Lemons

Umbra Rose Condos

@Expendable How old is Qaymu? He and Vel could bond over how much the world's changed since they overslept way too long, that'd be kinda fun.

Umbra Rose Condos

This ended up a little longer than I intended, haha. Sorry about that.

Velvet

Name: Velvet Alviva Coventry

Velvet

Fairly short at just under 4'11" ("It was normal then, I swear! I'm not short!"), Velvet lives in an eternal state of early-twenties. Twenty-three, specifically. She doesn't look too unlike a regular human, if a rather short one. However, there are three things that mark her out as being the immortal creature of the night that she is. Her flawless, dead-pale skin; her eyes, brilliant red dancing with starry lights and tending to glow under low light; and of course, the unmistakable hollow fangs, about half inch long and needle sharp. Her charcoal-black hair is smooth and straight, falling down to between her shoulder blades. She looks, for all the world, like exactly what she is.

Which is why when she leaves the condos, she puts on a pair of pale water-blue contact lenses and reflective orange aviator sunglasses (even though it's night 95% of the time). After all, "It's always bright on planet cool!" Generally, she wears light clothing like tanktops and sweats; it's not like she can get cold or uncomfortably hot, after all, so she just wears whatever's comfy and she likes the look of that day.

Race: Vampire (Higher, Ancient)
Racial Traits: As a vampire, Velvet naturally only consumes blood. However, being as old and powerful as she is has resulted in some other interesting wrinkles. What it mostly boils down to is that she is hilariously difficult to actually injure in any meaningful way. Short of exposure to the sun, and even then, she can tolerate sunlight for a bit if she's fed recently enough, though it makes her extremely lethargic (notably, just because she only gains energy from blood doesn't mean she can't eat anything else; her vampiric physiology will simply burn it away into nothingness. It's like throwing food down a bottomless pit). She's abnormally strong and fast, though exposure to sunlight strips those away from her. Along with the power that most defines her as a higher vampire: compulsion.

Or well, it kind of used to. Ever since her long nap, her ability to look into someone's eyes and dictate the truth to them has been rather...hit-or-miss. More miss than hit, even. She has yet to figure out exactly why.

Requirements: It kind of goes without saying, but as a vampire, Velvet needs blood. The fresher and purer the better. She'll drink blood bank stuff (with a Capri-Sun straw, ideally) if she has to, but all the preservatives and stabilizers can make her a bit sick. She'd prefer a live-in companion to get overly attached to, as long as they're fine with taking iron supplements. All things being equal, she needs to feed roughly three times a week and drinks somewhere in the neighborhood of a pint or two at a time. If she goes without for a short time she'll just get a bit twitchy, but after two weeks she'll start having to resist going feral and jumping on the first warm-blooded humanoid she sees. And if she feeds when she's been starved and lost control, she'll feed an amount that might be genuinely dangerous for an average human.

Personality: Velvet is a fascinating case study in what happens when you take someone who had a great deal of power and a penchant for using it, and let her take a very long nap.

Because there's so little that can actually pose a threat to her and she no longer really cares for the whole 'malevolent queen of the night' schtick, she's more or less become a creature of pure vibes. Watching TV and playing video games for days at a time ("Is it 11AM already? Man, I need to sleep"), using potato chips to eat extra thick milkshakes like dip, going out on the town at midnight to get sloshed and have a good time...she just does whatever while being FAR too chill compared to most peoples' ideas of vampire. When she got trapped, lightbulbs hadn't been invented yet; she doesn't really want to ruin a good thing now that suddenly she finds herself in a world with TV, Wi-Fi, ice cream, aluminum mirrors that she can actually see herself in ("Is that what I look like? Hello, vampiress, you are stunning and gorgeous!")...you get the idea.

Background: Velvet has been around for...a long time. Over 700 years, now. Though she hasn't always been 'Velvet.' Born in the British town of Coventry as a peasant girl in 1316, her name was simply 'Alviva.'

Growing up the daughter of a farmer, she contributed as best she could; weaving textiles, milking cattle, churning butter and cheese with her mother, and so on and so forth. She doesn't remember a lot about it now, it was so long ago. When she was fifteen years old, she was married off to a neighborhood boy six years her elder. She remembers this part even less, because a year later her husband and his family were butchered and their blood drained by a hundred-some year old vampire. When he saw little Alviva, though, he let her live. Kind of. Pity? Perhaps a darker motivation? Whatever the reason, he took her, then force fed her some of his blood. And so, in 1339, Alviva the human died, and Alviva the vampiress was born.

For the next hundred years, she was what amounted to little more than a vampiric slave to Benedict, the vampire who'd turned her. A thrall, to deliver him blood tithes. But then one day he grew just a little bit incautious, and the newly vindictive 120-something-year-old Alviva
jammed a stake through his heart. Staked him, burnt her hands badly decapitating him with a silver blade, and left him outside to be taken by the morning light. For the first time in her life, Alviva of Coventry was well and truly beholden to no one. So with that vindictive streak she had now, she renamed herself after the first thing she thought of when she imagined opulence and luxury: Velvet. So as Velvet Coventry, she reigned terror over the shadows of the British Isles for a few hundred years, then traveled the rest of Europe, seeing and causing many kinds of violence. Battles, wars, campaigns, revolutions; blood was her currency, and the Dark Queen would have her dues!

(She cringes a lot thinking about that now. She was such a tryhard!)

Finally, just a couple decades after watching the execution of Marie Antoinette and the French Revolution, a vampire hunter started following her trail. Again. She'd dispatched many before; it was extremely hard to kill her now, so she wasn't particularly worried. This one was particularly clever, though; he knew that he probably wasn't going to be able to kill a vampire like her. So he'd need to confine her. He shadowed her across the continent of Eurasia until she finally returned to England, entered her crypt, and had a brief sleep in her tomb.

That's when the vampire hunter struck. Upon her coffin, he placed a silver crucifix and a wild rose. And so, her sleep went far longer than 'brief.' By the time she awoke, disoriented and confused--some teenagers had excavated her now-underground crypt--well over a century had passed. It was all so confusing. Where was she? What had happened to Queen Victoria? What did the map mean, Prussia was gone? What was happening?

