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████████████████. . .████████████████. . .████████████████. . .████████████████. . .████████████████
&
. .. . ʀ. .. .. . ɴ. .. .. . s. .. .. .


- -


. a p p e a r a n c e .
__________________________________________________________________________________________
Impressed as the alternative aesthetic, and the nontraditional beauty of innocence and complexions of wavering purity, Carmen is afforded little impression and delicacy despite all fairer bequeaths. Fed persistent fluidity of mindless grace and poise, and compounded with virulence that bears kinship to feline rituals, she is all alluring and manipulatively sensual in debut. Carmen is garnished in a underling, golden complexion of dusted pearl and opal with a shy beige that lightens to alabaster tones along every grace of limb, compacted in a lean stature of a would be queen; heralded and regaled. Her extremities allude to temptress wiles, the seductive creature that looms and preys behind eyes of gleaning ashen blue, the sort that flesh and reflect to obsidian cores, sharpening and cutting much like volcanic glass and gleaming with a deeply seeded nature of all consuming and devouring desires of turbulent waters. Adhering to her impression, Carmen is extreme within debut and introductions, her initial appearances are harsh and unforgiving, sensuous glances and smoldering glares of mute debasement, a lingering cruelty that shudders under the bite of an empowering, and compelling creature with pert lips pouted, or reeling back into a simper of terrifying gloss. She robes herself within monochromatic splendors, cinched leather and sallow blouses of loose, cropped finishes over conforming trousers buckled, crossed, and embellished with appeal to further effect her overwhelming aesthetic and appeal.

Twined in silvery tissue, scars that lace over one another and spell down her entire spine, Carmen's effects from her Aeon bond has permanently lightened her hair to an arctic hue, bland and white and unhinged around her features. Her simper of wide grace reveal canines slightly elongated and the sharp quality of her eyes dilate in relation to her manifest of powers, splicing to a singular line or expanding wide to eclipse the entire oculi. A myriad of bruises, that formulate into a diamond pattern of consistent length, edge, and diameter correlate down the breadth of her spine, panning upward onto her nape and vanishing beneath sallow threads of her hair. The violet and sapphire cores span outward across her blades and peak just over the curvature of her shoulder and taper into the opal grace of her natural complexion.


. p s y c h e .
__________________________________________________________________________________________
Carmen does not adhere to Fate or predetermined courses of absolution and reasoning, but advocates for the conceptions of Destiny and terms of omnipotence for the greater being. She yearns for power, for strength, and purpose yielded by her own endeavors and finds solace in all bases of consumption and gain. Incapable of being satisfied is another facet to her multi-furnished complexity, Carmen’s cavernous void of need and desire seems eternal; boundless and bourne without restriction to whichever reason of fulfillment. She does not hesitate and does not deter from challenges of betterment, constantly yearning for means to satisfy her soul and embellish her means of power and want. She believes in only herself, rather than the unity derived under the teachings of The Fayth, she believes in her capabilities and her own methods to see tasks finalized and the means of achievement cloaked in whichever shade of grey required for the final product. Among her faceted idealogy and perception, Carmen has been deduced as a selfish creature, one that relies on cruel methods in comparison to genuine altruism, as she can be perceived and assumed as a lone and solitary individual striving to found their own personal gain. And whilst Carmen is assumed of these characteristics, it’s the inner source that bears truth to her general consensus of thought and intention. Manipulation underlies in the tone of voice and praise, her means of conduct done only to achieve her own, personal, goals of power.

Therein lies a void betwixt heart and soul, one that yawns ever deeper and yonder beyond just bones and flesh, and whether or not Carem is aware of this conceptual handicap does not seem to deter her or inspire a change in her overall debut. This void, however, is often filled to the brim with other vices, both of physical, psychological and sometimes emotional, this stems and branches to a writhing curiosity and fascination with mortal limitation - sometimes her own, and others - that bears onto pain of both giving and receiving. Her projection of need seemingly writhes beneath the surface of her mortal countenance, broadcast only thus through the darkest hours when Carmen sheds the uniform continuity of her military pursuits. Though not wholly considered a sadomasochist, Carmen understands the underlying notion of her creators and own manipulators and appears to harbour no ill will onto her betters, or her peers. Her military induction is nearly flawless, in that her record of obedience is stalwart and well founded, concreted with the practice of perfected tempering - so long as she reaches her goal and is given exactly what she wants.

Carmen does not acknowledge to the monstrosity of her previous successors, she views the Prototypes as failures rather than tragic products. She regales her Aeon as the King to her soul, the one that will fortify her thirst and need for power, and the one to see her potential and Destiny finalized in the end. She obsesses over this power, over the bond, and any source that will see her ascension and rise finalized to the stature she believes is destined for her. She will bend knee to no other.


. b a c k g r o u n d .
__________________________________________________________________________________________
The dome of Palamecia conceives weapons and technology beyond present conception, and also conceives the likes of women akin to Carmen’s debut. Within the towering spires and correlating tempers therein lies a facility known as the Imperial Paddock: an arena with a generating core of blinding light that glimmers downward into a netherworld of depravity and furnished sin beyond fixated doors of steel and electricity. The Imperial Paddock was the initial prison derived under Palamecia’s refinement, the only product of the generation and massive enough that all other facilities were considered ill-equipped and flagging behind the sudden creation. Life afforded little luxury to her youthful reign, the sort that tarries under woe and seems to flourish under strain despite all gilded cages and barbed leashes. Carmen never despaired over her initial origins, the sense of belonging never fixated her into lonely qualms of conceptual sickness, as the Imperial Paddock was her domicile and choice of living. When compared to the endless days of living within Palamecia’s underground sanction, the Paddock was a realm of warmth, food and a simple way of existing.

The underground was furnished in a ebony glamour, typically impacted with illegal purchases and gain by the swipe of a small, scar riddled palm. Though, Carmen was not bourne here within the dome, Carmen was originally founded in a northern city in Baanga known as Lucin; a botch of a community flailing in revel from the sources of Palamecia draining life from the plain and lands. Lucin attempted for little in confining her state of wanderlust, owed entirely to a deeply seeded aphotic void that yawned, pulled, and warped her entire being to a creature that had once bitten into a man that dared to attempt theft on her person. Carmen came to Palamecia on a pilgrimage and lease, provided to those that apply, to seek a life within the multitude of levels of the technological sanctuary. Much like a leveled purchase, one starts out in the underground levels, the lowest tier they have to offer with particular objectives one individual can perform to gain access to the true splendor Palamecia has to offer. Like rising into court, where a queen belongs.

However, Carmen became fixated in the primal state of life those dark days had to offer, it provided a way of life, an acknowledgment to life wherein she had previously questioned her own reality within Lucin’s deterioration. She wanted to temper those around her, she wanted to subjugate those beneath her own beauty and prowess, and seduced those of higher gain into mere pedestals for her immediate ascension. But, lost to the wiles of power and rising ever higher, Carmen landed herself within the Imperial Paddock where she did not hesitate to try and rise higher in the arena, to achieve that eternal title to be the best. The most powerful. The Queen.

Through a routine screening of potential candidates to the cause of Fort Lullin, Carmen was selected among many after spending five years within the Paddock, initially imprisoned for a multitude of attempts at theft, murder, and infiltration of military official housing. She took to the transition with ease, only figuring that they were elected for transport to another facility, one that was meant for the violent and unsound. They seemed to select the most violent of creatures that day, after all, much to the tremor of those that gleaned through the masses. She remembers agony and terror and the glimmering eye of a beast that surrendered her down to her knees. The years within the Fort have bled into a cesspool of black and blue, correlating into a unified wealth of power and despair; consuming, devouring, reaping her soul yonder her own limitations. Though those years are a literal fog, Carmen has taken to her SOLDIER induction with ease, a sort of manic, demented flourishment on her new seat of power.


