the floor against the north facing wall of the room. Soon, random objects began flying throughout the area until a wooden box was retrieved with an excited "Ahah!" Just from a single glance, it was obvious the box was from a time long before, and the fact became increasingly more apparent when it suddenly splintered from the small drop it soon suffered.

"Whoops...guess you tend to forget how fragile antiques get. Never mind the box though, its what's inside that matters."

The man spoke in a sheepish tone while carefully extracting the box's contents that he had became so giddy over. All during this time, the teen had remained on the ground with an annoyed expression on his face, yet for a split second, a flash of curiosity appeared in response to the wooden tool wound by a string that the man revealed for him to see. The man was not oblivious to such expression, and in a teasing tone, he began goading the teen--an action which caused a light blush to tint the cheeks of the Asian child.

"Now, don't you act all tough. Admit it, your you should be. It's not often someone like you gets to see something as rare as this."

Without further statement, the man tightened the wind of the string before flicking the object forward and twirling it in midair. For the longest time, the teen tried to remain oblivious and uninterested; however, gradually his curiosity began to give in. The twirls and twists of the object and string were a mesmerizing experience, and in time, the teen couldn't help but gape in awe...At least until a careless mishap caused the wooden object to smack against the man's head to which a set of hushed giggles broke the silence.

"Looky here, ol Yoony is having some fun. Don't see that every day.
This tool here is a yo-yo; a toy from way before you were born. It might seem simple, but its actually pretty hard to use. Nonetheless, its fun and you can perform some awesome tricks if you get good enough. Here..."

The man tossed the object to the youth who fumbled and dropped it onto the ground. Another sigh escaped his lips as he shook his head in response to the display of dexterity; however, he soon turned away and walked towards the nearby kitchen. From there, his voice began to echo the plans for the remainder of the night.

"I'm sure with your head, you'll have it figured out in no time. For now, I'll go ahead and get started on corn dogs and cherry dr. pepper...again...since its about the only damn thing you'll eat."

In that moment, the man's tone sounded blatantly annoyed and frustrated with the youth; however, both of them knew there was no animosity between them. Every interaction...every was was almost as if the both of them were a natural family. If only it could have lasted forever...if only...


WEAPON | Dual Inertia Yoyo
"Kid, I know those shenanigans of yours can get you far, but one day, its gonna fail and your gonna have to know how to defend yourself. I've tried to teach you to the sword, and I've tried to teach your the be blunt your a failure at both. If your old man wasn't a genius, you'd be shit out of luck, but..."

The man paused his announcement while rummaging under the covers of his bed where he grasped a small metal briefcase that he tossed over onto his bedside table. A small sigh escaped amongst the heavy breaths which pained his lungs, but nonetheless, he forced himself to continue his speech.

"You and I both know this life of ours aint gonna last much longer...Consider this my final gift for you. And lemme tell you, it was a hellava lot of fun to make...much better than the shitty ol' boring weapons that the fancy government likes to use."

In the upcoming time that the man took to rest his lungs, Ji yun began to inspect the briefcase which housed a pair of shiny, metallic cones that each contained a surprisingly lengthy line of cord wound about its body. Hidden under the veil of his cloak, a small grin formed at the corners of his mouth while one of his hands reached into a pocket and grasped the wooden memento that had remained unparted since that day.

"I call them inertia yoyos. Activate them...twirl em to generate energy...then hit something to transfer the stored potential energy into released kinetic. You got about six foot of reach so it'll help you against someone with a sword, but a gun...Bah, I'm sure your head will figure out a proper use for them. Other than that, they're great for tricks and practically indestructible so long as you treat them right."

Gaming | Without a doubt, Ji Yun can be considered an avid gamer, whether the source material be his own creations or the relics scattered across New Eccelsia's net. In that regard, he is a competitive sort of folk, and is often open to any competition with his peers. That being said, most within FEARLESS have long given up attempting any sort of challenge since dignity tends to be a desirable retention.

Yoyo | It should come as no surprise to know that Ji Yun has mastered the art of yo-yo tricks and has further applied such knowledge to his unique combative style. His inertia yoyos are strategic weapons capable of a wide range of utilization be it in direct combat or indirect use. Although the kinetic force of his weapons are not entirely impressive compared to other options, it combined with the yoyo's weight is more than capable of incapacitating a human or shattering material of lesser structural integrity.

Coding | As a result of his Elegance, Ji Yun is blessed with an advanced knowledge of coding constructs that he generally applies to the development of games. Nonetheless, he is often approached by FEARLESS members with requests for various pieces of software that might assist their cause moving forward in the resistance.

Stealth | Being able to tap into Eccelsia surveillance or informational streams comes with great boons in regards to transit. In part, it is because of this talent that Ji Yun has remained off the grid and has evaded many government attempts to recapture or end his life. Members of FEARLESS are often advised to consult with Ji Yun prior to undergoing a resistance mission...though his personality makes such consultation often a challenge to receive if not outright impossible for most.

ELEGANCE | Conscious Streaming
It isn't an understatement to say that Ji Yun is one with the cybernetic aspects of New Eccelsia. As a result of the experimentation that deem him a child of Noah, Ji Yun is capable of injecting his conscious into any network or cybernetic component through the servers which he continually carries along the sides of his waist. These servers were a secondary result of the Noah experiment and are considered a national threat that must be either retrieved or eradicated. Unlike the ordinary expectation for a computing system, Ji Yun's servers were created from next-generation technology that was meant to compliment the powers he developed. By forming a physical connection from the wires of the servers to any port, existing or not, Ji Yun can assimilate himself with the access point and begin manipulation from within. As a result of this power, information gathering, dismantling security, and hardware control are all capabilities within his grasp. That being said, such power does not come without its drawbacks.

When Ji Yun injects his conscious into a network or device, his body becomes vulnerable to any influences in the real world. Effectively, he is a soulless body until his conscious is returned through the same connection or through another that exists on the same network. Hypothetically, were his body to be killed while his conscious was injected, then Ji Yun would be nothing more than a lost AI, unable to return to reality.

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Runs with Axes
Posting Speed
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  3. 1-3 posts per week
  4. One post per week
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Varies, but often.
Writing Levels
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  2. Advanced
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Male
  2. Primarily Prefer Female

  • 76eabba7cde48f34aca0935a3540817e.jpg

    NAME: Erja Liikanen CALL-SIGN // ALIAS: White Death
    GENDER: Female AGE: 27

    APPEARANCE: Height: 5'6" - 167.64 cm, Weight: 130lb 59kg. Complexion and eye coloration commonly found in Albinism or burn victims. Scars and scattered burn Marks seem to cover her Arms, back, chest,legs and majority of the temple and ocular region of her left face. Wears a dark green poncho, black fatigues and tactical gloves as clothing. Finished off with Armored Top climbing boots.

    Additional gear would be ballistic plates on legs, chest and hips, 2 double Magazine holders, two five round bandoleers for Soviet 14.5 mm rounds built into hip armor and rear belt. Ballistic plate face mask with sealed custom Gas protection filters.

    Hair seems to be free flowing and goes to the mid back in length. Her appearance overall can seem fairly gruff and as inhumane as the Ecclesians Armed forces, though her exposed eyes can expose her feelings.


  • BIOGRAPHY: Erja Was born into the massive Walled City Valhalla, to a family of survivors who in the past were from a country called Finland. For Generations the Family stayed in the Substance Quarter which primarily handled the limited Agriculture left to mankind. Consisting primarily of towers with multiple levels of growing beds, the Agricultural Ward generally was left unmolested provided it met its quarterly production cycles. However that did not prevent security Raids from time to time to prevent unauthorized hoarding and black Market selling, something Farmers have done for as long as Central Authority has existed.

    Overall Erja's life was rather typical with education being largely self taught via books and few official teachings, the Farmers had one task, and one task alone, seeing to it that food production met the needs of the City and its millions of inhabitants. Climbing the ladders and beams leading to the multi level granaries and livestock pens, it was hard work, but given the down looking

    On one such raid during her 13th Year, a large quantity of Grain and beans was found hidden among the floorboards and cargo containers. Normally under the old Official's the goods would be seized and a tax would be leveed against the collective as a whole. The Ecclesians however were not so forgiving and changed the guard, deciding harsher methods were in order, examples must be made and set to discourage further black marketing.

    This was though in a draconian Fashion from the early and mid 20th Century One Hundred Farmhands would be collected at random and shot, the surviving workers would for five months receive 33% less food. Needless to say the reaction to this was a large scale Riot, and soon there after an armed uprising. Intially successful a number of Farmers including Erja armed themselves with single action weapons, primarily meant for killing sick livestock, and dug in among the tiers of the Agricultural Towers. Ecclesian forces soon resorted to the use of Incendiary weapons and massed Infantry Assaults to break the stalemate, citing 50% losses in NCO and Officers
    on the battle line.

    These tactics are ultimately what led to Erja's family being annihilated with at least 1500 other farmers, she herself survived with massive third degree burns on 45% of her body. Falling from a platform, she miraculously survived a fall into the draining system, laying atop a board. She was marked dead and responsible for the deaths of at least 12 Ecclesian Clerics.

    Being pulled from the water by another Farming Collective down stream, Erja was nursed back to health, though plagued by nightmares and none to willing to trust her new hosts. About two years later she was forced to flee when a survivor from the Attack on her old tower recognized her. Killing him with a butchers knife, she was on the run once more.

    Over the course of the next following years the young girl would use her knowledge and experience to wage a one Woman War against the Ecclesians. While working as a body guard, bounty hunter and enforcer for less than reputable sources. With at first a Mosin Nagant, she would assassinate officials connected to the Purge of her Collective. After that NCO's, Officers, checkpoint's and patrols would find themselves in the crosshairs.

    Reportedly killing dozens, if not hundred's in a multi year spree, Ecclesian forces came to give her the nickname White Death, partly from her ghostly appearance and in homage to the more learned among them to Simo Häyhä, the original White Death of Winter War fame. Being driven primarily by revenge and hard earned tactical knowhow, she soon found herself turning to Alcoholism as a means to cope.

    In recent years however things have changed. Meeting with like minded fighters and revolutionaries, her upbringing found a certain attachment to the group. While her attacks grew to be more sparse, the White Death would soon carry out more sophisticated attacks and High-profile Assassinations. Even being reportedly seen as if a shadow watching from roof tops and alleys before attacks by the FEARLESS Organization.

    Because of some of the Urban legend and fame surrounding her, Erja generally does not wander area's Loyal to the New Ecclesian Government.

  • PERSONALITY: Erja is something of a lone wolf, keeping to herself in most situations, preferring to observe before she speaks. Often straight forward, to the point, she can in vulnerable situations, or those going against her status of a Ice queen, lie, though her eyes tend to subtly betray what she's thinking.

    She's known to be Loyal to the FEARLESS if only because her hatred of Ecclesia is great enough to warrant an Alliance. Initially her loyalty to the cause was dubious at best and her ties to criminal groups remained strong, but with the new purpose and guided direction for her Rifle she's gradually been seen as a valuable and trusted Asset of the organization, who most importantly doesn't ask unneeded questions in regards to her targets.

    Outside of professional preferences, she seems rather disturbed and understandably so, by fire. She can be surprisingly sympathetic when there is cause. Unsurprisingly as a former farmer and a current sniper, she has a great deal of patience and is a through tactical planner. While it remains a point of debate that she likely still has nightmares, Erja seems mentally sound, all things considered. Has a curious quirk about books, stating that she wants to see beyond the walls one day. In this regard she seems surprisingly up beat in a child like fashion.

    In general it could be said she seems highly unapproachable, a hunter of men and a down right no nonsense loner with little to talk about. In spite of this she's been shown to be surprisingly insightful, humble, and sympathetic. She doesn't seem to have but a few major dislikes, and if her eyes are true, feels the full spectrum of emotions. Though until one learns what those signs are, it can be difficult to tell the difference in them.

    Generally in battle not much seems to change though she operates more like a machine, picking and choosing who lives, who dies, unless ordered otherwise. Her voice on communications channels sounds monotone and emotionless during combat. Curiously she does not work with a spotter.

    - Likes: Books, Guns, Making coin, mint leaf, Vodka in moderation, animals, Military Rations, growing plants, staying off to herself in social situations and of course killing Ecclesian Soldiers.
    - Dislikes: Fire, attention on herself, Music, snakes, being the butt of jokes, slackers, those who push her too far with demands, vague orders, observing massacres and being unable to act.

  • SVD Sniper rifle:

    A 7.62x54r chambred rifle invented by the Soviet Union in the later half of the 20th Century. With hand-loaded rounds it can achieve an accurate range of 300-900 Yards/Meters. Erja tends to carry five Magazines of 10 rounds each, one in the rifle, four in belt pouches. While an older weapon it is a threat to most soft skinned targets or Infantry with light protection. Comes with a detachable Silencer for times where a measure of Stealth is needed, primary weapon.

    PTRS-41 Modified Anti-Material Rifle:

    Chambered in 14.5x114mm Rounds, this weapon is fairly heavy, loud, stupidly long ranged and can kill a man inside of a APC or even in the best of Infantry Armor. With its massive Machinegun round bullets this aging weapon from the Early 20th Century made a resurgence in the early 21st where it was used in conflict across portions of Eastern Europe. A rather large weapon Erja only carries 10 rounds on her leg bandoleers and five in the weapon for use. Even in the far future its rounds can pose a threat to light armored Vehicles and Infantry, many of whom go down before they can even hear the gunshot.

    Other Gear:
    Carries a basic first aid kit with food rations and a water purification kit in a Butt Pack.

    Water Canteen mounted to Butt Pack.

  • Talents:
    - Skills (Combat):

    Sniper: A highly skilled sniper with an unusual since of spatial awareness and lacking eye dominace, Erja can easily act as her own spotter, guessing target distance and environmental factors by second nature. Its unknown if this came about to be as a form of Autism or medical roll of the dice.

    Climber: Given her Youth working on the Agriculture platforms, Erja can climb a variety of structures, overhangs, metal grids, cliff faces, or even mountains. Well if there were Mountains in Valhalla. Regardless give this she can end up in surprising locations to carry out her sniper missions or recon work.

    Infiltration and Evasion: Living as long as she has in a field with 90% casualties there is but so far luck will take you. Ecclesian soldiers, also being human are given to not take being hunted likely anymore than soldiers of any other period. As a result Erja is quite capable of getting in and out of area's with tight security and has little problems using sewers or area's of questionable safety in doing so. She was once laughed at for using a sewer line to escape, stating that it was better to step in shit, than your own guts, upon her return.

    - Talents (Non-Combat):

    Agricultural related tasks: Knowing how to take care of plants and animals can prove surprisingly helpful with Erja in regards to food supplies and sources, as well as means to prevent detection by still relevant dogs.

    Information analyst: While it may not seem it initially Erja is rather comfortable sifting through piles of date for useful information. In the field she's prone to factoring her own observations with her orders before making an attack. Provided she's asked.

    Equipment Rigging: As evident by her own weapons and Equipment Erja can make some rather surprisingly well done pieces of kit, able to keep her vintage weapons and armored suit going.

    First Aid: Has a rudimentary knowledge of first aid, having devoted time to learning it during her life as a sniper.

    Musical Talent: Of a sort at least, a kantele is one of the few non combat items that she owns, mostly leaving it in safe keeping at the Afterlife. Primarily plays Säkkijärven Polkka, a tune from her childhood. Though other string instrument pieces are possible.

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JRPG Fanatic


Full Name: Geurl Chaan
CALL-SIGN // ALIAS: Lucky Number
AGE: 15


BIOGRAPHY: (Please refer to the OOC thread for important RP info)

- Likes: Oranges, Dogs, Mustard, Rice, Walking, and Boots.
- Dislikes: Bees, Ketchup, Urine, Crap, Falling, and Embarrassment.

WEAPON(S): (Please refer to the OOC thread)

- Skills (Combat):
- Talents (Non-Combat):

ELEGANCE: (Special abilities held by the NOAH)
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Rax Rosetta

Guardian of Yllise
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I am a huge scifi nut, both in previously established settings (Star Wars, Warhammer 40k, Mass Effect, ect ect), fantasy, and I'm generally willing to give most settings or genres at least one go before judging them.

