Mornings for Celina had always started early. She awoke, often before the sun, and strived to be out of the door by first light. Since the election her routine had grown only more vigorous; she now ate at the office, or if the welcome-workload was abnormally high, made due with coffee—she was a tower, but a narrow one. This didn’t save her any great amount of time, but it did get her out of the house faster. Since the girls had gone, she found that she preferred being elsewhere, curiously.
The walk to work was considerable, and brisk, but Celina had always been a durable woman. She was Alaskan-born, she’d suffered through unyielding winters on little more than brittle shelter and willpower. The breeze would not shake her. Relocation had been offered as a result of her new office, but she’d refused. To say turning down a suite in the higher, sturdier buildings closer to the centre was purely for humility’s sake would have been a lie. She knew it looked better for her to remain living amongst the civilians. It served her more to remain firmly in the lay-land where her roots were than to watch her growing city from the comfort of a penthouse, just as it served New Anchorage to have a leader who didn’t put herself above them. There was no small satisfaction in the fact that she’d secured a rather unanimous approval within the settlement. But her home, Smith’s Rest as it would forever be, was not the only settlement she needed to be concerned with.
“Good morning, Chief Minister!” Her attendant, an eager if somewhat scattered young woman named Naomi, greeted her outside of her office. She was partway through her twenties and quite apparently pregnant, but despite this she always managed to meet Celina on-time, with a cup of coffee and a daily schedule ready.
“Good morning,” she returned, and entered the office. Naomi followed.
The room was nothing special, bigger in reputation than actual size. A desk with its back to a window that saw the centre from two-stories up. Cabinets lined one wall, a long couch the other with a table bearing water for guests. She’d have preferred something with a few of the distant facility, but she also held a certain fondness for the grit of the settlement’s middle.
Naomi laid out an over-stuffed folder as Celina took her seat. Falcon’s Reach. Most of the papers she’d already read over the past few weeks. They detailed mainly the nature of the expedition Graham was sending out to them, which concerned her little. What Falcon’s Reach wanted from them mattered significantly less than the fact that they’d asked for help. Smith’s Rest had doubtlessly grown into the strongest of the independent Alaskan settlements, but they were still a far cry from being a true presence. If New Anchorage was going to become a truly independent entity, they needed more than one up-jumped settlement. Much more. Others might have employed more direct methods, since it wasn’t exactly difficult to force subjugation on others with a fleet of NC’s behind you. The Megacity demonstrated this clearly.
But it was not her goal to herald in a Megacity. At least not as they were understood now.
Their methods were effective, but flawed in inconsistent, yet nuanced and exploitable ways. Fairbanks had a history of ignoring their outlier settlements, Red Star prized machine over pilot, and Volkov—as much as they were owed for New Anchorage’s survival—was no stranger to unrest at even the most trusted levels. Already these flaws had netted her star-players from across the world. Tahlia Styles, daughter of Jin Styles and renowned commander from Broken Hill. Anastasia Kalfox, Volkov prodigy. Fouren and Drahdt, whose dossiers may have been less decorated, were certainly no less promising. Even out of the pilot seat she had in her fold a storied commander from Denver-Vegas, and the Ingram Kalfox.
It would have been easy to glance at New Anchorage and see nothing more than a sprawling tower of ice-crusted iron. And it would be a mistake.
“So, Falcon’s Reach is ready and expecting our team. They’re holding off on the ‘thanks’ for now but I’ll bet that comes in spades once this is all taken care of,” Naomi said, sifting through a few of the papers.
Celina expected as much. Smith’s Rest and Falcon’s Reach had never been much more than neighbors, it was right for them to be skeptical, which only meant their appreciation would be more sincere. The payment for this little mission wasn’t stellar, in fact it was markedly less than they should have expected, even from a waster plot like theirs. That was the point. The payment was more of a formality, coverage for the labor and some of the supplies they’d use, little else. What she truly wanted from this was conversation, and favor. She had no problems helping Falcon’s Reach establish itself, she only wanted to be a part of their reconstruction—and she wanted them to know that. What mattered here was unity. If they could bring Falcon’s Reach into the fold, then suddenly their territory, their eyes and their eyes, reached much farther.
“When it is, I’d like you to invite them to send a delegation to our next town hall. Tell them to come with a list of their most pressing issues.”
“Yes ma’am. And your meeting with the builders’ guild is still on for two-o’-clock. Here’s the rest of the schedule, no major last-minute changes but some shuffling. Anything else?”
Celina shook her head no, and Naomi left the room. She had barely enough time to look through the rest of the schedule before her data-tool hummed an incoming call. Her daughter. She tapped to receive it, and went back to arranging her papers.
“Good morning, mother.”
“Good morning, Elizabeth. I trust everything is moving along there.”
“Yes ma’am. Kalfox, Fouren and Moore will be preparing to leave soon.”
“Moore. Right, yes, I’d almost forgotten. Good, he could use the opportunity to better his standing with the public. In the worst case, he still has Kalfox and Fouren with him.”
“Of course.”