__________________________________________________________________________________________
. ɪ ʙ ɪ ᴛ ᴇ ᴅ ᴏ ᴡ ɴ ᴀ ʟ ɪ ᴛ ᴛ ʟ ᴇ ʜ ᴀ ʀ ᴅ ᴇ ʀ . ᴍ ʏ ʙ ʟ ᴀ ᴅ ᴇ s ᴀ ʟ ɪ ᴛ ᴛ ʟ ᴇ s ʜ ᴀ ʀ ᴘ ᴇ ʀ .

. s ᴛ ʀ ɪ ᴋ ᴇ ʙ ᴀ ᴄ ᴋ ᴀ ʟ ɪ ᴛ ᴛ ʟ ᴇ ʜ ᴀ ʀ ᴅ ᴇ ʀ . ɪ s ᴄ ʀ ᴇ ᴀ ᴍ ᴀ ʟ ɪ ᴛ ᴛ ʟ ᴇ ʟ ᴏ ᴜ ᴅ ᴇ ʀ .__________________________________________________________________________________________


. r e g a i l i a .
__________________________________________________________________________________________
Years of struggle, survival, and power hungry madness has afforded Carmen a unique participation to battle. She thrives within close quarters and personal lairs, forging traditional weaponry in favour of something far more suiting to her qualms and fixations. Her conducts of battle, however, flit across a line of reasonable and manic, often hurting herself well within the process. Years of conditioning have impressed ways of lessening the pain and reflecting damage, but Carmen finds the infliction to be inspiring and thus, almost necessary. Her custom weaponry, specially imported from Palamecia, is a set of unique gauntlets and footwear that provide Carmen a literal edge to her combative strengths. The blades are of an alloy derived from Aeon craters and the hide of her own Aeon to fortify the original steel into near indestructible edges. The same appliances are given to her bladed feet that fit perfectly and bear weight and stress fluidly. Her armour consists of varying threads of ebony, always interchanging through her states of appeal. Carmen advocates to for victory, the kind that will surrender under her sheer power and bend knee to her overwhelming will, she will surrender her enemy or simple opponent with literal tooth and claw - much like a rabid beast.

Whilst her physical capabilities bear weight, it's not where her true powers manifest. Carmen has bonded with her Aeon well enough to induce sheer, unadulterated power in their forge of woman and creature, and has advocated to obtain more and more. But, such manifest and power allies close to the emotional and psychological state of the bearer, and Carmen's chasm of emote and sanity has yawned farther than deemed safe and secure. Thus, these abilities fluctuate and rapidly decline depending on her current state of inner, and sometimes outer, affairs.

. R U I N A G A . [deceit. manipulative. ruin.] A swell of light erupts from her ligaments: palms, fingers, any section of flesh brims to the edges with this gleam. It's ashen in colour, teeming with ebony edges that feather outward into rays of curious, blackened, light. One contact, the light seems to burn, not one of flame, but one that breaks down in terrible agony of disintegration. The curious edges of feathered ebon literally seep into the membrane, spanning outward in harsh, curling edges that vein onto flesh and literally erode from the inside and outward, with ashen gleams summoning forth. The depths of light, and concentration, reflect to the strength behind this ruining glimmer and wed; sometimes as insignificant as a light spark of black, and onto a full conflagration and assuage of taint that blooms outward with a roar of pain and defiance. This glow seems to bypass traditional elements of nature, as it does not owe origin to any of them.


. A T E R N A . [death. devouring. enslaving.] A vibrating tempo resonates, eclipsing the realm in the wake of its' wrath and bathed in writhing blacks and blues. The breadth of Aterna spans beyond Carmen's mortal countenance and stance, shining through her eyes, and wrought forth in a terrifying gale of wind and terror that shreds through the opposition and devours in a flicker of black - winking out of existence and taking all with it. The resulting damage is left not only on the area around, but onto Carmen herself, seeming to tear away parts of her soul, leaving her spent and exhausted; trembling in throes of bygone power and loss.


. A E R O N A . [inventive. ambitious. treacherous.] Swirling masses of ebony wisps whorl around her, slicing into her skin and even those within close proximity, blood weeping paths of euphoria and pain. The sound is of screeching banshees that arise in tempo and ferocity, dependent on her state of mind and heart. The swirling bits can fluctuate beyond her control, or simply form in lazy whorls and waves in her distraction.


. L A C R I . [decay. death. devouring.] Pooling from her yawning orifice is a taint of unimaginable suffering, sluicing like tar yonder lips and teeth, a liquid that oozes and manifests into terrible manifestations of decay and reeking of death of dry, olden tombs. Only wrought from her mouth of terrifying simpers, her canines pierce the flesh, release the festering mass, bathing those in a suffering agony that eats away at the delicate membrane unless pried away by sheer force.


. a e o n .
__________________________________________________________________________________________
[ ] B A H A M U T // black & blue.

. Devouring, manipulative, enslaving and progressive .

Gilded in a gold and ebon whorls of darkness, Bahamut was located in one of the deepest fissures and craters left behind by the Aeon descent. In the unforgiving mountains of Junon where cores of rock gleamed within an internal energy that pulsated and writhed with every method of contact, where black waters raged and filled the crater to the brim with an aphotic death. Defined as male in genetic markings, the findings of Bahamut were draconic in aesthetic appeal and warped in feathers with ebon edges and myriads of scales that were nearly indestructible when probed and plied; dark like bruises and blackened like tar. There was an underlying fixation of ominous dread, the sort that was later assuaged once they broke down the remains of this Aeon, even going as far to see these remains separated purposely and lost in whichever mill was designated for the delivery. However, speculation derived that the dread still remained, quivering yonder death despite all attempts by the Aeon officials to thwart it.


. c o r e .
__________________________________________________________________________________________
◆ Reaper


. o v e r d r i v e .
__________________________________________________________________________________________
F L A R E G A //
It's terrifying in power, but yearning for in death. This last resort power seems to combine all manners of manifest and power, burning and writhing and intent to consume all within its' path and wake. Gleaming black and blue, like a void of space and time, and warping the area into blackened ash and rain that falls and bathing the grounds in a vicious ooze. The gales summoned from this all mighty wrath and rage seem to inflict even the heavens, darkening the realm with swirling clouds that bear threat of storm and terror, ready to unleash the final blow.
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Corbyn Vesper

Thirty | 29 / May | Six - Foot - One | Commander

A P P E A R A N C E.
Assertive in poise and stature, the rigid posture of Corbyn Vesper is unmistakable. Proportioned and symmetrical to an exact degree, his physicality exudes discipline and efforts of constant maintenance. A purposeful choice leaves the body at a medium build and avoids the kind of bulky muscle usually associated with those of the combative occupation. Various scars scatter amongst caramel skin, hard with age and silent reminders of stories no longer told. Ebony hair is kept short due to preference, never regulation, while facial hair is consistently groomed, but never shaved off. Though the light brown of his eyes glisten in the sunlight, it is the look they convey that makes them striking. His stare is built from years of uncertain futures with the smallest glimmer of hope hidden in the ulterior. Tattoos and jewelry have neither place nor meaning for the somewhat young commander and his general out of uniform attire is composed of comfort clothing versus fashionable outerwear.


P S Y C H E.
For one to have achieved the rank of Commander, the persona attributed to Corbyn Vesper is surprisingly contrary to average expectation. In spite of his leadership role within SOLDIER, he is best described as socially comfortable, yet mentally reserved. His outgoing nature allows for easy communication with all manner of individual with a certain level of familiarity, but those exterior appearances are not all natural. In truth, trust is not easily gained or easily kept with the man and he regularly holds the slightest bit of distrust for all those he associates with. This rather paranoid nature does not stem from malice, rather a specific belief that one should never underestimate what another is capable of - especially in the present times. Why this manifests as distrust rather than caution, however, is a flawed trait in Corbyn's mentality and sometimes causes his external behavior to appear standoffish in the eyes of others.

On the other side of this coin though, strong bonds of loyalty can be formed when one proves to be trustworthy and, or, capable. Corbyn is not so flawed that he severs bonds as they form and it is his own opinion that this kind of loyalty should be treated as a reward and not just given out to any and everybody who appears to be nice.