[BCOLOR=transparent]FULL NAME: [/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]Ansgar Staudinger[/BCOLOR]


[BCOLOR=transparent]GENDER: [/BCOLOR]




[BCOLOR=transparent]Ansgar is the textbook definition of unassuming, something that he takes advantage of on a regular basis. Standing at approximately 5’8” tall, and weighing barely over 150lbs, one could be forgiven for idly looking past, or over, Ansgar on a regular basis. His frame is often times compared to that of taut wire, muscles lean and built for strength, and not for show, so he often has a wiry build that hides a surprising amount of strength. Though his typical movements often times speak of a preference for agility and grace over raw strength, each step near soundless out of habit while subtly smelling of cigarette smoke usually, even if he hadn’t been smoking that day yet. Force of habit really, something that he often also has about him at all times are smokes, usually tucked into a pocket or having one dangling from his mouth, affectionately referred to as coffin nails.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Physically, he typically affects rather simple, yet well kept, preferences. While not always clean shaven, his facial hair never grows past what might be considered a five o clock shadow, preferring a clean shave when possible. His blonde hair is kept in a short style, bangs brushed to each side and trimmed well enough to not get in the way of his vision while going about daily life, or otherwise. His arms and legs lack any sort ot tattoos, though there are quite a few blade and shrapnel scars from close calls on missions, but nothing self inflicted, which would be obvious at a casual glance. On his chest are several gunshot scars, one nearly over his heart, barely having passed between heart and lungs, and something that he usually does not comment on if caught shirtless. And would very much prefer not to have commented on, really. His back has a rather, surprisingly, colorful full piece, starting at the shoulder blades, and ending just above his waist, depicting an oriental dragon rising along a tower, while close observation could show men within the tower, armed with modern weapons, trying to fight back against the beast as it rises, flames rising with it.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]When it comes to his off duty or undercover attire, Ansgar prefers to dress well. Starting from the top, he prefers no sort of headgear, whether it be hat or otherwise, while a nice, sturdy pair of sunglasses often are perched on his face, even indoors when it isn’t necessary. Continuing past the aforementioned cigarette at his mouth, he typically has a gunmetal silver necklace on, holding a stylized iron cross at the end, the length of which allowing the cross to rest directly over his heart. As for attire, he favors a white dress shirt, fully buttoned up and at each cuff as well, utilizing a bow tie at the collar instead of a more conventional regular tie. With a matching black jacket, something a bartender in an upper scale establishment might wear, it is of no surprise he tends to get confused for someone that serves drinks by newbies or rookies. The rest of his attire is fairly plain, a pair of dress slacks and well kept dress shoes round out his preferred and quiet operations attire, most folks tend to not question the outfit more often than not.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]If, for whatever Gods forsaken reason, he needs to go loud from the get go, Ansgar has a few modifications he applies to his preferred attire. A lightweight vest with ballistic plates is thrown on instead of his vest, which is discarded or stored away, whichever is more convenient. Throw in a set of elbow and knee pads, and swap out his dress shoes for combat boots, he prefers to keep the kit light while adding on to the defenses he might need for a loud mission. Regardless of the situation, if the weather is foul, he does have a long rain coat that he can wear, giving him a private detective look instead of a bartender one, with the addition of just one piece of clothing.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"You want a story, kids? Alright, get me a drink and a fresh pack of smokes. Ain't the prettiest story, but I'll humor you. Might learn something from it, too."[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Ansgar Staudinger was born into the slums, and not just your average trodden upon neighborhood. It was heavily patrolled due to the amount of trouble that generally ran amok, whether by infighting amongst the civilians there for the sake of survival, or those throwing things or otherwise ‘attacking’ NEW ECCLESIAN forces. Attacking being little more than throwing things, at their most dangerous molotovs. Still, it angered the powers that be, and the area was heavily patrolled, and a shoot to kill blanket order for those that were caught doing anything illegal, no matter how minor. A textbook example of how the NEW ECCLESIA government put the boot down hard onto anything even slightly hinting at overt rebellion. Only the poor, desperate, or both would ever live in this kind of slum that so heavily relied on crime and had such a heavy eye placed upon it by the powers that be. Ansgar Staudinger, than just a, albeit malnourished, baby, would grow up in this kind of environment[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]As soon as he could walk and talk, his father, the only man in his life that could be considered family, was teaching him how to fight and steal. While other children would be watching cartoons and going to schooling, he was lifting wallets and picking locks. His lean frame leant itself well to dexterous actions, having a knack for slipping through shadows and avoiding patrols of NEW ECCLESIAN forces. Though he had a habit of stealing nicer clothes than the raggedy things he wore for working, something his father overlooked since everyone had their foibles, he learned to fight in the meanest way possible. Nothing was off limits, whether it was groin shots, irritants to the eyes (such as sand or gravel), aiming for pressure points, aiming for vital veins with blades, anything that would give him an edge and end a fight was fair game. He gained a reputation because of it, a young teen that no one dare cross, his local slum calling him a punk god with a straight razor. Of course, he was anything but that, but reputations were dangerous things. Useful, but dangerous.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]In his mid teens, not even of age for a young man really, the powers that be were finally done with playing nice with the slums. In an unsurprising move, NEW ECCLESIA ordered troops to march in, kill anyone that moved, and go about, for a lack of better terms, razing the slums. They would rebuild with new, obedient populace or, perhaps, use the place as a barracks district. They expected resistance, and they got it. All the infighting and petty thieving against each other was as much due to a lack of supplies as it was a lack of common foe, which was just given to them. Backed against a wall with the rest, Ansgar chose to fight. It was a one sided massacre. Despite the improvised nail bombs, suicide attacks, molotovs and stolen guns from what few soldiers they killed, the civilians had no effective means of killing the regime’s troops face to face. Ansgar himself would ambush lone patrols, nail bombs disorientating and wounding and he would get close, using a stolen blade from one of the NEW ECCLESIAN troops to slash their throat before fleeing into the night.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]This only stalled for a few days, at best, as the mighty hammer came down on the slums, a textbook case why certain resistance groups did not openly fight the NEW ECCLESIA regime. Between armored troops that they just couldn’t hurt without using stolen equipment which was in woefully short supply, and vehicles that were resilient to any attempts to bomb them or even slow them down, the fate of such a place was written on the walls, in the blood of the civilians that had lived there. Even the innocent who etched out honest livings, and did nothing to resist the regime died screaming. Ansgar saw all of this, and kept fighting alongside a handful of others to the bitter end, or so it would be recorded by the powers that be. The rebels, since they long stopped calling themselves civilians or citizens, had been backed into the corner of the slums, between them and the wall that kept the outside, out. In other words, effectively with nowhere to run. But they would not go quietly into the good night, and as dusk fell over the city, they would fight openly one last time.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Ansgar, always having favored a close up approach to fighting, weaved from cover to cover, throwing bomb after bomb, sometimes homemade, sometimes stolen equipment from the handful of soldiers they had killed. His father was firing from the building they had dug into, alongside quite a few others. The fire was withering, and the few rebels left were quickly being put down by sheer weight of fire, not taking into account the superiority of equipment and training. Ansgar was forced to flee indoors, meeting up with his father and heading for the basement, where the old man’s final gift to his son was waiting. A tunnel, too small for any of the others but just large enough to accommodate Ansgar. The room itself, wired with enough explosives to level the building and anyone still inside. No tears were shed, the two were far too different from typical family for that. But one last hug, one last see you later, and Ansgar was into the tunnel, tool steel plate put over to help give him some distance from the blast. Ansgar was barely out of the tunnel, in a different district completely, when the explosives went off. He was fifteen at the time. Fifteen years old, orphaned and with nothing to his name but a fancy knife and a duffel bag of clothes, including the fancy stuff he stole. With that, he had a plan. It wasn’t a good one, but it was a plan.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Ansgar would kill every single member of NEW ECCLESIA’s regime that he could get his hands on. He was a dead man, after all, according to any records the regime had, so he could walk as a ghost among men. And he would start small, tracking low level officials down to their homes, slipping past security with practiced ease, and letting them watch as their throat gushed their life blood forth. He had been raised from birth to be a thief, so it wasn’t a long shot to become an assassin. Not killing for money, but because each and every one of them deserved to die. Each mark he killed, he carved the name of one of the slum denizens into their chest, marking vengeance for each. This wouldn’t be lost on the regime, who realized they missed one once they connected two and two together. But he would keep striking, seemingly at random, wandering the districts, slashing throats and getting into firefights with isolated patrols. Having claimed equipment off dead body guards and soldiers, he supplemented his already intensive melee abilities with firearms, mainly pistols, and would spend the next three years haunting the regime, never striking predictably to avoid being killed, or worse, captured.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Shortly after his eighteenth birthday, Ansgar would receive a plain, manilla folder while heading for his latest hideout. Just like that, he wasn’t just some angry young man, killing for the sake of revenge. He had a group to work with, who had been impressed with his abilities to break and enter, to kill, and to survive all of this. Yet he would receive formal training to amplify his natural talent and hard won experience, specializing in close quarters battle, having a knack for his twin pistols and an obvious preference for his edged weapons. He would spend two years training with retired RONIN, active RONIN, anyone that had skills for him to learn. From mastering his lockpicking abilities, bypassing security systems, anything he would need to get into compounds, grab what was needed, slash the throats that needed cut, and get out. He would spend twenty years fighting and bleeding for FEARLESS, and unsurprisingly, these would not be an easy twenty years. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Fighting against a regime that has manpower and resource advantages was never easy. But Ansgar would find his eagerness to spill blood tempered by the constant losses of allies, in the rare cases he would work alongside others as well as just the attrition of RONIN that didn’t make it back. He was more exposed to the grand schemes against NEW ECCLESIA, grander than he could have ever done. Yet he routinely found himself, more and more often, sitting in the AFTERLIFE, scotch in front of him, a pervasive feeling of tiredness in his bones. It didn’t show in the field, but as he approached that magical forty benchmark, one could see why the FEARLESS retired field RONIN at that age. If they survived that long, the fighting and bloodshed, tension and stress were not doing them any favors. But Ansgar would make it clear, at every turn it came up in conversation, he had no intention of retiring or dying anywhere other than in some firefight, pistols in hand, roaring his final defiance at those that robbed him of home and family.[/BCOLOR]


[BCOLOR=transparent]For a man who has spent most of his life fighting for various causes, even for no cause at all beyond his own, Ansgar is a fairly calm fellow on the surface. At the bar, or at least whenever not in a hostile environment, the man prefers a quiet drink, quieter smoke, and to just be left the hell alone. Not that he is anti social or, indeed, poor company because of it, he just has had his fill of humanity in general. Not that he would tell anyone that to their face, or turn them away should they sit at the same table as him or at the bar on the rare occasion that he feels it necessary, or cannot find an empty table elsewhere, to be seated there. Overtly, he tells folks that he just prefers the quiet of his own thoughts when on his off time, and to not get caught up in drama or the grinding gears that some fellows seem intent on engaging in. However, the surface is hardly all there is to see for this RONIN, but then again, since when is the surface ever all there is to see for a RONIN?[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]For as far as anyone new to the experienced RONIN are typically concerned, Ansgar is oddly relaxed and willing to part with hard earned wisdom, to those willing to listen. He tends to enjoy teaching the following generations of resistance fighters a new trick or two, since even an old dog like him is still learning new tricks every day. When not drinking or smoking his evenings away, he is often found teaching anyone willing to learn. Whether it's in combat orientated arts like first aid or close quarters combat, or more peaceful things like playing the piano (something he insisted on having added to the bar for his use), or the proper appreciation for a good drink. Of course, it's easier to put up such a brave front for the sake of others, something that is apparent to those that really know him and have worked with him long enough. The reality of things doesn’t match the front, of course, but as far as most are concerned, it is all they will ever see. A kind spirited, if a bit obfuscating at times, man that would rather teach someone how to do it right the first time, and see them survive because of it.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]In all reality, Ansgar is tired. Tired of watching those around him dying, tired of his efforts against NEW ECCLESIA never seeming to amount to anything, tired of having to put on a front for the sake of the others. If he were to be brutally honest, he would much rather not hit his forties and be pulled from the RONIN and, very likely field duty after that. Then he would be forced to watch younger men and women go out and bleed, go out and die, for the sake of freedom. As such, he is often the first to volunteer for the most dangerous missions, the most unlikely to return from, even actions that are expected to be complete losses, in regards to manpower sent out, yet he always finds himself walking back into the bar. Sometimes dragging himself back, or hauling some poor sod back in the process as well, much to his inner chagrin. The mental stresses and traumas of every mission that sees most of his fellow RONIN dead have added up, and weigh heavily upon the shoulders of the aging RONIN. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Add in the fact that he only sleeps well when having drank heavily enough, and is haunted by the constant deaths of those whom he has outlived, Ansgar is tortured, and this is something he is deathly afraid of showing. It is a fairly classic case of PTSD, with compounding traumas only making the situation worse, and he hides in his smoking and drinking, and the adrenaline rush of combat. He has the shakes at times, usually in his hands, and a oddly specific recall of the way each and every person he served with died. Names, locations, dates, times, even the specific cause, he refuses to ever let himself forget, to ever forgive himself for failing them. As noble as that might sound on paper, it does not do him any favors in the mental department. Compared to some RONIN, though, this isn’t terribly debilitating, as if on a mission or in a firefight, the adrenaline and focus makes it easier to put off dealing with it until afterwards. But, especially after unusually bloody missions, don’t expect him to be buddy buddy or friendly at all. He has to recover and drown the sorrows of more losses before he can face his surviving peers.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]In a fight, he reverts to his old persona of a vicious brawler, not only shining in a close quarters fight, but reveling in it. Whether it be dancing through a firefight, SMG blazing accurate fire into a group of soldiers, or ducking forward to break out the blades he had become so infamous for, Ansgar loves the adrenaline rush, loves the fighting and, moreso, loves to see another bastard from NEW ECCLESIA bleeding on the ground, dead or dying for siding with a cause that openly supported such crimes against humanity. The fact he has used inhumane tactics and tools against NEW ECCLESIA really means little to him, he has had to do so many things for the sake of surviving and avenging the dead that he really isn’t concerned with where he might end up after he finally dies. So why bother pulling any punches when there isn’t a reason to? Needless to say, this can be a PR issue for some of the more reserved, but in the end, his main focus is to get the job done, and revel in the fight during it.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]- Likes:[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]+ A good, stiff drink[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]+ His (cheap) smokes[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]+ Relaxing and recuperating[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]+ Teaching others just about anything[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]+ The Piano[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]- Dislikes: [/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]X The idea of being forced to cease field work[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]X Deserters and Traitors[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]X Slum life[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]X NOAH (He finds it more insulting when it's implied that they are the only hope, and the only reason they can go on the offensive now, than disliking the NOAH themselves. He finds the outlook insulting to those that have died getting them this far.)[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Compound Bow[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]"Sure, most rookies laugh when they see me break out the bow. They stop laughing when I put a arrow through the body armor of some Cleric fuckboy about 100 yards out. Plus, got a couple trick arrows, depending on the situation. So go ahead and poke your fun, this beauty is silent and tactically flexible. Stuff your firearms right where the sun don't shine, kids."[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Compared to other RONIN or, indeed, FEARLESS operatives period, seeing a Compound bow is a rather bizarre thing indeed. However, not even taking into account the various specialty arrows Ansgar uses, the default being a modern imagining of the old bodkin tips, small, hardened points designed solely for punching through body armor. Against unarmored opponents, he also has broadhead tips, serrated as well just to make life difficult. Beyond this, he carries a handful of other specialty arrows, from explosive tipped to incendiaries that go off on impact. However, his favorite tend to be the razor wire arrows, needlessly complicated and only carrying two or three at a time, they deploy tightly spooled razor wire after impact, typically turning an unfortunate targets insides into minced goo.[/BCOLOR]​

[BCOLOR=transparent]Collapsable Mono Blade[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]“This fancy little toy was a gift from the higher ups when I joined. Said that sometimes my balisong won’t be cutting the butter. Hell, I was ready to argue until they showed me this beauty. Sure, she ain’t as elegant as my baby, but I ain’t one for looking a gift horse in the mouth."[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]When given the chance to get up close, sometimes his pride and joy balisong just won’t have enough depth on each cut to do some real damage. In cases like that, he has this clever little toy. A collapsable, single edged blade that extends about two feet in length, with another six inches for the hilt. Part of a line of weapons called Mono due to the blade being honed to such a degree that it has a nasty tendency to cut straight through infantry grade armors. Whether it is truly honed down to a single molecule or not, well, that is whether you believe the marketing on such modifications. However, one cannot argue the results. They work, and they work well enough to have the modification banned for anyone not actively part of NEW ECCLESIAN armed forces When not extended, the hilt can be pocketed when not carried in his suitcase.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Mono Balisong[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]“As long as I’ve been walking and talking, this lovely blade has been with me. She never leaves my person, she’s always ready for a fight. And she doesn’t complain about the strange hours I work on a regular basis. Better than a girlfriend so far, I can tell you that much.”[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Originally just a balisong from his slum life, which he would use on other slum gangers that tried to cause trouble with him as much as anything else, the weapon has evolved over the years, Known also as a butterfly knife, Ansgar has had nearly forty years of practice with the weapon, and it shows when he handles it. Having a mono blade replacement, alongside subtle weight adjustments means his movements with it, whether opening or closing, or in a fight for that matter, are apparently effortless. Being made out of scan resistant materials otherwise, the weapon is concealable and never leaves his person.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]- Skills (Combat):[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent][BCOLOR=transparent]Melee Combat (Armed and Unarmed)[/BCOLOR][/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent][BCOLOR=transparent]Improvised Explosives[/BCOLOR][/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent][BCOLOR=transparent]Assassinations and Stealth Missions[/BCOLOR][/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]- Talents (Non-Combat):[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent][BCOLOR=transparent]Security Bypasses[/BCOLOR][/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent][BCOLOR=transparent]Heavy Drinking[/BCOLOR][/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent][BCOLOR=transparent]Playing the Piano - He picked this habit up from an early friend of his after joining FEARLESS. She taught him to play the piano and they would often times play together. After she died on a mission, he continues to learn and practice to honor her memory and has gotten rather good at it, whenever he happens to get the chance to show that he can play.[/BCOLOR][/BCOLOR]

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Posting Speed
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  2. One post per week
Writing Levels
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  3. Advanced
  4. Adaptable
Preferred Character Gender
  1. No Preferences
Fantasy, Modern Fantasy, Sci-Fi, Space Fantasy, Magical



FULL NAME: Katherine "Karin" Konstantin
CALL-SIGN: Empress
SEX: Female
AGE: 16 years old
  • Hair: Black
  • Eyes: Emerald green
  • Height: 4'9" (145 cm)
  • Weight: 79 lbs (36 kg)


"Subject Empress, Age 12"

//Personnel Background Log #1337//

/*Subject was given the name, Katherine Konstantin, upon birth by her mother, Joanna Konstantin, wife of Andrew Konstantin, Paladin of NEW ECCLESIA. Subject displayed precocious development since early infancy. She attained capability of speaking full sentences at the age of 11 months. At two years old, Subject was capable of grasping grade school learning materials, especially in Math. She began dabbling in the field of computers at the age of 8. A year later, her family was investigated after the Government traced unauthorized breach of her neighbor's home network. As a consequence, her family was given a stern warning. This only made Subject more cautious and determined.

