History
Almost a butler at birth, Christian began his training to be a servant as soon as he could walk and talk. He was “assigned”, a fancy way to say shipped off, away from his family, never even knowing his parents’ names or if he had siblings. All he knew was that he lived to serve a mentalist named “Master Thaume” along with several other servants, such as chefs and maids. Master Thaume was a rich man, but not in politics, he made his money on the buying and selling of servants he trained in his own home, Christian being lucky enough to be one of the ‘half decent’ members of his training group got the ‘privilege’ to stay and work for him.
The next few years of his life from ages 12 (when he finished training) to age 20 were hell. He was up at 5AM and wouldn’t be in bed until midnight every day of the week. His time was spent making schedules for his master, preparing daily checklists for the other servants, chefs and maids, even doing some of their work himself. He made friends, but he couldn’t get to close without his master finding out. When this happened, accidents would befall the less favorable servant in a pair. It kept the servants distant from one another and severed any communications within the mansion between the humans who easily outnumbered the two sorcerers. To make matters worse, Christian was also in charge of punishment, having to beat and whip his coworkers while under the mentalists’ control, because Master Thaume couldn’t get his hands dirty. That put him in an even more distant place than the other servants
All that finally stopped when Christian and two of the maids heard about the Griffons the first time. He was bringing food out to Master Thaume and his wife while the maids cleaned the room when a news story showed the queen killing off four members of a rebel group, and it inspired him. He served the food and hatched a plan after he was well away from the man who could read his mind. Over the next few days his checklists for the other servants were very odd, but not Master Thaume never read the servants daily chores and trusted Christian to handle it. This was a mistake, the chefs began losing knives, the maids misplacing fire pokers and umbrellas, the gardeners leaving tools out of the shed.
Over the next week the entire mansion had a secret communication through their schedules, complaints to Christian were code for preparations being finished, compliments to Master Thaume were more audible to the other servants, usually describing what he was doing that day and how proud they were to work for him. The planning and scheming came to an end when Christian lead Master Thaume to his room, insisting he take a well deserved nap only for the mentalist to find his vision going foggy. A mixture of cleaning fluid and spices dulled his cognition, and a quick hook of the ankles with a fire poker knocked him onto the ground where a maid had just mopped. Thaume was dead within minutes as two of the maids had beat his head over and over with broomsticks. His wife suffered a worse fate, she was outside enjoying a walk by the garden while the gardeners were at work. Technomancers don’t have very much control over shears and axes.
Most of the servants went to the griffons, finding work in the various outposts but Christian was determined to be of more help, he went to the front lines with a wish to end the tyranny of the Sorcerer’s most profitable occupation. The slavery of humans was to come to an end, and he wanted to be there to see it happen.

Callum McCormac

Callum was jolted awake by a knock on his office door. Callum smiled despite his exhaustion, he had his own office. 8 years he had been with the Griffins, serving as an assistant healer, soldier, and combat medic. He had finally been made a lead healer, tending primarily to the families of soldiers. Today, his charge was a little girl about seven years old.

“Aye, what’s your name, kiddo?” He smiled warmly, trying his hardest not to scare the child. She spoke quietly.

“Nina.”

“Nina, eh.” He suddenly remembered the child. He had helped deliver her. He smiled with nostalgia, that had been one hell of a night. “Aye, I know you. I was there when you were born.” She beamed.

“Really?”

“Really.” He grabbed her small frame and lifted her onto the table. “Right then, let’s get you fixed up then, eh?” She nodded. She had came in alone, her parents likely busy with their jobs. “So, what’s bothering you.”

“My tummy hurts, and mommy told me to give you this note.”

Dear, Dr. Cal

He smiled, he wasn’t a doctor, but a lot of his charges ended up calling him “doc” anyways.

Nina likely has an upset stomach, give her some pepto bismol or something. She is, however, in need of a vaccine.

Good luck dealing with that,
Nina’s mother.

He sighed. It looked as though giving her a shot was unavoidable. He gave her a dose of pepto, and told her what the note had said.

“No!” She cried “I don’t wanna shot!”

“Aye, I know you don’t, but I’m powerless here!”

“You could lie.”

“I could, but then what if you caught a disease that could have been prevented the shot?” He sighed. “Tell you what, you close your eyes and count to three. By the time you’re done, we’ll be all done with the shot.” He leaned in closer and whispered. “If you're real brave-like, I’ll give you a lollipop.”

She nodded at him with teary eyes. “One.”

He slid the syringe into her arm and started pressing down the plunger. He tried his hardest to ignore her pained expression.

“Two.”

He finished giving her the shot and removed the needle.

“Three”

He wiped off her arm and stuck a band-aid on her. He smiled as he handed her a cherry-flavored lollipop.

“Alright, you’re right as rain. Real quick though, what do you want to be when you grow up?”

“I want a soldier! Just like daddy!” She smiled innocently at him. He smiled back sadly and sent her on her way. Just as he was about to settle back into his chair, a messenger came.

“Cal, we got a problem.” He pointed out into the hall. “We got a soldier, he was hit by an explosive round.” Callum winced with empathy. “Dr. Karst needs your help.” Callum nodded and let the young messenger lead him away. He took one look back at the little girl walking away.

I hope to god that’s not an omen.