Bingelly

Paradise Lost

Vitiafa of Endiohon & Iorosinn of Vendarrdech

---

Vitaifa rested against the wall of the station, taking some of the weight off her leg and providing a reprieve from the soreness that had been building through the day. The blaster rifle she had borrowed from Lopez remained slung over her shoulder as she and Iorosinn took position just before the docking tunnel, keeping watch for any crowd forming up. The larger marine had rested her heavy blaster on a crate by its bipod, and the gunner was ready to take position on a moment's notice.

Producing a pack of cigarettes, Vitaifa offered Iorosinn one from the pack.

"Do you smoke, marine," Vitaifa asked, breaking the silence between them as she pushed off the metal corridor. "A few men in my company used to smoke. They claimed it helped with the stress."

"No I don't, one of my uncles smoked himself into a grave. He just couldn't quit it." Iorosinn answered, taking her eyes off her watch to look towards the older kiel, "Though speaking of family, do you think any of yours made it? I think ma and the youngest of my siblings got out, not sure about the rest."

"Ah," Vitaifa replied with a sigh as she pocketed the pack. The sorrow in her chest writhed uncomfortably. "I was on Eden when Euphrades fell. I have not heard word since. I've prayed for them, but it's been to no avail."

"I wish well for them too, Only reason I know my two made it out is that they were on Eden proper, the other five and dad, I have no idea?" Iorosinn said with a shrug, leading into a sigh.

"It is hard, and will be hard for all of us, but the Traveller blesses the lost." Vitaifa said. "Our people have endured exodus to new stars before, and our families shall hopefully reunite."

"Yeah, here's hoping we do." The marine replied, her tone clearly a bit dour, before returning her attention back to the watch.

Empire of the Clouds

Zoe Spyroe & Mitunbaal Vasiliou

---

The steady thrum of the engines was the only noise in the cabins until it was broken by a gentle knock on Mitunbaal's door. Waiting, politely, on the far side was Zoe Spyrou who, unlike the rest of the the crew who were caught up with more important matters (whether real or perceived), had remembered the other woman's request for a bowl of hot water and a coffee. She had both on a silver tray, a bone china mug to one side, a glass bowl on the other, separated by a neat hand-towel imprinted with the mark of the airline who had operated the Dirigible prior to its recent conversion to a military vessel, "I do apologize for disturbing your rest, Miss Vasiliou," she greeted amiable, "But here are the things you requested.

"You have my gratitude, Miss Spyroe" Mitunbaal replied. "Please do come in."

Mitunbaal had clearly made herself a little bit more comfortable in the cabin, having taken a spare pillow or two and a second blanket from somewhere else aboard. A portrait of Pavlos V had also been hung on one of the side walls. Small icons had been set up on the little nightstand beside the bed. A leather bound journal remained centered on the orderly, though now clearly used, writing desk while a lacquered wood-turned pen stood as a lonely sentinel in a little cup.

Mitunbaal herself sat up in a light set of sleeping clothes. Her long black hair, usually kept tight under her headscarves, currently hung messily behind her shoulder.

Mitunbaal hid a yawn as moved to sit onto the side of the bed and gestured for Zoe to join her. "I imagine you have more than a few questions for me now, no?"

Zoe set the tray down carefully on the writing desk, her eyes flicking curiously around the icons, "I do have one or two questions," she confessed, though she didn't lead with one, "You know, there's stories one of my ancestors was gifted, though I've always been a bit skeptical about it. Sometimes there is a grain of truth behind these stories. At other times the stories are pure fabrications to allow a family patriarch to feel important. Set it back a few generations and nobody knows!" she declared before adding, "You know Mister Carter and some of the others will probably want to leave and go running back to the Main as soon as they can. He'd want to take the ship no doubt, but that might be a bit difficult if we're putting down in Mitteland."