Elizabeth’s tone was flat, it always was when they spoke, but Celina had an ear for divining meaning from it. It was obvious to her that she was not content with Graham’s selection, that perhaps she doubted Moore’s capabilities, or Fouren’s reliability. It was obvious to her that Elizabeth felt wasted with her feet on the ground, because that was how Celina had raised her.
“Your sister’s recovery should be coming along nicely.” Celina said. Changing the topic was easy when it came to Vera, moreover it was almost impossible for Elizabeth to remain stony then.
She spoke hopefully. “It is. She’s started physical training, and should be fit for simulations. There’s been no discussion yet as to her NC, but I believe they’ll likely repurpose Sky’s for her.”
“Good. New Anchorage has a keen eye on the children. I doubt they’ll get much out of miss Drahdt outside of the missions, so it’s important Vera maintains a good public appearance.”
“Of course.”
Silence then. Elizabeth had been more prone to that recently.
“Well. If you don’t have anything else to report, that will be all. Once the expedition returns, I’ll want the unofficial details. I’m sure Moore and Fouren will be willing enough to talk. Goodbye, Elizabeth.”
“Goodbye.”
Celina hung up and sat back in her chair. Turning to the window, she wished again for a view of the facility, or past that the vast Alaskan wastes beyond New Anchorage’s walls. Once that sight had been nothing but a bleak reminder of their meaningless existence, but nowadays she often took the opportunity to look upon it. Now it was more than just frozen soil and snow. Now, every inch of that pale horizon was potential. It was New Anchorage.
Hey all! The OOC is now open, and we're accepting sheets for review. If you're still interested, mosey on over here: roleplayerguild.com/topics/169643-let… !
“You haven’t changed, no one has–you’ve just lost everything that made you great, and now you’re…this.”
Character Name
Mimrin of Draethir
Age
Early Twenties
Gender
Female
Archetype
Agile Duelist
Physical Description
Mimrin isn’t an entirely imposing person. She is of average height, but lean and boyish, lacking bulk. Her hair has faded to a pallid white, with only the faintest wash of pink dye remaining in a handful of strands, suggesting a more bombastic life. Her eyes are a burning emerald, miraculously untouched by the resurrection.
The mark of her death is fairly evident: from the ugly scar running the whole of her neck, it’s fair to assume she was decapitated, and not cleanly.
Personality Traits
There are two sides to Mimrin. The one who awoke would have been considered a disgrace to her warmongering homeland. She is reserved, timid, and shies from violence out of fear. Her Draethir blood has cooled, congealed, and left her with a worried, caring attitude. Some might even say Mimrin is friendly.
Then there is Mimrin, the Undying.
Most of those brought back from the grave may feel within them a tug towards their old ways. They may fight urges or give into impulses reflecting who they once were. True to the title once bestowed upon her, the Mimrin of old did not truly die. This past self still lurks in the depths of her mind, not a mere collection of impulses and memories, but a personality all its own. This Mimrin is vile, sadistic, hungry for violence and revels in coaxing the worst out of her compatriots.
And so the Mimrins, Redeemed and Undying, remain in constant struggle. While the former enjoys more frequent and complete control, as they say, old habits die hard. When backed into a corner, like any animal, instincts take over.
Attributes
The Undying
Nothing in Draethir was given lightly, Mimrin tore this title from the hearts and throats and guts of her victims, and its blood-soaked meaning endured in her memories, even after death. It was the duty of Draethir assassins to hunt down valuable targets on the battlefield and dispatch them with vicious efficiency. Often they were considered suicide soldiers, engaging commanders, chieftains and archons, individuals they knew to be highly-trained. Mimrin survived though, on the back of exceptionally quick reflexes and a savage mastery in the art of fighting one-on-one. It stands to reason that these skills do not transfer well when out-numbered, however.
Squeamish Sadist
Redeemed, Mimrin is generally concerned for the well-being of others and tends to shy away from conflict or violence. She’s even adopted a fear of blood since awakening. Mimrin the Undying however, was and is a sadist. She delights in the pain of others, sometimes just delighting in pain itself. Though plenty might find this detestable, at the end of the day if someone needs to be hurt, brought to the very brink of their tolerance for agony, she’s the person to go to.
She Who Fights and Runs Away…
There’s glory in a bloody death, but there’s more glory in living to kill again. Redeemed, Mimrin sees her natural agility and affinity for speed as a godsend to someone who fears and has no talent for violence. In truth however, these skills were developed out of necessity long ago, and Mimrin the Undying much prefers utilizing them to skirt about her enemies, often closer than is necessary.
The Real You
Mimrin lost her memories in the redemption, like all of the redeemed. However, with her past self enduring still, Mimrin the Undying is more aware than most just how changed they can be. If she herself can be reduced to a trembling coward, than the others brought back as well would surely wretch to see what they had become. She looks for signs, for slips back towards her compatriots’ more ruthless natures, and tirelessly attempts to urge them back to their old ways.
Inventory & Equipment
Wrappings of the Draethir Assassins
A tattered mix of dark leathers and iron, one would be hard-pressed to call what remains of this ensemble “armor.” As well, besides the faded black-and-red colors, the only claim it holds to Draethir is Mimrin’s memory.