In the matters of The Fayth, the commander is a firm non-believer. Chastising others for their beliefs comes in opposition of his own morality, but a convert he will never become. Combined with his inner fear and confusion surrounding the Aeon entities, Corbyn really only believes in himself and whatever he is capable of accomplishing. The disregard for The Fayth sits alongside a similar distaste for politics. Being SOLDIER damns one to some involvement with political affairs, no matter how small, but the commander takes up an active role in avoiding the fiery subject as much as possible. Whatever other issues exists, his main problem with The Fayth and politics is both are bridges to his third, and most hated, subject of all; the Aeons.


B A C K G R O U N D.
The small isle of Ivalice exists to the east of Baanga and though they function independently with their own government council, the nation is officially an annexed territory of the much larger country to the west - and the birthplace of Corbyn Vesper. The Vesper family was a name that commanded power and influence during its heyday. Both father and mother of Corbyn were well known for their wealth, but more so for their extremely charismatic and persuasive personalities. Father began his career small as part of a simple law firm, but soon found his true calling in corporate investment and money lending between big industry business. Mother started as a corporate accountant,
but also left her original line of work to accept a position as head of one of the largest banks in Ivalice. The duo quickly accrued wealth and important associations that opened doors and connections in all crevices of the business and political world. At the apex of their success, the twosome cemented their legacy; a son was born who would be groomed to eventually take over one of the family businesses.

As the child of two effective CEOs, Corbyn's life was managed and planned from the very beginning. Every action and move he was made to take in life was meticulously calculated so as to have the most positive effect possible and push the boy in the correct direction. Private tutors and nannies were a normalcy from the time the young boy could walk and understand his surroundings and it was no strange sight to see the four-year old studying rather than playing with others or creating any sort of childhood memories. Corbyn faithfully followed the rigid routine laid out in front of him for many years until he finally reached high school age.

At this point, he was fully aware of all the kinds of events he had missed and, after much bargaining and negotiating as he was taught to do, he somehow convinced his parents to allow him to finally attend public high school using the reasoning that knowledge of the general world outside of private schools and tutors who do him more good than being sheltered until adulthood. Corbyn's high school life, much to his disappointment, was anything but normal. The Vesper name was too well known and he was forced to suffer false friendships, subordinate teachers, and all those who hoped and prayed for just a small loan from a kid who had never even been employed. Even knowing what he was in for, Corbyn still fell victim to more ulterior motives than he wanted to admit. He knew there was only one thing he could do to not only forge his own path, but finally get out from under the weight of the name Vesper.

Upon graduation, Corbyn announced that he was shirking college in order to pursue service with the Imperial Guard of Ivalice. The one thing both his celebrity parents hated together was the military. Though they understood its necessity, they always saw the organization and its members as beneath them and too dangerous to risk everything for. They put up heavy resistance after their son's announcement and even went as far as threatening to cut him off should he go through with his plans. With his mind made up and his resolve hardened however, Corbyn defied his parent's wishes and enlisted with the Guard. He was disowned fully within the same year.

During his years with the guard, the newly freed Vesper boy still found himself hanging on to the Vesper ways. His desire to excel outweighed everything else and his anger when he failed was hotter and more fiery than most. He took every opportunity to go the extra mile and volunteered for every voluntary position he could in some subconscious effort to prove that even though he wanted out from the shadow of his parents, the meaning of his name was still important to even him. It was no surprise that when a nondescript manila envelope appeared at his quarters, he smelled opportunity and blindly followed its instructions to travel to a certain location. The last thing he remembered was failing to fight off a group of military-types.


R E G A I L I A.
True to his steadfast discipline, technique is the most valued aspect of combat to the mind of Corbyn Vesper. Though strength, speed, and power are all equal parts of a successful battle style, skill and technique have always taken precedence over the rest. To that end, Corbyn moves about the battlefield with grace and efficiency, no movement wasted or superfluous and every action intentional and calculated. To him, this is the only way to survive and coming out alive in the end is the only consideration in the heat of battle. His chosen weapon is a custom-built, dual-headed lance spanning the length of his body. On each end lies an ornate spearhead that is designed to cut as well as it pierces if used in the correct manner. A chain and pulley mechanism was built into the shaft and attached to the spearheads, allowing each to be fired and retracted or simply released to be used in a whip-like fashion. The shaft also spits in the middle to enable a quicker, more close-quarters style to be used should the need arise.

Though he considers his strongest abilities to be purely physical and gained through training, even Corbyn could not deny the intriguing power and potential of his bonded Aeon, despite the fact that his relationship with the being called Asteria is a work-in-progress. Through the power of Asteria, Corbyn gained the power to move his body through folded space in order to reach any given point instantaneously; to the eye of another, this phenomenon causes the commander to appear as if he's warping from point to point. The ability has been dubbed "Point Shift". Unlike the accepted mechanics of teleportation however, point shifting requires Corbyn to use an anchor with which to shift to in order to focus and keep his body from splintering while moving through folded space. An anchor can be anything thrown by Corbyn himself and he prefers to use his own weaponry as a means to shift as it allows him greater maneuverability on the battlefield.

The caveat to this seemingly powerful ability lies in the fact that physical damage occurs during any shift. The human body can not withstand moving through folded space and though the power of his bonded Aeon protects him from outright dying, Corbyn suffers damage in proportion to the distance traveled; the longer the range from one point to the next, the greater the damage taken on landing. The other problem is that his range is largely governed by how far he can toss his chosen anchor. Due to these limitations, point shifting is used as a companion in battle rather than a means of mobility. Corbyn has even developed several techniques to make specific use of battle possibilities.


S H I F T B R E A K [singular. destructive. apathetic.] Affecting a single target, space folds around Corbyn and he moves through it, picking up velocity and speed until he savagely rams his target with the point of his weapon. This technique intends to deal significant damage to one target while dealing heavy damage to Corbyn himself as the travels over a great distance at a much higher intensity in order to build the proper power. This attack is stronger if executed from further away, but this also increases the damage done to the commander.


P H A S E S H I F T [dismissive. protection. arrogance.] Concocted while learning the reaches of his new abilities, Corbyn found that attempting to shift without throwing an anchor resulted in what is now dubbed as a phase shift. The technique does not move the commander through folded space, rather it instantaneously moves him the length of one full stride. In effect, this allows for life-saving evasive maneuvers in a close quarters situation should human reaction and awareness not be enough.


S H I F T B U R S T [explosive. damning. preservation.] An oddity in the arsenal, shift burst occurs as Corbyn throws an anchor straight into the ground at his own feet. Rather than move through folded space to meet the anchor as normal, the folded space compresses and explodes outwards in a radius, pushing back whatever is caught in the area and causing internal damage - a technique designed to provide temporary relief from an aggressive, surrounding mob.


A E O N.
A S T E R I A // Colorless
[ Apathetic, Dismissive, Preservation, Adaptation ]
Asteria was found in the wilds of Ivalice, encased in a hardened substance akin to diamond, but not quite as strong. Upon removing the body and commencing the studies, it was found that Asteria's DNA constantly shifts and transforms itself - revealing that though she takes a female form, she has the capability to take new forms and her true nature is unknown. Her current form is that of a seraph as fantasized by human minds. Her body and face are that of a young adult woman with flowing brown hair while six, white feathery wings protrude from her back and a fitting black gown covers her bare self.


C O R E.
Lancer


O V E R D R I V E.
P E R F E C T S H I F T
The culmination of a perfect bond between Corbyn and Asteria, Corbyn gains the ability to freely point shift over any distance without throwing an anchor and without suffering any damage. The commander blinks around the battlefield delivering blows to any and all he considers an enemy. Most notably, this allows him to freely perform Shift Break without the limitations and deal massive damage to single targets all over the battlefield.