At the age of 11, Paladin Andrew was charged with high treason on ambiguous grounds (FEARLESS Agents believed he was unknowingly chosen as a scapegoat for NEW ECCLESIA's fear-mongering to keep its troops in line). He was promptly executed. Joanna took Subject away and went into hiding for a year before Subject was contacted by FEARLESS. Subject accepted to join our cause in return for sanctuary for both herself and her mother. Subject's prodigious skill and expertise were fit to be a SERAPHIM personnel.

End background report.


"Honor won't save you against a foe that doesn't share the naive principle. Frankly, I'd rather be honorless and triumphant than honorable and dead." - Psychological Evaluation Audio Log #2274

//Subject: Empress //
/*Subject revealed strong Opportunist behavior. Subject's personality traits can be categorized as Introverted, Sensing, Thinking, Judging, and Assertive, also known as the 'Logistician' type. Subject displayed highly analytical thought processes, preferring to use facts and logic to solve given cases material. Subject often chose the highest outcome in terms of material value and success rate regardless of commonly known moral principles. One such example, when given the case of a rescue ship with excessive passengers, Subject prioritized able-bodied individuals over the elderly and infants. Subject displayed a low tolerance for delays, putting efficiency and performance above all others.

Subject preferred to speak her mind and tell the truth, regardless of the emotions of Subject's conversation partner. Subject's ability to calculate mathematical equations, process a large amount of raw data, and memorize information are excellent. Subject's level of intellect is Genius. Subject's emotional stability is concretely stable, though displays of disobedience and dishonesty quickly irritated her.

  • High-performance Personal Computers
  • Grand Strategy Video Games
  • Black Coffee
  • Dogs
  • Noises
  • Emotional Outbursts
  • Low IQ Individuals

End evaluation report.*/


Combat Skills:
  • Expertise in operating multiple combat drones simultaneously
  • Moderate ability in using sidearms and compact carbines

  • Eidetic memory
  • Genius IQ Classification
  • Extensive knowledge in Information Technology, Software Engineering, and Robotics
  • Bypassing firewalls and software security systems
  • Installing backdoors, malware, and spyware into target mainframes


  • Z-VN-30 Carbine: 30 rounds, fully automatic, lightweight
  • E-MC-19 Sidearm: 14 rounds, semi-automatic

  • Custom Personal Computer: Compact, Holographic display, Access to FEARLESS' mainframe
  • XS-5 Specialist Exosuit: Impact Compensator, Automated Shield Generator, Phase-Shift Cloaking System
  • "Ajax, Achilles, Cyril" AK-9 Canine Model Autonomous Land Combat Drones: Thermal vision, Armor-piercing reinforced steel fangs, 45 mph (72 kmh) max speed, Twin shoulder-mounted miniguns, Shrapnel self-destruct function
  • "Garuda" Aerial Scout Drone: Quadruple silent rotors, On-board hi-resolution video camera, EMP self-destruct function

"Audio Log of SERAPHIM personnal, Codename: Empress. My personal analysis regarding various Subjects of the FEARLESS Organization. This audio log is intended for personal use only and doesn't reflect how FEARLESS see these Subjects as a whole."

"Andre Konig a.k.a Sergeant is one of the most veteran members of FEARLESS. His knowledge and expertise on field operations are reliably accurate. His past performances were satisfactory, but due to physical age, dwindles over time. Konig is a soldier past his prime, but still a valuable asset to FEARLESS due to the aforementioned knowledge and experience. Personal Relevancy: Moderate. Recommended course of action: Assign as mentor, squad leader, and field strategist. "

@Angelic Fusion
"Victoria a.ka White Wych... or Witch? Doesn't matter. A NOAH with the power to construct objects using her psychic abilities. Nature of objects, unscannable using current technology. Powerful potential, but highly unreliable. Mental stability: highly turbulent. Physical state: Visually-impaired, frail physique. Conclusion: A failed experiment. Personal Relevancy: Irrelevant. Recommended course of action: Euthanize due to numerous hazard factors. "

"Tia a.k.a... hmmm... just Tia. Another NOAH with the power to manipulate a highly-advanced physics-defying motorcycle. Highly mobile and versatile with said bike. Personality is easily excitable, social, and extroverted. Planning to present my plan to study and improve her cycle if she allows, if not, visual observation can be a viable alternative. Conclusion: A solid addition to FEARLESS. Personal Relevancy: High. Recommended course of action: Hit-and-run fighter, extraction missions."

"Ji-Yun a.k.a Netrunner. I consider Yun as my personal partner and rival, in both missions and leisurely activities. Considering to upgrade Achilles with saw-yoyos to accommodate his combat style should he needs to stream into my Land Drones. Viable partner to assist me in continuously improving FEARLESS' cyber-security. Conclusion: Most valuable member in the FEARLESS according to my personal opinion. Personal Relevancy: Extreme. Recommended course of action: Assign into Cyber-infiltration, Program reviews, and as Empress' preferred on-field partner."

"Erja Liikanen a.ka White Death. Extremely competent marksman, highly independent, extremely efficient. Allegiance questionable, however, history suggest personal hatred towards NEW ECCLESIA. Consider developing an all-purpose sniper rifle for her using stolen Ecclesian tech. Personal Relevancy: Moderate. Recommended course of action: Assign as Scout, Marksman."

@Rax Rosetta
"Ansgar Staudinger a.k.a Razor. Competent CQC combatant. Personality traits suggest misanthropic tendency, suffers from PTSD. Coping methods: alcohol and tobacco. Unreliable and inefficient in a squad. Personal Relevancy: Low. Recommended course of action: Grunt work."

"Katherine Konstantin a.k.a Empress. Handles FEARLESS' Cyber-security. Computer and robotics expert. Offered my allegiance to the organization in return for Mother's and my sanctuary. I consider myself a useful addition to the Organization. Progress so far within acceptable paramater. Will continue improving. Personal Relevancy: Self. Recommended course of action: Defense against cyber attacks, drone operations, Tech support."

"Aresia a.k.a Chaos Witch. A NOAH with highly unusual powers even amongst NOAHs. Simple-minded behind the explosive personality. A wildcard. Other than combat, powers also interrogation and torture of enemy personnel. However, I can't see us working together as none of our skills and expertise match.. Personal Relevancy: Irrelevant. Recommended course of action: Decoy. mass destruction, interrogation through torture."

"Ade Stafford a.k.a Faceless. An illogical enigma. Highly unpredictable, enjoys schadenfreude, addicited to masks. A natural escape artist and infiltrator. Skills and creativity highly useful when put to good use. Physical sex estimation: 60% Female, 39% Male, 1% Other. Personal Relevancy: Annoyingly Moderate. Recommended course of action: Infiltrator, saboteur"

"Arata a.k.a Lionheart. A NOAH with pure combat ability. An (un)natural swordsman. Personality: Timid. Goes into a trance when in battle. A tool with limited uses. Consider using him as much as possible before the inevitable breakdown comes, then euthanize before breaking point. Personal Relevancy: Low. Recommended course of action: Shock trooper, instilling fear, expendable living weapon."

"Rubel Whyte a.k.a Brother. A fellow Eidetic and Drone operator, yet superior in physical feats. Non-lethal specialist, useful for capturing enemy personnel for tech acquisition and interrogation. Cordial and cooperative. Considering to propose a joint project to mutually improve our drone designs. Personal Relevancy: High. Recommended course of action: Enemy personnel acquisition, infiltrator, drone operator."

@Click This
Juniper Hamilton a.k.a Backdrop. Former NEW ECCLESIAN elite. Calm, analytical, and conscientious. A valuable asset for procuring classified information in the ECCLESIAN ruling class. Pesonal suspicion: Double Agent, unlikely but still there. Recommended to keep a close watch and use Netrunner to scan any incoming files from Backdrop. Respectable personality, a preferred role-model for myself. Personal Relevancy: High. Recommended course of action: Spy."

"Nomine Mendox a.k.a Corvus. A combat medic. Gives an image of 'mystery'. A pragmatic and obsessed with patterns. Diagnosed with Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder and Attention-Deficit-Hyperactivity Disorder, but still possess more mental stablity than the general NOAH. An avid canine lover, visibly has a fascination with my Canine Model Drones. Considering to design a personalized one for him. Personal Relevancy: Moderate. Recommended course of action: Field Doctor, Surgeon."

"Magna a.k.a Tinker. A NOAH with the power to break down materials for repurposing into various combat machines of his creation. Calm and curious, his mental stability is unusual for a NOAH and a very reliable trait. Has an extremely intelligent mind, far surpassing my own, I fail to grasp the concept of his blueprints but he can... some of them, but with time, I am sure he can master them all. I am willing to be his student once Tinker understands more of his abilities. Personal Relevancy: High. Recommended course of action: Mechanic, Combat Machine Pilot, (future) Instructor."

@★Under The Stars★
"Auratta a.k.a The Mistress of Ire. Not to be confused with Arata. Ire is a NOAH with sight-enhancing power, making her fit to be a marskman. However, she is less versatile than the White Death, a one-trick tool. Lack of experience and actual combat duties only make it worse. Unless she gains more conventional competence at being a trained marksman, The White Death is superior in every aspect. Easily manipulated and naive, Ire's survival rate in an actual field of engagement is not within acceptable parameter. Personal Relevancy: Irrelevant. Recommended course of action: Back-up marksman, spotter."


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Invitation Status
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I like nearly all genres as long as they are anime-themed, anything can be made interesting.
WIP(80% finished~!)
"With a Bang and a Boom!"
GENDER: Female Mahou Shoujo
AGE: 19

Standing at an impressive height of roughly 1.55 metres, Aresia is a rather slim - and flat - young woman. Looking maybe just a tad too young for her age the red-eyed girl carries herself with a certain sense of arrogance - not elegance. The brown-haired Witch prefers to wear casual clothing regardless of mission or not. Also, despite wearing glasses, Aresia has actually no sight deficit.

Brood Queen. The simple term for a NOAH classified to be capable of mass-producing weapons. Be it in form of the Noah ARMORED LINE who - quite literally - was capable of creating technological tools that went far beyond the comprehension of the human mind or be it, in this case, the ability to curse a select few with the power of magic.

That was at least the theory behind the Witch's Curse. With countless of experiments having been conducted with the hope to keep at least one of the witch's victims stable for longer than just two weeks. Alas, in the end, without any breakthrough in the experiments, the Witch was cast aside. Just as many others. Now, the change-loving girl was simply waiting. Waiting to be deemed completely useless and executed.

That was the beginning of the end. While she was never treated like a human being, which didn't matter much as Aresia was clearly superior, she did not mind. After all, she had a certain sense of freedom. A sense of chaos. A sense to destroy just to improve. But now? Now she was waiting. Everything went silent. Everything went still. The Chaos Witch hated it. She despised it. She feared it.

Until the day she became FEARLESS.


Aresia is a cocky and energetic individual who hates the status quo. Rather than thinking about the past, or the future, the Witch lives for the here-and-now. She loves to go wild and embraces Anarchy.

Although lacking any form of morality whatsoever and acting mostly on her own feels and urges, the Chaos Witch is not a person that can't be reasoned with. Despite her cocky attitude and her solution to every-and-all problems being rather explosive the woman is very well aware of her surroundings and that she can not take on Ecclesia - who embody everything that she hates - on her own. Thus, the Chaos Witch is indeed a person that is just barely capable of working together with a group.

Aresia, while she always harbored a tendency to destruction, wasn't always like that though. Corrupted through her own powers the young woman can be called unstable - in a sense. While she isn't generally unpleasant to be around - unless one happens to dislike the loud type of personality - her personality seems to shift onto different levels of violence.

While she, for the sake of others, undergoes regular meditation to keep herself in check she mainly copes by being delusional to a fault.

Likes: Explosions, herself, gambling, videogames, fire, cooking, drama, pineapples, anarchy, chaos
Dislikes: Crybabies, snobs, manipulation, being exposed, critics, humans, order, hierarchy


Depending a great deal on her Elegance, coupled with the fact of thinking herself way above others, Aresia never saw a need to learn another form of self-defense - much less the use of pathetic mundane human weaponry.

Still, since she hates depending on others Aresia did in fact acquire the skills capable of simply taking care of herself. While she lacks short on the cleaning department - as most people would still call her messy but by no means a degenerate - she is actually a very good cook. If only she wouldn't deny cooking for others for some reason.

A hobby of hers, which could be classified as a Talent considering her skills, is also gaming. With the advent of Ecclesia having pretty much all kind of RPGs, FPSs and alike banned, as those promoted stuff like choices or violence, it had never been easy to acquire new merchandise; even with a striving black market just for video games. Thus, the games that the Chaos Witch actually possesses mostly qualify as old school.

While the Chaos Witch is neither an Artist nor a Pyrotechnician her explosive magic is, more often than not, actually a sight to behold. While the effects seem mandatory to the unknown viewer they are, in fact, not. Meaning that Chaos Witch does posses a certain knack for beauty - even if she embraces destruction.


Aresia's Elegance, the Witch's Curse, makes her capable of infecting cursing other life forms with Abyssal Seeds. While this Seed has nearly no effect on strong-minded individuals they are capable of inflicting seizures, pain, hallucinations and alike that could pretty much kill a simple child - or at the least drive it insane. The true purpose of that curse, however, reveals upon the hosts death: blooming the Seed in such a way that it can be consumed - in other words, eaten - to empower the consumer.

To curse someone the Seed has to be simply injected into an victim, like pushing it through their skin. Aresia is capable of producing those Seeds herself.

If the Abyssal Fruit is consumed by anyone but the Chaos Witch herself it usually gives the consumer some sort of super-natural power but also drives them, sooner or later, insane. Thus, Aresia eats those fruits explicitly herself.

Now, onto the granted power itself. In simple terms, it allows the consumer to cast a specific spell. Simple as that. Like calling a meteor from the sky, a wave of water or some sort of elemental summon. The Chaos Witch is literally a-sort-of classical magician.

Each Fruit consumed serves as an imprint for a new spell, with Aresia's own soul posing as the Spellbook. Much like the others however, Aresia isn't spared from the side-effects either, as the Fruit itself is a sort of copy of the victim's own soul - forcefully merging it with her own. Because of this the Chaos Witch is unstable.

Furthermore, the spell itself strongly depends on the victim that allowed the Seed to bloom as well its consumer. Thus Aresia's spells mainly conists of offensive magic.

Much like a 'real magician' Aresia can suffer from fatigue through spell-casting as well as being screwed in extended close-range combat.

Arcadia Blaze
Taken from a dear friend, Arcadia Blaze is a high-precision spell that fires all-consuming flames at its victim. Absorbing the very essence of its victims life, making them highly potent against anything sentient, Aresia is capable to store up to two lives for herself. Meaning, if she gets killed, the Chaos Witch simply revives a few seconds on the spot - unharmed.

