Hawlin — Roleplayer Guild

"Ah! Sehr..."

Ahnciel looked up from the formal ration. Though it mostly consisted of meaty condensed pulp, the form on the simple table served as a welcoming enough of a meal. "Y'ah-jeh? Iz zehr some vehy to..." Ahnciel began to express, meeting the gaze of the commander who'd yet to touch their meal. Their expression was prying, having been simply watching them eat before taking a few bites after being exposed. "Mmh...yeh, vee haf...an idea. Eit considers you and your skill, ehn, if I may, you haf zee tact of an artist, zough...ehm" the commander began to explain, the flicker of a forked tongue from scaled lips denoting his hesitance to address his situation. However, his eyes tilted and narrowed to watch Ahnciel as they had their fill. "Vee haf...goals- neh, vee haf...hmm..." the commander began, eyes looking away as they watched the younger lupine variant finish their meal. Saline solutions would only get the stomach so far and the contents wouldn't go to waste.

"Zeht...?" Ahnciel pried with a lifted eyebrow, the synthesized sustenance doing its part in the place of the nothingness that once took its place. However, the patron hesitated as they set their chopsticks and knife down with a long sigh. "Vee are on trajectory vith a human settlement-" the commander began with lifted brow-regions before the lapin interjected; "Ehn vee vill...." he began, unsure of his next words based on his host's expression.
"Vee vill do nohszink..." They coldly replied, lifting a hand as Lapin soldiers grabbed him from each arm upon the conclusion of his meal. "Ch-ch!" the commander clicked as to invoke the guards to follow him, each lifting Ahnciel by his arms.

"Vith zeh fate ouf zeh fleet in your hand, I vould hope you understand; sehr faeir hare..." Ark chirped, ears folding back as they pressed a hand to Ahnciel's cheek while he was toted off.
"Vaht!? Vaht iz zeis? Iz zehr some sort ouf joke? Stop!" Ahnciel barked, carried along hallways and stuffed into an escape pod. "Shh! Sh sh sh... vee need you to for someszink special ehn-" the commander tried to explain before Ahnciel spoke up. "You vould sell me to zehm!? No sky may be too* dark for you! May none! Drift forever, oh lost!" was the most Ahnciel could manage as a case of provisions was tossed in with him. He tried to escape but was shunted back with the butt of a rifle before the hatch to his case was closed and welded into place.

"Shhush! Shush! Sh-" Ark attempted to appeal to the hysterical kin stuck in the pod that was loaded into the railway. "Shut up!" the commander barked, a forked tongue incidentally lapping against the glass in the motion as they pounded on the glass with both fists, meeting Ahnciel's eyes. There was a moment of stillness before the commander pressed a wad of apoxy to the glass and a small chip to fit into its mass before slicking a large sticker over it all.

"Ve vould never just leave you adrift. You have a week or two of provisions. Vee vill come for you in one" the commander sighed, muffled behind the plexiglas before giving two swift pounds on the vessel. A warm-blooded lapin came to check a few metrics on the ship before looking up at Ahnciel with an empathetic glance. "Vee vill find you, you vill not be lost" he murmured from behind the glass before the blast shield shut and the vessel was swiftly fired into space.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 1
Day one...Ahnciel is violent and scrambles across his setting, initially looking for an exit before verbally coming to terms that 'out' would not be the best direction at this time. He later cracks open their case of provisions and seems distraught. A three week ration of water and a supplemental four weeks of sustenance bars brought them to tears. 'Existing' is not on their list of priorities as they abstain for the day and the next...

3
After laying mostly motionless, Ahnciel chooses to eat. Mostly cries as well as voicing unbecoming notions of uncolorful declarations against the Fleet. Mostly cries. Mostly cries. Mostly cries. Mostly cries.

4
Mostly cries. Attempts to claw at the ship's visor and paint visages of perceivable satanic origins in blood on the walls. Mostly cries. Eats a double ration and sleeps.