The Tyrant’s Claws
Gifted during her service, these daggers were the only things buried with Mimrin. While once they may have been beautiful weapons, time has rendered their value almost entirely sentimental. Their conditions are poor, with the better of the two missing its tip and bearing chips along its inward-curved edge, and the worse snapped off entirely an inch or so off the guard.
Gift of Rebirth
Duality/Assimilation:
In addition to being initially unaware of the gift in general, it comes with a secondary caveat–it can only be used by her former personality. This Gift is a supplementary to Mimrin’s fighting style. Conceptually it is a form of sustain, with which she can recover damages done to herself by inflicting damage upon others. In reality what this equates to is a violent, horrid exchange of flesh. By carving into another, the viscera produced replaces what Mimrin has lost in a whirl of scarlet veins. The extent of this reparative Gift’s uses is thus far limited to healing external wounds.
Full Name - Mox Holiday (Birth Name: █████████) Callsign - Aerie (Formerly ██████) Age - 23 (b. 2655 CE) Birthplace - Blackstone Pilot Type - Sniper -
P S Y C H E
Happy! ("True"!) Warm, energetic, with a penchant for harmless fun, Mox is someone who could find sunshine at the bottom of the ocean. Lose big at the card table? NC giving you grief? Last sortie went FUBAR? Keep that chin up! You’re only really lost when you admit it to yourself.
Ceaseless optimism might not be the best way to make friends in a ruined world, but that’s alright—Mox loves a challenge.
Professional! (Mostly True!) Don’t let the sunny disposition fool you, Mox knows how to work. She might look like a merc, and act like a free spirit, but when it comes to the job she operates like military. From planning to execution, Mox pours over every detail, determined to ensure things go as smoothly as possible. And when they don’t, you can depend on her to keep a cool head—and a steady hand.
Curious! (Definitely True!) Strangers? Not for long! There’s nothing Mox loves more than making new friends—and learning all about them! Their hobbies, their dreams, their favorite colors; people are so fascinating, and sometimes terribly complicated, but that’s what makes them fun!
And if it’s not people she’s learning about, it’s things! New experiences, movies, music, stories. Mox has an adventurer’s heart, and will try just about anything once (or sometimes more than once, if she forgets!)
G E A R
Hunting Rifle A parting gift from Chelsea, there are a lot of fond memories scratched into its wooden frame. Fires old school ballistics and used mainly for hunting, it’s not about to pierce a steel hide, or drop a mutated behemoth, but it finds good use in Mox’s hands.
Journal Mox’s prized possession. Leatherbound, with a lock that’s city-quality strong, and a key she wears ‘round her neck. Inside are lists of important things, names, places, events in cryptic shorthand, and a sea of inane, random information.
Though this one is newer, gained on the eve of her desertion, she’s already begun to fill it out.
Promise Ring A simple, silver band, sometimes worn on the finger, sometimes around her neck. "My Angel" is engraved on the inside.
N E U R A L C O M B A T A N T
Armor Aerie’s hide is lightweight and sleek, crafted for subtlety and maneuverability. Considering she’s usually far-removed from the more brutal areas of a conflict, defense is about the last thing considered.
Though she has had it tweaked since her desertion, to make it nigh-unrecognizable as Sahaquiel, the core functions and purpose of its frame remain.
The metal is treated to be easily repainted between missions, for camouflage’s sake.
Hands Known more widely by its field name, the TBE Mk III “Dragonslayer” is a thermal-ballistic-exchange rifle with a complicated history. Designed to rotate between necessary ordinance, the Dragonslayer was universally panned for its energy-requirements, especially when it often necessitates extreme range due to the volume of its secondary mode's charging sequence. Standard mech suits were flat out unable to use it, and NC’s often preferred quieter, subtler models for covert marksmanship.
However, if one can get past (or utilize) these perceived downsides, you’d be hard-pressed to find a rifle with more penetrative power. At full charge, the Dragonslayer has been shown able to pierce armor which would otherwise require top-grade ordnance to breach.
Chances are, you’ll hear this gun long before it fires, and its proponents will often tell you: “That only matters if you miss.”
Back Dubbed the “iron mirror,” this stealth array helps to shield the Aerie from enemy radar, while also connecting to the advanced optics in its helmet. This way, the cloak can ping enemies who may be trying to locate her via standard survey tech.
Auxiliary Aeries auxiliary is an array of wing-like thrusters meant to produce quick bursts of movement for repositioning or emergency evasion. In their standard state, they are unfit to provide sustained speed.
At full sync, the array opens up, and, utilizing the Aerie’s antimatter core, along with its lightweight frame, can not only bring the mech airborne, but also maintain positions at high-altitude even when sharing energy with the TBE rifle.
The auxiliary also carries a cache of flares to combat anti-air attacks, though the supply is small and won't last through any prolonged engagements.