She didn't explain that. She didn't need to. The Mittelanders were allies of the Empire and were very unlikely to allow someone to waltz off with Imperial property, "Anyway," Zoe continued, "I have resolved not to flee. Even though I am nobody of any particular importance in the grand scheme of things, I still have a part I can play," she paused for a moment before declaring, "Getting a portion of the gold out of Calarian hands was my patriotic duty and I'm worried if I do half the things in my head, that I'll end up encountering people who really don't like me very much. Would you consider allowing me to hire you to act as my healer? "

"And what exactly are you planning to do, Miss Spyroe," Mitunbaal asked quietly. The Shariq looked over to Zoe with a mixture of surprise and genuine interest in the proposal. "Someone of little importance usually doesn't need to keep a blessed healer on retainer. We are both patriots," she gestured to the portrait hanging to the wall. "I have no interest in losing one of my people's homes yet again, and I would surely find out once an agreement has been struck?"

"Oh I think I recognise that one," Zoe stood up to inspect one of the icons, carefully picking it up, "Pretty, wasn't she?" she remarked, turning it to Mitunbaal before setting it down again carefully, "With this ship and this gold, we have the potential to save the Empire... or destroy it. I don't have everything planned out yet, but the first step is to make sure we have a like minded crew aboard."

"Andronika the Restorer. It's a face I have seen a lot of recently," Mitunbaal commented as she watched Zoe carefully. "The elgan cavalier served her as well. He's a fellow patriot and has been an interesting conversationalist so far, when he is so gracious as to entertain it."

"Did he?" Zoe looked impressed, "That must make for a fine conversation. I will have to convince him to invite me for dinner," she smiled brightly, "I'm not asking for an answer to my offer now. Though I'd ask you to give it some consideration. There will be a reckoning of sorts, when we land in Mitteland. That country shaped the destiny of the continent once before. Perhaps it will again." She paused for a moment, before asking, "What is it like?" there was another pause as she reached across for the coffee she had brought, passing it across to Mitunbaal, "The gift that is. I think I'd be scared of it. I don't think I could handle the weight of responsibility it carries. Of needing to choose who lives and who dies."

"It is a blessing beyond all others, it be chosen by God in such away, though it's often a curse," Mitunbaal answered. She eagerly took the coffee from Zoe. The warm mug brought life to her now pale finger-tips, providing respite from the unpleasant, tingling numbness in her hands. "I've endeavored to keep the gift secret the best I can. For concerns of my own safety, you see, not out of selfishness. The atheists or the anarchists, who have become so fashionable in certain circles these days, would likely kill or reject that which they deny. Let alone organized criminals, who would commit unthinkable sins and extort me to lend aid until I bled white? Providence's blessing were vital in my travels in the rough country of Xaq-Shariq, the blight still lingers in some forgotten corners of my people's homeland."

"On a different level, I think I understand why you would want to keep it a secret," Zoe nodded emphatically, "Your gift makes you valuable to certain people and the value they apply to you motivates the unscrupulous and the greedy, some of whom we have on this ships."

"Indeed they are," Mitunbaal added after she took a long sip of the coffee. "I pray their greed is not our downfall, but I am capable of defending myself should the need arise."

"I am... not really," Zoe confessed with a shrug, "But Mitteland should change the equation."

Paradise Lost

@Dyelli Beybi

Nine

Nine

Name: Jane Doe (0XU-45-ZQ39) "Nine"
Species: Human (Burnt)
Sex: Female
Age: Estimated 25 Terran
Role/Job: Custodian
Appearance: This lady puts you in mind of a deep ocean. She has wide yellow eyes that are like two chunks of aged ivory. Her hair is white, trimmed in a simple pageboy style. She is very short and has an athletic build. Her skin is pale. She has thick eyebrows. While corporate office environments will dress them up as maids and butlers, malls and starships typically assign them dark gray coveralls with black steel-toe chukka boots, a simple cloth cap, and a pair of white gloves.

headshot

Strengths and Weaknesses

Skills: Besides basic custodial duties, she practices kata and plays chess in her head. She thinks she was once security, or something like that. Encrypted burst communications implant - restricted frequencies (not compatible with existing tech).

Weaknesses: Burnts (short for freezer burnt) are semi-successful revivals of bodies frozen in the long-ago past that while alive, appear to be only barely conscious and of limited mental faculties from ice crystal damage, only capable of performing menial work. As robots are banned, they're generally assigned to government and corporate offices as custodians. Burnt-abuse, while illegal, still happens.

Doesn't talk. (Mute?)

