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I guess my comfort zone is "eccentric side character."

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Name: Alexei Zhukov



Age: 13

Grade: First Year

The child of General Sergei "Train Puller" Zhukov, Alexei was drilled from a young age by his father to be the model of a Yekataria soldier. Alexei always wanted to live up to the mans expectations, and so was ecstatic when he was accepted into Military academy. Unfortunately while many cadets wash out of the academy on the basis that they could not use their ability effectively Alexei was the first who would have passed if he had stopped using it. In many ways he was a model student: punctual, polite, obedient. Always had his affairs in order, aced all the fitness requirements, always striving to go above and beyond what was expected of him.

If only he would stop with the damn Wild Magic.

Maybe it was a way to show some individuality, or the strange and varied effects were to tempting for someone who had lived life so rigidly, or maybe it was just a desperate determination to show that such powers could be useful. Whatever the reason he never missed an opportunity to throw around his wild magic and it would inevitable go wrong, such as giving himself an unquenchable craving for seawater or causing rain to rise from the ground into the sky for an afternoon. The last straw was opening a gate to the Elemental Plane of Fire while making camp and causing an all night battle with a an endless stream of fire elementals. After that he was unceremoniously booted from the program for disregarding orders and being a "disruptive element."

There arn't many people for whom Zarkov is the second choice, but he needed it. If any school could teach him even vague control of this unruly ability it was the Tsar's own.

Core Power: Wild Magic

Whenever Alexei uses his power roll 1d10000 and consult this list. The rolled effect happens. If the duration of the effect is not specified assume it eventually wears off unless the players of those affected wish it to be permanent. Effects that do not fit the setting (anything to do with gold and platinum, for example) are open to interpretation. No effect is instantly fatal unless stated otherwise. Particularly ruinous effects are subject to divine intervention.
Name: Alexei Zhukov



Age: 13

Grade: First Year

The child of General Sergei "Train Puller" Zhukov, Alexei was drilled from a young age by his father to be the model of a Yekataria soldier. Alexei always wanted to live up to the mans expectations, and so was ecstatic when he was accepted into Military academy. Unfortunately while many cadets wash out of the academy on the basis that they could not use their ability effectively Alexei was the first who would have passed if he had stopped using it. In many ways he was a model student: punctual, polite, obedient. Always had his affairs in order, aced all the fitness requirements, always striving to go above and beyond what was expected of him.

If only he would stop with the damn Wild Magic.

Maybe it was a way to show some individuality, or the strange and varied effects were to tempting for someone who had lived life so rigidly, or maybe it was just a desperate determination to show that such powers could be useful. Whatever the reason he never missed an opportunity to throw around his wild magic and it would inevitable go wrong, such as giving himself an unquenchable craving for seawater or causing rain to rise from the ground into the sky for an afternoon. The last straw was opening a gate to the Elemental Plane of Fire while making camp and causing an all night battle with a an endless stream of fire elementals. After that he was unceremoniously booted from the program for disregarding orders and being a "disruptive element."

There arn't many people for whom Zarkov is the second choice, but he needed it. If any school could teach him even vague control of this unruly ability it was the Tsar's own.

Core Power: Wild Magic

Whenever Alexei uses his power roll 1d10000 and consult this list. The rolled effect happens. If the duration of the effect is not specified assume it eventually wears off unless the players of those affected wish it to be permanent. Effects that do not fit the setting (anything to do with gold and platinum, for example) are open to interpretation. No effect is instantly fatal unless stated otherwise. Particularly ruinous effects are subject to divine intervention.


Bak calmed down as Rurik made his way back over to them, but didn't let any of that built up tension leave her body. She stayed focused on the entrance he had come from, and waited. Then she heard the pearls of laughter creep over the walls. Andras's declaration. Demon magic. Bak laughed back, just as loud. She swung her bandaged arm forward, pointing it right at the hole. "GYAHAHAHAHA! Come out of that hidey hole then, witch, and I will show you why all your kind in Yekaterina whisper in fear of the monster Tsarevna!"

When the angle appeared in the doorway Bak hesitated for a moment. That was not a witch. That was not witches magic. Theses lying vigilantes, taking away even the fun of shooting a witch! Nevertheless there was a resounding BANG. The bandages and plaster of the cast Celestine had so graciously prepared for her scattered in all direction from the force of it to unveil her new FLAK gun. The projectile soared across the arena, went wind, and slammed into the wall beside the angel in a burst of black smoke and shrapnel.

She scowled. Glancing quickly over to her shoulders camera. Her other shoulder camera.