Rot Horizon
In its execution Red Horizon is a glorified heat beam spell. Able to be executed at any range, as long as Aresia has visuals, she is capable of summoning forth a magical circle of varying size that quickly fires forth a beam of intense heat.

Most commonly used by creating said circle/s in the air to fire destruction from above, Rot Horizon's power is strictly tied with the length of the incantation, her own mindset and how much Mana she possesses.

Guts Avesta
The Chaos Witch is capable of creating an extreme gravity-zone enclosed in a small sphere. This sphere can be fired and, upon will, be extended into a bigger one just to be quickly retracted again to create a gravity implosion. The bigger the extended sphere is, however, the weaker the followed up gravitational pull.

Muspellzheimr - Harrowing Sword of Inferno
A land of shimmering crimson, Aresia forces her reality upon friend and foe, transporting them and herself into an endless scenery of molten stone and flames. Immune against the effects herself, the heat alone is enough to kill most mortal men. However, the real purpose of this reality altering spell is upon the realization of being inside the throat of a cannon. A weapon that cannot miss - the absolute nature of this spell.

Starlight Breaker - Radiant Flash on the Horizon
Mandatory for any modern magician. A simple, yet destructive, energy beam spell which power directly correlates with how long it is charged.

Arsenal of Heavens - The Divine Decree
Aresia is capable of opening a magical portal to a sort-of-Vault that has stored countless weapons of long forgotten times and legends inside. While they could, theoretically, be picked up and be used by anyone, the main purposes lies in the possibility of using the portal like a launch gate.

Being able to quickly accelerate the weapons it contains; Arsenal of Heavens is basically a gun that fires medieval-like weapons as bullets.

The Arsenal can be fed Abyssal Fruits to increase its capabilities. While right now it only contains a basic stock of 'mundane' weapons any Abyssal Fruit used that way would give it a replica of a legendary weapon.

Weapons fired from the Arsenal can be dissipated and reconstructed inside it through the Caster's will.
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Science-Fiction, Science-Fantasy, Magical Girl, Mystery, Slice of Life,
Personal Data

Full Name: Ade Stafford
Call Sign: Faceless
Gender: ????
Age: 24
Generation: SERAPH

Ade always wears a set of dark, well-insulating clothes under a black, hooded trench-coat which shrouds their figure in mystery. Their silhouette is the very definition of indistinct and to make matters worse, they always have their gas mask on. Nearly all members of FEARLESS know Ade by this appearance; they have only shown their face along with their identity to a select few. They are also rarely, if ever seen around the more public fronts of the resistance as they prefer to stay in the shadows, hidden from the all-seeing eye of various authorities. It is not known what it would make them to shed this disguise.



Ade’s story starts as many ones do: they were born into the strained marriage of Nola Stafford and Miles Stafford, a secretary and an archivist respectively. Horribly incompatible, the two parents were forced together by the government in order to make a child that would suit the purpose of PALADINS. Everything was part of a calculated experiment designed to further the cause of Valhalla. The family was to serve one of the models for the new core social unit, an example for all to follow despite the obvious problems of the relationship. A great deal of funds were invested and every single detail was micromanaged.

It did not take long for the cracks to start to show. Despite the machinations from the forces that be, Ade did not turn what they hoped to be. Maybe it was because of the all-time high tensions within the child’s home or perhaps the fact that they were neglected more than they should have been, but Ade started to display rebellious attitudes very early on in their life. This resulted in even more pressure from the forces that be, which in turn fractured the family even further if that was even possible. The difficult early years all but turned into a nightmare under the guise of an idyllic relationship.

And when Ade turned ten, Nola could not take it anymore. Smuggling a sharp knife past all the government agents responsible for the supervision, the woman took her own life in full view of the public. She slit her own throat for all to see, spilling her blood in an insane defiance of Valhalla’s rules and as such, the perfect image was shattered. Retribution came swift and fast in the form of a government-mandated extermination march that was to sweep the whole area, slaughtering all they came across. Ade and their father barely managed to escape by the skin of their teeth.

Terrified, desperate, disillusioned and not even having the right to exist anymore, it is no surprise that the two jumped at the first opportunity to resist their oppressors. Both the young child and Miles joined a small, chaotic resistance group named ODIN in an effort to oppose the current regime. ODIN welcomed them with open arms, thinking that two dead people would be perfect for the tasks that its members had in mind: sowing chaos. That was their ultimate goal. They knew that they could not possibly fight against the PALADINS directly, so they decided to wage an unconventional war.

Ade took especially well to this approach as the thought of disrupting order appealed to them. Under the watchful gaze of ODIN, they have perfected their skills over the course of several years and missions, becoming an expert in the unconventional weapons that these people so liked to use. Unfortunately, the good times could not last forever and soon, the government started to crack down extensively on ODIN. The organisation’s cells were forced to hibernate as members went into hiding, ceasing all activities until the coast was clear.

That never happened. The PALADINS disrupted or intercepted the group’s meetings all the time and as such, ODIN was disbanded. Now an adult, Ade was forced to survive on their own. They did so by continuing their previous lifestyle of causing havoc wherever they could and without others to restrain their creative drive, FEARLESS quickly got wind of Ade’s actions. On their next mission, FEARLESS intercepted Ade and offered them a choice that they could not refuse.

One of the more questionable members of FEARLESS, Ade is a source of controversy amongst the organisation’s members. While their desire to oppose the PALADINS is unquestionable, they are more than willing to bend rules to get their way. Rigid hierarchy does not suit them at all and the tighter the regulations, the harder they try to escape. As such, Ade is completely unsuited for missions that require a high degree of precision or teamwork, however, they flourish when they are given only a rough set of orders. Many missions have been saved because of Ade’s creative thinking and ability to keep calm in even the most stressful situations. It is the opinion of many FEARLESS leaders that despite the wild-card nature of Ade’s personality, they can be a valuable team member if used well.

When off mission, Ade is usually light-hearted, but laconic. They are usually found tinkering with their tools in their laboratory or doing small errands around the base. More often than not, they find a way to enact a harmless prank or two on their way. They are also a very tough nut to crack personality-wise: Ade may crack jokes with someone or interact with them briefly, but they take care not to involve themselves too much. Any questions regarding their past or their personality are brushed off without a comment or a heart-attack-inducing jump scare.

+ Sneaking around
+ Causing chaos
+ Self-determination
+ Scaring people
+ Fresh crepes
+ Being clean
+ Movies

- Crowds
- Showing their face.
- Talking at length
- Interruptions
- Strict rules
- Animals
- Pure theory

Combat Knife (2): Shaped to be relatively long and thin. Ade always makes sure that their edges are razor sharp. They can be thrown, but their accuracy is abysmal because of their balance.

Piercing Fang (2): Two contraptions cobbled together from scraps, these weapons have been hand-made by Ade themselves. Their principle is simple: using a spring-loaded mechanism, they unleash a metal needles with a poison channel in its middle. Because of the mechanism’s strength, these weapons are capable of punching through thick clothes, including some variants of protective clothing used by the military. Their only negative is that the needles must be replaced every so often because of the stresses they are subjected to.

Bolt Pistol (1): A pistol-sized crossbow with an automatic wind-up system. It can accommodate a wide variety of munitions and is almost completely silent.

Close Quarters Combat: Ade is one of the few SERAPH that have learned how to handle themselves if things get up close and personal. Though their skill is not exceptional, they are capable of defending themselves and using simple weapons to quickly and efficiently dispose of their enemies. Well-trained soldiers along with specialised agents will likely best them in this area.

Booby traps: Simply put, Ade is the master of turning even the most innocent of objects into a deadly weapon. Give them some duct tape, basic tools and a little bit of time and they will come up with something that turns the enemy’s day into a nightmare. Whether FEARLESS needs a massive distraction or a roomful of soldiers dead without much evidence left behind, they can always count on Ade’s expertise. It is also important to note that while Ade has a couple of favourite tricks, they usually improvise on the spot to make up something and as such, it is exceptionally hard to disarm whatever nasty surprise they left behind.

Basic Firearms Training

Infiltrator: Ade is familiar with most PALADINS security systems and the way to get around them, not to mention that they are stealthier than a cat walking on tiptoes. With a little bit of luck and support, they can even breach tightly guarded perimeters to do their job, then slip away without leaving behind the tiniest hint of evidence. This skill also allows Ade to silently dispose of enemies, sneaking up on them without ever knowing that Ade was there.

Chemistry: Chlorine, white phosphor, poison, TNT… you name it and Ade can probably find a way to make it without arousing the suspicion of authorities. While mass production is obviously beyond their means, they can make dangerous substances quite reliably. They are also knowledgeable about less harmful applications of the field, but for obvious reasons, they are not quite as eager about those.


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Anything that actually has, you know, a good plot. I prefer RPs with fantastical elements, however, so generally, a bit of fantasy goes a long way.

"Go ahead. Tell me about yourself."
"...can I not?"

L i o n h e a r t
Male | 17 | NOAH

  • dyPXuFR.png
    Standing at 5'4, Arata is diminutive compared other members of FEARLESS, thin and nervous. His inkstone eyes, the darkest of blues, are always dead set on absorbing every detail present, frenetically flickering about, while his black hair hangs in thin strands over his eyes, the last line of defense between him and meeting someone else in the eyes. His clothes hang loosely over his body, and his skin is like snow. In fluorescent lighting, he appears pale as death, a haunted specter instead of a haunting one.

    But, if nothing else, his hands are beautiful. A warm grasp, a soft touch, and a chilling caress. For someone who wields such a massive weapon, his hands remain unmarred by it, even though dark stains emerge elsewhere on his skin upon the manifestation of his ELEGANCE.

  • Out of the several million human experiments that have spawned under the supervision of Project ORACLE, only perhaps 1% of them were successful, creating NOAH with stable enough powers to be useful in combat situations. The rest were summarily disposed of.

    And Arata, one of the latest NOAH to be created, was tasked with many of those executions. Before he could speak, he could wield a sword, a small demon-child that would be dropped into a herd of failed NOAHs and let loose. The Weapon of Massacre would be summoned from the depths of another dimension and he would dance, tirelessly creating a lake of blood until his world was nothing but viscera.

    And after that, he’d be brought out, hosed off, and treated to a warm meal.

    He was one of the few NOAH who had an ability directly applicable to combat, after all. They couldn’t kill him if he was cautious, paranoid, afraid. They took measurements of his power constantly, ensured that Arata was treated with love and respect, and the research head even ‘officially’ adopted him, giving him the love of a mother he never knew and a name to call himself by.

    As a NOAH, Arata was an absolute monster, but as a young boy, he was as weak and emotionally vulnerable as any other. Eager to please his parental figures, capable of turning a blind eye to the cruelties he inflicted, so accustomed to violence that he knew nothing else. He would have been the perfect tool for routing out the rebellion, with his unassuming presence and his ability to summon the weapon he needed to massacre them all.

    But Project ORACLE wasn’t meant to provide an undeserving tool with immense power, and regardless of his loyalty, his love, Arata was marked for execution.

    On a random night, while Arata slept, every other researcher, every one of his family members, evacuated the building, before initiating a self-destruct sequence. Even if he survived the explosions, he would be crushed underneath by the rubble that remained, and if he survived even that, he would be pinned under the weight of an entire building and die of starvation and exhaustion.

    Once the facility collapsed on itself, a wreck of melting steel beams, the researches congratulated themselves, drowned in the catharsis that destruction brought, and walked away.

    None of them realized that one of their own was a FEARLESS operative, who had replaced Arata’s sleeping form with a body double, before whisking away the NOAH in the dead of the night, before abandoning him in a random sector of VALHALLA.

    Arata awoke alone, and from then on, the full cruelty of the world fell upon him. Those who helped him were executed for doing so. Those who sheltered him eventually betrayed him. Those who he protected were afraid of him. The warmth that he experienced back in his ‘childhood’ was nothing but a lie, and though he denies his mother’s betrayal, he never truly wanted to find out.

    There was no place for him to run home to. No haven for him to rest in without endangering others. No family to seek sanctuary with.

    And so, when the FEARLESS contacted him, offering all that, Arata didn’t even hesitate.

    For a while, he was happy.

    And then, the doubts began to creep in.

  • Some fight against the injustice of this twisted world. Others fight for their fallen friends. And yet more fight to feed their thirst for vengeance. Arata finds those reasons all beautiful, spectacular, blinding.

    And frightening.

    Because Arata fights not for justice, friends, or revenge. He fights because he can not live a normal life with his head down, because the power that he received simply wouldn’t allow for that. And thus, when he looks at his FEARLESS comrades, he can not understand them. They may have lost their friends, their families, or perhaps they just hate this rotten world, but…to give up a quiet life for one where they would just lose more and more? He’s frightened every time he steps on the frontlines to lose himself to the sword he wields, yes, but he’s more frightened of these zealots who have fought a losing war for so many years, killing and being killed in turn.

    Indeed, fear is the singular emotion that dictates his life. The fear of loss prevents him from reaching out to others, with him maintaining a professional distance from everyone and maintaining solitude even if he dislikes it. The fear of truth prevents him from asking others questions that may ‘save’ him. He doesn’t ask questions about emotions and opinions, fearing rejection, opposition, and ridicule, nor does he voice his own thoughts for that same reason. The stress builds constantly, and every day feels like a balancing act on the point of a knife for him, as Arata walks over the abyss, death by the Ecclesians on one side and death by the rebellion on the other.

    There is not a moment when he feels like breaking apart.

    But there is not a moment he doesn’t have a paper-thin mask on, barely restraining the fear that is driving him mad.

    - Likes: Empty rooms, Hot Chocolate, Being underwater, Dreamless sleep, Chicken noodle soup, Fireplaces, Escapism Entertainment, All sorts of music
    - Dislikes: Fighting, Open questions, Drills, Cold food, Rain, Cigarette smoke, Dogs

  • - Skill:
    In a world that has allowed their martial arts grow weak through the invention of low-skill projectile weapons, Arata’s expertise is nigh unmatched, his fighting style more akin to that of an action hero or a fighting game character than a real human. With superhuman physique and a penchant for acrobatics, he dances through the battlefield, fighting in all three dimensions as he deflects bullets and dismembers limbs. In close quarters, he is unparalleled, and even those who try to keep him at a distance have little luck with taking him on.

    After all, out of all the NOAHs within FEARLESS, Arata is the only one whose specialization is purely in combat.

    - Talents:
    Arata does not believe that he has any talents outside of combat. After all, his talent with his sword surpasses any pitiful scrap of skill he can muster up with his own personal ability, so why on earth would anyone care about it? So he keeps his hobbies locked up inside himself, unwilling to consider those things worth showing to others.

  • tJA0rxm.png
    A sword from the age of giants. A sword that announces the arrival of a new king. A sword that carves the flesh of the immortal and invulnerable. A sword that blazes with righteous flame. In a forgotten history, swords were always attached to heroes, a singular weapon to smite evil and bring forth victory, a legendary artifact that would make the most unlikely individual a hero.

    The sword that Arata summon is no less mythic, granting him arts of war from a lost age and the divine strength needed to realize these techniques. Invulnerable, it does not chip from bullet fire or military grade steel. Keen, it parts flesh and bone as easily as water, shredding armor as easily as silk. Insatiable, it grants more power for each battle won, empowering its wielder further so that more battles could be won, more lives could be fed.

    Until its wielder becomes an extension of itself.

    Jealous, it does not impart its wisdom or strength if not held in the hands of its wielder. Violent, it does not naturally protect, only granting the strength to destroy and the speed to advance, not the fortitude to survive. Uncaring, it does not dull, does not differentiate between friend and foe, for all lives are equal beneath its razor edge.

    Its name is Regana-Hier, the Weapon of Massacre.

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Adventure, Mystery
[warning=red]ACCESS DENIED.[/warning]


Threat Level: 02

FULL NAME: Rubel Whyte

CALL-SIGN: Brother


AGE: 20


EG MKO EMP{/slide}
Portable robotic drone designed for reconnaissance and espionage. Equipped with thermal sensors for night operations and temporary cloaking for infiltration and evasion. Functions on solar power as well as reserve batteries. Limbs are designed and coated to allow wall scaling.

UAV designed for field operations support. Equipped with lethal or non-lethal munitions depending on variant. In the case of non-lethal, munitions are substituted for JPOX. A putty like substance that upon impact expands and hardens disabling or blinding most combatants. Variants also include the option for manual control or AI with simple routines. Cheap assembly insures abundant supply.{/slide}
MODEL UNKNOWN{/slide}[/stabs]

[fieldbox="BEHAVIORAL PROFILE, #d08c5b, solid"]PERSONALITY: #100210's strengths lie in typical leadership areas of intuition, charisma, and confidence. Cognitive ability measured at genuis and above. Responsive to researchers and presents results clearly. Shows no sign of timidity or hesitation to tasks or questions. Ability to employ strengths judged as severally limited. Resulting from naiveté and fickle ambition. Evident by the inability to terminate subject #X1011.

