Avatar of CronicCrystalis
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    1. CronicCrystalis 12 yrs ago
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A faint groan could be heard as Cronic picked himself up off the ground.

"What in the nine hells is going on...?" Cronic said, rubbing the back of his neck as he got to his feet, looking around, making a note of the people present, but more importantly, the talking white rabbit.

",,,Did someone spike my drink...? This ain't my hotel room." Cronic said to himself, rubbing his right eye sleepily as he kept his distance from both the rabbit and the others, his common sense telling him to stay away from them.

"Who knows, maybe I'll wake up in a few minutes, and this is just one messed up dream." Cronic thought to himself, as he sat down on the grass, not caring about what the others were doing, staring off into the distance.
Name: Zerenis (Jack of Clubs)
Gender: Male
Appearance: His attire resembles that of the Jack of Clubs off a playing card, with a few notable differences; His attire is mostly black with purple accents, and he is pale skinned with long, jet black hair and purple eyes. Tattooed on the back of his hands are the symbol of clubs.
Arcana: Strength
Power: If he feels that the odds are stacked against him, he'll respond in turn by amplifying the force of his blows by channeling purple flames across his arms and legs, drastically increasing his striking power.
Weapons: His bare hands and feet.
Personality: Zerenis prides himself upon his strength of body. He believes that the best weapon you should hone is yourself. He cares little for weapons, choosing to fight with punches and kicks over blades and bullets. He despises being underestimated above all else, simply because he's unarmed. That's not to say he's entirely without mercy, but he will only show this mercy one time.

Persona Name: Titan
Persona Appearance:

Persona Skills: Skull cracker, Gigantic Fist, Assault Dive
Character Relevance: Emphasising Zerenis' belief in strength of body, Titan adds more options for Zerenis in a fight. He doesn't seem that keen on Titan having a sword, but, in his own words, "You get what you're given."
Name: Crobalt Nicholas "Cronic" Crystalis

Age: 18

Gender: Male

Appearance: Brown, shoulder length hair with blue eyes. Has slightly pale skin. Stands around 5'10.

Attire: Wears a blue trenchcoat that's torn in places, mainly around the lower half of the coat, dark grey trousers and a vest, along with dark green shoes with black soles.

Arcana: Star

Weapon: Twin swords, attached to sheaths attached to his waist.

Personality: Calm and focused. Never seems to give in to despair, no matter what, and has plenty of self confidence. When it comes to people he doesn't know, he's naturally suspicious of them on account of his background, not wanting to be quick to trust someone he doesn't know in the event it comes back to bite him later. To those who have earned his trust, however, he's a reliable ally and friend, being more open with them, and would gladly stand back-to-back with them in a fight.

Backstory:
"Hope won't die as long as we're still standing."
Having a harsh upbringing, Cronic quickly learned who to trust and who to avoid like the plague. But he never once let go of his hope that his life would take a turn for the better. And it eventually did... After he slipped into wonderland. He counts himself fortunate that he was able to escape from wonderland. He knows the score though, and he's determined not to give up so readily.
Persona:

Persona name: Saturnus

Persona Appearance:


Persona Skills: Agi, Maragi (For now)

Character Relevance: Cronic's Hope is his strongest asset. He's never one to give up as long as he continues to draw breath, and won't let anyone try to bring him down.
At the time, Cronic was sat upstairs fashioning some leather strips, his sword and his bow leaning against the wall he was sat against. Due to the lack of activity today, he'd gone off mining ores to pass the time in preparation for smithing up a storm at the forge just down the street when Aria called upstairs, breaking his concentration. Not saying a word, Cronic stood up and headed downstairs, spotting the cat immediately, letting out a sigh.

"At this rate we're going to be rationing our own food again..." Cronic said, as he began to prepare a small meal for the cat.