Unexplained power dips (lights & displays flickering momentarily) and bursts of radio static around them.

Background:

Major Incident Imari Manufacturing - recovered fragment

"...What we know is that Agent ██████ went to the Imari Manufacturing Complex to investigate some sort of discrepancy in Building 29. We got ██████'s distress alarm and dispatched a Rapid Response team to ██████'s location, only to discover she had been flash-frozen despite numerous safety protocols that should have prevented it from ever happening."
"Industrial accident?"
"Or something hurriedly set up to look like an industrial accident."
"And the discrepancy?"
"...We can't find it."
"So it all died with ██████"
"Not quite. The doc says that recovery is possible, thanks to the ████████████ process. Medtechs have already shipped ██████ up to Tartarus."
"Excellent. How soon until ██████ is revived?"
"It'll be weeks or even months. Even with ████████████ it's delicate work."
"Do keep me apprised of your progress."

Communications Report DD-214A-2B-9A-FF-31-01-AA

"Jack, what's the meaning of these orders?"
"Orders? What orders?"
"About ██████! Got this order stating we're to suspend all treatment and place the body in stasis until further notice. We just got her thawed and began ████████████! It's not good for ██████ if we stop things midway."
"What?! No order like that passed through my office! Where is ██████ now?"
"They're about to put her in stasis. This didn't come from you?"
"No! I think our network has been compromised, send me a hardcopy, understood?"
"Underst...!"
"What's going on?"
"I don't know, the engines are firing, we're moving out of orbit...!"
<<<Communication Loss>>

Secure Channel DD-214A

"Priority override - Authorization:█████-███-██████ I don't know if you'll receive this, but I'm hoping this will be in your buffer when you wake up. We don't know what's going on, but someone is trying to remove you from our records and have overridden the controls for Tartarus. I can't be sure you'll even remember your own name once you read this. Your mission is to secure the ship from all external threats. Good luck, ██████."

Van Baalen Salvage - Comms log

"This ship's been through the grinder, but their reactor's still putting out some decent power. We're going to make a killing salvaging this!"
"Bram! Bram! Get down here, quick!"
"What is it, baby brother?"
"There's a woman down here!"
"A woman? A dried up corpse?"
"No! Alive, unconscious on the deck! She just fell out of a stasis pod! I think she needs help!"
"**** me, are you kidding me? If there's a live person on this hunk of junk, we can't claim it as salvage!"
"I think she needs medical help, right away Bram!"
"Listen, we can't afford to lose this salvage, Gregor! Drag her ass down to one of those cryopods we found in the second hold and stuff her in. We'll claim we found the pod in some other wreck when we turn it in."
"But...!"
"Don't give me no butts! We need the money Eden'll give us for this."
"But...!"
"Gregor, it's either she gets stuffed in a cryopod, or it's out the airlock. I'll let you make that choice."

Revival

She was still sweating as they strapped her down on a table, almost like she'd just come out of a hot bath. Falling...

"W.... this?" someone snapped. Masculine. A bit whiny.
"Uh, Jane Doe," a different voice said. Soprano, harried. "All we have is a number, 0XU-45-ZQ39."
"What? Not even a file for this one?"
"What can I say, Doc, they couldn't find one."

She subtly checked - her limbs and torso was bound. She could feel the hum of a motor for the platform she was lying on. For what?

"Another lost file! Why do I only get the lost ones? Fine. Inject 5 milliliters of Adrenaline, bring her upright and let's wake them up.
First the table moved, then there was the pinch of the needle. After a moment, she opened her eyes.

"BWHAAAAA!" A figure in an Oni mask and a lab coat lurched forward, hands spread like claws. She stared back, unflinching. He took the mask off and leaned in, staring hard at her, then scowled.

"Nothing! No response what so ever!" he said, turning to the woman working at a console behind him. "Another burnt! Get her off to the ward and find me another icicle with at least a spark!"

Two male attendants she hadn't seen before stepped up beside her, undoing the straps, then picking her up and placing her on a gurney, quickly strapping her in. She could hear others approaching with another gurney, but they were already in a hallway.

She could see the ceiling. Oh good. But at some point, they were going to unstrap her again, and then she could escape....