L i l l i a n E l d r i t c h

Thirty-One | 6 July | Five-Foot-Nine | 145 lbs | First Class



. a p p e a r a n c e .
__________________________________________________________________________________________
An intermingled combination of flaxen and umber strands color her waist-length hair while icy oculars and devilishly arched brows create an intimidating gaze amidst her unpredictable countenance and slender face; Lillian Eldritch is a purpose-driven soul and her physicality supports this notion. A long frame highlights her proportional contour, bodily assets developed just enough to distinguish a definitive gender, but not in such a gratuitous manner that one might mistake her for a vixen. Her limbs remain lean though distinctively shaped and sculpted from a lifetime of vigorous activity and a regular regimen ingrained into the fabric of her being. A tattoo is the final piece of her corporeal individuality though it is hidden on the whole of her back underneath the various garments she dons for the outside world. The marking depicts an angry, yellow-eyed black dragon seemingly in mid-flight, twirling around the space her back affords before appearing to head straight towards anyone looking on from behind the woman. It's wings extend from each side of her upper latissimi dorsi and curl around her shoulders. It is the sole tattoo inked on her body and its significance remains a closely guarded secret.

Varying types of attire suit the personal tastes of Lillian, but she most often chooses sheer comfort over outfits that would likely leave long-lasting impressions--these kinds of clothing are saved for special occasions of which there are few. Standard denim bottoms, t-shirts, leather jackets, and sports attire are the regularly cycled articles of choice though the one area of indulgence afforded is footwear. Lillian very rarely steps into tennis shoes or sneakers, opting for an array of fashionable boots instead. The single constant uniting all her clothing decisions is the fitting nature of everything she wears. Of course, these types of garb are only adorned when off duty.

Official capacity dictates her most-worn attire to be a uniform of slightly loose fitting and breathable material.
Ebony and azure come together in the form of tactical cargo pants tucked into equally ebon, ankle-high boots and a form-fitting top with sleeves that taper just under the elbows and a hemmed bottom that remains perfectly hidden within her belted waist. A single pauldron rests on the left shoulder, held in place by a thin strap that runs from the pauldron itself, across her chest and torso, and diagonally down into the belt.


. p s y c h e .
__________________________________________________________________________________________
Lillian Eldritch, though seemingly purpose-driven, is less mysterious than she is perplexing. Her persona is a study in dichotomous character, a contrast of opposing intents revealing how an individual is comprised of multiple sides and traits that come together to try and form a cohesive whole--a truly unique being, some might say. Outwardly, she is callous, a darkly humorous undertow causing some to question the true feelings behind the words that slither out of her unfiltered mentality. Her dialogue can be cold and venomous, yet it is also honest and direct where others would sugarcoat or wrap their conversation in a more gentle, warm sort of eloquence. She sees others around her, but does not consider how her ways may affect them until she is already indirectly influencing their lives. Inwardly, Lillian is torn and mildly confused. She balks at the anger and intensity of her own words and actions while questioning their necessity--does this need to go that far? Do I need to be the one to do it? She is not the best in social interaction, yet she seemingly seeks out conversation in spite of her rather ill-tempered mannerisms.

Her actions and dialogue are mostly inspired from beliefs tempered and solidified during her long stretch in the Palamecian military and forced entry into the SOLDIER program. Lillian believes that law and order should reign true, but only her own perverted sense of law is acceptable. She believes that she alone can enact change on a massive scale and is not opposed to wallowing in the depths of atrocity to emerge with what she considers to be the only kind of justice and order that can exist successfully. In spite of holding these beliefs dear, she does not openly discuss such matters with everyone around her. After witnessing the crooked associations promoted by rotten politics in the past, Lillian simply accepts that not everyone can understand what she considers the truth and does not waste energy in attempting to convert those to her as yet silent cause. That said, she can sometimes lose herself to argument when encountering the types who are similar to the officers she once served under.


. b a c k g r o u n d .
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Lillian Amaya Eldritch was born to a middle-class family on the north side of Lestallum, a small city in the frigid colds of Junon. Originally, her parents met in Gatrea and moved to Junon seeking better opportunities for a more prosperous life. Her father worked in many different occupations before finally settling on starting his own business; he began a small company that specialized in software engineering and went on to grow the company into a respectable cyber-security firm. Lillian's mother was always a stay at home type after the emigration though she proudly served in the Palamecian military back in her home country of Baanga and before marrying her husband. Aleksy Eldritch met Regina when she traveled to Gatrea on assignment and the two completely hit it off from there, staying in contact with one another until Regina's service ended and the duo could marry and head for Junon.

Once his company took off, Aleksy began putting in more man hours, trying to create the life he had always dreamed of for his family. Though Regina respected her husband's drive and determination, the loneliness that had slowly developed shifted into a sharp resentment that she held within and hid whenever he did deign to come home every once in a while. These feelings eventually led to a pattern of affairs that Lillian grew from not understanding to carrying the burden of keeping quiet. To take her mind off of the parental drama, the middle-school aged Lillian stayed out of the house and spent most of her time outside and in the city. Lestallum was not usually the place to walk around and sight see, but the young girl had always been fascinated by how different people could be and the many facets of life that seemed to scream at her as she simply walked down one street after another.

When she was caught and sentenced to the family property after school, Lillian took up reading and evolving her imagination instead. It did not take long for the love of reading to replace going out and imagining how others might be in the privacy of their lives. Books allowed one to partake of any world they wished and it was this kind of wonder that clung to the girl as she continued her grade school journey. It was on her graduation to high school that her parents decided to get a divorce. Aleksy had hired a private investigator to follow and document his wife's life unbeknownst to her and once he had the evidence, he went to work to securing his assets and making sure Regina would leave the marriage with as little as possible. In the heat of hearings and court proceedings, it was decided that Lillian would remain in her father's custody and that day in court was the final time she would ever lay eyes on her mother.

When high school finally began, Lillian had shed her previous child-like wonderment and bubbly self. Her attitude became much more subdued and reserved and the teenager was content to simply engage in her studies and nothing more. In spite of her good grades, her teachers noted the attitude shift and multiple counselors were employed to speak with the girl. They all came to the conclusion that she had cut herself off from the emotions she harbored for the breakup of her parents and the actions of her mother in particular, but Lillian always dismissed them. Without failing her studies and participating in mischievous behavior, the only thing counselors and therapists could do was to respect her wishes and let her wallow in the despair she had created for herself. As his daughter neared her high school graduation, Aleksy tried one last attempt to reconnect and began to share stories of Regina's service to her country's military. Though she did not revert completely, Lillian did find a piece of the curiosity she once had for life and, inspired by the stories, decided to join the Palamecian military out of high school.

It was during this time that Lillian's psyche began to crack. Suffering the misfortune of being place in the squadron of a sexist commanding officer, the eighteen-year-old Lillian was placed on guard duty at the Imperial Paddock. She was denied any position that would allow to see combat or maybe even advance ranks in favor of another warm body replacing a post that the previous servicemen had felt was beneath himself to keep holding. During her tenure, the young, naive soldier witnessed all manner of abuse of authority and abuse in general. Intermixed with these traumatic events were the politics that falsely justified the actions of those who committed such heinous acts. She came to understand that it was the politics behind the military and state governments that allowed and forced these actions more so than the people who physically acted. She came to hate politics and her anger only grew as she was shifted around from post to post and placed under worse COs than the last.

Finally, the day came after years of growing disillusioned with those around her; Lillian's service contract expired and she was up for reenlistment. Though the young woman had already decided to leave the military behind and hopefully cleanse her mind, it was not to be. Against her will, she was volunteered for a new program that no one had any details of, but thought would be just another shitty guard posting. Lillian silently cursed the higher ranking officers and the state's government the whole shuttle ride to Fort Lullin and the last thing she would remember from that time would be stepping off the vehicle and suffering a sudden blackout.