R E L A T I O N S
Chelsea "Gabriel" Solioun Known as “Gabriel”, Chelsea Solioun is one of Ecclesia’s “Seraphs,” who work in special and covert operations. She is also Mox’s mentor, and perhaps the closest thing she has left to family. After helping Mox escape Ecclesia, she returned to work, albeit with her outlook forever darkened.
Though she’s undeniably a uniquely skilled pilot, there are some in Ecclesia, especially among the Seraphs, who have begun to doubt her loyalty.
Mox, however, does not.
Solomon "Mikhael" Roy Once known by the designation “Israfil,” Solomon Roy has since succeeded his late predecessor as Archangel of the Seraphs, and has inherited the title of “Mikhael.” A cold, ruthless, and singularly effective killer, there’s likely no one in the world more suited to the work of the Seraphs than he is.
Roy got on with Mox about as well as he did with anyone—which is to say, not at all. They worked together more than a few times over the years, and he sits squarely at the top of the short list of people who absolutely terrify her.
While he accepted Chelsea’s explanation for Mox’s disappearance, he has never been fully convinced of her death. A few cursory sweeps brought up nothing, but he still puts an ear to the ground now and then. Just in case.
Milly "Uriel" Sonders An oldhead in the Seraphs, Milly’s been around longer than most. She’s a simple woman with simple interests: if something explodes, she’s happy. While notoriously difficult to make friends with, Chelsea and Mox both managed.
Mox remembers her fondly, if spottily. Not enough to trust her, but enough to hope they never meet again—for both their sakes.
Physical Details ◢
Mox is an unassuming person of average height. Though slight at a glance, an incredibly strict and rigorous training regiment, which she still maintains, has left her with a fair amount of muscle and excellent physical health.
It’s rare to find her without a smile on her face, or that same smile in her step, and just about every aspect of her demeanor. She has a tendency to dance as she walks, as if moving in time to some unheard music—or very much heard, if she’s wearing her headphones.
She prefers simple, comfortable clothes, but likes branching out to be a bit more fashionable when means allow—which, considering her new life as a freelancer, isn’t very often.
Background Information ◢
Personal log of Ecclesia Agent █████████,████████████████,Designation: Gabriel.
Begin Playback:
…s on? Hello? Fuckin—used to have red lights on these things, y’know? Tell you when they’re fuckin’ on. Anyway, fuck me, worst day of my life, I owe the Archie a beer. You remember—fuck, I mean, I’m only talkin’ to me but whatever—but no, that stupid ██████ Program? █████’s idea with the kids? Well we tagged this group of brats about four years ago when they were all like, six, and today some of’em pinged. Sim scores within "potential parameters" or some shit. Yeah, really. Seven pings, five of the families took the creds and handed the kids over.
Unbelievable. And I taught heavy arms down in ████████, so you know he’s gonna make me babysit. Un-fuckin'...why’d I ever open my mouth? █████’s gonna pick some high-class bar in the Brights and I’m gonna have to shell out like fifteen creds for one beer. And he's gonna grin at me the whole time cause he's a smug asshole. Fuck. And he hates kids! Wasn’t even gonna do it ‘til I bet him he couldn’t.
Fuck you, █████!
Begin Playback:
Okay, well, it’s been like almost three weeks, and my head fuckin’ hurts. Those ██████ candidates we brought in? I mean, not like you’re gonna be forgetting this anytime soon but on the off chance you did, fuckface, guess what happened day one? We get five brand-spankin’-new, shinier-than-a-dolphin’s-ass frames on these cores, start to get’em plugged in, and the first kid fries five minutes after he sits down. I mean like cooked, in the head, nothin’ but eggs up there.
They let an intern do the fuckin' procedure on'im. Nice one.
Yeah, so that put the brakes on us for a few days. Doesn’t matter, wasn’t any way we were gettin’ the rest of them in those cockpits after they saw us pull their buddy out. Doc had us mix some shit in their food, and they calmed down by the weekend but, I mean, Christ. What are the odds? And it’s not like they’re better or anything. Watched the psyche vids after they’d gotten their evals, and they’re obviously all still worried about plugging in, they’re just too clonked out to say it.
So yeah, we’re trying again tomorrow, I guess. █████ wants medical down there, waiting. Sure buddy, like that’s not gonna freak’em out even more. Fuckin’ ass. Whatever.
Know what I was worrying about when I was ten? If I was gonna have fuckin’ pancakes for breakfast.
[LOG DELETED]
C3 CALLED ME IN LAST NIGHT AND THREW UP ON MY FAVORITE FKUCKIN SHIRT IM DELETING MY LSAST REC I TAKEIT ALBACK FUCK THESWE STUPID KIDS
Begin Playback:
Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me. FUCK meeeeee! Performance review? No one told me there was gonna be a fucking performance review! I thought this was just one of █████’s pet projects, when did he get the fucking higher-ups involved? He made Project ██████ a legitimate fucking program with funding and everything, and my name is on it! You know what that means? Means if this doesn’t pay out how they want—and I don’t even know what the fuck it is that they actually want in the long-term—it’s my ass on the line!
█████ put himself as Assistant Director! Assistant! He’s the fucking Archangel! This was his idea and now I’m fucking in charge?