But sometime between going down and waking up 150 years later, the whole Dark Queen thing had lost its luster. Why did she care so much, again? She'd been really angry, but like...what was the point, now? She'd had vampire hunters on her ass for so long. Wouldn't it be fine if she just...relaxed for a couple decades?

...Internet? What was an 'Internet?'

Building, Floor, and room: Building 1, Floor 7, Room 11
Room description: You'd expect an ancient vampire's room to be a lot...more than Velvet's. She eschews the trappings of wealth, for the most part. It resembles nothing so much as a streamer's room. Big computer with multiple monitors, tons of gaming consoles. All of it sitting on a relatively nice, modern-looking desk. Couch, coffee table covered in books and manga. Not only that, but it's actually kept brighter than most rooms ("Lightbulbs! You all take them for granted!"). But overall, there's nothing special about it.

Well, except for the bed. Or, what there is instead of a bed: a large tomb of black stone. Spartan-looking enough on the outside, but once she yanks the lid off, you can see the whole thing is lined with a comfy mattress and some very nice cushions. Hence why keeping the lights on so bright isn't a big deal; no light gets in anyway.

Oh, and the window. Instead of being held by a curtain, it's covered entirely by a heavy sheet of plate metal that slots into place so there's never an accident with the sun.

(In order to afford all the games she wants, she works part-time as a bartender on the night shift at a human bar nearby. She's very good at it; I mean, who knows how many times she's mixed drinks over the course of her long and varied life, right? It doesn't hurt that after the centuries of practice, she is an absolute immaculate expert at hiding what she is. It's a real skill to talk and smile while hiding the fangs.)

Umbra Rose Condos

Still working on mine. Should be done before the end of the night.

Umbra Rose Condos

Oooh, this looks fun. How'd you feel about an ancient higher vampire who was once a terror across Europe who then got trapped in her crypt by a vampire hunter for the last 150+ years, and for whom the whole queen of the night thing has lost its charm now that humanity has invented lightbulbs and video games and rum raisin ice cream?

The Things We Fight For

---

Aissi was no stranger to pain.

Quite the opposite, really. Between years of experimentation, augmentation at even the basest level, and the not entirely uncommon rejection, she'd endured a great deal for just about as long as she could remember. So much so that suffering could be argued, and argued well, as the single most unifying and defining experience of her life. From the cruel sting of the scalpel as it carefully flayed her open, to the crushing electricity of nerve girdles being set into her skin, to the agonizing sense of a million needles tearing through her as the biomechanical muscle fibers fused into her own…Aissi was good at being in pain.

This was…very different.

Even when she was in pain in the lab, she’d known on an instinctual level that no matter how excruciating it might be, she wasn’t in any real danger. It’s not like they wanted to hurt her or anything, it was just an unfortunate side effect. And the whole thing was totally controlled. But as the Bishop slammed into her, then whipped around her faster than she could even process it and pinned her Bladewings back with its spear as she screamed bloody murder; as she slammed into the ground with its knee planted into her back and tasted blood; as she felt, rather than heard or saw, the doomful hand raised above the back of her head, even as she writhed beneath the monstrosity. The knee was still pinning her to the dirt. She gasped for air, but her breath was gone; and though she tried to struggle, all she could do was claw helplessly at the earth. This was a different pain. The frenzied pain that comes with the knowledge: I’m going to die.

Then there was a sound like a breath of wind passing over her, and the pressure on her back was gone. Sucking in a huge breath through clenched teeth, she raised her head in time to hear, “I suggest you dust yourself off.”

She stared at Dombay unthinkingly for a split second before her synapses sparked again, and with an impulse of her engines, she launched herself back upright. “I shall attempt to give you an opening. Three seconds is all I can afford with this difference in ability.” In response, Aissi gave vent to a furious growl, spat out a guttural “Understood,” and flashed forward again.

More carefully this time, though. Even furious as she was, the knot had tightened, and the smoke was gone.

Dombay followed nimbly alongside, their steps light as they joined Aissi in her charge, the Bishop meeting them halfway with its spear already mid swing to cleave them both. The flash of steel and the twang of metal rang out as their sword diverted the strike, long metal rod passing harmlessly overhead. Rather than send the Spearman off-balance, however, the monster redirected its force into a stab, whirling its weapon around to spear straight through Aissi.

In response, her auxiliary jets fired and she zipped to the side just enough to clear the spear’s trajectory, then cranked her engines to their maximum safe limit. Burning pain crawled up her legs as the heat dispersal proved inadequate to manage the overclocking. Hissing in sharp breaths, she locked her biomechanical hand around the Spearman’s weapon, hoping that it would add even one more second to their opening. Then, raising her glowing Wingblades high, she let her momentum carry her straight into the Bishop and brought them down on the barrier like hammerblows: once, twice.

Flickering into existence, the spherical defense of the Spearman fizzled upon contact with the blades, the second follow-up strike negated when the Bishop released its spear to create space. Only for Dombay to fill the gap the opponent made to escape, sword mid-swing. Despite the Spearman still clearing most of the strike, their sword tip struck the barrier yet again, the energy field flickering desperately yet maintaining its form.

“Shallow.” Aissi would hear her fellow Constellation mutter, just before they were sent flying as the Bishop struck their body with a powerful kick. Several tons of force were sent straight though the white-haired figure who tumbled toward the infantry while the Spearman attempted to take on Aissi once again, reaching for its lost spear.

As Aissi watched Dombay soaring away, leaving her alone with the Spearman, something between a growl and a moan seeped from her. The space created was too much and Dombay was gone. If it got its spear again, she was going to die. No more time for “safe limits” now: her engines roared into full meltdown, blazing white-hot. She knew immediately that they weren’t going to maintain full function for long from this point on. But with any luck, her sheer speed would suffice. She narrowed her eyes as the world blurred by. She had enough time. She could do this. She had to.

Right as the Spearman was taking hold of its weapon once more, she slammed into it with a sound like a freight train, screaming as she caught the Bishop between the tips like insect mandibles. The already weakened barrier appeared, fizzled, strained, caved…held. The shield went unscattered. But still, Aissi huffed a breath of relief. The barrier hadn’t been dispersed, not fully. But the first foot or so of her Wingblades had pierced through before they were stopped.

And the first foot was enough.