. r e g a i l i a .
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One that upholds the law must do so by means of necessary force; a saying by Lillian in regards to combat and her feelings on the lethality thereof. Though these feelings are harsh and severe in implication, her actual combat style comes forth from calm demeanor and silent aggression. Lillian is well versed in the techniques of close-quarters combat and agile maneuvers though her actual method of offense is unique even amongst the ranks of SOLDIER and its varied, highly individualistic manifestations of Aeon ability. Lillian and Eris, her bonded Aeon, are so well synchronized that she commands pure, raw energy--white or black depending on the specific attack--with the blessing of her alien counterpart. In conjunction with this, the SOLDIER carries a physical Tarot card deck that, when combined with the energy, allows their owner to create constructs that are only limited by imagination. These constructs take the form most appropriate for the situation and endow Lillian with both ranged and melee abilities, making her a versatile and formidable combatant.

In spite of the potential however, Lillian's offense is comprised mainly of power that degrades and corrodes vitality, siphoning life away from her enemies and into her being. The techniques imbued to her from the Aeon within values self-preservation and defense above everything else and ensures Lillian can stand far longer than some of her peers while not necessarily inflicting the most damage amongst those who are considered the enemy.


B I N D I N G O R D E R [Single Target, Siphoning, Devouring] Lillian creates a globular prison of energy-bound tarot cards around a single target and siphons their very life force into her being through astral chains impaled into the body. This siphoning can heal wounds and injuries inflicted whilst slowly killing the target. The speed of the draining is proportional to the strength of the target imprisoned--the stronger the target, the longer it takes to completely devour its life force.


C H A O T I C O R D E R [Multi-Target, Piercing, Explosive] Using black energy molded into the shape of small arrows, Lillian propels her tarot cards at high velocity in a radius around her. Once they've all impaled enemies, the energy arrows explode all at once, damaging or outright killing those impaled and causing explosive damage to those in close proximity. The explosions are small and harmless to those who are not right next to impaled enemies.


J U D I C I O U S S T E P [Evasive, Self-Preservation, Instantaneous] Coating herself in white energy, Lillian instantaneously moves from where's she standing to another spot about the length of one long walking stride away. This is a small evasive technique that is best served in close-combat when even a second delay could mean the difference between injury or death. Since it moves over such a small distance, it's not viable as an alternate means of movement nor can it be increased to cover longer distances. It exists as it is for a specific purpose.


. a e o n .
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E R I S | B l a c k / W h i t e {Law, Justice, Chaos, Devouring, Decaying}

Eris is a bit of a mystery as far as Aeons are concerned. Her form is largely unknown thanks to the fact that when she was discovered it was in a wispy form of ebony and gray. To the surprise of all those involved however, she was completely non-resistant to capture and study. After bonding with Lillian, it was determined that the rate of synchronization was so high, it was almost as if she was waiting for a SOLDIER to come along to be bonded to. It was after much time passed after the bonding that Lillian began to hear echoes and whispers in her head. After conversing with the being within, the two aligned themselves which resulted in a perfect bond. Eris's speech only comes across as whispers and echoes, but Lillian has developed the ability to understand this kind of dialogue.


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Synergist


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T H E L A W O F N E U T R A L C H A O S

Lillian's overdrive is a manifestation of her very beliefs combined with the alluring and manipulative power and possession of her Aeon to produce a final offense that wholly embodies the philosophy of the chaotic neutral alignment. The offense begins by spreading the entirety of her tarot deck around a large space, each card cementing itself in the ground face up and forming a very wide rectangular shape of sorts. Once each card is laid out, astral chains of both white and black energy rise up from within the cards and shackle all entities within the rectangular field. With outstretched arms, Lillian--fully taken over by Eris--absorbs and devours the life energy of everything shackled with no discrimination between friend or foe. This is the ultimate self-preservation technique and can be achieved by Eris alone should Lillian find herself in a near death state. Though the intention is not to harm friends, everything that is caught within the field suffers the same wrath.
Hidden 7 yrs ago 7 yrs ago Post by Kefka Palazzo
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Kefka Palazzo - - - - -

Member Seen 7 mos ago




Elena Moridin
33 | 10/29 | 5’3” | 2nd – Class
Inter spem curamque, timores inter et iras
omnen crede diem tibi diluxisse supremem:
grata superveniet quae non sperabitur hora.
A P P E A R A N C E.
Long, straight dark hair, either lose about her shoulders or kept in a braided bun at the back of her head. Slender, lithe. Cold, green eyes. No tattoos, no scars, pierced ears.

P S Y C H E.
Elena cold calm over rage. On the surface she is logical, well mannered, coherent, and organized – a model solider. She understands the chain of command, and isn’t afraid to lead when the situation calls for it, nor affronted when duty requires that she follow. Her temperament has gained her the moniker ‘The Ice Queen’. If they only knew.

Her battle methods require precision and finesse. She does not run head long into the fray, but studies the situation, analyzes, reacts with logic and knowledge, not strength and brash action. She is the snake that lies await in the drawer, deadly, patient.

She is at odds with herself, conflicted, though she does not let it show. When alone, her mind often wanders, thrusting herself back into her own past, dwelling and reflecting on past sins and moments of weakness that have increased the regret that she bears. Atlas has the world, and Elena has her regrets. Where she is outwardly calm, her inner thoughts boarder on turmoil. She is shattered within, long since broken, the dead waiting simply to be told she can lay down to die, yet she struggles to repent. Her soul weeps, and none but her creature knows it.

B A C K G R O U N D.
Origin: Gatrea
Born Annesta Malkirie, daughter of a Fayth priest, and a whore. Her mother died shortly after her birth, and her father didn’t accept her. She was raised in an orphanage on Gatrea until she was 12. Her father reclaimed her then, feeling that his position could weather the child. She was meek, quiet and studious. The orphanage taught her to read and write, to clean and cook, to garden, to prostrate herself before the fayth, and the priests. She learned about religion, of morality and grace. Her father taught her cruelty, and anger. He would beat her for her sins, bleed the evilness from her inherited from her mother. She was a wicked thing, unworthy, undesirable. When she was 16, in the middle of a beating at the hands of her priestly father, she broke a statue of a Fayth. She held the sharpened, jagged edge against her father’s throat, and for the first time learned the true depths of her anger, of the rage, and her inability to control it.

With her father dead by her hands, she has fled the Fayth, fled Gatrea. Galbadian society wasn’t accepting of a penniless, scrawny child from Gatrea, and after a few theft charges by authorities, she fled the cities. Eventually she took refuge in a small town on the coast, the providence of Aster. She was taken in by an elder man, Elian Moridin, who taught her to control the rage within, to harness the anger. He gave her the clarity and peace that, to this day, she clings to when the torrent of emotions becomes a raging river. A former commander in the Galbadian military, Elian instructed her on the ways of the sword, on martial combat, on seeking and maintaining inner peace. He taught her to steel herself away from the world, to be as cold as ice, to show no pain, physical or emotional. He taught her how to never be hurt again.

On his death bed, he gave her a final gift, a new identity. “You are no longer the product of hatred and sin, but love and acceptance. You are my daughter Elena, let no one tell you differently.”

R E G A I L I A.
The dance with death: Elena Moridin fights as others dance, with precise, but graceful movements. Her sword is agile, light enough to sing as it cuts through the air, fast enough to move between strikes or dance between plates of armor with speed and accuracy. She is motion, and power, and the economy of which she uses both creates a martial warrior who can cut down her foes with ease. She has a natural talent with the arcane, and employs the effects of such largely to her blade, or in small areas immediately surrounding her.

She wears a silver breastplate over leather armor, all of which have been dulled with age and use. She uses a knight’s sword, worn against her left hip with a sword belt. Leather swordsman’s gloves, without gauntlets.
Cold Snap [Area of effect, Paralyzing, Destructive] A burst of arcane power extending forth with Elena at its center. Arcane energies race out in all directions, freezing all that lie within its field of effect, causing an instant deep freeze. To lesser beings, the effect is death, with all the liquids within freezing instantly. Cellular structures under such cold would shred with the expansion as liquid turns to solid. To greater entities, the effect would cause a retardation of their movements as their bodily fluids thicken.

Elemental Blade [Personal, Spell-Blade, Elemental] A blade that smokes with the cold. One touch and all heat is removed from an object touching its steel. Arcane powers coalesce to create a sword fitting of the ice queen herself. The effect is ice elemental based.