Fuck that. You know what this is? He wants me out. Yeah, ever since his buddy got back from overseas, he’s been trying to get him into ██████. Won’t kick Sandalphon, they served together too. █████’s been here almost as long as █████, board won’t cut him. He could go after █████, but he won’t. Won’t go after anyone else. Doesn’t like me. Never liked me.
But fuck him, I got this spot cause I’m the fucking best.
They want these kids simming 90th in the sixteen-to-eighteen bracket by the end of September. Fine. C2 needs work and C5 is a fuckin’ anchor, but three and four pull their weight, they can pick up the slack. I’m moving my shit into their dorms. Up before the sun, and they’re gonna eat, sleep and shit simulations until this review bullshit is over. We’ll sleep in the goddamn pods if we have to.
I ain’t goin’ fuckin’ anywhere, █████. You hear me? I’m gonna fuckin win. I’m motherfucking Gabriel.
Gettin there gettin there slow but we’re gettin there. Three and four stomped the 13/15 bracket easy, and they’re 75th already in the 16/18’s. Kids don’t fuckin miss. They do not miss. Gimme a coupl weeks ill getem NINETYFUCKINNINTH swear to god ill have these kids makin PMC sims look like training vids.
2 and 5 i fucikn knew it i said it TWO AND FUCKING FIVE 55th FOR OVER A WEEK AND THEYRE GETTING FUKCING WOSREHAGAKCAWAICFAIHOWHOWHOWHOW HOW HOW
3 and 4 get tomorrow off
2 gets lunch
5 breaks 70th or he doesnt eat
Begin Playback:
Holy shit.
We did it. We actually fucking did it.
C4 hit 98th, and three cracked 99th, but they all passed 90. Average was like, 94th or something? I didn’t hear—wasn’t listening. Too busy enjoying the look on █████’s stupid fucking face. God I shoulda snapped a picture. Dunno what was better, the scowl he shot me when the auditor passed us, or how green he got when C5 puked all over his shoes.
I was right, █████ pitched ██████ to the higher-ups as my idea. Lot of fucking money at his ‘recommendation’ but it was ultimately on me if it flopped. Well it didn’t, they’re fucking stoked and you know what? I’m running with it. I’ve got full control, all I gotta do is keep hitting high marks, and make sure the little bastards are Ecclesia-ready ASAP. Won’t be hard. Couple of'em can get going soon, with my help.
Was gonna go bar-hopping and find someone to fuck my lights out, but C4 asked if they could have pizza—said I’d promised it if we passed. Probably did, whole month’s a fuckin’ blur. So yeah, you know what? We’re getting pizza, and something neon-colored to drink, and then we’re gonna marathon the Hell Melter movies cause I borrowed the third one from █████ and, hey, buddy? You ain’t gettin’ it back!
Gabriel out!
3 came and got me, said 5 wouldnt wake up. called medical. he didnt make it.
doc wont give me a straight answer. fed me some shit about plug fatigue. know better.
i killed that kid.
[LOG DELETED]
[LOG DELETED]
Begin Playback:
Wow, shit, it’s been a minute I guess. Honestly forgot I had this tablet, just found it cleaning out under my bunk. Anyway, uhhh, update, update. Yeah. Okay so, last couple years have been pretty good! You know, I kinda thought balancing ██████ and ████ shit was gonna be impossible but, actually, it’s not so bad.
Kids made it into Ecclesia, no fuckin’ surprise there. I don’t actually handle their sorties or anything, I just keep’em sharp in between, and since they’re a package deal they’re always together, so it works out pretty easy.
C4’s got a thing for ordinance, oughta put him in touch with █████—woman’s a firebug. Three spends a lot of time training Two, she’s sorta my second-in-command. Two still struggles with her percentiles, but Three? High-90’s all day, and it’s even better in sorties. Seriously, I meant it when I said this kid doesn’t miss. I watched the vids. They put a rifle in her hands, plop her on the edge of the conflict zone. She’ll sit there for hours, not a single complaint. Shooting starts and she zeroes motherfuckers all day long. Pop. Pop. Cool as a fuckin’ cucumber. Told her she can bring holovids, or music or something with her but she just likes chatting with the rest of the squad. Grumpy fucks tell her to stuff it but she keeps going, it’s great. Gonna try and sit in on the comms with her on the next sortie.
As far as █████ goes, it’s been weird. █████ was on me for a while after I got █████ on track, but then we lost Raphael. Wasn’t on an op or anything, dude just necked himself. He left me alone after that.
Fuck.
Don’t get me wrong, I can’t stand the guy, but he and ██████ served together. I get it.
Kids are out for the night, long mission. Dorm’s all mine, so I’m gettin’ trashed—haven’t had a drink in months. Didn’t like ██████ much, but he saved my skin more than once when he didn’t have to.
So, here. First one’s for Raphael. Good fuckin’ work, angel.
3 hit fullsync on todays sortie. overcharged her thermal and the fuckn hting blew up in her hands. shes fine, just spooked. r/d wants to fit her with higher-capacity equipment. i told her she gets to play with bigger toys. eyes lit up like christmas.
pizza tonight. they earned it.