The Aberrant began to struggle, no doubt sensing the rising energy levels of the figure in front of it, yet the spear in its grip would not budge. Despite having overpowered the half-human beforehand, its weapon refused to move regardless of its strength, and despite having no eyes its head rose to ‘look’ past Aissi’s shoulder.

At that moment, the Wingblades’ laser coating erupted inwards like artillery, turning the Spearman’s barrier into a furnace. For the briefest moment, the sphere of the barrier glowed with the fierce and perfect red of a dying star. Then the barrier ruptured as the Bishop within was vaporized and erased, and the wild light was released straight into her face.

The explosion flung her almost as far as the kick had Dombay, and it took a considerable amount of effort to get herself falling the right way down. All she had time for after that was pulling her now dimmed Bladewings in tight so they wouldn’t hit anyone. Then she followed after Iona, careening down along the human line and carving trenches into the ground with her needlepoint feet before slamming facefirst into the ground. Her engines were clearly malfunctioning; she would’ve been able to stop before she collapsed otherwise, and the vents were spitting out red sparks. While still working, her antigravity wasn’t as smooth, either; weak enough that her momentum had overpowered it.

The first to rise was the white-haired Stardust, one hand supporting their upper body while the other clutched their cloak to their stomach. Though they’d survived a blow that would’ve killed a normal human outright, their internal organs would still be a mess of gore and paste, yet as the soldiers not occupied clearing Pawns came to support them the Constellation rose a hand for the men to stop. “Her first,” they ordered softly, gesturing to the crumpled, sparking form of Aissi not far from their position. The footmen paused, the reluctance, hesitation and fear clear in their expressions as they glanced between Dombay and the research subject. The Constellation’s eyebrows were brought together, and while they didn’t change their expression any further, the soldiers felt the air around them become eerie while fixed by the figure’s closed eyed expression. “She saved your lives. She deserves this at least.”

Though slow, some of the men began to approach their abominable ally, unsure for an entirely other reason as they had no idea how they should give first aid to a half-Aberrant. Meanwhile, two soldiers helped Dombay to their feet, another parting their cloak to check the state of their guts as the Constellation lost all strength in their body. Hopefully only temporarily.

Aissi let out a thin, almost silent groan as she propped herself up on one arm, watching with some trepidation as the soldiers crept closer and trying to ignore the searing pain that ran the length of her legs. Forcing them that far past their limits had heated them much hotter than they were designed to be, and she was paying the debt now. So with a few bleary blinks, she she reached her other arm out in the universal unspoken plea: Help me.

They did not.

A bitter taste grew in her mouth as, unable to rise under her own power, she watched them standing there, pretending not to see her. A deep sadness yawned beneath her, and she dropped her eyes. A moment later, though, she heard a pair of footsteps coming towards her, and turned her head in time to see a soldier that couldn’t be much older than her approaching. Another soldier grabbed his shoulder and attempted to mutter something into his ear, but the young man shook him off before reaching down to grasp Aissi’s outstretched arm. It took some doing, but with his help she eventually regained her footing. Aiming at a pile of equipment, she took a deep breath and gave a tentative engine pulse.

She was pleasantly surprised, then—as pleasant as things could reasonably be at that moment—that while the pain was still very much present, there was still some measure of thrust. At the very least, she was functional. Moving slowly to avoid overtaxing again as she waited for the heat to dissipate over what felt like an eternity, she arrived at the pile, leaned up against it, and switched off her antigravity. Her feet sank into the ground, anchoring her in place. Eyes falling to exhausted half-mast, she slid her gaze laconically from the young man who’d helped her up to the injured Dombay.

When she spoke, her voice was ash; The alien ecstasy had gone, leaving her feeling empty and vague. It was deliberate, methodical, like she was struggling to get even just two words out: “Thank…you.” Then she tilted her head up to the sky, closed her eyes, and was silent.

The gaze of the soldier, barely older than she, lingered for a long moment after Aissi had closed her eyes. It took the bump of another to get him to snap out of it, yet even as he loaded his rifle and returned to the firing line, his eyes continued to occasionally glance in the direction of the scrap heap where two heroes lay. One man, one monster.

Lem's Stash

Burn The Night

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx B A S I C I N F O [Name] Quinnlash Loughvein [Callsign] Ablaze [Gender] Femme [Age] 20 [Rank and Designation] E-5 - Petty Officer, Second Class [Place of Birth] Illun [Official Statement] "Be the lighthouse, and set the night ablaze." C O M B A T A B I L I T Y [Mech Model] HMP-XVI Ablaze Custom: <DEATH IN PINK!> [Type] Heavy Bombardment Platform [Size] 50 ft tall. 45 tons; 60 tons fully loaded. [Core] Epsilon. [Armaments] The GHOST System is the core of what Cherri's combat revolves around. While her enormous array of explosives are very useful dumb-fired, blanketing huge swaths of the battlefield in disarray, they're just as likely to fly back on her allies than to annihilate her enemies. Enter the Guided Heavy Ordnance Selective Targeting System, which allows her to designate not just specific targets, but specific [i]areas[/i] as well, upon which the AI in her mech will compensate for movement patterns and tagged allies to ensure that even when she's using devastating firepower, she hits dead on, every time. Back: The SHPM-XX: 'Harpoons' is by far Cherri's most devastating weapon. Fueled by a beta core, each salvo needs plenty of time to charge; but when the canister is primed, activating it launches a barrage of twenty high-energy guided plasma spears that fully interface with the GHOST System, allowing her to call in either precision strikes of devastating power or a rain of plasma across hundreds of feet. Right Hand: The Harpoons may be the most powerful weapon Cherri can bring to bear, but it's got far too long a downtime to be anything approaching a primary weapon. No, her workhorse weapon is the downright terrifying PHOS-CCC: 'Dragon's Breath.' Nominally a chaingun but with a modest fire rate of only 300rpm, the 'Dragon's Breath' wouldn't seem strong. However, it dodges that allegation quite neatly with the simple fact that every one of those 300 rounds per minute is a shell loaded with enough high explosives to level a small building. Integrated fully into the GHOST System, this is her primary vector of raining hell. To put it succinctly: right, down, down, left, down, right, down, down. Left Arm: The MECS-VIII 'Javelin,' while it [i]is[/i] linked into the GHOST System, is the only one of Cherri's weapons that's designed to be dumbfired. Taking the form of a row of slots along her left forearm filled with canisters, they are designed in such as way as to face directly forward when Cherri is hefting 'Dragon's Breath,' and meant to be used in tandem with it. Though there are only eight, and they must be manually reloaded when expended, they're nonetheless a powerful tool, largely because of their versatility. While the HE canister is a common one, equally as common is an airburst canister filled with reflective chaff that baffles laser fire in a large area for a not-inconsiderable period of time. And there are several others as well: napalm for area denial, fragmentation for scattering shrapnel, EMP for disabling electronics, airburst flak for fast-moving targets. Twenty-four spare canisters are kept in a reinforced container on <DEATH IN PINK!>'s hip. Right Thigh: Cherri LOVES her explosives. But that doesn't mean she wants to use one right next to her. In the case that 'Dragon's Breath' isn't viable to use for whatever reason, Cherri employs the ASA-C 'Adjudicator.' A compact SMG-style mech weapon with a 100-round magazine, this portable weapon, unlike most that pilots employ, fire 20mm rounds instead of 30mm, allowing for easier control, higher ammunition capacity, and a faster fire rate at the cost of damage inflicted. But as this is a sidearm for her, control and rapidity are far more important.