5
Mostly sleeps or cries. Does not eat.

6
Mostly sleeps or cries. Does not eat.

7
Eats and taps into emergency oxygen in the place of standard life support for two hours. Cries then sleeps.

8
Eats. Sings. Does not sleep.

9
Sings

10
Sings

11
Sings. Eats. Sleeps

12
Cries. Sings. Eats. Sleeps

13
Sings. Cries. Sings. Eats. Sleeps

14
Mostly sleeps. Eats. Sings. Sleeps.

15 
...


Laying against the window, Ahnciel counts the seconds it takes to rotate in order to face the distant lights that have been growing over the last few days. It seemed that he had been dumped relatively close to a settlement of some sort, though time and rotation made it difficult to gauge how close it might be to the point they were launched.
The idea of hurtling towards humanity filled Ahnciel with an unbecoming fit of contempt that showed in the way of a violent screaming fit and scrambling all over the cab of the fancy pod. He took the time to take advantage of the onboard cleansing section before redressing himself in re-cleaned attire, clawing and gnawing at the seat in frustration for his position in another person's war. "V-vould not be here...iz zeh spire...v-vould zeh...ehn...hhrrRRRNNN!!" the black box would record, the officer anticipating his own malice as he viciously gnawed on the seat as well as savagely kicked at the offline interfaces.
Though the steel soles of his small boots did a number on the unpowered panels, notihng would stop his trajectory.

Name: Ahnciel '074' 
Age: appears 16-17 (22ish)
Ahnciel stands at roughly 5ft often clad in a large white hooded coat "Lab coat". The coat itself comes down to his knees and is kept with the hood up to obscure traits. The coat is cut to the shoulder on the right arm where a porcelain-esque plasteel prosthetic works from. Questionable for its function and even moreso for its infliction on morale, Ahnciel is almost always clad in a gas mask which he explains as being standard lab gear. 'Standard attire' has him in his fleet-scientist garb included below.

The Rebellion of Thirteen Winters


The entirety the faction, all stemmed from the liberation from Triganavia.
Triganavia is where it all began; Initially, a facility orbiting Venus was responsible for offering to solve food crises as well as grafting vanity by genetically engineering human-animal hybrids as livestock. Coupled with advancing technology, it was quite lucrative and simple to make the clones until the idea came to try to manipulate the code to make different kinds of clones for other purposes. Labor, soldiers, the like. In the process of giving a few subjects sentient capabilities, there were a plethora of morality issues within the staff. It only took a few instances of trying to help the subjugated creations before they rose up, learning to play dumb until given the opportunity to attack.
After the facility fell, transport ships were used as trojan horses of sorts to wander about the solar system and engaging in pirate-esque doings to gradually build onto their 'fleet' with newly hijacked ships. The code for their own creation in their hands, they made creatures designed to run the flotilla's functions. The beasts are made without grace or finesse and are often highly unstable...when they work.
This "Fleet of Thirteen Winters" is savage and occasionally splits to cover more area as well as evade total destruction since very few of the 'Creatures of the Legion' are skilled pilots, making them fairly easy picking for civil defense where numbers fail them. Contact usually ends poorly due to their profound distaste for humanity and bouts of self-righteousness. However, successful diplomacy has been made in small instances usually in the ways of slave trade and the exchange of technology and other elicit activities such as smuggling. Whatever they can do to keep afloat.

The patrons of the Legion are small humanoid variants called 'Lapin' who stand around 5ft tall on average though sport animalistic traits usually involving ears and tails. The original products of Triganavia, they are stable but few. They serve as the face, mind and soul of the legion since the rest mostly consist of horrific genetic abominations of questionable intelligence and sanity. Often soft spoken and willing to talk rather than fight, they are the oldest of the variants and understand the need to survive at any cost. However, the Legion is mostly known from the end of the abominations who serve as vicious, expendable soldiers who've been responsible for numerous grizzly boarding parties and occasional demonic effigies left painting the walls of smaller ships. Left as warnings or to denote territory, its widely unclear why they do it...or if they were simply taught to do it and do so, instinctively.