Begin Playback:
God. Shit. Shit.
Okay, so, Three’s been goin’ on more sorties, and she’s doin’ great, seriously. Hits full-sync pretty quick, so they keep putting her further and further away. Still hits. Girl’s cracked, really. Problem is, her Shift finally cropped up. Or, I dunno, maybe it’s been up for a while and we just didn’t notice.
Back after Five…y’know. After that, the kids set up a little memorial in his room, and every now and then they go in there and tell him what’s been up. Sorta became a post-mission ritual for’em. Well, Three got back first today, and she’s normally, like, y’know, right to Five’s room to give his lil’ picture an earful. This time she just got a drink and flopped down on the couch.
Thought something might have been up—I mean, the sortie went fine, great, so I didn’t really know. Tried to be slick about it, asked if she’d already told Five how she did.
Girl just stared at me. Asked again and she said she didn’t know who I was talking about. Now, look, I get it, kids are little psychopaths, and they can be mean as fuck, yeah, but not Three. Not any of the ██████. But Three is just disgustingly nice, so I knew she wasn’t just saying that to say it. Took her into the room and she looked at his picture for a long time.
She doesn’t remember him.
Look, they’re all starting to deal with their Shifts. C4 got a pretty typical lineage-bleed, and Two sleeps like one hour at a time. But I’m worried about how Three’s gonna progress. If this memory thing goes deep, she could end up a fuckin’ vegetable.
█████ says I should stick to protocol, push it ‘til we have a good idea of what it can do. But he’s a stupid fucking asshole. He’s right, but he’s still a stupid fucking asshole.
Two and Four are with her now. They’re tellin’ her about Five, and those first couple months. Dunno how much she lost, yet.
Gonna go talk to medical.
Begin Playback:
…
Long day. Long month, I guess. Jesus.
New █████ in the squad. Remember █████’s buddy? The one he wanted to replace me with? Well, he’s in now. I’m still Gabriel, nothin’ fuckin’ changing that, but the guy’s been doing work in Ecclesia for a while and the Powers That Be deigned to expand the heavenly fuckin’ host and bring him in.
███████. Callin’ him Israfil.
Guys a real piece of work. Don’t get me wrong, he’s an absolute monster on the field, can see why they brought him on, but, man, he’s like a slab of metal. Hardly talks on ops, and he’s curt in briefings, but when he does talk, you learn to fuckin’ listen. Killer strategist. No nonsense, too, even off-duty.
No fuckin’ idea how he’s friends with █████. Friends with anyone for that matter. Dude doesn’t even smile, doesn’t even seem human. ████ can’t stand him, but she doesn’t like a lot of people.
Always a hard adjustment bringing new people on. Lotta trust in the ██████, even with the assholes. Gotta be. Some of the shit we do, y’know, you need that.
Anyway, uhhh, hmm…oh! Yeah, ████’s good. Had that scare with Three a while back, but we pushed it, figured it out we think. Definitely a memory loss thing. Helluva Shift, but it could be worse, y’know? Doesn’t hurt, isn’t miserable. Aside from some gaps, she’s still all there. Won’t even have to take any meds for it. Honestly? I’m kinda jealous.
Lucky little shit.
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Aaaaay, got it! Holy shit, can’t believe this still works, I think I lost this thing like…wow three fuckin’ years, huh? Not the first time, either. Oops.
Ah well, who cares?
Uhhh, shit, things have been great! Mostly, I mean. ███ bit it a few months ago. Op in ██ took a bad turn on exfil. Archie took a hit and Israfil had to take over command while we got’im out. Thank god for that guy, really. Still gives me the creeps, but he does fuckin’ work.
Don’t drink much these days, but I poured one out for Remiel. Good work, angel.
Alright but enough sad shit, though! How about ████! Holy fuck, these kids are killin’ it! All of’em, even Two! C4’s happy as a clam no matter what the sortie is, as long as he gets to make something explode. Two’s been running recon for Three, and Three’s been sitting in on tactical meetings. Think she might have her lil’ eyes on commanding one of these things. Who knows? Soon. Maybe. She’s good, but there are some missions that take time to plan, and if she has to run sorties beforehand, there’s a chance she’ll lose some of the intel.
Yeah, uh, her Shift’s kinda progressed. It’s not terrible, but she pushes full-sync a lot, and now she’s starting to get gaps more often. Last time she disconnected she forgot what years it was, and she couldn’t remember her favorite movie.
Hah. Think I still have ████’s copy. Sucker. We’ll watch it tonight, it’ll come back to her.
Gonna try not to lose this thing again, these little logs are nice.
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Okay, okay! Quick one today cause I gotta run down to start clearing shit with the brass, but fuckin’ get this—they want to start grooming Three for ████! For real! I think they want her to replace Remiel. She's a marksman, makes sense.
Fuck, okay, I’m gonna be late and I just fuckin’ know if ████ gets there first, he’s gonna try and talk’em out of it.
Well fuck you, buddy, not on my watch.