She frowned. Escape... to where? Where was she? Who was she? Was she this 'Jane Doe'? It didn't feel right.

"Okay, boys," a new voice asked, sounding bored. "Who is this?"
"No file," one of the attendants unbuckling her straps said.
"Great, another one. What's the number, then?" he asked, impatiently.
"0XU-45-ZQ39..."
"Nine, perfect. Put her in that bottom bunk. Broom school for you tomorrow, deary. Let's hope you can learn to mop."

No robots, I figure someone's gotta keep tidying up.

Note: make a few small changes to remove mention of nanites.

@Expendable

Accepted after some discussion.

Paradise Lost

Character App

Character Description

Name: Sumris of Teriani
Species: Kiel Ettec (mutated variant of the Ettecean Moth) - A large and long-lived—though not traditionally sapient—species, found in the forests of Kikkar, is known to undergo a chimerism metamorphosis where multiple larvae coalesce into a single pupal mass. Strangely, there seems to be traces of Kiellar genotypes in this particular specimen…
Sex: Chromosome pairings seem to vary depending on where cells are sourced, though they claim to be female.
Age: 83
Role/Job: “Fake” credentials? Identity theft? Has anyone even seen one of these bugs before? Regardless, they seem to be one of our non-iced Navigators.
Appearance: Standing around 7’ tall, they appear frail and lanky behind the masses of chitin and fuzzy sensory fibers. Bulky wings fold crudely behind their back to make way for movement in less-than-open spaces, and similar membranes can unfold from their head to enable expressive body language. A set of mandibles folds elegantly along their mouth to mask the jagged teeth-like edges of their exoskeleton that allow them to eat.

The Bug In Question

Art by Shi (Huan) Shenyu over on artstation.

Strengths and Weaknesses

Skills:

Navigation Specialist - Astrodynamics, applied mathematics, years of experience aboard the SS 2393-08—a freighter owned by the shipping company “DwarfSun Carriers”—and several industry-standard certificates. Beyond the portfolio carried by their name in the remnants of Eden’s systems, they boast many practical skills: memorized starmaps, lidar operation, and even basic maintenance of common navigation equipment, to name a few.

Quirks of Nature - The effective use of four arms and their subsequent use of that many hands comes with a small advantage in both daily and work-related life. Thick pads of chitin covering their body provide an incredible buffer as biological armor, though it still fails to compare to the well-researched and standardized body armor used by security personnel. By far the most utility they gain from their chimera physiology is in their exotic neurology, possessing a structure both capable of putting that many limbs to use and allowing them to go significant amounts of time without rest.

Weaknesses:

Quirks of Nature - With eyes developed for low-light conditions and nocturnal hunting, well-lit spaces are quite the headache for the insectoid, and their large wings make for a distinct disadvantage in some of the ship’s narrow passageways. Additionally, it makes them completely unable to even awkwardly stuff themselves into one of the onboard EVA suits without at least some amount of self-mutilation.

Background:

Backstory:

Red-stained cigarettes rested in the mud, and the thin paper had already started to melt away and return to the dirt—as all things eventually do. A sickening crunch broke through the idle sounds of grinding mandibles tearing away, and it was trailed closely by a brief wince from Sumris. There wasn’t much she could feel at this point between the shock and scorched nerves, nor could she care. It wouldn’t help, anyway.

She twitched a finger enough to kick at the butt of one of those tubes, knocking half of it away as the wet thing tore itself apart. Blasters were such a cruel weapon. The scorching-hot plasma effortlessly converted flesh to ash, but it cauterized the wound in the process. Without a sure-fire fatal shot, a poor few were left to wait—and worse than that. Think, and reflect.

All that time in the academy, the years working in the dim-lit control stations aboard corporate spacecraft, the people and faces she met along the way… Just for it to come to an end at the hands of some pirates. Boarded, blasted, and then dumped off one of their landing shuttles into some deep chunk of forest.

’What a waste,’ the thought was weary, accompanied by her gaze lazily flicking toward the sound of some shifting grass. More forearm-sized things were inching over, probably drawn in by some pheromones released by the one that had already been feasting away. Maybe they were some type of caterpillar? It was hard to say with the fucked-up nightmare fuel ring of mandibles it had for a face. She didn’t know much of this world beyond the view from the spaceport.