Profile [Surface-level Impression] Suspect's Psychiatric Profile, Dr. Wraul While of course the suspect Ms. Cade is upset about the entire situation, she still agreed to a session to gauge her psychiatric state. Arranged in no particular order: Cheerful - Despite everything, Ms. Cade finds it difficult to not be chipper, and more than once, I found her catching herself smiling, and forcing it back down. Talkative - It certainly wasn't difficult to have this session. I can't say from one brief session whether or not it's a compulsion or simply a personality trait, but Ms. Cade is EXTREMELY chatty. I expected to be prodding her for much of the time, but after the first few minutes of frosty silence, she started talking my ear off almost immediately. Teasing - I was quite taken aback at some points, where she said something that made me raise my eyebrows in some way, at which point she chuckled--the fact she's laughing through this entire thing is frankly admirable--and revealed that she'd been teasing me the entire time. After I interrogated that for a bit with her, I came to the conclusion that she doesn't enjoy malicious teasing; she simply likes watching the looks on peoples' faces when she says something harmless but questionable. Earnest - I find myself wondering through her PAINFUL sincerity--though it's not my job, of course--if my experience as a criminal psychologist gives me any level of credence when I say that I'm slowly becoming convinced that Ms. Cade may be innocent, and perhaps other leads should be explored. I simply cannot understand her as a domestic terrorist and killer. [Personal History] 3rd District, Vianno, Planet Willowit - Warrant for Cherri Lily Cade's Arrest WARRANT OF ARREST FOR DOMESTIC TERRORISM, VANDALISM, ARSON, CRIMINAL USE OF EXPLOSIVES AND FIRST-DEGREE MANSLAUGHTER To: Vianno 3rd District Arresting Officer Zhiti Ayajjai, ID MLE4136, 423rd VLE Unit YOU ARE COMMANDED to serve the herein Warrant of Arrest to seize and take into custody the accused person named below: Cherri Lily Cade, ID GZM4442, U88 Olympus Building And bring forth said person before this court before the next day following his or her arrest. A handwritten note is scrawled at the bottom of the document in meticulous red pen: I swear to all that is holy, Zhiti. You have ONE JOB. You'd better actually stick this one, I don't like being embarrassed. Police Report - The Telluride Building Incident Case No: 18462 Date: 12.04.382 Reporting Officer: Ewelyn Tyvee Incident: Massive property damage and loss of life via explosion on floor 233 of the Telluride Building Detail of Events: At 22:23 of 12.04.379, there was a sudden explosion near the support beam on floor 233 of 240 of the Telluride Building. According to witness reports, there was the smell of smoke prior; that, as well as the presence of scorch marks near the damaged area, shows that the explosion was likely set off using fire. My unit was dispatched to assist those in danger and investigate the scene of the crime. The top five floors of the Telluride Building are used exclusively for press conferences, of which there were none; however, the 234th floor had several people working in it. Luckily, the building didn't collapse; however, the explosion itself killed two people in the floor immediately above it. Directly beside the damaged support beam, we found an unconscious Ms. Cherri Cade. Upon regaining consciousness, she seemed confused, asked why we were there. Likely concussed. However, there is explosive reside on her fingers, and a damaged, now-nonfunctional pink lighter bearing her fingerprints was found near her on the scene. She is currently being medically assessed before questioning. Excerpt of Police Log - Cherri Cade's Questioning Case No: 18462 Date: 12.06.379 Present Officer: Ewelyn Tyvee ET: Do you know why you're here, miss Cade? CC: I have no idea! I know I've been accused of something really bad, but I don't know what! ET: On December fourth, you were found unconscious next to a heavily-damaged support strut on the 233rd floor of the Telluride Building with explosive residue on your fingers immediately after an explosion that killed two people. CC: WHAT? But...but that...I would never! ET: I'm sure. Do you have an alibi? CC: Huh? I...no, but of course I was there, maintenance of floor 233 is my job! I just--I would never--I couldn't-- ET: Please state for the record that you do not have an alibi, miss Cade. CC: What? That's not fair! ET: Will you or will you not state it for the record? ET: Is this your personal datapad, miss Cade? CC: ...Yeah. Why? ET: Do you know what your search history is? CC: Yes. ET: Could you explain why your search history includes information about explosives? CC: My sister Apricot was a pyrotechnician for a few years. I got interested in explosives through that. I swear, I never hurt anyone! CC: ...By the way, what explosive residue did they say they found on my fingers? You keep saying that, but you won't go into any detail. ET: I'm not at liberty to say. CC: *Sigh* Mayoral Resolution Draft, Never Published Fellow citizens of Vianno, of Willowit: I know you're all afraid. An attack has been waged against the very heart of our city, our very soul. Who wouldn't be afraid? I know I was. But thanks to the tireless efforts of the VLE, the culprit has been apprehended and convicted. The Telluride Building coming under attack is a grievous blow to our city and planetary pride, and that will never be forgotten or forgiven. The criminal charged with the crime used homemade explosives that she created at home following instructions that she found on the 'net. And that's not all; in fact, it's just the beginning. Preliminary research has shown that a huge amount of people have begun searching for information on building such devices recently. I hate to do this, I truly do; but the safety of our people is paramount. Because the lives of those in our city are at clear and obvious risk, I mean to implement ways to keep people from accessing such information, and tracking down those that already have. Never let it be said that the people of Vianno aren't always at the forefront of my mind. Remember: we fight for you! Handwritten Note We're probably pretty good. She doesn't have any good excuses. But for appearances' sake, give her a plea deal. Just find something nobody would ever agree to. Public'll eat it up. Plea Deal, Cherri Cade Case No: 18462 CITY OF VIANNO V. CHERRI LILY CADE Plea Deal The defendant and the defendant's counsel, Cherri Lily Cade and Atty. Mia Tyler, and the prosecution, Jerring Vesslain, have entered into an agreement outside of court, pursuant to Rule 11 of the ICC. The terms of the agreement are as follows: The prosecution agrees to waive prosecution and accept a plea of not guilty from the defendant for the crimes of Domestic Terrorism, Arson, Vandalism, Unlawful Use of Explosives, and First-Degree Manslaughter. All charges will be dropped, and they will not receive a major mark on their criminal record. In exchange, the defendant agrees to report for