The lapin have a slight bioluminescence to their hair which is normally white with amber, blue or greenish hues and eyes for reasons that were ideal when they were originally created. Being small and glowing in the dark made it nearly impossible to hide from or fight their scientist keepers back on Venus. The newest versions tote sharp upper and lower k9s as weapons in a pinch, though they are the most disciplined when it comes to marksmanship and swordplay. Lapin are almost never seen as the crew of the ships they run defend them with ferocious conditioned devotion.

Politics differ greatly from one section to the next.


The capitol of the Fleet. The pride and joy of all those still sane enough to know they're free. Ran tightly by the Lapin, the Spire is a fixed up Sol Flagship that was pieced back together numerous times with various expansions. While it may not be the fastest ship in the sea, you'd best answer the hails since the Lapin are a highly distrusting and paranoid type. They'll trade, but have no use for money and hate having their time wasted. Arrogant little creatures, the Lapin would rather overcome their problems and 'benevolently' offer help where its begged for than ever ask for aid. Their pride is as tough as the Spire's hull and intuition keen like a razor. If pirates had a uniform government, this would be its capitol. 
This capitol, adrift and a legend whispered by the perceived psychologically unsound, host to the 'Nightmare Machine' where the twisted aspirations of all that the shadow of the word 'Hate' can cast itself upon. The Spire is the main factory for the Fleet's workforce, the abominations. Experimental weapons of various sizes and shapes dot the vessel. Some work, some even work well, some are just there for decoration and are unpowered, but regardless, the Lapin aren't afraid to use them if they feel threatened.


At some point, the genetic code to produce undefined unstable horrors was made to make them more intelligent. The idea was that they'd be more aware and considering of their value. Instead, the monsters of the Legion realized the Lapin assigned to govern them in their away parties had been giving them the raw deal. Their handlers are used as figureheads while the Legion of beasts wage unholy piracy upon most they encounter, taking over ships and steering them back to the capitol for later collection and dismantling. As beneficial as this is for the capitol, the Legion is met with nothing but shame for their actions, as all that humanity has to base the Fleet on is the barbaric horrors brought about by insane monsters of various shapes and sizes. A check in the mail to remind the Fleet of all of their mistakes while their kin suffer as slaves.
The Legion is volatile and inherently hostile to humanity. They would size up targets before striking, but are not above blind aggression, even against insurmountable odds.


Every society has their secrets, even the newest of them. 'No Sky to Dark' is a peace keeping crew of the Fleet that openly boasts their colors: A black hull with a white underside and a thin strip of red and green around its center. A mark of a crow skull is painted in a tribal manner on its wings. 'No Sky to Dark' is a compact frigate that serves to hunt down rampant Legion ships that no longer answer to the Fleet's directive. As all abominations will eventually spiral into discord, the effort must be made to clean up mistakes. This frigate is jury-rigged with a tether mine (a trap to misalign ships' navigation and magnetically spiral), two long range flack cannons as well as two chambers for short-range drill-torpedos to cut through hulls and kill crew on a pass for the sake of salvaging their target. Standard weaponry includes a single experimental gauss cannon on a 180 degree backward swivel to cut through weaponry and hull after a pass.
Rudimentary and esoteric in its design and tactics, No Sky to Dark has peaceful rules-of-engagement in regards to humanity, since its primary mission is to undo the Fleet's mistakes...violently. However, its solid crew of Lapin do not tolerate interference. Interlopers into its affairs are certain to receive uncolorful and aggressive questionings on the behalf of one 'Commander Aarkenhan 131 Nyvaal'.
"No Sky" is the most advanced and properly manned/armed/nimble of the Fleet of Thirteen winters. For its size, it is easily a palpable threat with a singular mission. For all of the animosity that the Fleet has towards humanity, No Sky is its best attempt at an apology: an olive branch in one hand and a revolver in the other.