Adherence to pacifistic religious doctrine requires that threat index remain at 02 . Potential for indoctrination low, stubbornness typical of religious followers present. Further evaluation and tests scheduled for EnCt2b50a1ab227703cf887be7b30c5a31072cfc67879b50a1ab227703cf887be7

LIKES: Acrobatics, Conversation, Exercise, Helping Others.

DISLIKES: Being Useless, Failing Others, Killing Others, Mundanity

[fieldbox="PHYSICAL|MENTAL APTITUDE, #cab53e, solid"]

    Eidetic Memory
    Extraordinarily Intuitive
[/fieldbox][fieldbox="BIOGRAPHY, gray, solid"]Subject: #100210 was transferred from EnCt2b4d79a762f8013cf510879051d140d903e75c92fb4d79a762f8013
Subject was held for an extended EnCt2a468d5c9e20fa11eff49f101d24352a3eb9d0cbda468d5c9e20fa11e
OfimN9Rw7sHyMblRkqPnn5DgN//tXa5xZxyxDkh8k=IwEmS Sometime betweenEnCt2167a99f4da01a7945bb1f3921833906291c1794d167a99
+JbhzPnoKsWAEDazIwEmS and managed to flee while evading attempts to capture. The whereabouts of Subject #100210 are detailed in EnCt2917828683b57aef143d3a57ced1278c5d5ed2b20917828683b57aef143d3a57cfN5R2iZ
wmn9/Gnl3pr+c4sulFQNraKoKefAuJ5KQNWCrp7bS5LK5prkw8on3CJElu7qP7eWfnanZIwEmS proceed.


IDENTIFICATION# 1005-236-0070
SUBJECT: #100210
AGE: 20
DOB: Unknown
HEIGHT: 5'10"
WEIGHT: 180lbs
BODY TYPE: Mesomorph
HAIR: Yellow-Green
EYE: Green

Combat Theme
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I'm a massive fan of any genre that puts my characters in a fish out of the water scenario. This can be time travel, isekai, or even an epic journey type of story. If it's in an anime style, you've got my full and undivided attention.

I'm generally game with most fantasy genres, although my preference is skewed towards high fantasy and historical fantasy. Also, steampunk. Depending on the type of roleplay, modern and sci-fi roleplays are good with me as well. In terms of settings for historical roleplays, I love seeing stories set in the Roman republic or empire, the age of sail, the Victorian era, WWI, WWII, the Cold War, and the early information era, although I might tend to play fast and loose with some historical accuracy in favor of plots and characters.

Naturally though, if the plot's awesome enough, the genre probably won't matter too much!

Juniper Hamilton
| 26



On a glance, the raven-haired, crimson-eyed girl is one of the least assuming members of FEARLESS. Exhibiting a quality of finesse and social elegance not found in the lower classes and slum born citizens of their dystopian state, Juniper is the social model of the ruling elite.

Standing at 5’ 7”, she is just above the average height for a girl, a minor trait that she takes advantage of by keeping a good posture. Her figure is slim, and with how she carries herself, looks taller than she actually is. Juniper has long, dark hair is done up in two high-sitting twin-tails, reaching to just above her lower back. Never messy, her hair is always kept neat in a meticulous manner, and she has sharp, observant eyes. Her skin is of a fair, unblemished complexion, enough to get a hint on her quality of life and living conditions.

Juniper dresses simply. The clothes she wears tend to be on the dressier side of casual; she can be found in any fitting combination of plain dresses, button down shirts, vests, and skirts. She keeps up appearances, but never in a way that would impede her comfort, or if it comes down to it, to beat a swift retreat.

Juniper was born into privilege.

The daughter of a senior political officer and a high-ranking PALADIN, it was never in doubt that she would be groomed to join Ecclesia’s cadre of military elite. Unlike the common citizen, she lived up high above in a pristine, tree-lined neighborhood. Safety here was never in question; inhabited only by the upper classes of society and those they employed, the idea of trouble in that neighborhood were drunkards or vehicular accidents. With a life like that, anybody within its bubble couldn’t be faulted if they thought Valhalla was nothing sort of a utopia.

Some shared those sentiments, but her family was never complacent, to the point of fanaticism. As a child, she received the best education that New Ecclesia could offer, a wholesome curriculum that might have rivaled the national standards of great nations generations past. She learned about the horrors of the world outside of the great walls that reached heavenward, but also of Ecclesia’s goals, and of their enemies, and of how they were to be dealt with. Juniper took all this in without fail. If it preserved their way of life, how could it be wrong? If so many sought to destroy what had been built, then they deserved to be struck down.

She enrolled in an esteemed military academy. Graduating with honors amongst the top of her class, she was commissioned a CLERIC officer. The new graduate had a career path set out for her to eventually become a PALADIN herself, a promotion all but ensured through both merit and higher friends.

In the end, Juniper was cut just short of that goal. Early in her career, she was injured in an explosion at the site of a CLERIC sub-headquarters. Several were killed; she herself was lucky and was only injured, but it was enough to end her active career for the next couple years. The origins of blast were never fully established.

She was shaken, but not daunted. Putting her talents elsewhere, she refocused on intelligence, finding a new calling as an analyst working directly for the PALADINs to find, flush out, and destroy elements of the remaining NOAH and FEARLESS. Sitting in an office, looking through pictures, documents, and video, with some callings on the field, Juniper dedicated herself to this task for two years, gaining a reputation as a reliable agent with a strong work ethic.

But as she worked through those two years, the brutality of the material she shifted through took its toll on her. Sitting in front of a workstation, she watching videos of brutal, unhinged massacres of innocents and children. She kept tabs on many purges, reading death warrants on men and women that Juniper would have considered outstanding, upstanding citizens. More than once, after following up on cases that involved flushing out FEARLESS, she bore witness to practices that could be called nothing other than nine familial exterminations.

Slowly, she lost her faith in the society that she’d so served faithfully. At a certain point, the ends no longer justified the means, and the practices that she bore witness to had long crossed the line. There was no saving New Ecclesia as it stood now; it was only surging forward like a lorry out of control to its doom that it had so sought to preclude. She grew distant from her family.

And then she began to leak. In her position, privy to intelligence information, it was not a difficult task. Data on compromised locations, positions of tracked NOAH, and even schedules of raids found their way into FEARLESS hands. But such an arrangement could not last forever without suspicion, and as internal investigations came under way, she engineered her own exit by faking her death. Skewing an analysis, she arranged a mission that would place a CLERIC unit into a perfect ambush that she managed to get herself attached to. Slipping away at the last moment, the party was wiped out, and she was presumed dead.

The next week, she walked into the Afterlife. This time, she was the one sliding a thick manila folder over the bar counter.

With an icy glare, Juniper at her default state looks a bit stiff and disagreeable on the surface but is actually personable enough. She has a strong willed personality that can be seen often in regular conversation; in private company, Juniper is the type of person to let her thoughts be known to everybody around her, more often than not in a vivid and colorful manner. She is far from lacking in discretion, however, being raised in the social platitudes of her more privileged class, and can play the straight-edged game of trite politeness and inane political correctness when needed.

Juniper has her own unique flavor of warmth. She values those with a backbone and seeks to work well and develop a rapport with most people, at times bending over backwards for some –all if they’re accommodating. To those she dislikes, she is standoffish and rude, often forthcoming with biting witticisms about their character, a fact that is not helped by a tendency to become irritated. It’s not to say, however, that she doesn’t have her own occasional remarks on those she finds favorable.

Inquisitive and proactive when driven, Juniper is not satisfied without knowing the full picture of a given topic or situation. It was this nature that set her on her fact-finding mission about her very own government, to learn the truths and horrors regime that would later on her path to fall in with the FEARLESS. Perhaps as a collection of that experience, she’s desensitized to the cruelties of Valhalla, and her own outlooks sometimes fall on the side of cynical.

But in the end, like the rest of the bunch, she’s still a dreamer, wishing for a better world.

Likes \\
\ Books, all kinds
\ Trying out new foods
\ Tea, with any combination of sugar, milk, and or tapioca. Hot or cold.
\ Scotch Whiskey
\ A good smoke
\ Archeology
\ Shitposting

Dislikes \\
\ Getting wet
\ Disrespect
\ Hypocrites
\ Bland food, drink
\ Spiders, bats
\ Teaching

\\ Scoped rifle, bolt-action
\\ Walther PPK
\\ Folding knife

Combat \\
\\ Small arms
\ Handguns
\ Rifles
\ Blades
\\ Sharpshooting
\\ CQC

Non-Combat \\
\\ Social Engineering
\\ Programming
\\ Espionage
\\ Observation
\\ Data Analysis


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The Shape
Invitation Status
Posting Speed
  1. 1-3 posts per week
  2. One post per week
Online Availability
7pm - 2am
Writing Levels
  1. Advanced
  2. Adaptable
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Female
  2. Primarily Prefer Male
A proper coded layout should come on Friday.(March 10 latest)[/warning]

FULL NAME: Nomine Mendox
AGE: 30

APPEARANCE: A mysterious man, Nomine stands a mere 6ft with dark brown hair which curls, and pale blue eyes. Appearing to be lanky and pale, with thick rimmed glasses resting over the bridge of his nose, There is simply nothing special about Nomine other than the fact that he has the tendency to allure others with his looks. He has a faint beard, and a prominent scar that goes from his cheek bone down to the edge of his jawline.

With a mysterious aura, At a glance Nomine is normally seen eerily smirking like the cheshire cat, be it out of amusement or with some sort of scheme being planned in his head. Normally people are turned off by his presence but ignore the gut feeling when approached. He certainly creates an uneasy vibe with a face of deviance.

It is certainly rare for him to be seen without a cigarette appearing in his lips every few minutes before he begins to have his coughing fit.

BIOGRAPHY: Born in the ghettos of Valhalla, life wasn't so pristine and perfect for Nomine when he was a child. For starters, the young teen at the time had lived in an orphanage with other kids. But being the rebellious little runt he was, he often had the tendency to run away from the orphanage and explore the world with his own eyes, and a kid like him never survived peacefully in the streets of Valhalla. Often times however, he found himself often drawn to stirring up trouble around the area: Stealing from those of the higher class, getting into fights with adults or other teens, etc.

It wasn't until he began to cause a ruckus outside Afterlife on a daily basis, a small bar which was famous for some unknown reason. Nothing really sparked his interest about it, until a woman began to take notice of his troublesome ways: From bad mouthing older resistance members, to getting beat up by other kids or fighting, etc she acted as a sort of knight in shining armor to him in their many encounters with each other of her stepping in irritatingly to save the kid's ass. Although she often always seemed to know that it was of course Nomine who had started all of the trouble situations he put himself in, the male couldn't help but be amazed whenever she took them out of the problem peacefully.

Yet the end result was always the same: a frequent woman of Afterlife who would intervene on behalf of his troublesome ways, picked him up like some lost puppy while reprimanding him, and then placing him back into the pound-The orphanage. Because they had an indirect relationship with one another based ff of these encounters where she often saved him, Nomine would mentally catch the way she used her words to get both their asses out of trouble rather smoothly. To say the least, he had never known of any other way of handling trouble besides taking a beating or trying to beat someone but he observed otherwise and when the situation would clear up, a lecture was often followed up to Nomine.

"Next time fucking listen kid. If you don't have street smarts then fucking learn."
"Oh, your pipsqueak ass again? Haven't you learned by now already?"
"Are you an imbecile? Do my words go in one ear, out the other you idiot?"

The woman often scolded Nomine as she treated him to food before dropping him off at the orphanage. Although the methods the woman demonstrated for Nomine had been indirect tips and lessons for the kid, Nomine was often unsuccessful at being a con-artist of some sort. When trying to handle the situation on his own, he stuttered or fumbled with his words or even got nervous telling a simple lie between his teeth. No spy was born a natural, and Nomine was one of those spies who never really started in a prominent way.

Being around the presence of this woman was certainly better than dealing with other orphans and staff who barely tried to comply with each other and for a period of time. Nomine would soon begin to stop coming back to the orphanage altogether and cause trouble on purpose in front of the Afterlife bar as a way to draw out the woman who acted as a sort of 'mom' to him as he played victim whenever she came to his aid. It was clear that he apparently looked up to the woman for months since their first encounter, and because she was the professional with words and lying the boy knew that the woman was aware of his motives already and as a result would beg the SERAPHIM member to take him under her wing.

At first, the woman was adamant on not taking Nomine under her wing. But with enough begging and bugging, she complied with Nomine on the condition that if he were to falter even once she would drop him and he would give up his troublesome ways and to stay in the orphanage for good. At least, until he was in the right path of life despite her being a resistance member. Nomine had only been 14 and at the time considered one of the few known Seraphim prodigies before more kids around the ages of 12 and up began to join years after.

Once taken under the wing of {WOMAN}, Nomine immediately tried his best to be the 'perfect student' he can be. {WOMAN} apparently was one of the higher ups of the SERAPHIM and known members to the male's disbelief but she excelled at her job. Striving to be like her, the male learned more about he government and resistance history. She did not allude the male to be one side, but rather kept both sides open for Nomine to choose when he did choose to understand. At first, they were trivial matters as a kid but as Nomine got older enough to understand he began to choose the side which felt more just, the resistance while still under her wing.

Being a direct student of a well-known woman, Nomine felt a biting pressure to succeed and to please in order to not defile her reputation or be seen as an extra burden on her shoulders. Though trainings were cruel and she did not hesitate to give Nomine laborious training in which he would have to solve independently on his own the male grew accustomed to her methods. Whenever he was put to accompany NOAH and RONIN, she would be the one who stood in the background in silence and give little hints to him on what to do and how to do so, only intervening when she immediately knew of a mistake he would pull (and putting other team members at risk often times).

Although it only took 2 years of Nomine to process information and get the gist of how things worked and how to do things, Nomine chose to be under training for 5 years until he was 19 under her wing. He figured to use her as an advantage and learn all that he can in order to be recognized just as she was being recognized. Throughout the years Nomine had acquired the skills to construct a lie and gain another's trust with ease. Not only did he learn how to be a simple espionage but he was taught to also be particularly skilled in the medical area especially which often times came in handy than he expected it to be.

At first, Nomine loathed the idea of being trained in the medical field. There was simply nothing 'cool' about it, They were useless and boring. Simply not 'badass enough' on the fields. But upon complying to be trained, Nomine began to take on a fascination with witnessing gruesome injuries and trying to repair such injuries as quickly as possible. As it had turned out, he had understood much more easily about how to treat and tend to wounds seeing as he was a regular at hospitals himself and simply had a 'natural ability' to do so.

Now 11 years later, and Nomine is held at a high regard. Though infamously unlike his mentor due to his cruel and 'unforgiving' ways. Looks is not what it seems to be at all and people fail to meet his underlying motives of good beneath all the 'evil strings' he pulls.

PERSONALITY: Being a man of few words, it is only natural that because he is silent most of the times his words are often treasured when he does speak. Nomine either comes off as obnoxiously sarcastic to those that encounter him, or charming to those helpless victims who fall for his act. Either way, He is strategic when it comes to handling various situations and is hard to faze when it comes down to subjugating him. Certainly, he is a force to be reckoned with and if challenged the man will not back down so easily and lose.

Since he relies heavily on his wits, and because he is gifted with that sharp tongue of his, he is at a constant state of getting into trouble and then getting out of it smoothly. Deceiving others is child's play to Corvus and witnessing how the mind works with the many tropes he has encountered over the years never cease to amaze him. It is of no surprise that he can be obnoxiously cocky with his intelligence and put himself above others without hesitation. Talking himself up and others down is what he habitually does, and while he condescends his fellow allies, It's really hard to grasp the concept of how this man earns any respect at all for that matter.

Another thing that is known in Afterlife and about his role in particular is that he is callous and cruel. In order to get a job done, Nomine is infamously known to disregard certain 'morals' and 'codes' kept within he and his contractor or those who work with him all to fulfill the end result smoothly with a few unnecessary costs. He doesn't mind throwing someone under the bus if the situation calls for it, and because he is known to be 'sleazy' which taints his reputation as a Seraph overall and makes it trickier to work with others and earn their trust, he finds it disrespectful that such foul rumors are the main topic to trust rather than his truest intentions and end motive.

Yes, while he may be ruthless at all costs there will always be some sort of ulterior motive behind his actions and in no way will Nomine risk his allies over a mission... Completely. To him, it's only a few sacrifices to make in order to win and those are the risks he's willing to take with the exception that not only does he focus on getting a task done, but also how to get those he is sacrificing out of the situation. He thinks from various view points and possibilities in order to get a gist of an idea clearly and proceed with it solo. Unfortunately him working solo without communication is what strains his relationships with allies.

