Bit of a work in progress, I wanted to get something up, but I plan on editing it a bit when I see some of the other characters to develop more of a dynamic and sense of relationship between them. As well as actually finishing the rest, of course. Should probably catch some z's first, though, and then get some sleep, character conception and the capture of abstract alpha-numerics is tiring.

[b]Name:[/b] Remiel "Remi" Morgenstern
[b]Birthday:[/b] 31st of March
[b]Height:[/b] 181cm

[b]Appearance:[/b] Here's a [url=http://img4.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20130816112843/dishonoredvideogame/images/f/ff/Black_Eyes.jpg]photo[/url] taken with a semiotic-quartz lens, as you can see, his spirits are somewhat clingy.

Remi tends to dress professionally, even in purely social settings, with a preference for business casual attire in subdued, earthy tones. He has a fondness for vertical lines that accentuate his already lean frame, and when he's feeling particularly expressive, a tastefully accented tie.

[b]Personality:[/b] Much like the appearance he keeps, Remi conducts himself with a measure of poise and decorum at very nearly every moment. Even when among intimate friends he carefully chooses each word and action he takes. While far from cold, he does maintain a certain level of distance, even from those closest to him. His WARG profile suggests that these characteristics would make him an excellent operations coordinator, but not a particularly good field leader.

While it is not particularly difficult to connect with Remi, or get him to loosen up, what makes his behavior troubling is how markedly different it is than when he was younger. Once a particularly energetic and rambunctious child, while he had little of Samuel's charisma, if anything Remi was even more creative and outgoing. The shift in Remiel's behavior after his friends death was gradual, but it is hard not to sense the jarring difference between the Remiel that is and the Remi that was.

[b]Biography:[/b] Remiel's life leading up to the calamity was not one of particular import. It was the carefree, everyday, ordinary sort of life of all children living in relative peace and comfort. His parents were loving; ordinary. He always had a roof over his head and a meal in his belly; ordinary. He had his friends. Ordinary. He met his lifelong compatriots one day exploring an abandoned construction site near his home. There were other kids there, playing where they weren't supposed to, relishing the thrill of breaking the rules, ordinary childhood antics. The accident, when it happened, was the ordinary sort of tragedy that always occurs in youth. Someone fell. Someone bled. All Remi can really remember was all the sound suddenly falling away as everyone stared at all the blood. Remi had never seen so much blood. The next thing he remembers was Samuel taking charge, shaking everyone from their reverie, sending someone to get help and starting first-aid on the stricken and shaken child. Eventually kids ran home, so did Remi, parents called parents, everyone got scolded. Samuel came around the next day, going door to door to get people to come visit the injured kid, maybe sign their cast, maybe pool their allowances to get them a present. Remi said they should get them a hard hat. Sam smiled.

The rest of Remi's childhood, brief as it was, passed with a similarly lackadaisical air. Ordinary joys and ordinary sorrows bled together in the maelstrom of memory. But the slow ripples of time and tide quiver with the oncoming storm, and one day, Remi's world became extraordinary. Remi doesn't remember much of the invasion, of the war. It was a time of strife and chaos, and even those white-hot memories of fear and pain and woe cool until only recollection remains. Remi got his first tastes of combat during the last half-decade of the invasion, becoming one of many child-soldiers pressed into service to stem the vicious otherworldly tide. Like the rest of the war, Remi's years on the field are a haze of hardships and intermittent violence. Only a few sharp points stick out in his mind. The first was the first time he saw someone die up close, to see life ooze out of them agonizingly slow, and yet, at the same time, siphon from them with a speed he could hardly comprehend. He didn't know he was capable of feeling such pain as when he saw that stranger die. The next the the first time he killed. As the beast died on his blade what he remembered most was how it died just like a man, for all its fangs and fury, it died just the same. The next was when he heard of Samuel's death. He wasn't there when it happened, he only got word through a field report. What he remembers most of that day was how he barely felt anything at all.

After that initial partisan tour, Remi found himself enrolled with many of his old childhood friends at the academy, their spiritual magnetism discovered, they were to be groomed into the next generation of soldiers for 'the cause'. Excelling in his studies, Remi's years at the Academy passed like all the others, a series of moments, some ordinary, some extraordinary, all flickering past as time ground on. Now they graduate, and while the past may be unfocused, Remi has kept the future in sharp clarity. While the past may be full of joys and sorrows ordinary and otherwise, the future would be Brobdingnagian in scope. The future would be painful. The future would be wonderful. The future would be extraordinary.

[b]Weapon:[/b] Remiel wields a single, standard, academy issue shortblade.

[b]Limit Break:[/b] 
Spectral Spec-Op - Reaching out to his audience, he leverages the weight of his spiritual entourage to compress the spiritual and physical worlds closer together, creating a bounded space in which he and his spirits are detached from the greater world. In this timeless, formless space the rest of the world seems to stand still as Remi flickers in and out of existence, weaving between his allies and enemies, aiding the former as he can while often gifting the latter with a single choice blow, which flickers and phases through their defenses as they remain frozen and powerless to stop him.

Mechanically this would behave as having a positive effect on allies one way or another, moving them out of harms way, et cetera, whilst harming all opposition in the field with damage that, while not extreme, bypasses all of their defensive characteristics.

[b]Spirits[/b]
The Spectators - Remi's spirits are numerous, frighteningly so. When first analyzed by the academy, the sheer volume of spirits that inhabit Remiel overwhelmed the test equipments ability to quantify. This trait caused Remi to initially be slated for either immediate execution or being placed on the elite guardian track, as his incredible spiritual affinity was speculated to lead to Remi becoming one of, if not the most, powerful guardian to ever exist.

It is of indeterminate fortune then that Remi's spirits proved to be much less of a game changer than his monitors initially thought. While Remiel possesses more spirits than almost any other guardian, several times over, most of those spirits are of no great puissance, and furthermore, the vast majority seem to have no desire to intercede on any of his affairs. They simply follow and watch Remi, wherever he goes, whatever he does. Remi has come to call them the Spectators for this trait, countless beings all around him, constantly watching, constantly waiting, but for what he cannot say.

In terms of practical application as a guardian Remi's unique disposition of spirits give him a great deal of flexibility in the abilities they grant, though they are not usually of particular potency, leading Remi to rely upon his talents for speed and strategy to take full advantage. Furthermore, the effects he does effect are decidedly impermanent, as even those few spirits in his audience that do deign to help him, which he refers to as the Stage Hands, will not do so for long.

In more concise form, Remi's powers are diverse, and disparate in form and function, but are almost always of limited substance. If there is an elemental pattern to his spirits at all it is that they trend towards the ephemeral and abstract, spirits of space and time, air and aether.