A dulled sigh left her lips, and the eyes of Sumris drifted shut for the last time.

And sometime later, the thing that thinks it’s Sumris of Teriani tore through the thick silks of a cocoon with large stinger-like protrusions from its upper set of arms. Tough layers of grey and black chitin existed where pale skin should have stretched and deformed under their movement, and the feel of their tightening muscles beneath that exoskeleton hinted at the absence of bone. Even stranger, though, was that none of it felt unnatural…


---


There was so much panic aboard the waves of survivors disembarking the countless streams of evacuation shuttles that security couldn’t keep up. Plenty of eyes cautiously traced the towering insectoid, but with the simple swipe of a standardized identification card at one of the spaceport’s entry terminals, any residual concern toward what was effectively an unregistered species slowly faded. Many didn’t know, and others didn’t care. The world was ending, after all.

Word spread of Eden’s remaining government scrambling to put together a crew for a colony vessel, and from there, it didn’t take much for Sumris to take on a last-minute contract.

@CreatureFeature

Tentatively accepted.

Paradise Lost

Vitiafa of Endiohon

---

Vitiafa was content to sit and listen while she drank the glass of chilled wine provided to her courtesy of a megacorp's expense report at the end of world. The heavy, full-bodied red was rich, jammy, and fruity. It wasn't to her tastes, but it did provide a momentary relief from the heat as she gathered her thoughts.

"This is just another evacuation we are planning," Vitiafa said as she finished the glass, "let us treat it like one as the gods have never blessed mere bluster."

"Send our two pilots and two," she held up two fingers for emphasis, "of us inclined with engineering to the ship, they shall try to get it running. The two EDF ground personel can secure the boarding tube. Comms Specialist Velia can send out a message about the evacuation after they gave taken position, while the rest of us gather up supplies as the outsider has suggested or be present to help control and guide the the crowd at the boarding tunnel."

Empire of the Clouds

Mitunbaal Vasiliou

---

Mitunbaal released her grip on Aden as she finished healing him. Panting as she did so, she gently let the man fall limply into the bed. His breathing, at least, had seemed to stabilize as she stepped away from the private. The tired smile on her face carried some satisfaction at a job well done once again.

"He should wake whenever he finds the energy," Mitunbaal softly spoke. "Being shot, I have found, tires the body fiercely, even if I treat it with this... unconventional method of mine."

She awkwardly stifled a yawn of her own as she turned her attention directly to Zoe. The Inburian's curious eyes met her own suddenly fatigued ones.

"I would happily answer any questions you might have, Miss Spyrou," she said. Pausing to look down at her sticky blood-red hands, she chuckled before adding, "Though I would like a clean rag and a bowl of hot water first, if we can spare it. A coffee would be lovely as well. Private Robertson is not the only fatigued soul in this incident."

Paradise Lost

Character Description

Name: Iorosinn of Vendarrdech
Species:Kiellar
Sex: F
Age: 50
Role/Job: Edenite Marine
Appearance:

Enjoy a low effort photo manipulation

Strengths and Weaknesses

Skills: With fresh combat experience, training, and strength, Iorosinn is a capable combatant.

Weaknesses:

Background:

Backstory: Born to an agrarian family on Euphrates, Iorosinn was one of seven children, the last of the group. She went through a normal kiellar childhood of being in the assorted scout organizations and entering Militia Service upon turning 20. Her militia tours were spent policing the brush for wildlife, with the occasional response to primitives or the odd pirate den. After 8 years in assorted militia units and not a lot of prospects on the world, Iorosinn applied to the Edenite armed forces, applying what training she received to get her foot in the door.

Her military service matched her militia service in terms of eventfulness, with the vast majority of it being sent as a support detachment to assist the militias against more defensive primitives or sent as a team to a known pirate outpost. When the metacer returned, she was deployed to stem the tide early in their arrival, but in the action, her unit was overrun. She and the rest of the survivors were withdrawn back to orbit to tend to any injuries.