But although snarky confidence and nonchalance are his usual demeanor, Nomine is known to be both OCD and have ADHD. The man can never seem to sit still or focus on one thing, as every little thing will eagerly grasp his attention. Then, when his obsessive thoughts come in he has to act on them. In some cases he may develop some 'bad habits' as well when he thinks to deep into things.

- Likes:
  • Puzzles: Fascinate the man. In his free time, he is most often seen trying to stimulate his brain in silence by doing simple cross words, to finishing up some sort of 1000 piece puzzle. It depends on the environment he is in and often times will carry around a small pocket book thats either a game of sudoku, crosswords, or riddles to solve located in the inside pockets of his coat. He absolutely loathes Rubiks cubes; finding them to easy and less time consuming than written puzzles.
  • Dogs: He becomes a kid around them.
  • Sweets
  • Cigarettes: Chainsmoker here. Slowly trying to kill himself through this fucking dystopia.

- Dislikes:
  • Imperfection: This include little things such as things that are misaligned, a sloppy looking appearance, etc. Nomine will flat out act on fixing up your appearance, to cleaning and re-organizing your room. He just can't stand the little imperfections.
  • Condescending people: A hypocrite, The man either finds it intriguing or absolutely vexing by those who dare put him below them.
  • Cats
  • Being disorganized or messy

  • Revolver
  • Combat Knife
  • Butterfly Knife

- Skills (Combat):
Hand to Hand Combat (Basic): He isn't brawny like said and more so relies on wits and speed. But he does have an understanding on what to do and how to defend himself. Doesn't mean he'll particularly last long though.

- Talents (Non-Combat):
  • Medic: Nomine has proven to be quite knowledgable in the medical field and how to properly handle the wounds of others. In fact, even without the use of proper tools he still manages to find a makeshift way to solve the problem.
  • Espionage
  • Wits
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Maximum Weeb.
Posting Speed
  1. 1-3 posts per day
  2. One post per day
  3. 1-3 posts per week
  4. One post per week
Online Availability
EST. Might be asleep anytime from 12am to noon though.
Writing Levels
  1. Elementary
  2. Intermediate
  3. Adept
  4. Adaptable
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Male
Fantasy (Modern, Futuristic, etc.)

AGE: 18

APPEARANCE: Magna is perhaps best described as soft and delicate. He’s quite short, only 5’1, and retains a childlike look despite having fully matured. Dark brown hair frames an unmarred face, and silver eyes seem to shine with a constant interest in his surroundings. His skin is of a fair coloration, and he appears quite healthy. While his physique could use a bit of conditioning given his new occupation, but he isn’t skin and bones at the least.

The use of his Elegance causes significant effects to Magna's appearance. Most prominent are the appearance of glowing circuit lines over the majority of his body. In addition to that, his symbol appears within his eyes with a soft pulsing glow.

One of the NOAH from the last few batches of Project ORACLE, he almost became one of the millions disposed of. Comatose at first, the only reason he survived was the interest scientists showed in the massive amounts of brain activity measured. Even fully conscious subjects didn’t have a fraction of what was going on in Magna’s head, and the researchers became interested in what would awaken, if he ever did.

Weeks later he finally awoke, and quickly began to ramble on about all sorts of fantastical creations. Supplied with pen and paper, he sketched out dozens of blueprints in intricate detail. The scientists’ excitment faded quickly though as they looked through the plans and played back the recordings. In theory, this technology was leaps and bounds ahead, but it was also completely unbuildable. Where were they supposed to pull neo-steel plating from? What the hell was Type-6 Gray, and how did it have negative mass?

Disappointed in yet another failure, they were nonetheless once again stopped by the sight of Magna as he began to make use of his Elegance. The cell walls had begun to crumble and fall apart into some gray dust as he circuit lines lit up all over his body. Alarming, given he was breaching containment, but not yet dangerous. There was a line that hadn’t been crossed yet, so they let him continue to see where it would go.

Stopping on his own accord, Magna seemed only interested in generating enough gray dust to form his first creation. It was a spherical projector of some sort, seemingly harmless enough. Yet when he let it roll out and project its phantasmagorical display, the researchers quickly became aware of its effects. The posted guards were instantly captivated by the light show, completely ignoring Magna as their weapons almost fell from their hands. Even through the cameras, some of the researchers felt the compulsion to simply stare.

Unsurprisingly, there was in fact a blueprint for such a device among those that Magna had drafted up. Again, new promise was found in his continued existence. The FEARLESS mole saw it as well. If he could actually build some of these things he’d made blueprints for? Well, that would just be absolutely horrifying in Ecclesian hands. Either they had to get him out or dispose of him, but his continued existence under Ecclesian rule couldn’t be allowed.

Later that week, the rebels hit the facility hard. With only Magna as a NOAH of interest, the security wasn’t obscene and FEARLESS managed to open a route for him and the mole to escape. Co-operating because he saw no reason not to, Magna found himself whisked away to a new and strange life. With Marianne keeping a low profile for the next bit, she took it upon herself to act as his guardian among the rebels.

While some kinder folk might call Magna a very mellow individual, others would probably point out that he doesn’t seem to be entirely there most of the time. Both would be correct in their own ways. As someone who works at his own pace and doesn’t draw any attention to himself, Magna often seems to be in his own little world even when focused on whatever task is at hand. Ignoring anything that fails to capture his attention, and this includes people as well, he comes off as oblivious at times. A good way to catch his attention seems to be with sweets though as some members of FEARLESS have discovered. Please don't leave them around as bait, it was entertaining the first few times.

Beneath the dreamy exterior, he’s, unsurprisingly, soft-spoken and highly inquisitive. He loves to listen to others speak about their interests and areas of expertise, and doesn’t mind rattling out the technical details of what he sees in his mind to the Seraphim tech-heads that are interested in that sort of thing. Even if it tends to end with them scratching their heads and chalking it up to, “It’s magic, it doesn’t have to make sense.”

Poking a little deeper reveals that Magna’s values are a bit twisted. There’s no intrinsic value to the life of people, and he sees tools rather than individuals. Death is acceptable much how a tool might have to be broken to finish a job. Regrettable and something to avoid, but ultimately replaceable. While it’s not too difficult for him to shift his perception on others after meeting with them, he’s fairly entrenched in the belief that if he hasn’t met people, he has no reason to care for them.

On missions, Magna definitely has his shit together more so than usual. Without any desire for strength or pride in his abilities, he takes to reading the tide of battle so as to best stay out of the way and not cause trouble for others he’s working with. If given the opportunity, he prefers to act as a scout with his small stature and mobility or watch over the situation from a vantage point.

- Likes: Sweets, cooking, coffee, the sound of rain, nanopaste texture, being left to his own devices, audiobooks, whistling, drawing, and head pats.
- Dislikes: Grapefruits, utter silence, alcohol, vague questions, hot weather, and the smell of anything burning.

His current major creation would be the ED-100, a sizable combat walker meant for infantry support with its heavy loadout. At just over 4m tall when fully upright, the walker was designed to function in the urban environment and is maneuverable enough to charge through city streets without issue. It features two dual linked auto-cannons on either side of the cockpit, and two missile pods next to those. When unpowered and squatted down, the walker is just under 2m tall and can be transported by trailer. The markings are on the sides of the missile pods. While its operation time is limited by the amount of ammunition it holds, given a lack of resupply methods, the walker is essentially unstoppable by rank and file CLERICS. Without heavy ordnance, there’s not much that can be done to damage the machine.

Minor creations include an exoskeleton that he wears around to help make up for his smaller stature. With a focus of mobility and speed, it enables Magna to scurry around the battlefield and keep out of the way. Mag implants on the hands allow him to scurry up walls with even a trace of metal, a grappling hook helps with others, and powerful pistons allow for high jumps and act as impact dampeners during landings.

His main sidearm is also of his own make. It uses caseless ammunition to maintain a compact size and has various additions that allow it to fire a three-round burst with an amount of recoil that even Magna could handle without his exoskeleton's assitance.

- Skills (Combat): Outside of ED-100, Magna is not someone who should be in the field. His firearm training is passable at best, and his physique means he’s heavily reliant on an exoskeleton to help keep him mobile. He’s someone best kept in the reserve until his particular ability is called upon, and with most FEARLESS operations being what they are, he doesn’t see a lot of field time.

ED-100 is something of a great equalizer though. Useable only by Magna, he pilots the walker with prodigious skill. A direct interface through his Elegance allows for him to utilize multiple weapon systems, manipulate the machine, and process all the information gathered by ED’s various sensors simultaneously. Instinctively aware of the walker’s state and limitations, he’s able to parse out the most effective way of continuing combat with what he was to work with.

- Talents: While he’s still inexperienced, Magna has shown a knack for learning how to cook and it isn’t too uncommon to see him in the back of the AFTERLIFE practicing. He’s also been noted to be quite perceptive and has a great ability to recall details about scenes and individuals.

ELEGANCE: Tinker of the Fog
Magna’s abilities are based around the creation and operation of strange and advanced technologies. He can break down material into a strange gray substance given enough time, and unsurprisingly some of FEARLESS have taken to calling it nanopaste. The substance can then be shaped and formed into fully functional objects that emulate the properties of various materials. Steel plates broken down can be formed into circuit boards despite the lack of any copper or other suitable components. His creations only seem to function when Magna is in the immediate vicinity and otherwise go inactive.

His mind is filled with various plans and blueprints, but the majority seem to still be out of his ability to form. The nanopaste simply refuses to hold its form and collapses when he attempts to do so. Given that his creations shouldn’t even function, no one has been able to figure out why he has access to some and not others. Everything he makes seems to be marked by this symbol in some place, and the symbol glows faintly when he is close enough to activate his creations.


★Under The Stars★

A Celestial Royal
Invitation Status
Posting Speed
  1. One post per day
  2. 1-3 posts per week
Writing Levels
  1. Intermediate
  2. Adept
  3. Advanced
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Female
(Order of favorite to lesser favorite) Yaoi/Gay, Magical, School, Modern, Fantasy, Horror, Romance






133 LBS.


90 BPM







































. . .







TAME - 950-1000 METERS

TAME - 200-220 METERS
FERAL - 330-350 METERS



. . .


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Sabrina König
Sabrina is a very small girl, she only stands around 5'4, however she's fairly strong for her size, and while it doesn't show due to her uniform choice, her body is more toned like a fighter, than that of a soft and frail girl. Her arms in particular display quite a bit of strength, matching just how heavy her shield is.

Outside of combat she's what most would expect out of a 18 year old girl. She's not fully developed. However she's not as flat as a board either, though she's only started to bloom. Her chest is enough to show, and her body has a bit of a curve. But she's more what one would expect of someone still growing up.

In combat her attire varies, but she almost always wears very heavy armor. And carries her custom made shield. She wears casual clothing, mostly, or occasionally some camouflage uniforms. however one thing remains constant, she wears a short skirt, and long thigh high socks. Usually her socks or skirt are marked with a Red Cross. It's a little less obvious than a giant helmet marking, or an armband, which has saved her in a few firefights.

"Life will kick you around, and beat you nearly to death. However you just have to look life in the eyes sometimes, and fight back. Because if you don't, you'll end up dead without even trying to stop it."
Sabrina Carries on the legacy of the König family, in a much different way, than her Father Andre ever could hope to. To say Andre wasn't a frisky male in his time after he abandoned new Ecclesia would be a lie. Sabrina's mother was a short, blonde musician in one of the many bars Andre had chosen to frequent. Two years after he had joined fearless, the Blonde RONIN, found himself laying in bed with a beautiful blonde woman.

However Andre was never made aware he had a child, the mother fearing that perhaps Andre would try to take the child away to be a soldier for FEARLESS. So instead for 9 months she left her job as a performer, and harbored the child in the safety of her own home, before rushing to a hospital.

The day Sabrina was born however, her mother made a big mistake. She named her König. That last name the second it was entered into the hospital's digital records, had the place almost swarmed with curious clerics. One in particular being a blonde haired, bearded officer, who was only a bit older than Sabrina's biological father. The cleric sternly demanded that the mother hand over Sabrina to New Ecclesia, upon the woman's refusal, she was quickly "disposed" of, and Sabrina was taken by the officer.

Sabrina lived a much different life than Andre had, under the clerics. She was groomed on an individual level by an officer named Josef König, and his wife. Or as she knew them, Mom and Dad. They raised her from day one to be a useful asset to the military. However they were disappointed to find she was small, and petite like her mother. Shame that Andre had to be such a fool, and didn't consider breeding with someone more elite in their eyes.

However they had other plans, they gave her combat training leagues beyond what Andre would ever be able to offer, and took advantage of the fact her biological mother was a performer. They sent her to a school of performing arts, to be apart of the military propaganda unit! Quite an honor really, since it meant you were never at risk of being shot, had plenty of free time, and your physical conditioning was dancing and play.

However at home, since she was free to go between her academy, and her home with her military parents, she was trained vigorously. Learning some of the most prized hand to hand combat tactics of New Ecclesia. Training with swords, firearms, shields, and everything in between. She'd never be a paladin, but the parents would be dammed if she wasn't as well trained as those mutated freaks.

However as her years went on, the small, and oh so cute girl was made to perform for the government. She sang for enlisted Clerics, and danced and performed for the non-enlisted. Her cute face tailored to charm as many men and women in the audience as possible. She was 12 years old when she started, and performed like this for nearly 3 years, at least she did until disaster struck.

An officer had taken a keen interest in the young girl, the Cleric officer ranking well above her father, and being quite a perverted bastard. He caught her after a show, and tried to physically assault her...perhaps a poor move on his part. Despite her small size, Sabrina is highly adept in physical combat, and she quickly had the man on the ground, with a broken leg, a shattered shoulder, and five teeth missing.

Sabrina left her life of being only an idol rather quickly after this incident. She was immediately transferred to front line training. Granted, it's not like she needed much beyond more firearms training. And luckily enough for her, she was small enough, they chose to begin training her as a medic, since they didn't see her as a riot trooper, or a shock trooper.

She certainly was quite loved by her platoon, she knew her weapons in and out, could fight with the best of trainees, and always was ready to tend to any injuries that happened while training. However she wasn't too dedicated to the cause of the New Ecclesians, a bad trait passed on by her biological father Andre. She was purely a humanitarian, that liked to take care of others, and of course she had a love for physical and weapons training like her father.

So it wasn't long after some of the videos she was shown in her classrooms, of the brutality of the Federation that she chose to leave. Her idea of leaving wasn't quiet however. The girl was 18, and she made one hell of a storm, and she did it on purpose. To earn the attention of FEARLESS.

Sabrina had rigged the fuel depot, the armory, and the officer's barracks to explode. But from the armory she stole her three prized weapons. A prototype ballistics shield, a standard issue Assault Rifle, and a standard issue pistol. These few weapons have seen a fair deal of customization, however they still function just as they originally did. Which is for killing, and protection.

She didn't look back as she clicked the detonator she had brought with her to the gate. The guards by the gate were too caught up in the ensuing chaos to even notice as Sabrina slipped right by them. The screams of officers who'd survived the initial explosion in the barracks, only to be left to die from the severe wounds shrapnel had left. Fire spread throughout the complex like mad, the exploded fuel depot causing its fair share of injuries, and of course the destroyed armory left plenty of collateral damage.

Sabrina disappeared into the shadows, and within a few days received her manila folder. She's started to take up the job, however she mostly helps around the bar at the current moment. She has also been ordered to keep away from Sarge, he's a very slow ticking time bomb when it comes to his PTSD, finding out a living family member was that close to him could trigger him beyond anything the bar has experienced before.

Sabrina serves a RONIN currently, though her roll is almost the same as most SERAPHIM. She helps out around the bar to clean things up, works in the armory on repair duty, serves as a nurse in the medical areas, and even goes to assist the mechanics when they're too busy.

Her combat Missions are mostly assigned to stealth, sabotage, deception, and from time to time breach and clear. Her shield is her primary tool of choice, as she always pushes to meet the enemy in very close engagements. She knows she can blind a small squad of Clerics, and gun them down, well before they have a proper amount of time to react. Though she will participate in stealth missions that don't require her shield, more than happy to adopt a suppressed assault rifle, and a full black kit.

Outside of her mission work, she serves mostly as a morale booster. She sings and dances in the afterlife to keep people's spirits up. Or she's sent out to try and tease, and trick clerics into giving up info they don't mean to. She's a very versatile operative, but certainly no specialist in any area.

"Don't let the cute face fool you. I could have you on the ground, screaming in five seconds flat. And not because you're enjoying what I'm doing."
Sabrina can be described as sweet, cheerful, and generally a kind person. She's young, and with that comes a love of pranks, singing, and dancing. The girl lives as much like a normal teenager as she can, when she's not busy helping to bandage the wounded.