"Can't say I'm looking forward to eating stale bread."
I'm game. Though how this'll play out remains to be seen. I'm optimistic about it though.
Name: Crobalt Nicholas Crystalis
Aliases: Cronic
Race: Imperial
Gender: Male
Age: 24
Appearance:


Faction: The Odd Jobs (Full time)
Weapons:
Seldom seen without a sword or a giant bow that he carries on his back. Said bow he never uses because conventional arrows just don't fit it. He's been trying to figure out what the bow is supposed to shoot, but isn't aware of it's ability at this time.
Magic:
Adept level destruction and restoration magic
Equipment/Items:
A few potions, a pickaxe and a blacksmith's hammer.

Backstory/Personality: Raised in an orphanage since he was a baby, no-one knows who left him at that orphanage or why. The only thing they had was a name for him; Crobalt Nicholas Crystalis, and a massive bow with a spike on the end of the lower limb. No-one ever adopted him, so when he became old enough to fend for himself, he went off exploring the world, learning the way of the sword, the bow, and the Blacksmith. His travels had taken him to Whiterun, and at the time, he was a little scrapped for money, and happened to notice the Odd Jobs, so he joined the organization looking to make some coin, all the while furthering his expertise in his weapon proficiencies and the smithing trade.

Typically calm and level headed, Cronic usually only ever talks if spoken to first. Mainly on account of being lost in his own thoughts. Due to having no idea who his parents even are, or even if he has any family, he has no clue who he really is, or what purpose he'll serve in life. His nomadic lifestyle is the only thing keeping him from dwelling on it too much.
"Outnumbered and potentially out-gunned. Smart men would flee when facing those odds." Calthorn said, spinning his sword around a few times as though it's weight was non-existent, before stowing the blade onto his back, turning to look at Ami and Hinata.

"You're unharmed. Good. But that guy will be back with reinforcements soon enough. Right now we need to get you two to the Shrine, ASAP. It's not safe out here." Calthorn said, sounding relatively calm despite being ready for a fight barely a few minutes ago.
Count me in.
"Duly noted. But just make sure you've okayed that with the captain and the rest of the crew first, alright?" Cronic said, a small smirk visible on the side of his face.

"Military regulations and all that. A problem I don't have, but still..." Cronic said, before scratching his chin in thought.

"Since I don't do things military, if I tried to pull what Maddox did, my crew would disagree with me and they would not be afraid to let me know it. As for the Extended Maddox pretty much left to die, I doubt he'll be so willing to work for Maddox again. Hell, the only reason he probably stuck by Maddox in the first place was because of the maintenance beds."
"Were it so easy. Cronic spent a lot of time trying to chart where the ship went. He's narrowed it down to three possible locations, but right now we just don't have the time to spare a search party. Not to mention a lot of our guys are busy helping cart resources to various ships in the fleet. Be it materials for upgrades or consumables like food and water." Mark said, folding his arms.

"If he had any pair of balls remaining, Maddox would come back to face the consequences of what he's done. While the task force may have intimidated the ETs for now, once they're done licking their wounds, they'll be back in force. I'm worried the new units won't be ready for deployment by then. A wounded beast is an angry one, afterall."
"He's in a room adjacent to this one. Though at the moment he's in a limited version of the maintenance beds used to keep Extended in top form. Courtesy of Maddox running off with his tail between his legs, leaving him to rot. The Junk Guild and the CSC pretty much had to pull that thing together in a hurry, and even then it's not what he's accustomed to. Calthorn's used to enduring the pain, but by the time we'd finished the thing, the poor bastard was barely able to walk. It's unlikely he'll be back on his feet in a hurry." Mark said, folding his arms.

"At the bare minimum, we'd need a copy of the schematics of the original machine to be able to create a perfect replica. Something we don't have."
"We'll see to it that we get transport to the ship as soon as we can. Lucia, try not to bear hug her. Remember she's likely to still be recovering from her injuries." Zerenis said, a smile visible on his face.

"Thanks Cronic. That's the best news I've heard all day."
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