Blizzaja [Single Enemy, Black Magic, Destructive] A concentration of black arcane power. Blizzaja pulls all heat from the area surrounding an enemy, and provides an influx of moisture, resulting in a devastating ice attack against a single enemy. Has the ability to flash freeze lesser enemies, which will freeze the enemy to the point of shattering.

A E O N.
Ifrit - Red/Red [Fury /\ Unbound /\Destructive]
To battle, to rage was ifrit’s reason. A living weapon of an unknown and advanced culture, with command of the flame. Ifrit’s remainds were found amongst a still burning portion of the meteor, at the center of a self sustaining flame. A fearsome beast, with ebony horns and chasms of pure darkness for eyes. Though life did not cling to it’s mortal shell, the flames around it never died, until suppressed by artificial means. Even so, the samples which were taken of the beast were known to radiate their own heat, and their intergration into test subjects alpha and beta resulted in marked elevations in body temperatures and increased emotional liability.
Blending with Elena was problematic at best. The beast, when loosed, is only marginally under her control. Her gift with iced based elemental magic allows her to regulate her body temperature, and her natural talents at emotional suppression allow her to deal with the beast’s desires. Though, perhaps because of the internal conflict within, Ifrit presents to her mind as an alien voice, a threatening rage just bubbling beneath the surface whispering of violence and destruction. It was also known during the initial days after blending that the subject has increased frequency of nightmares.

C O R E.
Caster

O V E R D R I V E.
Hell Fire: the struggle for dominance shifts, and the beast takes control. Through the arcane abilities of the host, the flames gather, and a projection of his form appears flesh and flame. Demonic, with flames licking arms and long curved horns. The beast stands on two feet with long, razor sharp claws on the tips of giant hands. When he opens his mouth to roar, flames fill the void within, and a substance like burning oil drips from long fangs. The flames intensify as the need to burn all consumes. The very air around the caster explodes into flames, recklessly burning all within, reeking destruction to burn trees, sear flesh, and bake the stone to glass. There is no self-preservation, no thought of escape.. there is only the need to see the world burn.

Hidden 7 yrs ago 7 yrs ago Post by Holy Soldier
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Holy Soldier Divine Justice

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2530 / 045'10"Second Class



. a p p e a r a n c e .
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Eiden is always wearing a hood. The cowl droops over his forehead, obscuring the white bandages that cross over it. Beneath them lies a red narrow gem. His hair is a cinnamon brown with some layers bladed and mimicking the feathers one might find on a bird. His skin is tanned and eyes a dark, wine-red. His countenance, though unusual, when not hidden within his hood, is youthful and boyish. There is a kindness that gleams in his ruby-red eyes and his lips are touched with the hint of a smile. Eiden’s build is lean and cut. His muscles smoothly defined down to his feet from a healthy diet and regular exercise. With his gentle face, one could not imagine it ever being wrinkled with rage. When anger does take hold of him—as rare as that ever would be—one might have thought they were gazing upon someone else. His welcoming and warm presence becomes cold and rigid with tension. Seeing the peaceful SOLDIER having a 180 would bother anyone.


. p s y c h e .
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Eiden considers himself a saint and is a believer in a greater entity. He believes the Carbuncle imbued in his body has purified his spirit and placed his soul in eternal peace. For this, Eiden is calm and patient. He is normally mild-mannered and always kind and polite even when such manners are not returned. He does not try to forcefully convert others for they can witness his miracles and decide then if they wish to believe. While Eiden does not deem himself to be perfect, he strives to always improve. He cares for others and will protect the weak even if against orders because it is the right thing to do. Eiden does not tolerate evil or ill-will in his presence. He is a protector of innocents no matter how subjective “innocents” may be. This attitude may make him naïve at times and easily deceived by False Ones.

As a SOLDIER, Eiden does not utilize full lethality. He will support his team and use harmless methods to incapacitate enemies. Only a great evil could compel Eiden to draw his swords; and when Eiden is faced with true evil, his wrath is truly frightening. The SOLDIER is not easily offended by insults or jabs at his character. His metaphorical tough skin is near impenetrable. His presence could calm those who are angered or troubled, and if they wish to listen to his advice, they might find true relief whether being a believer or not. While Eiden may expend his efforts to heal and protect others, who will protect him?


. b a c k g r o u n d .
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Eiden was once born in Gatrea and was once a man of the Fayth. He and his parents were blessed to serve under a pious government mandated by the heavens. Eiden studied to become a priest and when he was ten-years-old, he heard his Calling. His parents didn’t once contemplate the dangers of releasing their only child into the wilderness. The spirits were summoning him, and their will would not go unmet. Eiden went on his pilgrimage to the Temple of Fayth and faced many challenges to his faith and devotion. He was nearly killed by beasts, frozen to death, and starved. It was the strength of his faith that drove him to the summit where ten robed priests looked on at the thin and gaunt boy that managed to stagger toward their steps. Since that day, Eiden remained at the temple as a priest, expanding his knowledge of the teachings and growing closer to a nirvana.

At eighteen-years-old, the Temple felt that Eiden was prepared to mission. He was to journey to Cressia and visit the North and South, spreading the Fayth to the sinners who indulged in hedonism. While there, Eiden learned of the Aeon Craters, land formations he had never heard of. They were nests for the devils, and he sought permission to venture to one of the craters as a test of his faith. The Temple was hesitant at first. Aeons were dangerous and their evil could corrupt him; but if the Fayth priests could prove for certain that the Aeons were truly evil, then many would flock to the Fayth for spiritual protection. Through cooperation between Gatrea and Cressia, Eiden was permitted to visit the crater by Regent escort.

When Eiden and the Regent returned from the crater, Eiden felt his faith to have been changed. What he had seen overwhelmed and amazed him, and terrified him all the same. He left Cressia back to Gratea and wandered the wilderness, battling his very conscience. He wept out of fear of his morphing faith. It couldn’t be true that everything he thought about Aeons were lies! The Aeons could not have been evil. They represented the very White and Black Spirits the Fayth worshipped! His thoughts were blasphemous, and the longer he stayed a hermit in the wilderness, the more his parents grew worried about him and the Temple suspicious. After disappearing for two years, Eiden returned to his family no longer wearing priestly robes. He was dressed more like a monk, and he shared with them what he had been doing. Alone and with the spirits, he told them that they had shown him the true path to salvation and he had written their words in a book. His parents unable to listen to Eiden’s blasphemy barred him from their home. Without a residence to call his own, Eiden traveled the continent, spreading allegories about the truth and sharing his experiences. He shared his scriptures with the people and news of the blasphemy bombarded the Temple like shells.

The Temple was shocked to learn that a mad man spreading sacrilege about the faith just so happened to be one of their most devoted priests. Fayth priests were sent in disguise to see if the rumors were true and dressed as commoners they found Eiden teaching an audience from children to adults about the Fayth and Aeons. The priests confronted Eiden in secret, demanding that he stop and return to the Temple so that they could forgive him of his sins and purify his spirit. Eiden refused and was threatened warned that the Temple would not allow him to continue. Eiden was unafraid, and a naïve fool. One eve during his travels between towns, he was surrounded by numerous military vehicles. Their high beams are all that he can remember before his life changed forever.


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Eiden rarely ever demonstrates his true strength. It is his morals and ethics which keep him from doing so. The fear of killing someone and lowering himself to the level of evil. He appears similar to a monk. A vermilion drape with golden stitchings of swirling vines and flowers is coiled about a medium, scaled chest plate of mythril and greaves. A gold cloth sash wraps about his waist, with cream-white silk trim, and Galban lily stitching. His pants are white-cotton. Leather shoe straps wind up his calves with strips of bamboo guarding his shins beneath them. A cowl is always draped about his head and a necklace with brown wooden beads hangs from his sash. The beads bear the arcane symbols for each of the elements that balance the universe. His weapon is a wooden staff with a bronze swirling coat. The weapon is surprisingly sturdy for being made of wood and bronze, and its weight is oddly heavy to be only such. Within the staff are two three-foot twin blades. They are crossed within the wood and are drawn when Eiden grasps the center of his staff and separates it. Like his scale armor, the blades are mythril, and are highly-attuned to his magic.

