Hawlin

Order From Chaos. (Want Magic? Demons? Werewolves? We got it here and more!)

@Nytefall
Raidcal. I just put 'subject to change' as to say that I was willing to make changes if something didn't work with the rp.

Order From Chaos. (Want Magic? Demons? Werewolves? We got it here and more!)

Subject to change

Name: 'Sir' Alexander Sinclair (Alex for short, though prefers to be called 'Ahnciel')

Aliases Chronologically

Actual name: "Aarkenhan D'Ahnciel Nyvaal"
"Black Ambers on High" (Original callsign, nobody knows this)
"No Sky Too Dark" (The rough and shortened translation of their actual name from Aylvic)
"Wolf in sheep's clothing"
"Condemned Commander"
"Alex"

Age: 73 (Appears 16-20)

Description

Alexander stands at a physically unimposing 5'2. His hair is sheen with what seems like white but fades to a light blonde or deep brown as the hair length catches the light; the follicles holding a mild bioluminescence. It holds a slight wave to it and is usually worn about longer than average, about down to his shoulders. From that protrudes long bunny ears with similarly colored fur, though the short hair is mainly light blonde with little to no bioluminescence. The bushy fluff of his tail shares these qualities. Deep amber eyes with a sharp sapphire blue ring around the edges, though this is obscured by their glasses designed to eases stress on the eyes from all the time they spend staring at monitor screens. Their other eye is a brilliant mint green which is almost an obvious cybernetic prosthetic, most noticeable with how the iris rotates to constrict or dilate the pupil. Kaite is often clad in old regulation attire which, by appearance, take great pride in their work and care to upholding the image (Although comes off more adorable than respectable due to their build as well as a strange foreignness as its greatly out of place in the world they find themself in). An adaptation upon request was to add an inch to the heel of his boots to make him seem that much taller...he is considering switching back due to looks he's reportedly been given.

inspiration

Gender: Male

Race: Lapin of Aylv

Magic: Artificial Cryomancy

Equipment:
Glasteel Hextech Prosthetic arm (Frost Varient)- Tenchnologically bends ley-lines in an elementalistic fashion to hypercondense various sources of moisture into what would seem like cryomancy. The 'wand arm' has its limitations and thresholds, though is still a vicious implement of warfare until such limits are reached.

Dermal grafts- Various 3rd degree burns caused by being shot down twice earned Alex an armored dermal reworking. Only a few nanobots inhabit their system to maintain and repair damage to the porcelain-textured flesh that makes up his being, nearly as resilient as kevlar.

Personality: "Sociopathic Gentleman Soldier" is the easiest way to sum up 'Sir Alex' who is more often than not straight to the point and professional to the letter, taking great pride and respect for the cause they've been 'enlisted' into. However, they are still very young to the world and the workings of people, and is easily taken aback by the factor of emotion. In their original placement in their home dimension, they'd learned to wield emotions rather than have them. This isn't to say that they are lacking in charisma, empathy or feeling, only that they have a stark two-face where they put business before the former. Many see this as cold...cold calculations with 'humanity' worn as a mask over it.. He is otherwise curious of subjects out of his field of expertise and is quick to excite at potential opportunities to know more about the world he lives in. Alex has a profound distrust of robots and humans border-lining fear for reasons which there are many theories regarding...none of which he will entertain. He speaks with a slight German accent.

History

Old Dreams of Distant Fish

I wasn't the strongest or fastest, and I certainly wasn't the only one. There were more, maybe twenty at one point that I know of. It was usually very dark, making it difficult to tell how many of us there were, at first. Sometimes one would go missing, or they would come and take a few at a time. None of us understood why some came back and some didn't...not even me, and I was one that came back.