It's quite hard to anger Sabrina really, she's not aloof, and she's generally not afraid. It takes quite a stupid choice to upset the girl. Such as grabbing her without permission or good reason, or taking a joke too far. She's found all around the FEARLESS HQ, working day in and day out. Some days she helps the mechanics in fixing the few vehicles FEARLESS has. Other times she'll help the quarter master organize, and fix weapons. Or she'll go and help train RONIN some new hand to hand skills. All in all her personality adores hands on work, she can't stand paperwork, and will do anything to avoid it.

She's also taken a keen interest in all the inventors! Oh how she adores the weird creations they all come up with. The girl takes to pestering them constantly, and is always trying to help them in any way she can. They're aren't a RONIN like her, but what they do on a day-to-day basis keeps her very interested.
"Oh you want to know what I like? Pfft come on now, you haven't said a word about yourself!"

-Learning new technical skills
-Playing various instruments
-Boys (Very Picky after her last encounter with a man)
-Medical Work
-Working out in the field
-Working on unfinished projects
-Driving combat vehicles, her personal dream being to operate a tank
-Her shield, like Tia and her bike, Sabrina has an unnecessary attachment to this piece of gear
-Quitters, or anyone who gives up early
-Civilian Injury
-Harassment of women, she's been known to hurt people over this
-Seeing her friends hurt
-Being held back due to age
-Excessive show offs, especially ones who rub things in her face


"Trust me, my gear is just as unique as my skill set."
Flash Shield (in action):
"It's a strong shield, and it's light enough for me to handle. Certainly works for taking buildings, or ambushing Clerics at close range."
This shield is a very light weight shield, that has the capabilities to stop up to a 14.5mm anti-tank round without denting. It's made of a very unique metal, paint, and several other small bits. It was intended to be a prototype shield, to be tested for effectiveness as a protective item for clerics. However Sabrina has fitted a row of exceptionally high intensity lights (Which mimic a flashbang) to the front of her shield, as a blinding agent for breaching.


.45 USP:
A personal favorite of Sabrina's, this pistol has always been in her arsenal. She constantly uses it with her shield when she's working as a breacher, in behind enemy line missions. The girl keeps a variety of attachments for this weapon.

Honey Badger Assault Rifle
"What, I thought the name was kinda cute sounding when I picked it out...granted I doubt the splattered blood on the walls would agree with that."
Sabrina's personal choice for an assault rifle. It serves as her primary choice no matter what the situation is, if she's not allowed to have her shield. The integrated suppressor may limit it's uses, however it still serves well in most field work, and considering her operations usually aren't direct, frontal assaults against massive waves of enemies. The weapon serves it purpose. Besides .300 blackout is great at putting most things down.

Medical Kit:
Currently Sabrina serves as a field medic for most RONIN squads she is apart of. She carries a standard kit for fixing wounds in the field, at least enough to staunch the bleeding until she can get the wounded back to command.

Skills (Combat):
-Shield and Pistol fighting
-Stealthy operations (Shield, and no-shield)
-Hand to hand combat
-Deception, she's a very fresh traitor of the Clerics, and still knows most of the military codes. With an enemy radio, it's not too hard for her to misdirect a few soldiers.
Talents (Non-Combat):
-Piano, and Violin
-Medical work
-Deception, young and pretty she's deadly when she gets a chance to exploit clerics who expect some easy fun, or officers with a taste for a young girl, that accidentally spill too much information. And she's always sure to ram a knife into them, before they can get too comfortable.


Alice Williams
Attack Helicopter

Alice is average height, around 5'6, with a slender build. She's dyed her hair a bright pink, and continues to do so. It provides no tactical advantage, beyond making her easier to spot. However she just enjoys it. Especially since it's normally a very ugly brown color before being bleached, or colored.

Typically Alice is wearing full uniform, with a gas mask that covers her nose and mouth, usually she also dons a set of goggles, but is careful to avoid a full gasmask, she finds those too clunky for use. Her combat uniform varies from what time of day it is, to what part of the city she's in. If it's Urban, she'll wear mostly black, or gray. If instead it's on one of the farms, she's quick to adapt. If she has to storm a training ground, that's covered with flora, and color for some reason, she even as a uniform that.

All in all the girl keeps a well rounded array of clothing, and outside of combat operations wears whatever she pleases. Ranging from skirts, to jeans...and occasionally if you catch her on a very lazy day, no pants at all. But it's not likely that you want to catch her, she's been known to get payback in rather unique ways.

"Trust me, they call me me Mute for two reasons. Part for my ability to knock out electronics, and the other part for my ability to leave people gasping for air, and crawling around, experiencing vicious fits due to the gas that's filled their lungs."
Being born into the streets of Valhalla is never a pretty thing. You're born rich, or poor. There is very little room in between. Luckily for Alice she was born into the rich upper half of the world, into a family of scientists and researchers! A perfect world really for a mind that even at a young age was as prone to exploration as hers.

The girl at a very young age showed quite the aptitude for hands on work, and in particular electronics and chemical compounds. By the age of seven she had learned how to produce several gasses, and even Thermite! It wasn't long before she was onto even more outlandish creations. Including Napalm, by the age of 10, and a variety of other highly deadly compounds.

Including one she considers a personal specialty. It's the most brutal chemical she's ever she came up with it at the age of sixteen. It's a heavy chemical, that clings to anything it touches. If inhaled it burns away at the person's throat, mouth, nasal cavity, and lungs. If it makes contact with skin it will begin to highly irritate the person's skin, but the reaction will become more intense, until it's almost melting away flesh. However she found the clean up was too much, and decided to work on something new.

She was already enlisted as a scientist for New Ecclesia. She chose to improve on her chemical, it would no longer assault skin, or body. It would still burn someone from the inside out however. A small breath would be enough to destroy their lungs to a point, that they would fall silent in under a half of a second, providing no time for them to call for help. It was a complete success, and to this day, she still crafts it in small doses.

At the age of sixteen Alice also began to work more on electronics. She crafted a variety of items from EMP grenades, to signal jammers. Small drones that could fit through air vents, and be strapped with a camera, or even a bomb. Her own personal favorite creation being a bundle of barbed wire, meant to not only slow down a person's movements, but also to cling them, and shock them with enough voltage to leave them screaming, and writhing.

While of course this all sounds very psychotic, her job was as a military scientist. She had to market her projects as viable, and able to do the rather quick tasks of killing, or disabling enemies of the government. Not that she ever liked her job, save for the fact she had an unlimited amount of funding to work with.

Of course Alice also grew involved with many deeper projects, like the Paladins. She was one to read into what files she could get her hands on, and found it very interesting that a mutated gene was being injected into the Paladin's body. It was similar to the ORACLE project, though not nearly as harsh. The girl took it all in stride, betterment of the world for science she assumed, as she happily helped to work on the gene, and also to inject it.

She even helped to test out some of the PALADIN's equipment, in particular their gasmasks, with her own volatile chemicals. She even helped in the development of the Cleric's gasmask helmets, to withstand any sort of gas attack from enemies. All in all Alice boosted defensive capabilities of New Ecclesia, and perhaps created the things, that strike fear, in FEARLESS.
"Perhaps I'm to blame for much of the trouble that FEARLESS faces. But I stand by them now. I hope that even with my limited resources, I can push the envelope to bring the fight to New Ecclesia."

However it was the accidental stumbling upon files of the NOAH that sent her stomach wrenching in disgust. She found a file over a cute, blue haired girl, a NOAH that was simply beautiful in her eyes. Her powers were detailed as the ability to regenerate parts of her body after injury. This of course wasn't a pretty file to read.

Day 1 was already painful to read, the girl had several fingers removed, despite her screaming, and protest, her tears, and sobbing. The photos of which were all included, by masked scientist. Only to regrow them by the end of the day. Only to have them cut off again, to make sure things weren't just luck.

Of course this only got worse as she read further in. By day 3, they'd taken to removal of entire limbs, the girl never stopped crying. To deal with this, they sewed her mouth shut, finding that her constant sobbing, made it too hard to take live video of the NOAH.

This NOAH lived like this for nearly 80 days, to the point where they even beheaded her, to see if a new head would grow back, or if instead a new body would grow from the head. The answer happened to a new head...which much to their delight, even with a new mouth, didn't do more than whimper if they were threatened. Eventually the NOAH was disposed of by incineration. No living flesh survived to allow a regeneration to happen, and the girl's life was ended without seeing anything outside of that tiny room, and the blood of her body being mutilated.
"That trusting smile still sticks with me to this day...that beautiful smile, a smile that could have made the world a brighter place. A smile that should have been seen by all...instead she was made mute, only a sob, or a scream to let her voice be heard. Until they finally muted her with a physical bond...and later with an absolute mental breaking. Muted by the world...but not Muted in my heart, for her screams still push me to rage, and to fight each day."

Alice was a sobbing, and enraged mess by the time she had read all of the file. So she left her job quietly, taking with her only her favorite inventions, blueprints, recipes and so on. She abandoned her life of comfort, instead to hide in the slums. To sit quietly, in a small apartment, and work on her own concoctions.

For the next year or so she spent her time making drugs, making gadgets for random gangs, and even creating a bit of gas for people who promised to use it to harm the government. However she didn't stay unnoticed, soon FEARLESS gave her, a manila folder. To say she hopped on the chance to join is an understatement once again. Alice nearly launched herself at the opportunity.

For the past year, Alice has trained as a field operative, SERAPHIM for FEARLESS. Her primary job is mostly to use EMP to short out radios, and electronic systems that Clerics use. Or to use a variety of chemical concoctions to cause as much trouble as possible. Ranging from deadly gas, hallucinogenic vapors, thermite, and every other explosive or deadly concoction she can come up with.

"Come on! Flooding a few rooms with hallucinogens isn't that bad! What do you mean I can't just do that to unwilling people? Fine, I'll go find some Clerics to do this to instead!"
Sweet as can be, but still vicious in the battlefield. On the outside she's smiling, bright, bubbly and generally cheerful! She tells jokes, teases her friends, helps out the other SERAPHIM, and generally makes a joyous day out of each and every moment. Due to the fact she realizes how many lives have been lost, that can no longer live life to the fullest. Alice is a bit of a prankster as well, though she's much more malicious. Her jokes range from itching powder, to flooding a room with scentless, and tasteless pheromones!

However once she dons her gas mask, and her combat gear, she becomes cruel. Her humor remains, but it's much more psychotic. Alice, ever since she watched the other scientists take pleasure in harming others, started to take her own pleasure in harming anyone that serves New Ecclesia! She's not one to try and hide it either. She almost seems euphoric, after watching Clerics die. Especially when it's caused by one of her many deadly brews. The simple act of just shooting one sends a shiver up her spine, but watching them writhe, and gasp out helplessly, while gas fills their lungs, will bring out an eerie laugh from her lips.

-Killing Clerics
-Brutal Treatment of New Ecclesian Scientists
-Chemical Compounds
-Suppressed Weaponry
-Brutal Treatment of Officers, or high ranking officials
-Her own sometimes cruel practical jokes
-Mercy for the dedicated to New Ecclesia
-Overly loud weapons
-New Ecclesian Scientists
-Her own hand in creating the horrible things that FEARLESS must go against

AAC Honey Badger:

This much more deadly carbine, has replaced Mute's old SMG, with some much more deadly, and just as quiet. The .300 Blackout round is solid for penetrating armor, and is still quiet enough to make stealth quite a safe option. While not show in the photo, she normally uses a Holographic sight, and a laser sight to help with target acquisition.

Glock 18c Custom:
Equipped with a suppressor, a red dot sight, and a variety of magazines, this select fire pistol compliments her AAC Honey Badger very well. It's ability to go from a pistol, a small SMG, has saved her life on many occasions.

Compound Z8 Gas Grenades:
This chemical is a special brew made by Alice. The chemical itself requires to be inhaled to be deadly, however once inhaled it has a very nasty effect on the body. It targets the throat, and lungs specifically, to cut of breathing, and the ability to scream as quickly as possible. It's a very nasty orange cloud, that takes around 30 seconds to settle and clear, into a nasty, orange like sand. It was designed like this, to reduce long term effects, and for easy clean up.

A flashbang is designed using metal-oxide, upon detonation it creates a blinding flash capable of blinding a person for 5 seconds, and leaving a severe after image to interfere with aiming for even longer. The noise created is around 170 decibels, capable of disrupting fluid in the ear to cause a loss of balance, and also throw an enemy off guard.

EMP Grenades:
A non-lethal grenade, however this weapon does have lethal consequences. It is able to knock out lights, computers, anything else that is an electronic system within a 15m radius, it's quite a nasty toy, that can put an entire Cleric Platoon on mute, and unable to call command. Or wipe out the command room of a base.

Thermite Breaching Charge:
Burning at nearly 2000 degrees Celsius, this breaching charge can cut a hole through just about anything you throw at it. It's deadly effective, and when combined with an EMP grenade, and a flashbang, a room can go from bright and cheery, to a bunch of blind men fumbling, and screaming in the dark, as part of the wall falls down.

Skills (Combat):

-Deployment of gas, EMP's, Thermite, and a wide variety of chemicals, and electronics into deadly weapons
-Stealth, they don't call her Mute for no reason
-SMG and Pistol usage
-Small Squad and Solo missions, she functions poorly however in large scale combat.
Talents (Non-Combat):
-Chemical compound creations
-Electronics, and electrical work
-Being able to decode scientific documents
-Identifying hidden Ecclesian laboratories.

Ax-3210. Or as he prefers to be called, Alexander.

Alexander appears quite tall, around 6'2, though he's no giant, he's decently well built. He wears what appears to be olive drab combat fatigues, with the sleeves rolled up. A basic uniform, for a fairly basic man. A small rope, with golden ring hangs around his neck, along with a single, small earring. He lacks any major scars, tattoos, or any other major markings.

His body is well toned, showing visible signs of physical strength. His build suggests, that even without being a NOAH, he'd still be able to cause some serious harm in a fist fight. Despite his imposing build, his face is usually smiling, friendly, or with a cocky bit of flair to it.

-Exceptionally Healthy

These were the first words ever used to describe Ax-3210. Little more than numbers, statuses, and questions. However those would soon end up answered. The scientists poked, and prodded him for days, trying to learn what the hell he was. Certainly he was a NOAH, but he'd displayed no obvious signs of power yet. Not even a hint at what he was capable off.

At least that was until a group of Clerics were asked to cleanly dispose of him. Upon being lifted from his bed, and tossed about in quite a violent manner, he awoke in a rage. It was said his hands began to glow with flame, as he punched one cleric cleanly through the chest. Before the fire molded itself into a pair of hand axes, glowing with fire along the blades, but the rest of the weapon seemed solid. He cut two more down, with quick slices, before finally tossing the two axes away, both disappearing, he summoned a greataxe, using the massive weapon to cleave the last, panicked Cleric cleanly in two.

This alone inspired the scientists to keep him for longer, they wanted to explore him further. His unique ability to summon weapons was quite interesting. Especially when the next time he was asked too, he came up with a pair of gauntlets, flaming at the knuckles, that had a small barrel atop them. And a belt of fiery looking ammunition.

Ax-3210 was a weapon crafter, he could summon anything he could imagine. Or just about anything, usually it was limited to some sort of close range weapon. Even his odd, gun-gauntlets requires a solid punch to set off a round. However his skill with the weapons suggest that perhaps his ELEGANCE imparted some fighting style upon him.

It was later discovered it not only imparted the knowledge of a much more experienced fighter...but it actually seemed to give him a very high pain tolerance. His ability made him not only incredibly brutal in combat, but it made him able to shrug off hits that would kill a normal man. It seemed perhaps that as long as he could keep his ELEGANCE running, Ax-3210, could only be killed if he became exhausted, and lost his powers. Thereby allowing his body to finally take in the mass trauma his body had undergone.

Granted, before they could test this theory, and outright dispose of the NOAH. The NOAH instead had his own ideas. He'd spent much of his time conversing with a cute Scientist girl. One who was very sweet to him, she knew well they planned to kill him...yet she couldn't let that happen. The young girl made a plan for Ax-3210 to follow clearly. He was going to break out of his room, and kill everything in his way between him and the door.

Considering he's still alive, it's easy to tell, Ax-3210 made it out alive. Covered in blood, and exhausted, but still alive. The NOAH fled into the night with the young scientist. The two spent the next few years on the run together. The whole time the now ex-scientist began to teach Ax-3210, she even gave him a first name, and a last name.

Alexander was his name, and his last name was Taylor. The woman who taught him, was Ashley Taylor. The two grew very close over the years. Eventually buying a pair of rings, they held their own impromptu marriage. They had no family anymore, and they had very few friends. But no matter what the two always had each other. That was all that mattered to the young couple, a NOAH, and a human.