On the battlefield, Eiden surveys, watching the enemy and his team and making sure everyone returns alive. He will risk his life to not only save members of his team but for complete strangers, which can be a problem when the mission is priority. His magic protects, comforts, and soothes. His power is amplified by the gear he wears, and even without the mythril, there is a unique trait that puts Eiden’s healing magic above most. It could possibly be the ruby on his forehead.

Eiden appears to be a soft target, playing his support role, but enemies will find that the patient and smiling SOLDIER is quite capable of defending himself. After all, he is a SOLDIER. Eiden uses non-lethal methods to incapacitate his enemies and won’t ever show lethality unless there were no other option. Therefore, his twin blades are rarely drawn not even for utility purposes.


S E N T I N E L [aegis, assurance, guardian] A red light will emanate beneath the bandages on Eiden’s forehead. Closing his eyes, he will raise his arms, holding his staff horizontally before him. An eldritch gale swirls at his feet, tossing the loose layers of his clothes, and those within 10 meters of his being will be encased in a teal-green bubble that vanishes from sight after a few seconds. With his power, Eiden bolsters the physical and magic defenses of the group affected. The buff will remain for as long as Eiden isn’t interrupted from meditation. He will remain in meditation until awoken by another or an event. Sentinel only works if the group is within 10 meters of him before they run off. Its affects cannot reach those outside of its range.

S A N C T U A R Y [rejuvenation, tranquility, soothe] Eiden will extend his fore and middle fingers, touching the center of his head where his ruby would be. Flowers will sprout from the earth within 10 meters of his being and any who rest in the enchanting flowerbed notice their ailments melting away. His holy energy warms the body and soothes the mind for as long as Eiden remains in meditation. If Eiden is interrupted or disturbed from his meditation, the healing spell will fade.

C E L E R I T Y [acceleration, time] Does time freeze or is the individual moving so fast that the world around him or her is slowed? The affect lasts for 10 seconds and Eiden can only cast it on an individual to include himself if he must elude an enemy.

R E F L E C T I O N [inverse, retaliation] Eiden brings his palms together in prayer. His prayer beads hang off his extended thumbs as he closes his eyes, and unfolding from his being is a doppelganger mimicking his pose. The two Eidens remain facing each other in prayer while a silver thread of light traces a reflective orb about the party. Party members must be within 10 meters of Eiden to receive the protection. Reflection only repels magical assaults. It does not reflect physical attacks and once one magical attack is reflected, the barrier shatters like glass, exposing the SOLDIER once more.


. a e o n .
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CARBUNCLE/White
Protection, order, law, justice, peace and morality

The divine creature is a teal guardian and protector, always leading one out of darkness and back into the light of clarity. Carbuncle heals and repels evil, shrouding those deserving of its compassion in security. Mined from the mountains of Aster, the Carbuncle was discovered by accident when a miner uncovered a large, mystical ruby. DNA synchronizing with no resistance, the SOLDIER becomes a saint.


. c o r e .
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MEDIC


. o v e r d r i v e .
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D I V I N E R E T R I B U T I O N
Holy

Eiden reaches up to remove the bandages that hide the ruby at the center of his skull. The power no longer bound etches a white magic circle beneath Eiden’s feet and excites a gale to stir about him. From behind him, a fan of glowing white fox tails unfurl as Eiden’s eyes explode with radiance. As though a divine hand takes hold of him, light continues to leave his eyes and mouth as the gale grows stronger, lifting him into the air as though possessed. The lights collide like stars above him to form a gleaming circular gateway. The tails fire like rockets at all enemies, engulfing them in a translucent cloak of light. Divine trumpets blare in celebration from the heavenly gate, filling the enemies with joy and elation as they are drawn toward salvation. The gateway suddenly then eclipses as the gates are closed to them. Terrified and agonizing screams pour from the black hole as the enemies are sucked into oblivion. The gate winks out of existence and Eiden is left to collapse upon the ground, his bandages snaking around his head to once again bind his gem.
Hidden 7 yrs ago 7 yrs ago Post by Noxious
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Noxious ᴅ ᴇ ᴀ ᴅ ish

Member Seen 3 mos ago


∙• never once considering how in the world she was to get out again •∙
Ʌ M Ǝ N Ŧ I Ʌ Ɵ B C Ʌ U

Twenty-Seven || 11th of April || 170 cm. || Second Class


A ᴘ ᴘ ᴇ ᴀ ʀ ᴀ ɴ ᴄ ᴇ

The poise and title of SOLDIER seems to have rolled off her shoulders and fallen to the wayside, leaving a waifish and excessively girly silhouette that lits about the shadows with a skipping gait in a world here and yet not wholly here; a dance among the fantastical; reminiscent of a pixie intoxicated. To focus on the girl illuminated is to see her clearly, but wandering or shaded eyes are graced with a haze about her form that licks at the air with a maddening lack of cohesion, one of many peculiarities inherited. Wardrobe of opportunity, though rarely afforded, is youthfully feminine: lace, ruffles and hues of cerise, lavender and periwinkle, with a particular affinity for grandiose furs that recall adolescence in her mother’s wardrobe. The overall effect is like a porcelain doll out of place, fragile and fading.

A once chestnut mane now dipped in the ink of aeon is sheared to a bob style that did not seem to falter the image, falling messily in raven strands across fair skin lightly dusted with freckles. A fragmented soul mended with aeon too late gazes out of almost colorless pale gray orbs that twitch imperceptibly between vacant, melancholy, exuberant, and then back again. Features display too easily stolen emotion; pale pink lips that curl towards dimples and a laugh betraying shared secrets in tune with the hearts of lovers.

Her beauty and virility becomes a juxtaposition akin to her mind, both savage and innocent, when surrounded by the destruction of battle. Lips curl in pensive and somber thought, touching her expression with a cause, and an occasional flicker of bemusement that finally entrances her eyes into a gnawing darkness. Those that had tempted emotion would do well to weep for the ferocity it holds on her bearing, the monster it bequeaths upon the girl.


P s ʏ ᴄ ʜ ᴇ

There is a world that consumes her and it is not our own. While SOLDIER has taught her to remain present there is always a notion about her that belies the struggle to exist and absorb her surroundings. Her facade is one she is well committed too; sweet, innocent, damaged, lost, but there is occasionally a method to her betrayal from the inner yearnings. The veneer was cast to dispel the cruel beast that claws about within. There is meaning in not knowing oneself, but loss in not being truly known.

She is far from opposed to making friends, or even small talk, but most find her to be lackadaisical, quirky or to be blunt, fucking weird. She has a tendency to latch onto specific individuals and dismiss others entirely. At first there seemed to very little rhyme or reason as to how these judgments were made. In time, it was observed that her aeon helps shield her from her apathetic cruelty by teaching her to feed from the emotions of those around her. The observant believe the girl is drawn towards those with intense and lucid emotions; be they poignant or jubilant. The SOLDIER program, as of yet, has seen no negative effects of this emotion siphoning, though her companions are usually chosen with this in mind and personnel with weak constitutions are advised against prolonged contact.

It would not be a stretch to say that her aeon is her best friend, the only one she has truly allowed past her barriers. He dwells in her head and likely knows the girl better than herself. She views the transformation as a boon, unsurprisingly. When one has grown accustomed to madness then madness is the only norm to be known.


B ᴀ ᴄ ᴋ ɢ ʀ ᴏ ᴜ ɴ ᴅ

Amentia was born into a line of excessive wealth and influence. Her mother, an enchanting woman, doted heavily on her only child and was a superb storyteller. They would create castles of silk and her mother’s empyreal voice would weave fantasies about princesses battling demons in a land where magic was paramount. She was six when her mother died. Heartbroken, Amy slipped more and more into their fantasy world. Her father favored to spoil the girl through objects rather than affection and allowed the harmless delusions to continue, viewing her as a child, or not seeing her at all.