I kept coming back, being lead down the noisy halls of machinery and howling beasts. Down to 'my room', where I learned; the needles in my spine, the clamps to hold my eyes open, being allowed to see only what and when they wanted me to. My first year was the hardest. It wasn't so much the process as it was the topic; used to the procedures, the topics of war, anatomy, physics and humanities bombarded my senses. I'm thankful for most of it, although it quickly made my world quite lonely. Many of the others didn't speak, or were barely even aware where they even were. I 'graduated' to living in a cell, since it got to a point where it was considered inhumane to have to pick me out of 'the pits'...or more arguably, to put me back in. Four walls and a ceiling never seemed so welcoming, especially considering how I could see them. Teachings changed after that to genetics and experimentation...and the Newman project. Truthfully, it was easier to understand and accept once I was just told that, yes, I was a clone being held prisoner for experimentation, my brothers in the pits are borderline mindless animals and no, I was not special, just chosen for a different task.

Tasks...I was shown reports of the others' tasks and the testing involved. 039 Was a drooling mute of a hulk that ate bones and needed little oxygen for hours while it was left to toil away, lifting weights and fighting other rejects of its kind, often to the death and often unprovoked. He's the oldest. 055 is...like a rodent, so to speak, you know, if it doesn't chew on something, its teeth grow into its brain. There was apparently an attempt to replicate this effect with an entire skeletal structure. They could never figure out how to stop the growths besides grinding them down after they start piercing the skin. I heard talk of bets being taken; apparently it wasn't uncommon for terminal malformations to occur. It wasn't unlike 042 whose endless bouts of energy pushed them to run until their muscles gave out. They supposedly died from a heart attack a few minutes later. Needless to say, those lessons stopped after a short time, but it still left me wondering just what was the plan for me? I felt fortunate, how ever lame dying from a chess game sounded, that whatever I had been tailored for didn't require me to suffer like the others...and then the implants came.

The dull pains in my head and chest made it hard to sleep. It was nice how I barely saw them coming, but whatever they had done, it was...different. In some instances I shook so violently that most sensation washed away besides it. I was always so cold and sick for a time after the bouts that I almost couldn't stand. The machines debated about rejection, though it was proposed that bioware implants often had rocky acceptance stages to installation, especially when the endocrine system is involved. The events gradually diminished my resolve, and by the time it happened, there was little I could do to fight the hands that stuffed me into what I came to know as an 'escape pod'.

By this point, Alex was only two to three, developed through accelerated growth hormones which left him diminutive, stunted for life. Finding himself in league with 'The Beasts of The Legion' which were an uprising of sentient clones. Many of them were monstrous with very few exceptions which allowed even the mildest semblance of grace. They started as a pirate sect which preyed on human transport ships while working their way up to form trojan-horse attacks on frigates to swiftly gain power.
'Alex' lost his actual innocence after being taken prisoner during one of the raids. The months that followed detailed mangling torture and a bloody escape to ping the flotilla for rescue.
He was found gnawing on the bones of the bridge staff, the ship hopelessly locked down after he'd initiated it and killed those who could undo it. Alexander...or 'Ahnciel' as he was called as a nickname from then on ("Amber Eyes". One of which he'd lost through the torturing process). From then, he was promoted and reconditioned to be a full soldier of the legion where others fitting his...appearance...ran various desk jobs since the Legion sought to preserve the grace in its cause by using the 'Aylv' (Translates as "Grace") as their figurehead.

An accomplished fighter in marksmanship, swordplay and even piloting, 'Ahnciel' was greatly feared and respected as a symbol for his kind since he would often lead the charge on raids against the human fleets. Many battles under his belt have been won due to his choice intervention and technique...until one instance.
On the final pass on a human flagship, it initiated a rerouted self-destruct sequence by routing the process through it's warp coil in the hope to expand the devastation and scatter the section of the Legion across the galaxy.
Closest with a few of his wingmen, Ahnciel was dragged into the event horizon which spat his ship with himself out onto an alien planet. This was only the first stop of three.

This world is his third stop in his attempts to find his galaxy where he belongs...and there is no way to tell if he was ever right or where in the galaxy/dimensional flux he would even be if he was.
The uncertainty weighs heavily on him as he looks for the means to press on while, at the same time, seeking a place to stay.