seventeen years of service into the Aberrant War, arranged into training and combat as necessary but not to include fewer than ten years of active service. As of now, the defendant has not been enlisted; so they are still considered liable. She has one month to arrange her affairs on Willowit before she is required to be off-planet. As long as she has been enlisted before the designated time period has expired, the defendant will not be prosecuted upon their return to Willowit given that one of the following requirements has been met: 1) The defendant has served seventeen full years in the military and all other terms have been met; 2) The Aberrant war has concluded and all other terms have been met. The defendant has also asked that a note be added to the record along with her signature: 'Oh my GOD, this is TOO FUNNY! I was planning to enlist soon anyway if I could find an excuse to get me away from my job! And now I get to spit in your stupid corrupt faces too! Like, how could this get any better?' Frustrated Memo Dellan, don't you dare try and blame this shit on me. I did my job, I got her right into the palm of your hand for god's sake. Why the fuck did you try to give her a plea deal? For appearance's sake? The appearance was FINE, do you have any idea how long this took to organize? Fuck right off. Certification to Pilot This document serves to certify that that the pilot trainee Petty Officer Third Class Cherri 'Cherry Bomb' Cade, has undergone the requisite five years of training necessary, and been authorized to pilot a mech in the war against the Aberrants. Per Audacia ad Astra. Home World [Planet Description] A technological utopia. A metropolitan marvel. The jewel of the Soha Binary System. Willowit has many names, and most of them are flattering. And, at least to appearance, it lives up to them. From space, it seems almost more like an enormous space station than a planet at first glance; the entire planet is covered in vast cities, right up to the coasts. Powered almost exclusively by solar, they take advantage of the fact they orbit a binary star to harvest massive amounts of power from it, fueling their grand dreams. From the air, the enormous superstructure skyscrapers of Willowit come into focus. The tallest of them, the Telluride Building, has 240 floors, containing everything one could require. The skyscrapers of Willowit are, for all intents and purposes, microcities in themselves, and there are thousands across the planet. Thus, Willowit can comfortably support a population larger than one would think for a planet its size; 25 billion people live in these great spires. Finally, we droop to ground level, to the 'undercity.' Those unfortunate enough to be kicked out of their building--one typically has to commit a crime, though the severity of the crime can vary depending on the district they live in--typically are required to live for a certain amount of time outside of the superstructures. While there's food to eat, it's certainly not a comfortable existence. The skyscrapers block almost all of the light, and unlike the buildings, the surface isn't climate controlled; so it's incredibly cold down below. Typically, ganglike organizations form, as there's little to no oversight outside of the skyscrapers. Once their tenure on the surface is finished--as long as they survived--they are once more allowed to reenter their building, or any other building that might catch their fancy; after ten years, property is repossessed, so they won't have any place to go back to if more time than that passes. One might wonder how Willowit is able to maintain this strange living structure. The answer is simple: owing to the particular resources that can be found underground and some closely guarded industry secrets, they are historically one of the known universe's greatest purveyors of holographic technology. Many resort worlds find themselves with Willowit-made holograph projectors; many military training sims have a Willowit stamp on them as well. Useful both in peacetime and in war, Willowit's holographic and simulation technology will ALWAYS be useful. [Culture] Remember that bit about the 'technological utopia?' Well, the people of Willowit are completely convinced. Living in relative luxury from even the less fortunate upwards, purely in terms of quality of living, Willowit is a very nice place to live. However, not everything about Willowit is so utopian. They bill themselves as a utopia with a firm rule of law that keeps things running smoothly. And they do have a very powerful law system. HOWEVER: their legal system, while very powerful, has very little oversight. As a result, the thing that plagues Willowit more than anything else isn't wealth disparity, or war, discontent of the populace. No, Willowit has a MASSIVE problem with corruption in governance. Because the legal system has so much power and so little oversight, the people who pay them the most money can effectively pick and choose which laws apply to them, and furthermore, which laws apply to other people. A great deal of propaganda keeps the general populace from realizing the extent of this corruption. But a lawyer, a police officer, a judge...they have to put forth EFFORT to NOT be hilariously corrupt, as bribes and quid-pro-quo are more the rule than the exception from even modestly well-off individuals. Notable Contacts Mia Tyler, Criminal Defense Atty. and Engineer [Name] Mia Tyler [Relation to Subject] Cherri's defense attorney, close friend, engineer, and post-op specialist. [Analysis] Mia was Cherri's lawyer during the extended and corrupt trial that threatened to put her either behind bars for the rest of her life, or put her in the ground. The two of them grew quite close over the years, and when it was decided that Cherri would enter the service (and specifically, would become a pilot), Mia immediately entered an intensive training course to get certified in engineering and maintenance of mechs. Possessed of a truly unreasonable level of willpower, she, well, succeeded, and now serves as the primary maintenance worker for <DEATH IN PINK!> As you may be able to glean, Mia does not like giving up. Filled with willpower and SPITE, she managed to become a dedicated attorney, despite participating in the corrupt games of her planet's legal system as little as possible. She is possessed of a wide streak of wry humor; appearing deadpan while cracking strange jokes is second nature to her, and Cherri seems to have a sixth sense for when she's not being serious. Speaking of Cherri, if you watch the two of them interact for more than a minute, it becomes blatantly obvious how much they care for each other. Yes, Mia is permanently exhausted and lives off caffeine; she picked up a habit of reading case law online in the middle of the night in law school, and somehow it stuck even when she genuinely has no time for it. But the two of them are pretty much inseparable. She won't maintain anybody else's mechs; and Cherri refuses to let anybody else maintain hers, unless there's no other choice.