Years later the Father brought a new wife and son into their home. Amy seemed pleased to have the company and Father was content to leave them alone while he traveled. But all good things come to an end, and her Father’s realization of this was sudden. He came home to find Amy standing in the foyer, barefoot in a white gown stained with crimson bleeding into soft pinks. He removed a kitchen knife from her hand and scooped her into his arms, battling a mounting hysteria. In a shaky, almost reluctant, voice he asked what had happened. “They were bored and so I helped them get to a better place,” was the beaming cherubs only response. He set her down then, never to touch the girl again. Amentia would never feel remorse for her actions, though she did over the loss of contact.

The whole incident was covered up; any evidence disappeared, along with Amy. Her Uncle was currently pulling for a Regent position in Nuxvar and this scandal, Amentia, could not be allowed to tarnish the family name. The media relayed the fabricated story calling it a burglary and even the people at the Mental Health Institute deigned it improper to discuss, instead choosing to drown the girl in lôtos, a drug that induces sleep with the side of effect of vivid dreams and hallucinations. Had they cared, they would realize this only compounded her previous insanity. Soon she acquired a dependence on the drug, and any attempt to remove it from her system brought on a frightful fit of anhedonia and withdrawal. She was ten.

She lived there for years, there and not there, crawling into her head so that the world within her became more vibrant and encapsulating than anything reality had to offer. It wasn’t until she was 16 that SOLDIER came collecting at the request of her almost forgotten family. SOLDIER proved to be a blessing. They gave her a semblance of sanity and normality, at least a means to grasp at it. They gave her routine and they treated her like everyone else. She was far from the worst case to pass through these halls. Her Father has even written her to tell her how proud he is of her progress, though she wasn’t asked to return home and he never bothered to come visit. She convinced herself these were impossibilities and not the fault of her Father’s affections.

She continues to struggle with -facilitated- drug abuse. SOLDIER even chose to expand her arsenal of abuses when they realized that there was a need to quickly remove the effects of her crutches in lieu of battle and training. The doctors assured an easy fix and introduced her to Exsomnis IX; a high grade amphetamine. The average human would surely deteriorate in health with this juxtaposed concoction, but thanks to her aeon infusion her body seems no worse for wear. It is difficult to tell if it has furthered her mental capacities. She still proves to be an effective weapon and so concern has yet to be shown over medicating.


R ᴇ ɢ ᴀ ʟ ɪ ᴀ

Her inherited empathetic nature gives her an almost prophetic sense in battle, an instinct that thrives with or without a centered calm. Due to this she adapts quickly to her opponents. She favors a style that is ultimately rooted in surprise and is not beyond running and drawing the opponent into a situation beneficial to herself or faking an injury to lull the already over-estimated opponent into complacency.

She favors lightweight armor in muted camouflaging tones and has been provided with a thin durable suit that bends reflective light and allows for near perfect concealment in an array of environments. Her weapon of choice and skill is of limited variation; relying heavily upon bo-shuriken that are placed in excess on her thighs, arms, boots and occasionally even used to hold her hair up. After the realization that her blood can have damaging effects when making contact with others she has taken to cutting them across her own flesh and coating their tips. She is currently trying to master the lightweight and ferocious Kpinga and has taken to strapping two of them across her back.

She doesn't hesitate. Ever. True mercy is a thought claimed by sanity, of which she has very little kinship, and instead her own mind sees death as its own mercy. To remove people from the dull and damning reality and allow them to venture somewhere better. SOLDIER is inclined to favor this reasoning, if only they could remove its application to the home team.

For as long as she can remember there has been another inside her. A monster dwelling within, vying for control and whispering immoral absurdities so she took the introduction of her aeon quite well. He even proved to win out against the other and provide comfort while her body trembled and writhed in sweat through a melodic caress of complex ethereal symphonies. They bonded; both trapped in this reality, misunderstood and sharing a rather loose view on pesky definitions like morality and damnation.

She feels indebted which she attempts to repay by granting freedoms over her physical being that most SOLDIERs dare not afford their own aeons. Her lack of conviction for control over the aeon and his genetic influence has hindered any further advancement as the SOLDIER program seems weary of her compulsions, and whom truly conceives her actions and thoughts.


T A N T I B U S : ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ᴀᴅᴀᴘᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ғᴀʙʀɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ
Often our worst enemy is our fear, the creeping miasma that crawls and burrows destructively between heart and mind, finding true potential and presence as you drift between worlds- nightmares. She beckons these demons from within their keepers imagination, whispering animation and confirmations to new found pets in tones that edge upon the void of sanity and ravishment. They creep forth, cimmerian phantoms tinged in malice. While they lack in capacity to deal sizable damage, they are impervious to receiving and often deter the assaults of enemies.

V E S A N I A : ᴅᴇᴠᴏᴜʀɪɴɢ, ᴀᴘᴀᴛʜʏ, ᴍᴀᴅɴᴇss
Focusing on a chosen enemy mind can send their consciousness into a downward spiral in which madness begins to devour through emotion, memories and sanity. The experience is far from painless. It has been cured with time in some, while others show only minimal improvement after lengthy exposure. The negative effect of this is a sort of absorption on her end, for pieces of soul never truly dissipate.

P R A E D O M O : ᴄᴏɴsᴜᴍᴇ, ᴇᴍᴘᴀᴛʜʏ, sᴜʙᴊᴜɢᴀᴛᴇ
A fog of shadows wells about the girl, consuming only an inch or so of space from the ground but affecting an odd sensation of slithering solidifications just below; a miasma of guardian hood that embraces almost imperceptible tentacles. Should anyone deign to approach the maniacal minx the tentacles are quick to lacerate their flesh with spiked tips that skirt upon the edge of reality and link them to her purpose; temporarily removing their own thoughts/motivations and replacing them with her own. Depending on her mood this can induce an urge to protect or an overwhelming need to curl into a ball and whimper for release. Effects are nullified once contact is broken.

A ᴇ ᴏ ɴ

+ X C A V A I R N || C ᴏ ʟ ᴏ ᴜ ʀ ʟ ᴇ s s & B ʟ ᴀ ᴄ ᴋ
ᴀᴅᴀᴘᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴅᴇᴄᴀʏ, ᴇᴍᴘᴀᴛʜʏ, ᴇɴsʟᴀᴠɪɴɢ.
Initially it’s true visage was an incomprehensible jumble of debate, an evasive camouflage of nothingness and familiarity, as viewers each recalled entirely deviating entities. A repair to cohesion was found through implementing an array of blinding illumination upon the persecuted creature. Exposed was a coherent yet defective amalgamation of nix and psyche; a penumbra of macabre allure. Sharp points and twisted claws weep corrupting toxin and precede degeneration with a myriad of oculus’ that seem to perceive through aura as well as sight. To be unguarded in the presence of such an embodiment is to feel, utterly and inescapably, tinged with dread and some suffering crippling depressive ruminations. The emotions are so woven in proximity that to claim them as your own or the aeons is futile.

...and with creation there would be death and decay, and as beginnings are messy, so shall be the end, for all creation is subject to time and fate, especially the mind…

It’s own intentions are muddled in an impractical translation of other to human; maddening and virulent. It isn’t evil in so far as it’s incomprehensible and noxious; transcending our own ideals of morality and aligning with natural progressions. It speaks in a symphonic lament that recalls something both sinister and intimate in most. Personnel in contact with the aeon are consistently rotated as it seems a reverse Stockholm syndrome often comes into play.

C ᴏ ʀ ᴇ

A S S A S S I N

O ᴠ ᴇ ʀ ᴅ ʀ ɪ ᴠ ᴇ

D A E M O N I U M V I S
Limit break induces an appearance of coma on the girl. The essence of Amentia and Xcavairn splinter outward in an all out empathetic assault; entering, enslaving and adapting the bodies of the recently deceased [human or other] within an unknown proximity. If there is no readily available dead then the critically wounded will do. It harkens a process of decay and atrophy, delayed enough to make the husks useful either in an assault or protective capacity.
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