-I may change the pic

Witch Hunter - Aldergard.

Ah yeh. Sucks when that happens. :T

Witch Hunter - Aldergard.

Eye contact broke in nearly the instant it was made. If passing glances were difficult to cope with, the deliberate act considering their proximity almost made Kaite trip over his pillowy seat as he made to take a step back. On the surface, the extra height of the shoes came off as unwieldy and almost pointless. Truly, it wasn't meant to navigate within ships, though the custom design's double purpose made it difficult to actually consider giving them up. 'Hammer heels' were the idea, merely fancying up steel-toed boots to even the soles, being trained in footwork and kickboxing made them surprisingly effective in catching opponents off guard as a few of his sparring partners could attest to. Shame about the cracked ribs.

Out of his peripheral vision, Kaite watched her interest shift from his face to something on the floor behind him. Instinctively, most people would try to hide secrets although the cold reasoning twisted reality for the diminutive hunter to see her attention towards the otherwise complicated squiggles as more of an opportunity to show he had nothing worth hiding. "Yes- " he began, pivoting to sweep the book up with one hand to offer a closer look, blowing on the nearly dry ink as he continued, "...Iz such a long journey, zehr iz so little to do." Kaite's tone softened as he gestured subtly with his eyebow and a tiny nod of his head to Aundair while they waved to the deckhands who seemed to be conspiring against him or whatever they thought they could do to a selected hunter. The motion was more to draw attention from the sketch which he gently shut away with the picture while holding a finger between the cover and the first page, just in case. "It keeps me out of trouble" he joked along with the context of the others either growing more outwardly bitter by the hour by subjecting themselves to silence or other less productive activities.

Kaite usually had little trouble when it came to emulating other people's emotions to fit the situation, but the crushing boredom and tense silence of the mission looming on the horizon truly left him with so little to do that he felt himself slipping. Open sky, stable ground, maybe a tree? It all sounded so inviting that it may as well be a dream with how long he'd spent in the guts of the ship.
"Ugh...solid ground" he thoughtfully mused, finding himself scanning the group the way others had, though the motion was more for appearances since it was a lot to take in while considering he knew practically none of them.

Jubilee: Space Voyager

Ah, okay

Jubilee: Space Voyager

Actually, I'm debating with another idea after reading your characters, though I doubt the lore behind it would make sense enough for the character to be allowed on the ship.

Edit: should I pm the idea?

Jubilee: Space Voyager

I would definitely be down for running as an Altoran science officer if there aren't too many of them kicking around, already. :o

Anything special to know about them outside of whats on page 1?

Witch Hunter - Aldergard.

With an awkward groan which came off like cleaning their throat in an 'ehem' fashion, Kaite reopened the otherwise empty book. It was odd to be around strangers for so long with little introduction between them only to have all of them comically hinted at getting to know each other. What resulted was almost as tense and strange like a first-year fall formal. Nonverbal cues, glances of varying demeanor and emotion, the dance was on for each of them to a different tune which sparked a dull chill of loneliness in the gentleman hunter. Most of the strangeness he felt for the situation was the silence. No introductions or even words aside from the loud game of cards that seemingly escalated to the point of a blade being drawn by one of his associates. Kaite felt better off by simply leaving everyone to sketchily eye eachother and trying to keep his eyes down to resume tapping on the parchment. Meeting glances at this point in their journey was one of the worst things he could imagine happening at the current moment since there seemed to be an unspoken finesse to it which he simply didn't understand. The last thing he wanted to do was give anyone the wrong idea by accident.