@Imaria

Accepted, I guess... :b

Paradise Lost

Vitiafa of Endiohon

---

From the window in the station, Vitiafa stared down at the surface of Eden and felt the enormous sorrow tightly knot itself in her chest. A year ago, Eden was lit by a well ordered network of cities and towns forming an almost geometric web of civilization across the planets surface. It was a long built and hard fought prosperity that was now being wiped clean by the Metacer below. The darkness greeting her, interspersed by out of control fires, brought her localized conception of the ongoing apocalypse into the global scale with all the weight and tragedy it deserved.

"What unknown hubris of ours wrought this fate?" Vitiafa vocally mused before wiping the sweat from her face with a cloth. Was it some hidden sin by the central government that brought this curse on the Edenites? Was it arrogance regarding security due to a relative and splendid isolation? With a sigh, she decided these would be thoughts for later.

As she turned away from the window, she eyed the arrangement of busts behind the empty podium. They stood out in the otherwise spartan setting of the station's kiellar temple, most anything of artistic or aesthetic value would have been taken or built to a more permanent location on Eden or out to one of the colonies. She read a stern disappointment in the Patriarch's dour look, while the Mother seemed to look back with a sorrowful reassurance. The Twins seemed to match the circumstances around them with a grim determination as many a fighter most assuredly did over the past few weeks. The Traveler's confidence was still etched into the ceramic. He would still move on, as he had so many times in so many odysseys.

"Our fate shall mirror that of our Terran ancestors, so guide us on this exodus," she added before grabbing her luggage and making her way to the door out of the small temple. She paused just before crossing the threshold, and twisted one of the rings off her finger. She dropped it in the offering bowl with a satisfying clank.

"ESS 3822-01," she vocally confirmed with herself, "our last ship out."

---

Vitiafa was uncomfortably sticky with sweat by the time she arrived at The Drink, and was scowling quite intensely. After placing her luggage next to an open seat with what care she could muster, she took one of the increasingly few open stools. She flagged the bartender with a wave of her hand. "Wine, just a glass please," she placed her card on the bar. "And it should be chilled, ideally.

Paradise Lost

Pretty much good-to-go, although to be honest the backstory felt like it got a bit too ramble-y for my liking!

Fihlyn

Character Description

Name: Fihlyn “Flynn” Numosath
Species: Aquarian (Quessir)
Sex: F
Age: 29
Role/Job: Assistant Pilot
Appearance: Like most Quessir, Fihlyn has smooth-scaled, iridescent skin that shifts hue in the light—her own tending toward shades of blue and violet. Her fingers and toes are long and webbed, and her eyes, wide and dark, are adapted for low-light vision. Outside of water, she wears a compact hydration suit that leaves her humanoid form visible, but maintains a delicate sheen of moisture over her skin. The suit includes a clear bubble helmet that maintains a humid microclimate around her head, at least allowing for her expressions to be seen.

Strengths and Weaknesses

Skills:
Piloting and Navigation - Fihlyn is the first Quessir certified for deep-space piloting. While she excelled at theory, her access to practical training was limited - most systems were never designed with her physiology in mind. Her current assistant role aboard the ESS 3822-01 is the closest she’s come to operating a true starship, a position earned only after tireless lobbying from her family.
Swimming - While Fihlyn isn’t considered exceptionally skillful among her kind, the Quessir are naturally gifted swimmers and divers. Her biology allows her to breathe oxygenated water, and to dive tens of meters without much effort.
Low-light vision - The Quessir evolved to live in the shallows of their watery planet, where the sunlight can be significantly diminished. As a result, they adapted to see better in dim lighting, although bright lights can lead to disorientation and discomfort. Their vision is not quite as well-suited for the night as the Kiellar’s, since the Quessir can also rely on their other senses while in the water.

Weaknesses:
Dehydration - Like all of her kind, Fihlyn cannot survive out of the water for extended periods without technological assistance. While a Quessir can go for days on dry land in the damp and humid regions of their homeworld, this isn’t the case in environments built for the species of Eden. Particularly dry and hot landscapes, like deserts, can be a swift death sentence.
Outsider - Fihlyn is a fish-out-of-water, both literally and figuratively. Among Edenites, she is treated as a curiosity at best and an inconvenience at worst. Her hydration suit marks her as different; every hiss of its compressor, every awkward button-press with webbed fingers, reminds her that this world wasn’t built for her. She tries to hide how exhausting it is to always smile through dismissive stares.
Fragile- Compared to the Edenite species, Quessir have a fragile physiology. Their bones tend to be more delicate, although their warriors are capable of building significant muscle through training. It goes without saying that Fihlyn is not one of these warriors.