The Things We Fight For

---

This was what the end of the world must look like, thought Aissi.

As she stood atop the Corvo, she stared at the death that was unfolding before her, brilliant crimson eyes almost glassy as she gazed at the carnage. There was something...beautiful about it, in some twisted way. The chaos, the confusion; they stroked comfortingly against something deep in her brain, something she hadn't felt in any of the countless simulations she'd run back in the lab. The knot. The bloom of plasma that had ripped across the Aberrant line ahead of them from the colossal cannon she was only a few dozen feet from, setting her ears ringing and her teeth on edge, only sharpened that feeling. It was all just so...so real. The Aberrants, the people, everything splayed out before her; it wasn't just fragments of stitched-together code being projected in front of her anymore. The sights of slaughter and fire, the sounds of pounding artillery and agonized screaming, of explosions and plasma and Alto's voice buzzing in her ear. The smells of boiling blood, scorched ozone, and the oil of shattered machines. The feeling of danger as blasts of annihilating light tore by her. As high off the ground as she was, it all still felt so close, and her heart was racing faster than it ever had. Her lips curled into a trembling smile. All the sims were so woefully inadequate. This was what it meant to be outside the lab. This was what it was like to live.

Before she could make another move or entertain another thought, another spike of the alien-yet-not feeling she'd felt in the hanger pierced through her brain again as the Corvo darted around, this time much stronger, and she sucked in a shuddering breath scented with gunsmoke. No longer just elation, but a delicious compulsion. Euphoria. And not only euphoria, either. A seething excitement that she barely had the presence of mind to realize wasn't quite her own. The magnets on one of her palms released, and her taloned fingers raked down the mech's hull with the sparking screech of metal against metal as she fought against the urge to throw herself from the mech and butcher everything beneath her. An altogether out of place sound dripped from her mouth as the oh-so-alluring impulses coiled around her like smoke: "Ah..."

"...A-haha..."

"...AhahahahaaahAHAHA!"

She threw her head back as her laugh grew steadily louder and less controlled, and her Wingblades flared out to their full span and reared back like scorpion tails poised to strike. Laserfire sparked from the generator placed on each, then raced down the edges with a sizzling sound, engulfing them in a shroud of violent red light that shone through the gloom. The smoke had crawled its way inside her now, casting a beautiful haze over her thoughts. Beneath her, an Aberrant Bishop plowed through the defensive line, its spear crushing and slashing with brutal ease. She could feel her core pulsing in her back, beating with savage glee alongside her heart. The laugh finally cut off and, although a choked-back giggle mangled it, a single word was spoken into Alto's cockpit as she succumbed to her desire:

"Descending."

If there was a response, she couldn't hear it, or understand it; words dissolved into the haze and turned to garbled radio static in her head. The only thing that mattered was cleaving and slicing and tearing and KILL KILL KILL her target and anything that tried to get in her way.

She ripped her fingers from where they'd seized in the Corvo's hull, leaving jagged gashes in their wake. The sound of scraping metal shredded against her ears once more, and she shuddered at the beauty of it, a crazed smile that bared far too many teeth spreading across her face. Then, body taut with nerves and joy, she released her final clamp and activated her engines again. They roared to full throttle in a split second, and she screamed forwards at a speed she didn't know she could reach, cleared the edge of the Corvo's shoulder in the space of a blink, and catapulted herself into space. Blazing over the throngs below like a meteor and descending on the Spearman before a single laser could hope to draw a bead on her, she snapped her Wingblades forward. With all the force behind her strike, her engines running at top speed, and her absurdly fast descent, they seemed nothing so much as twin bolts of red lightning.

She was AIS S1.

She was built to fight.

Made to kill.

---

The Things We Fight For

---

Alto wouldn't have to wait long for a response, as a soft and somewhat monotone voice came back through his radio before too long: "Aissi reporting, Eight-Ball. I--I'll ride with you."

As the implant in her inner ear went quiet, Aissi slid backwards from her brief waiting-post, turned, and glided across the floor, dodging people as she went, until arriving at the active mech. It was just as well she take this one; it was shorter than the other less-occupied behemoth nearby, and she had no idea how she was going to get up it anyway.

When she arrived, close enough to touch the sturdy metallic chassis, she frowned slightly. This close, there was something that felt kind of...vaguely familiar about it, in a way that she couldn't explain. She reached out to caress an emitter on the side of the ankle...

...Before it lit up with a bright glow in response even before she made contact, and Aissi blinked as she began to slowly drift upwards, as though even the gravity that had kept her feet hovering a few inches above the ground had fallen away. Tilting her head back, she saw another of the emitters. And then another, and another, spiderwebbed across the mech's hardpoints all the way to the top. Taking a gamble and hoping it wouldn't result in her falling on her face on the hangar floor, she gave a small boost downwards.

A strange expression resembling a distorted smile grew on her face as she zipped upwards.

Beneath her, the emitter blinked out, and she felt herself slowing--before the next one in line went on in turn, and her upward momentum resumed. In this fashion, boosting from one hardpoint to the next, she skated her way up the side of the mech until she landed atop its shoulder, where she stabilized again. Jetting over towards the head, she settled at the corner of two plates of metal. Pressing a hand against each, she activated the electromagnetic clamps in her hands, and so anchored herself to the mech quite securely even as her feet remained aloft.

Then she turned and inspected the head for a moment before releasing the clamp on her right hand and lifting it towards the cockpit--along with her right Bladewing purely from reflex--in an awkward wave.

---

_@Feyblue

The Things We Fight For

---

As the introductions carried on down the line, Aissi found herself still paralyzed under Antares' poison gaze, and she couldn't help but meet it. It was only her peripheral vision that bore witness to the next; the blue-haired Alto, the stoic Lictor...she was choking on the scorn.