A woman's voice drew him from a flourish he had started working on in the inside cover since the question was a valid one. If the island was hopelessly besieged at one instance, why should any town or settlement exist? Additionally, how sophisticated would any settlements they stumbled upon be? Or were they truly expected to step off the boat swinging? While Kaite hadn't considered asking questions, he was certainly curious of any information he could glean from other's inquiries. The one who'd asked was the rather tall woman he'd made a point to subtly avoid for a number of reasons which he considered good ones. To start, he was self conscious of his size and felt personally threatened by a woman being almost a foot taller than himself. Their readability often gave him a number of mixed emotions towards her, given his cynical lens. In all, he was more skeptical of her than anything...and it bothered him that he had little to base his feelings on other than mild insecurities.
It wasn't until he noticed her following suit with the others to survey the group and their eyes briefly meeting Kaite's that he realized he'd been staring and swiftly retreated back to the drawing. A tiny hobby, drawing calligraphic depictions of simple things like a shark, in this instance, helped him appeal to a part of him which he frequently ignored due to its darker tendencies. Tilted just right, the sketch merely looked like waves crashing against rocks as the beast was shown to be coiling with jaws agape to catch a humanoid figure impossibly smaller than itself who merely walked into its torturous maw.

Oh distant fish~

Content with their work, Kaite knuckle-dusted the damp ink with a crushed powder of ashen salt to help hasten the drying of the depiction and give it a dim silvery hue and foggy appearance. Blasphemous prayer through artistic rendition, who but old fishermen would know the patron deity of luck without being guided through the waves...so to speak.

Truly genuine fondness in his expression was broken by the footfall of Virtura, moving to clap the book shut before simply setting it aside to keep the ink from smudging all over the first page. "Ye- yes?" he stammered with a hint of surprise, lifting their leg and pushing off from their lounge to elegantly rise to their feet with a click of the metal soles of their boots on the nails in the floor. The nondescript scent of their scarf was mostly attributed to having been recently washed, carrying only the faintest ghost of scents' past which blended dully together to come off as something between lilac and honey.
Kaite paced for a step or two, inspecting the armor as a hand felt at the laced belting of his own cuirass' sides. A spark of understanding glinted across his expression as his eyes trailed up her physique from Virtura's waist to her face. "Ah, je" his tone chirped, mirroring her demeanor in an attempt to compliment her demeanor. With an awkward bow of his head to hint to gentlemanly respect, he placed a hand to her side to guide the plating of the leather armor together while flicking the belt open with a thumb. More focused on the work of latching the straps, he only once looked up at her face. "Iz zeis..." Kaite began, biting back his expression of being out of their comfort zone as well as the temptation to let their hand roam beyond the purpose of holding her armor together while the other hand affixed it to her form. "...Yeh, it looks right?" he asked, unsure how she normally keeps it and composed in his discomfort with the possibility with having to fix a mistake he was certain he did not make.

There was a an odd regard when it came to women, knowing that they tended to be judgmental on some level. In this, he'd simply rather not have word spread of his strangeness while still doing his best to aid the imposing tall figure. It was always a bother when instincts sought to rend control from his composure, and the exotic robust nature of the Elderblood's appearance did little to help.

"Ehrm...My name iz Kaite. Pleasure to be ouf your acquaintance" Kaite offered with a hand to shake once he finished securing the final latch. As far as introductions went, this was as good of a time as any. The way he saw it, kindness and pleasantry was a rare commodity which would be invaluable in earning trust, and with it, allies.
Speaking from that notion, the distance felt towards the majority of his associates was so deeply untrusting that he was just as cautious of them as he would be around any stranger, hunter or no. The book with the grim flourishes on the exposed inside of the cover laid open by his pack though obscured by the pillows to the rest of the room's occupants other than maybe Virtura.

Witch Hunter - Aldergard.

I could probably have a reply post ready in another 30-60 minutes, but I'm a little unclear about if there is a posting order and if someone hasn't posted. Don't want to leave anyone out ;>_>

EDIT: Yup, just sitting on a post.

Witch Hunter - Aldergard.

@Conflagration
I am definitely not staring at your post with big gross judge-eyes. @__@

Nawh, ya did great with setting the stage.