MY GIRLS GNONNA B A FUCKN ████ BABY LETSFUCKNGI GOOOOO OO
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Well, it’s been a helluva few weeks, but things are goin’ good! Since Three got tagged for █████, I’ve had to sorta pull her aside for extra training. She hasn’t met anyone else from the squad yet, doesn’t know I’m part of it either. Right now she thinks she’s being tested—which, fair, she is.
Downside is that she’s had to miss a couple sorties with Two and Four. First time they’ve ever actually been split up, I think. Threw’em all out of whack, and they practically glued themselves to her when she got back to the dorms. Two especially.
Anyway, been and gonna be spending a lot more time with her. I mean more than usual. Hell I’ve been sleeping in these fuckin’ dorms most nights for almost five years, I see these kids every goddamn day anyway.
Two and Four are due out tomorrow. Gonna take Three to the heavy range out in the dust—let her try some of the fun toys.
holy FUCK wow biggest mistake of my LIFE
OW
let 3 use a fuckin dragonslayer cause like idk i figured why not she likes snipers and she can actually use it
u ever hear one of those things spool up when theyre charging on a fullsync battery? sounds like the fuckign world is ending. then she shot the stupid thing and there mustve been a fuckup with my dampeners cause i heard it like i was standing rgiht fuckning next to it.
ears still ringing doc says ill b fine but FUCK OW
and of cours e she hit the target anwyay
didnt know what he r favorite food was when she unplugged and i had to remind myself that im a fucking adult so i didnt tell her that she loved to eat SHIT
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Ugh, today fuckin’ blows.
█████ went to the brass, told them how I’m pulling Three out of too many missions. Like, motherfucker, you know what she’s training for and you know some of that shit needs to be learned in a controlled environment.
But yeah, brass agreed so she’s back on the normal rotations. We’re gonna have to squeeze in lessons during her downtime, which there’s already not much of anyway. Two’s glad to have her back, of course—she’s a good girl. They’ve both been spending a lot of time together, holding hands and shit when they think I'm not looking. Long as they don’t get marked for PDA I don’t really give a shit.
C4’s been good too. Branching out more, hanging out in the barracks. Met ███ on accident, but she’d heard about his specialties and they talked for hours. Seemed to learn a lot, but fucked if I wanna to deal with another one of her, so I’m gonna try to rein him in a bit before he tries sneaking in booze and lighting bugs on fire.
Gonna take’em out tomorrow. Know a nice place not too far from the city where we can spend the day, eat in peace. Birds like to flock out that way; might bring my rifle with me, see if Three’s as good out of the NC.
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Well, today was the day. Three’s officially a █████. Just got back from the meeting, moving her to our squad first thing tomorrow. Designation is "Sahaquiel." Officially she’s just moving to Ecclesia proper, but she’ll be working under our CO’s, and when we need to pull her for ops they’ll shift her around to make it all look right. I dunno, never asked how any of the technical shit worked, don’t care.
Bad news I guess, too. █████’s disbanded. Wasn’t on bad terms or anything. Point of it wasn’t to make a single unit, it was to make good soldiers for Ecclesia. Hey, and you know what? That’s what I fuckin’ did. These kids are goddamn stars.
Two? Yeah, I pushed her hard, but you know what? She bounced back, she fuckin’ did. Scout’s not an easy role, and even when we stopped testing her she never let up.
C4? Kid’s got a future in demo that’d make ████ blush. And every squad he’s worked with fuckin’ loves him. His heart is in this in a way you don’t see with most people. He loves being a pilot, even after all the shit.
And Three? I mean, I’m not even her fuckin’ teacher anymore. Technically we’re coworkers now—you’d told me that at the start and I’d’ve made you swallow your teeth.
Not lettin’em go though. Talked brass into letting us keep the dorms. Yeah, yeah, I can hear me already with the sentimentality shit. Fuck off. Won’t all be around as much, but it’s something.
Guess y’all aren’t numbers anymore. Now you’re angels.
FIRST OP WITH ████ TODAY BICTH!
god DAMN my fuckin girl was SO READY!! worried she wouldn’t get on with everyone but on the trip out ████ asked her if she really thought Hell Melter 3 was better than 2 cause apparently no one fuckin thinks that (coulda fooled me 2 blows AAAAAAASSSSSSSS)
anyway they talked the whole fuckin way. Sandalphon and Iofiel got in on it too. Archie was a fuckin’ grouch about it but fuck’im HAHA LOSER I WON.
so yeah we ganked this ███████ convoy and it went smooth as butter. Sahaquiel (GET TO CALL HER SAHAQUIEL NOW) was so far out but we could still hear the dragonslayer spool up. didnt matter though she zeroed TWO of the fuckers before we even got started. Archie and I took on the NC’s they had with’em, and ████ did her thing, made sure there wasnt shit left to ID.
fuckin cherry on top is she completely forgot who Archie was when she unplugged. FUCK YOU ████ I’m gonna tell her SO MUCH SHIT ABOUT YOU
GABRIEL OUT
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Not fuckin’ happy today.