...And then he looked away.

Released of the near-physical pain that was meeting her eyes, Aissi sucked in a sharp breath as it felt like her lungs worked again, and then shifted so she could actually see the people she'd be working with as the introductions proceeded further. Zhejiang Erica...uh...Teteh...the blonde woman with too many names. The white-haired Iona Smirnov, the anxious Kyra. These were the Important People that she would be spending the incoming bloodbath with.

So how appropriate that the bloodbath was rapidly approaching, as the engine noise cranked up. “Look alive! Get ready to depart! I want Pilots in their mechs and everyone else prepared to move out as soon as that hangar door opens!” Pilots. Like Kyra, or Alto, or the man sitting next to her--

--Aissi realized that he'd not introduced himself. She'd seen his face before, knew he was a pilot. Perhaps she'd read the briefing after all? She'd seen it, she knew that. But his name escaped her. T-something. Something kind. She opened her mouth, then closed it again. She wanted to say something to him. Thank him, perhaps. Ask him...ask him...

...Ask him what?

She wasn't quite sure where that thought had been leading. What she'd ask him. What else she might do. So after staring at him for a few seconds, eventually she just settled for an awkward nod and an even more awkward "Thank--thank you," before she needed to hurry off.

Despite the dire situation, Aissi couldn't help let out a sigh of relief as she rose and, with a little shake, flared the Wingblades into a more comfortable position. Not wound quite so tightly up against her back, but rather displayed openly to either side of her body. Not the almost predatory position they'd be in as soon as combat started, but more than enough to be fully visible now as the weapons they were. Though...as she did so, she felt something odd. Like something was...loosening inside of her. A contorted knot coming undone that she hadn't known was there.

Then, with a gentle fwoosh from her internal engines, she glided down towards the hangar door. As she went, she looked about at those that had introduced themselves, tried to learn their faces and remember the little bit that she knew now.

The wick of blue hair that she passed by was Alto Valenti, 'Eight Ball.' He was an apprentice pilot...oh, that was right, she had read the briefing, she remembered now! She'd had to ask Jacob to explain since she didn't know what 'Eight Ball' meant and it had taken him an exasperated couple of minutes to explain. He seemed confident and excited. A feeling that Aissi wished she could share; her stomach was wrapped up into a tight tangle, and as she tried not to think about her test run, or rather her first test run, her head filled with a discordant anxious buzzing. She twitched a bit, and shook her head to try and clear the static, but it remained unabated. So distracted was she as she coasted without a sound that she barely even took notice of the horrific violence unfolding on the monitors. Not only was she anxious, she was hungry too. Very hungry. So hungry.

'Lictor' was the one with the ominous sword almost as big as her own, she thought as she tried to focus past her nerves as they dug fishhooks into her exposed skin. The sword, and the somehow incongruous standard-issue rifle--which she found herself wondering at the purpose of. Constellations were there to fight the high-ranks only, right? That's what she'd been told, that they fought the Bishops and above, and the pilots took care of the chaff. What use would a gun be? He seemed quiet, though Aissi obviously didn't have the closest grasp on human nature to make any more guesses; like talking was enough effort and energy for him to keep it to a bare minimum. White Dwarf were Constellations that had stopped fighting, right? She thought she remembered that. So what had brought him back to the front lines like this?

A moment later, she arrived right by the hangar door where the rest of the Constellations were gathering, letting her momentum slow. Iona was there already, and Zhejiang too-many-names as well. Nobody needed that many names. How did she even remember them all?

Aissi slid in between the two of them, passing into their fields of vision as she slowed to a stop. With some regret, she pulled her Wingblades all the way in right next to her core again, and as the craft continued rumbling around her, she waited in unnatural gravity-defying stillness and silence. She stared at the monitors with glazed, inattentive eyes as she wrestled against herself. Against the fear and anxiety. And against something deep within the underside of her mind: a vague, faint undercurrent of...elation that felt so terribly alien to touch.

And yet, so natural too.

---

_{@Supermaxx@Raijinslayer}

Lem's Stash

SETTING SUN

K O I Y A Z E
K O I Y A Z E

^{"Hey. I'm watching the sunset right now. I'm busy. Fuck off and die."}

C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T _________________________________________________________ C H A R A C T E R D A T A C H A R A C T E R D A T A _________________________________________________________ True Self Igarashi Ryuuko - 五十嵐 竜子 Persona Koiyaze - 来いやぜ Pathos Sikth Role DPS Weapon of Choice Odachi and Kodachi Domains Fire Lightning Enhancement Manifestation Playstyle & Attitude Melee pure DPS split between magic and physical damage; Real Angry Burnout™.