Skills:
- Advanced biomechanical background: "machines all have working parts and anatomy is no different. The pluming may change as well as the parts, but taking something apart will certainly give reference to put something back together...right?" Well versed in anatomy, though to a lesser degree with first aid, Ahnciel can probably pull a bullet out of you or fix up a damaged cyber limb. Don't expect it to be painless or pretty, but he gets the job done with minimal residual damage. His experience is better suited to work on 'aberrant' anatomy, but with the understanding of how a cardiovascular and digestive system works, a small hint can go a long way in putting something/someone back together.

- Scientific backwards-engineering: "Does the working version work? Does math and science explain how it works? Do we have the material and means to replicate the technology's function? I can give you the most compelling eighty-seven percent certainty that you'll ever know. If not, I will make it work!" Ahnciel's job back on the nameless wreck he was pulled from was to jury-rig technology into working order or pry the useful components out of scrapped cybernetics for later repurposing. Hes not much of an inventor, but, given enough time and the right tools, could probably dismantle a ship and put it back together in mostly working condition. Still, with specific instruction, he could serve as a fairly competent mechanic.

- Diminutive stature: Where others may be large and imposing, all Lapin are trained to take down larger targets. None of the Fleet's patrons are fully unarmed, and all fight with a makeshift martial arts which is often hit or miss in its potency. Beyond this, the Lapin are more keen on hiding and running than combat; because of this, the warriors of their breed are all the more imposing. The Lapin are trained in free running and guerrilla tactics but suffer heavily in actual hand-to-hand combat without the element of surprise. Most Lapin are skilled in swordplay, especially fencing as its seen as a 'gentleman's sport'.

- Prosthetic 'Arm'ament: While Ahnciel is poorly trained and/or experienced with projectile armaments, the proficiency with his prosthetic arm's built-in UV cannon serves well enough as a photon shotgun of sorts. Its original design was to house tools in a compartment located in his upper arm while the forearm is equipped with a UV emitter. The emitter is intended as a flashlight with a nearly infinite battery as long as he takes time to charge it, though enough tinkering converted the device into a respectable weapon to be used in a pinch. The integrated battery will only hold about two pulses with the third one potentially offlining the arm. Rapid succession will offline the arm due to overheating.

Starting Equipment:
- An oversized space suit equipped with 12-18 hours of air.(Soon to be lost)
- Apollo-Archetype "HexTech" prosthetic arm: Full capabilities of a normal arm as well as a chargeable pulse rifle which charges off of UV light. The blasts bombard targets with condensed UV energy, roasting biological material while leaving technology mostly untouched. *Includes an integrated repair/salvaging kit.
- Medkit with an unconventional stock
(Subject to change)

Bio: Ahnciel is number 74 of the most recent batch produced by Triganavia before its fall. His existence began more like the rest of his kind with harsh cognitive conditioning to understand anatomy as well as engineering, this has led to a strangely unfair confusion between the two at times, though mostly in the anatomy department.
With the establishment of the Spire, due to the lack of personnel, Ahnciel was mostly responsible for functioning with the team that collectively combined the flagship's control to a central point. While he is knowledgeable of all of the Spire's weak points, it will take quite a bit to get him to talk about it.
Ahnciel was eventually sent off with a small section of the flotilla on a 'reclamation excursion' which ended with the abomination crew going rogue half way into their mission. Frequently beaten and abused, his existence hinged on his usefulness in a particular project with reverse-manufacturing a gauss cannon from a frigate which had cost his section considerable losses. The thought was that his success would make value from the loss...that was until 'No Sky' came to knock.
The technology wasn't yet done and the nameless ship Ahnciel stood as a prisoner to was woefully unequipped to deal with the superior armamentarium that later corrected the damages done to the science officer. The loss of one of his arms and most of his skin repaid, he was loaded as a gift into an otherwise stripped military fighter before being launched deep into the human territory of the Eliza sector with the hope of their cooperation for the sake of transhumanic diplomacy. There are bigger threats on the horizon, and Ahnciel greatly resents the part he was forced to play.

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