However there isn't a happy ending for a NOAH, they aren't meant to have them. Or so fate seems to enjoy keeping things that way. Alexander and his wife had found themselves with a child on the way. For Alexander this was perhaps his greatest pride, as he lived in a small slum. He couldn't wait to have his very own son or daughter, someone to raise with his beloved wife.

Unfortunately, Clerics never stop looking. And Alexander had long ago lost his touch as a fighter. His skills weren't honed, and neither was his reaction time. A group of 15 men stormed his small home...he was beaten nearly to death, and his wife, barely a month pregnant suffered the usual tortures of the Clerics. Raped, beaten, taunted, absolute brutality. There was no mercy, and she died before she could even feel the first kick of her child. But the last sensation she felt, was the dull thud of a steel toe boot crushing her neck.

That crack, that loss of everything, awakened Alexander's primal rage. He flew at the men. Ripping and tearing them apart with every weapon of anger his mind could conjure. Spears impaled some, axes cut others to pieces, swords sliced limbs off very cleanly. His bare hands, bathed in flame crushed others, and a might warhammer found its way to several skulls.

What remained of his apartment was little more than a bloodbath, bullet holes, and chaos. Alexander took his wife's wedding ring, and left the home. Wounded, and limping into the streets. He wasn't handed a folder...instead at the age of 22, he was dragged, nearly dead from the alleyway by a FEARLESS member who had managed to stumble upon him.

They promised him something, he couldn't get otherwise. A chance at revenge. Alexander took this offer without question. He was a man of a bitter rage at this point. However he's slowly gotten over this. The ring he wears on his neck his wife's wedding ring. And his earring is his own wedding ring. Without a partner, he refuses to wear either on his hands.

Alexander to this day still is fueled by the screams of his dying wife. However he is haunted by the chilling silence, and the emptiness of his bed. He longs for her back...but he knows he'll never have her. But he's made one promise, his wife loved him for his smile, for his jokes, for his joy. He wouldn't dare, let those go. She would be too mad at him, if he ever did.

"Some days I feel so lost without her. But when I feel that sadness try to grip at my heart...I simply remember her smile. And when I fear I may lose, I remember the emptiness of those beautiful eyes after she was taken from me."

Alexander tries his best to be the person he was, before his wife was lost. He smiles, tells jokes, and seeks to make the world a better place. He avoids drinking, and conflict with comrades. At this point he's more prone to seeking fights on his own, or simply going with the plan of action that's being suggested to him.

Despite his rough past, Alexander is fairly mellow. He gives his insight into the world, and seems among the more mature, and human like NOAH. He's experienced the pains of the real world, and understand clearly why he fights. It's always for a better day. He takes no joy in the slaughter of clerics. He only finds happiness in ending the oppression of New Ecclesia.
-Physical Training
-NOAH who embrace their human counterparts
-Exploring the realm of the unknown to understand the world
-Fighting to make New Ecclesia a better place
-Senseless killing
-NOAH who remain arrogant, and consider human's worthless
-Close mindedness
-Seeing those who can't fight, being harmed

Currently none, he fights only with his ELEGANCE as a weapon.

- Skills (Combat):

-A variety of fighting styles based on the weapon he creates
-Creative use of weaponry
- Talents (Non-Combat):
-Dancing (Mostly meant for two)
-Taking care of the young

Berserker's Rage

Alexander's ELEGANCE functions of two key components. Weapon creation, and the loss of sensation to his body. His mind fails to alert him of pain on purpose, and his hands are filled with melee weapons meant to fit the situation.

Alexander is able to craft a variety of weapons from hand axes, to great warhammers. Each of them wielded with incredible finesse. He's even able to craft melee weapons that have a form of firearm in them. Such a shotgun halberd, or a gauntlet with a pistol on the wrist. Each of these weapons appear entirely tangible, expect for the fact the edges meant to strike someone, grow with a bright flame.

He is able to freely summon these weapons, and dismiss them as he pleases. His imagination is purely his only limit. Though he can't create a dedicated ranged weapon. Even his firearms are only triggered to fire, upon melee contact.

As for the half of his power, that gives Alexander's ELEGANCE the rage name. He becomes more resistant to taking damage, and loses the feeling of pain. His body is able to undergo extensive damage, bullets sometimes simply bouncing off of him when his power is at its peak. However he can still be killed in this state, it just takes plenty more to do. With the lack of feeling pain however, Alexander can physically fight through even the most grievous of wounds. So long as his ELEGANCE doesn't fade, he won't die. Though he can only sustain the ability for up to ten minutes at a time.


Mstislav Avdonin

Mstislav is what most would refer to as an average soldier. Not incredibly tall, only around 6'0 even. His build is muscular, but only from combat, and the required training that FEARLESS has to keep their men in shape. Its not as if he goes out of his way, or has the time to train with heavy weights, or running laps. His body is purely shaped by combat and circumstance.

His uniform varies in camo pattern, however he always has full face and head coverage, with a 6b43 styled combat vest for protection. Most of the time he carries a large amount of gear, due to his missions in the field usually being more than a few hours of operation time. He's no glory boy, or a hero. He just wears what is practical.

Mstislav was born into a family of construction works, however the family he was born to detailed the more brutal duties of the job. They worked in the underbelly of the city, building sewers, fixing broken pipes, and generally making sure the entire infrastructure of the city's underground would survive.

His first years were spent above ground, however once he was deemed old enough, which in the family was seven years old. Mstislav was sent underground with his father to work. They toiled endlessly in those sewers to fix, and build. Their lives revolved around the smell of human waste, and the only joy they had in the world was getting to climb up the ladder to go home.

Over the years Mstislav began to understand exactly how the sewers were mapped out, and with that info he began to draw maps in his free time. Trying to figure out how to use them, to get to the higher ends of town, to explore. To say the least, by sixteen he was able to pop out of a sewer grate, rob a store blind, and then disappear back into his hole, with plenty of new goodies to sell and pawn off for extra money.

Soon enough the male dropped his construction job entirely, and was running drugs, guns, ammo, and all sorts of supplies throughout the sewers. He never gave up his secrets, however he was quite a popular courier to have on your side. Though some did start to hunt Mstislav, mostly just competition, that knew very little of the sewers.

In the sewers, Mstislav proved to be a hunter. He found himself in possession of an 9x19 VSN SMG, with a suppressor. To say he left dead bodies around is an understatement. The rats were well fed anytime the man had to put down someone that was after him. He could dodge in and out of the tunnels with ease, shoot a few gang members, and dart away to attack from another part of the tunnels. And due to the heavy echo, it always made him hard to pinpoint.

For years this kept up, until most trafficking in the sewers was stopped, unless it was him running it. He'd built up a network of couriers that were downright deadly and efficient. Things seemed to be going well, until finally the Clerics had enough of this group.

The chose flames as the option of clear. One firebomb in a tunnel that full of methane, and waste was chaos. The casualties were numerous, and it was only by dumb luck that Mstislav escaped alive, and virtually uninjured.

Granted he no longer had a business. However his useful nature was still needed. His Manila folder was handed off to him at the age of 23. For six years now, Mstislav has served as a deadly addition to the FEARLESS operation.

His job is rather simple, he knows the sewers better than anyone. They're more than happy to set him free to roam around, and kill as many clerics as he wants in free time. Or they give him specific tasks, such as destroying convoys, assaulting high value targets in the streets. Disabling systems behind enemy lines. All in all, his knowledge of the sprawling map of the sewers, allows him the ability to do some rather amazing things.

Quiet and reserved describe Mstislav Best. He tends to avoid long conversations, and rarely does he speak information that isn't necessary. Due to his nature as an operative, he tries to keep things private. His talking is mostly limited to giving information, and asking for things.

If you do manage to open his shell, there's not much to be shared. He's a construction worker, turned criminal, and finally is at the end of the road as a FEARLESS field agent. He fears that once he outlives his usefulness he'll simply be abandon or killed. So his trust of the organization is very low, always on edge that one day he'll be out on an operation, and be left abandon to die.
-Walking long distances
-Working with teams smaller than four operatives
-Causing Chaos
-Loud noises
-Loud people
-Following Rules
Custom AK-47:
A suppressed weapon, with a short red dot sight, and a folding stock. He tries to keep his weaponry very basic, and hard to break, as he works in a wet, and rough environment normally.

Glock 17 Custom:
A custom Glock 17, fitted with a suppressor, and a small flashlight. This weapon is his primary choice of sidearm, for putting down Clerics when his AK-47 runs dry.

Being a man of sabotage, chaos, and generally causing a major stir-ups for Clerics, this shotgun is apart of his equipment. This weapon has been sawed up to be as short as possible, and still be fired reliably. He carries all sorts of rounds, and even has the grenade launching attachment, to fire an 82mm explosive shell up to 150m. All in all, this 6 gauge shotgun serves its purpose well, as it can punch through an engine block, or injure a small squad of clerics with how wide its buckshot shells spread is.

AK-47 Bayonet:
While it's never attached to his rifle, due to the suppressor in the way, Mstislav still uses the bayonet as a weapon. Commonly stabbing clerics, to save ammunition if he can manage to sneak up on them.

Skills (Combat):

-Hit and run with the use of sewers
-Short to mid-range engagements
Talents (Non-Combat):
-Sings old songs in his free time, in a language that is forgot to time, just like the origins of his name
-Carving wood
-Metal working
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Victory through derp
Invitation Status
Posting Speed
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  4. 1-3 posts per week
Writing Levels
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  2. Advanced
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Male
  2. Female
Action, Seinen, Shounen, Comedy

FULL NAME: Jacob “Jake” Stein
AGE: 19
GENERATION: SERAPH - Combat Medic/Surgeon


Standing at about 5’9” in height and 168 lbs in weight, Jacob retains a light skintone and rather lean build. No distinguishing marks or scars adorn his body. Hair kept short and at the ears. Apparel-wise, out of combat Jake tends to simply wear his fatigues and rarely changes drastically in his attire. Basic fatigue pants, boots and a plain shirt thrown on complete his look, paired with cloves which he seems to wear regardless of if he plans on operating on anyone or not.

On the other hand, for combat deployments, Jacob adds on to his look with full length fatigue jacket and flak vest which covers most of the armor he possesses. Aside from that, he as well wears some ballistic kneepads, a helmet equipped with a flashlight, a scarf and finally a ballistics facemask in the shape of a 16th century plague doctor.


Born to a single mother in the one place the authoritative New-Ecclesia did not seem bothered enough to keep much of an eye on, the slums. If the masses were mindless sheep, New-Ecclesia the manipulative shepherd and FEARLESS the black sheep, Jake and his mother were the wolves hidden in sheep’s clothing, taking advantage of current events for their own betterment. Officially, his mother was an amateur doctor and he her assistant or even replacement when she felt he needed practice. However, who most of her clientele were and how exactly she came to acquire her “medical training” are much less official. Primarily she would offer care to criminals, lawbreakers and state-dubbed “terrorists”. Any information and experience the woman had garnered was mainly derived from books and trial and error on those too desperate or poor to go to an actual medical professional. Some may scorn how the poor and desperate were taken advantage of, but an “honest” doctor would write up reports and records, which would be looked at and attract attention from those the black sheep wanted none of. They were a reliant source of medical aid, so it wasn’t like there was a right for any complaints.

Jake himself carried his mother’s lack of empathy for others or interest current events. It wasn’t as if he believed all the propaganda and speeches, but more of that he didn’t care unless he was directly affected. However, as New-Ecclesia felt more threatened by black sheep such as FEARLESS, the more their paranoia spiked and amplified into regions they formerly didn’t care much about. They had a whole campaign about “cleaning up the slums”, but really it was just a blatant hunt for any connections to the terrorist group, regardless of if those they found were benefitting them directly, such as acting as spies or dealers, or indirectly, such as neutral providers like his mother. And there lie Jacob’s motivation to take action in his otherwise lazy, selfish life; finally he had been affected, something was taken from him.

Jake doesn’t have an outstanding opinion of his mother. He knows the woman was nuts, probably enjoyed cutting people up with the grin she wore at the most inappropriate of times. However, she was his mother and had done her part to take care of him, which is more than he can say about his father whom he never met or anyone else for that matter. She was gone and he had a reason to do something with his life, even if the motivations and reasoning behind the action lacked the nobility that many rebels had. Rather than fighting for a change or benefit those under oppression, he simply decided he wanted to screw with New-Ecclesia however he could. Best way to do that was to help the enemy, but in that thought process lay another problem, he knew very little; rumors of a safehouse or possible contact here and there. Funnily enough, he would receive an invitation and what instruction he required through a dream.

Awakening to the dreamscape, he found himself in the presence of two women playing chess, or failing to as he witnessed it. His questions were dodged, no matter how miniscule or understandable. Barely a reaction was received when the amateur surgeon provoked one with his special brand of sarcasm and vocabulary. The one woman rambled about things that didn’t make sense or annoyed him slightly depending on her tone and expression, then slapped down a folder and told him where to go—when he woke up. He couldn’t recall a dream he had that broke its own fourth wall. Regardless, when he awoke, a set of folders lay on his nightstand and he headed off.

Entering through the doors of the bar known as Afterlife, Jacob slapped the folders down onto the front counter.

“So, you need someone to stitch your guys back together or what?”

An irritating factor for the most part, but one not hard to put up with considering he could hold your life in his hands one day. Not very outgoing or talkative, but not a loner necessarily either. Jacob speaks his mind if he has something to say and does not take time to think how his words may affect others. If you are looking for honesty, look no further. If you’re looking for consolation without feedback, steer clear of the one whose words are laced with sarcasm and morbid humor. Hell, he wears the mask of a 16th century plague doctor because it frightens people and so injured have something to put their focus on. Then there’s the nickname “R.I.P.” which he justifies as “Just in case you die anyway.”

When it comes to morals and the “right thing”, one would do well to find better company as Jake believes both to be little more than ideals of children’s superhero. This leaves him at odds with some of the more spirited agents of FEARLESS, as he does not see things as black and white or good and bad, but rather one ideal versus another. Mostly disagreements and scorn derive from the fact that the amateur medic does not share his allies’ search for knowledge or wish for “freedom” and will blatantly voice that this is only his meager attempt at making life harder for the government institution that messed with him.

Jacob’s realistic attitude and laziness makes it difficult to befriend him, but no one may question his devotion to something that he sets his mind to, those who acquire his thoughts and care and simple ability to do his job. While the general well-being of the public and future is not enough to motivate him to action, things and people being stripped away from him will easily force him into a proactive mindset. At the very least, he doesn’t half-ass what he does, and what he does do he’s pretty damn good at despite his nontraditional education.

- Likes: Candy, Older women, Books, Sharp Objects, Realism
- Dislikes: Alcohol, Noble-types, Naivety, Theft (from him), Things he can’t explain


Weapons/Equipment: As a combat medic and field surgeon, Jacob’s loadout focuses on his ability to tend to the needs of any wounded or injured. Carrying around in a satchel are what would be found in a first aid kit and an assortment of surgery utensils. While there’s only so much he can do under fire and in the field, with supplies and his skills his comrades stand the best chance of getting back up to fight—or at least just making it back breathing. And if the need arises, the various sharp objects within can be used strike and stab someone who gets too close.

For actual combat weapons, Jacob carries around an M4 Carbine. A standard issue 5.56 US-made military carbine that works well medium-range combat. Light enough for him to lug around, heavy enough to pack a punch if he needs it and possessing a lax enough learning curve for an amateur gunman to be capable with it. It fits perfectly for when he needs to open some wounds instead of close them.

- Skills (Combat):
Amateur Gunman - While focussing mainly on medical practices, as a field medic he will need to carry a gun and fire it too. Jacob most certainly isn’t a sharpshooter or expert soldier, but at the least he knows how to point and shoot at what he wants dead. Though aside from knowing where the safety is and how to load and unload a cartridge, most else is above his expertise.
Knifework - While lacking in affinity with firearms, Jacob does possess an expertise with knives and smaller blades. He certainly isn’t a master of CQC, but in a melee bout with basic enemy forces, between his growing up in the slums and knowledge of the art of surgery, Jake knows exactly where to hit and how to make it hurt.

- Talents (Non-Combat):
Combat Medic - Despite his nontraditional teaching, Jacob’s ability as a field medic or surgeon are second to few. Possessing the expertise and knowledge of how to go about an injury and the steady hands to do so during a firefight. Despite his morbid and sarcastic attitude, with him stitching you up, you stand better a chance at breathing than with most else.
Massage Therapy - Though information regarding the art was acquired mainly from books rather than first-hand experience, Jacob felt it could come in handy with injuries that poking into flesh and pills couldn’t fix. Though it won’t immediately fix any problems, such methods of therapy can aid in the healing processes of several injuries from simple sprains to broken bones and burns.

(Maybe one of the medics in Squad Bravo?)
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