Background:

Backstory:
When Fihlyn was a girl, she would gaze up at the night sky from the surface and imagine herself swimming among the stars.

Born into a prominent mercantile family, Fihlyn had more contact with the offworld Edenites than most of her kind. The Quessir were still adapting to life in a broader interstellar community, even a century after first contact. But Fihlyn never knew a world without aliens. Her father’s trade expeditions often brought her close to the dry-land colonies, where strange creatures walked and spoke in clipped, foreign syllables. She was fascinated. While most Quessir remained beneath the waves, content in their cities of coral and glass, Fihlyn wanted to understand the ones who came from above.

Despite decades of predominantly peaceful trade and communication, contact between the Quessir and the Edenite colonies was still limited. The dry-lands that the Edenites preferred to settle were of little interest to the Quessir, and the aliens themselves needed bulky equipment to visit the locals’ undersea cities. But Fihlyn’s father was a vocal proponent of increased cooperation, and he saw relaxing the restrictions on trade in technology as a way to accelerate his world’s industrialization. Fihlyn inherited her insatiable wanderlust from him, alongside a stubborn work ethic. Without any translator nanites, she forced herself to learn enough of the Edenite’s language for basic communication. The effort earned her praise from her father’s prominent contacts, who took to Edenyzing her name to “Flynn”.

Eventually, Fihlyn came of age and had to decide upon the course of her life. For a woman of her standing, a strategic marriage was the traditional path. But Quessir society was changing as it industrialized, and there were other ways in which Fihlyn could fulfill her duty to her people. She’d always been smart, and had consistently performed well in her studies - she wasn’t quite ready to put a stop to her education when there was still so much more to learn.

With her parents’ support, Fihlyn enrolled in university to pursue her studies further. She had her eyes set on a particular prize, though: a new program that allowed a limited number of Quessir to cross-enroll in an Edenite college. As part of her acceptance, Fihlyn would finally be provided with translator nanites of her own - albeit with their efficacy dulled after being injected into an older host. She made no secret of her intention to go on to fulfill all of the requirements needed to fly and navigate a starship. It was a qualification that no other Quessir had obtained before, and she was determined to be the first.

While Fihlyn hadn’t expected the program to be easy, she wasn’t prepared for the isolation. Although she made friends among the other Quessir students, she was the only one of her species pursuing her particular program and it took time for her to make friends among the Edenites. Worse, while Fihlyn could pour herself into learning theory, she found that she struggled to gain any practical experience. Nothing had been designed with a Quessir’s biology in mind - none of the training simulators, nor any of the craft that they were being taught to pilot. She wore a hydration suit that clung uncomfortably to her skin, always too hot or too cold. Her webbed fingers slipped on touchscreens never meant for her. Her instructors barely concealed their reluctance to accommodate her needs, and while some students were curious, many kept their distance.

There were days when Flynn considered quitting. But she kept showing up—early, soaked, tired, alone. She learned to observe more closely when she couldn’t participate. She shadowed her classmates. She filed appeals. And she found an unlikely ally: a human lecturer with ties to her father’s trading network. The woman became a mentor, quietly bending rules to let Flynn into restricted sessions, advocating for her when others wouldn’t.

In the end, Fihlyn’s experiences didn’t deter her. She learned how to stand up for herself among the Edenites, and how to treat things with an optimistic attitude. She graduated close to the top of her class, much to the surprise of those peers who had all but dismissed her. The achievement gave her a small dose of celebrity among her people, and she even received a congratulatory letter from the Emperor himself. Fihlyn would find opportunities to speak to younger Quessians - with some going on to follow in her footsteps - while promoting a keener interest in space travel among her kind’s leaders.

But the reality wasn’t quite as grand as Fihlyn had hoped.

Though certified, Flynn had no true flight hours. Her physiology remained an obstacle. Interfaces, seat designs, safety protocols, all calibrated for dry-land species. Even the most forward-thinking Edenites hesitated to hire her. Why reconfigure a cockpit for one Quessir, when dozens of qualified Edenites stood ready?