I G A R A S H I R Y U U K O: B R O K E N B I R D I G A R A S H I R Y U U K O: B R O K E N B I R D ________________________________________________________________________________________ Ryuuko had a fairly typical early and adolescent life. School, friends, family, and so on and so forth, in a suburb of Nara. Perhaps the only thing truly exceptional about her was her talent at singing and impressions; though her voice was naturally a bit low and husky compared to her peers, she could contort it into whatever she wanted with a startling degree of accuracy. Then everything changed at 18 years old, during her first year of university. An innocent and innocuous phrase from a friend: "Ryuuka, you're so good at this! You should be a voice actress!" Well, she thought, maybe she should. Her auditions may not have gone well the first time or the second time. Even the third time. But as more time passed, she eventually learned what she was doing, and at 19, she finally made it into the world of the voice actress. In her first bit part in a show, she was very well-received; again, despite her husky voice, she was abnormally skilled at a super high-pitched cutesy one. Before too long, she was once again a part of a show. Though this time, not a bit part, more of a side character. This went on for a few years until she was 23, when she got her first real breakthrough role as the main character in a cheerful slice of life that ran for three years, and by the time it had finished, she was fairly known as a VA now. It was about this point where she started asking about other roles. She didn't mind what she was doing, she thought, but she'd been hankering for a more serious role where she could use her actual voice. That wasn't so much to ask, right? Yes, apparently. Her next major role was for a more serious character in a movie. And yet, "more serious" still called for the same voice. It was at this point that Koiyaze found her first root: an idly-described character the type of which Ryuuko would most want to play created for fun, with more detail added over the years when she couldn't. A few more years passed of this. A few more games, movies, shows; and she became quite well known, to the point where people might recognize her on the street now and then from interviews. And every time, they were disappointed that her voice wasn't the one that she'd ALWAYS done. Not only that, it was starting to hurt. She'd grown quite successful now, successful and in demand, which means her workload kept increasing more and more and more. Free time became a thing of the past; there was only work and sleep. The voice that she was always forced to do had been fine up to now; but she'd always kept it limited. It was so far from her normal voice that generally, she was careful to not strain herself. But with her agent ramping her roles up, the strain was starting to become audible. More vocal strain meant more retakes; more takes meant more vocal strain. The first time her voice cracked and broke entirely in the studio, the stares were deafening. So, she gave her agent an ultimatum, hoping it'd be taken seriously. One more chance. One more role. One more cutesy voice. The second her contract was up, she cut ties with the entire community and burned every bridge. If she needed to put on that voice one more time, she was going to be sick. She moved back to Nara and found a little place; from years of success, she had a substantial nest egg built up. Now she could finally take a break from her chokingly demanding career, spend time with her... ...Friends? It was only then she realized that she'd been so obsessed with her job that she'd forgotten to make friends outside of work colleagues, and if she tried to make them online, people who shared her interests would undoubtedly figure out who she was and she'd be forced to scramble to avoid the awkward conversations that would ensue. It was then that she discovered the New Big Thing: VRMMO. A way to completely evade her reputation, and make friends with people who would never know. Well, hey, couldn't hurt to try, right? K O I Y A Z E: D R A G O N ' S D A U G H T E R K O I Y A Z E: D R A G O N ' S D A U G H T E R ________________________________________________________________________________________ It worked. It worked very well. Ryuuko's avatar Koiyaze is in Pariah a lot as she jumps from group to group, making friends with them and never being recognized from the sheer differences in appearance and personality: almost a foot higher at 178cm, slim, with long white hair and elaborate tattoos that she's had magically transferred into her skin. Blazing brilliant red eyes. Nothing like how she looks back in the real world. She's a grumpy and embittered woman in game; and not just because of the direction her career went. Though she's kind of bitter and frustrated IRL, it's not nearly as prominent. No, she sees it (whether consciously or not) as another chance to act, and this time, to act whatever character she wanted to. And the that character is a rough, foul-mouthed, coarse woman, almost piratical in attitude and bearing. The opposite of what she'd been made to act for so long. It's a form of freedom, certainly. But it can also be somewhat counterproductive. It takes a certain kind of person to tolerate who Koiyaze is. Many people simply don't want to deal with her constant bile. So though she first joined Pariah out of a desire to make friends, there's still a sense of loneliness that pervades her much of the time. It becomes a paradoxical push and pull; joining groups of people or guilds, getting comfortable around them, then being kindly asked to leave because she's just...really hard to get along with. Not everyone, she does have a few fast friends here and there that enjoy her unfiltered approach to life. But she still remains lonely.

---

Spells & Spell-like Abilities

Koiyaze doesn't use many organized spells; or rather, she uses a few very heavily. Consequently, the catalogue of spells in her pocket is quite limited.

Dragonbolt
The primary driver of her magic damage is this, brought to life by enhancement and manifestation. An alloying of fire and lightning magic creates a remarkably destructive breed of red lightning. While it's rather powerful and useful in a number of situations, the main way Koiyaze uses it is to shroud her blades in auras of searing light to cut through whatever stands in her way.

Lightning Step
The purest form of lightning enhancement magic, Lightning Step allows Koiyaze to cover ground absurdly quickly, resembling nothing so much as a bolt of lightning in motion. While she can't keep it up for a long distance, it allows her to zip around battlefields, slashing through several enemies in only a few moments. This can be applied to very limited things as well; she can enhance only her arm, for example, turning a stroke of her sword into a nigh-untraceable gleam of light

Sunset
Noteworthy in how infrequently it's used, Sunset is the most powerful magic that Koiyaze can bring to bear. A pair of phantasmal dragon wings forged of Dragonbolt spreads from her back and she ascends into the air as she draws both weapons and the empowered Dragonbolt from her wings gathers upon them as well in a lengthy windup. Then in a single motion a boom rings out as she dives at a target fast enough to break the sound barrier, shearing through them before they can even begin to blink and and leaving a trail of blazing devastation in her wake.

Character Feats

Slivers of Sunlight
She may have some impressively dangerous magic, but most of Koiyaze's arsenal can't be used with any competency if she's not also skilled in the use of weapons. Luckily, she is: the proud wielder of an oversized odachi-kodachi daishou, she has all the conduit she needs for Dragonbolt. She generally reserves the use of her large odachi for larger and more powerful threats and bosses, leaving the kodachi for general use as it's much more agile and easier to use in tight corners. A particularly impressive aspect of her swordplay is how fluidly she's able to swap between them; even while her odachi can't be sheathed in a normal fashion, she still seems to make it look easy.

Grumpitude
Owing to everything that her life has been up to this point, Koiyaze is a fairly grumpy individual. Not angry, per se; just generally a bit of a grouch. She can keep a lid on her proper temper most of the time; it's extremely rare that she really loses it and starts screaming in anger. But what she will do is grumble about it for the next hour and a half, really let it smolder in her, and not be subtle about it. Letting things go is...not exactly one of her great life strengths.

Trying Her Best
Like I mentioned, it's hard to really get Koiyaze properly angry past her general grumpy baseline. She'll sound mad and tell you to fuck off, but on the whole, she can be kind of toothless unless she's really disturbed. But not only is that all true, but she actually tries her best to be supportive when she can. She thinks, or at least hopes, that she's a good person; and perhaps the biggest evidence of that is how she tries to comfort people and such. Operative word being tries, as her emotions are a bit out of whack. But try she does.

Low Battery
And part of the reason why it can be so hard, her emotions are so out of whack, is simply because Koiyaze is tired. Not physically, necessarily; but she's mentally and emotionally exhausted from over a decade of stressful work growing only more stressful as time went on. As time goes by, perhaps that exhaustion will begin to abate, and she might come to resemble what she was like before everything went sour again. But until that chance comes to pass, she is exhausted, and will remain as such.

---