There was the one for the thermal vision located under her artillery guns, but the one next to the missile pods was for something much more important: targeting. Bak wasn't a professional shooter, or a soldier, or even a hunter. She was the much more dangerous Enthusiastic Amateur, and so she relied on that little piece of technology to help properly aim her incredibly unwieldy guns. Poor thing was working hard, but she wasn't used to the kick yet. Maybe she should have practiced with it first.

Oh well, it wasn't as though she was short of bullets.

She shot again and again and again, each time getting a little more of a handle in the kick. The space around the angel was filled with airborne explosions. "Send out more chickens, I will pluck all of them!"

@Crowvette@Hammerman@KillamriX88@rawkhawk64@Bartimaeus


"Da, this is good plan too." Bak said, trying to not let it show how uncomfortable the chill now creeping up through her parts made her. It wasn't as though Christine was hitting her with it directly this time. It meant they were basically betting it all on demolishing the other team, but that worked for her. After all, they couldn't defeat their flag if they couldn't fight back.

Because they were all beat up.

All beat up and apologetic.

"Nyet, this is fantastic plan!" She cheered, flipping back on her thermal vision to keep track of where the enemy was coming from. Against the blizzard that Christine had whipped up they would stand out even more. It was then that she felt a nudge from behind and moved obediently forward. One red blob moved out from behind her and made its way across the field. "Rurik?" She asked, but it didn't give any reply or indication that it heard her. Definitely him then.

"Rurik, if you move so far out I will not be able to defend you." She called to him. She kept a closer eye on the red blobs representing the enemy, then a concerning thought hit her. "Wait is this like rooftop demon plan?" No reply. "If this is like rooftop demon plan I am against it."

Then suddenly, her vision went red. Totally, completely, incandescently red! All the blobs of head in her vision were engulfed, vanishing into the general signature. She gasped and cut the vision, re-tuning her eyes to the cold, now slightly snowy ground on their side of the field. What was that? What had they done? For a moment that hateful red inferno from the roof flashed in her head, fleeting visions of how mangled everyone had gotten in that fight. "Rurik come back come back come back come back!"

@KillamriX88@Hammerman
I still ain't dead!

I am, however, posting from a tablet a nice group of mormons gave me while I wait for Sprectrum to repair my internet lines. This means I can't get on discord because it dosen't like me logging in on other devices and won't see fit to send the email that I could use to resolve this problem, even though it keeps assuring me it has. So I'm afraid you guys are still without me on the front, I don't know for how long. They keep assuring me the lines will be fixed in two days and have been doing so for a week and a half.

Basically, carry on as normal and keep up the good work while I try to resolve these issues.
Can't talk long. I ain't dead
@Stern Algorithm

"So, maintenance!" Eldrid said as he walked into the infirmary, whipped off his cape, and in one smooth motion tossed it over a chair in the corner. The chair, unbalanced by the weight, tipped over and clattered noisily to the floor. Eldrid looked at it for a moment, them unbuttoned his shirt and threw it on the pile. The symbols on his body didn't stop at his face, a larger pair was painted across his surprisingly well-defined chest. "I hope you don't mind the war paint." he said, starching his arms above his head and cracking his back. "I'm sure it won't throw off a big impressive robot like you."

He spun around. "As you can see, I've got no cyber parts so I guess this should be easier than what you're used to dealing with. Or..." he stopped, leaning forward to get a good look at legion. "Is it more comfortable working with metal for you? I'm just curious, I've never really worked with an AI. I always imagined working on a machine would be more uncomfortable for a free machine, like the sight of guts disgusts a human being. That's how I wrote it, anyway."
@Letter Bee

Some one-on-one with the medibot seems fun, yeah.
"I can be sneaky, but I'm certainly no specialist." Eldrid said. Really, it only took one look at his garish get-up to know where the boy fell on the spectrum between quiet and LOUD. Most of his stealth during the war had been the kind where you hunkered down in a half-collapsed cellar praying the armored footsteps moved on soon. Desperate stealth, that was it. Hiding because there was no other option.

Eldrid shook the memory out of skull. No, he wasn't that frightened boy. Neither was he that pragmatic soldier. He was Eldrid the Wizard now.

"I could disable a tank or two though." He said with sudden, unshaking confidence. "Provided I get close enough to lay hand to it, which shouldn't be a problem if I'm careful. I could also do something about that numerical advantage they have on us, depending on how much time we have before we arrive and...Legion, you said you were an engineer. Do you keep rivets on this ship? Or nails? Any good quality bit of metal that you can stake into the ground? I'd need that."
No time like he present to get to fighting.
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