She spent years grounded, working odd positions on short-range craft, watching the stars from orbit but never reaching them. Her role as an assistant on a low-orbit tug was technically historic, but to her, it felt hollow.

Then, at last, the tides turned.

The Edenite colonies on her world had expanded, pushing toward the sea. Tensions flared over access to deep-sea resources, and negotiations followed. As part of the resolution, the Emperor offered a gesture of unity: a new colonial expedition, with Quessir among the settlers, and one Quessir on the crew. Flynn’s father had a hand in brokering the deal. He made sure his daughter’s name was at the top of the list.

And so, Fihlyn would finally get her chance to travel among the stars. Her first destination: a shipyard in orbit of Eden itself, where a colony ship was waiting for her to join its crew as an assistant pilot.

@Bentus

Happy to accept, welcome aboard.

Paradise Lost

Vitiafa

Character Description

Name:Vitiafa of Endiohon
Species: Kiellar
Sex: Female
Age: 160-ish
Role/Job: Priestess
Appearance:

My Hider

Strengths and Weaknesses

Skills: Vitiafa’s soldiering skills may be incredibly rusty, but she’s a very old hat at handling blasters and blades and can be deceptively good at fighting, at least from a fixed position or for a short time.

Vitiafa is understandably well-read, and brings an understanding of Makerism and several human strains of religion in addition to her kiellari polytheism.

Her extremely rural background and sometimes semi-itinerary lifestyle has taught Vitiafa the ever valuable skill of cooking well.

Weaknesses: Completely blind in one eye and stricken with an often noticeable limp in her gait, the older kiel suffers from her old wounds. Running, though far from impossible for someone still as physically active as she is, proves to be quite painful.

Her pride makes for a volatile mix when combined with her injuries, and unprompted aid is likely to earn scorn rather than gratitude.

Background:

Backstory: Vitiafa’s life began on one of Eden’s older colony worlds, Euphrates, being one of the middle children to a family of farmers providing foodstuffs for the Edenites. Her childhood was marked by long days in the field and home, dutifully toiling with her family to earn what the gods would bless them with. A proper kiellar upbringing involves scouting youth groups and preparation for at least a small stint in the military, and Vitiafa was no exception to this and took the craft well enough.

She served briefly in one of Euphrates’ local militias, which mostly consisted of eventless patrols and glorified pest control duties against the wildlife. It is an honorable service, to be sure, but it was nothing exciting to the young Kiel, who had done pretty much the same thing prior to joining up. Instead, Vitiafa turned to the central military for the adventure she silently craved in the infantry.

To say Vitiafa received what she wanted would be an understatement. During a raid on a pirate base, she had taken point into one of their labs and received a splash of acid to the face for her troubles. Her immediate reaction was a piercing screaming before adrenaline surged forth. With gritted teeth as her flesh boiled and bubbled, she brought her carbine on the target rushing her with a knife and yanked the trigger. Almost instantly, she dropped her rifle, reached for her canteen and doused the side of her face. The cool relief lasted for merely a moment as the acid was diluted, before the coolness of the water and the very air burned her as equally as intensely.

Vitiafa was about to find her way to triage when a grenade smashed through one of the windows.The resulting blast left several pieces of shrapnel in her right leg and severely damaged her right foot, which essentially ended her time in the infantry. Her devout upbringing led to a hard pivot into religious studies. She spent the rest of her time in the military as a chaplain, where her curious nature led to private research into other faiths among those of Eden.

She returned home following her discharge, and rejoined her as one of the priestesses at her local temple and the local militia. As she grew older, and more experienced, her time was spent increasingly away from home. First, in larger communities on Euphrates, then even on trips to Eden’s cities. The cosmopolitan nature of the military and her service as a chaplain served her well in the diverse urban settings, though part of her longed for the simple life of home while she was away.

It was during one of these visits to Eden when the metacer threat reemerged and blitzed their way to the world. Her first thought was to rejoin the front, bolster the morale of those fighting the hard fight, and perhaps die facing the foe. An extremely heated debate with her superiors, however, convinced her to acquiesce to the idea of evacuating.