█████. Fuckin’ █████. Fuck. I don’t get it. I do not get it he won’t just leave a good thing alone. I mean, things have been going so fuckin’ well, and I’ve stayed out of his hair as best I can when we aren’t on ops, but he still has to try and find some way to just…get at me.
Fuck!
He went to the higher-ups. Thought he might be trying to get ████ booted but no, it’s worse. He went in all honey and praise, and said we should start putting her in on higher-confidential ops. ‘Course the brass didn’t like that idea much. I mean, she’s fuckin’ good, but she’s still a kid, and she and ████ have never been great about hiding their shit so of course they know about her, too. Having ties like that don’t usually make for a good fit.
But █████, the fucker, suggests using her Shift as leverage. He wants to isolate her, cut down on the things she can lose when she unplugs so there’s a higher chance she’ll forget the actual fucking mission. Pitched it as the perfect fucking spec-ops agent, wipes her own memory. And those shitheads actually bought it.
So now she can’t see ████ anymore, can’t leave the dorms, can’t watch movies, can’t listen to music. She gets to live in a small fucking bubble, with the occasional break to sortie, with as little intel as possible, I’m guessing so they can start wiping as much from her as they can.
████’s freaked out, of course. So’s ████. They both come by and I have to fuckin’ turn them away. The way they look at me. Like they can’t believe it.
Fuck. They shouldn’t believe it. I wish they’d forget it. They won’t.
Me neither.
she forgot me.
she fucking forgot me.
started with other shit. lost her birthday, forgot how to dance, how to use the microwave, what coffee was, how old she was, doesnt remember her parents, or what time the sun goes down. she lost her name THREE FUCKING TIMEs. now she doesnt even like how it sounds anymore.
forgot ████ and the poor boy fucking cried when i told him. said he fucking hated me. ████ took him away before i could say something stupid but hes right. he should fucking hate me. ████’s like his fucking sister and it feels like i took him away from her.
still didnt stop it. didnt even try.
today she got out of the cockpit and asked me who i was. dont even know if i wanna tell her.
[LOG DELETED]
[LOG DELETED]
[LOG DELETED]
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God.
Okay.
Well, it’s over. The little experiment, ████’s idea, it’s done. She went out on the last op and a malfunction in the plug triggered a failsafe, booted her out right as she was lining up her target. She forgot what the fuck she was doing, like, completely, and by the time Control got her caught up the target was gone. Whole op was a scrub.
Oops! Turns out you can’t rest your entire fucking strategy on a goldfish!
Fuckin’—ugh. Fuck. Whatever. They pulled it. Keeping her in the █████ at least, and I got them to give me a week to…I dunno, recoup her.
She lost pretty much everything once or twice along the way. Me, ████, Ecclesia, herself. Every morning it was like figuring out if she knew enough to pour herself a bowl of cereal. Couldn’t tie her boots, had to teach her what sit ups were. Only anchor she managed to keep the whole way was ████. Fuck knows how, but she did. Gonna have to get her to help me. ████ trusts her.
████ won’t come by if I’m around. He’ll be back in like, twenty, so I gotta fuck off. Gonna give’em the night. Dunno what they’ll tell her about me. Probably just the truth.
Huh.
Fact that scares the shit out of me should say enough, I guess.
████ I’m sorry. You’re never gonna see this, but I just am. I’m sorry. I’m not gonna let something like this happen again.
Begin Playback:
Alright, hey. So, ████’s been back on ops for a little while. Little shaky at first, everyone kinda had their doubts, but as soon as she actually had to do her shit, she did it.
Girl still doesn’t miss.
Things are better with us. ████ and ████ told her what happened, which was fair. She wasn’t really keen on talking to me for a bit, which was also fair. I moved out of the dorms, let’em have that.
Eventually she found me in the mess. Realized I was part of a memory she still had. Said it was a good one and she’d be okay trying to get back to feeling like that again. I just nodded. Didn’t know what to say, really. Didn’t wanna ruin it.
Been a few weeks since then. We eat dinner together every other day, sometimes ████ comes. It’s…I dunno. It’s nice. I like it, but it feels so…weird. Different. I look at her and, like, I know it’s her. I know it’s ████. She’s still the same person, still nicer than she should be, happier than she should be. She likes a lot of the same things, just doesn’t know why she likes them. It’s her.
But it’s not.
Fuck that’s so mean.
Anyway, dinner’s soon. Just gonna stay the course. Gotta. ████’s starting to come around on me, too. Didn’t realize how much I missed talking to her ‘til she stopped. Same with the little punk. Things go well here, I might try and reach out to him.
newyaers party SUCKKS cheap BEER cheap FOOD cheaP BREER
c ity of mfucking angles and they alL SUCK
████ nad ████ went ofg somewhere else, cause ████ dooesnt liKE LOUD and drink
saw ████ but th litt le punk woudlnt talk tome nad when i kept trying he PUNHCED ME
not even mad tho ████ proud of u buddy u got a mean fucknfg hook kid.
gotta lie down bfore i say smome dumshit
[LOG DELETED]
[LOG DELETED]
Said some dumb shit.
girl still has my back
op in ██ turned. uriel damaged. went in to get her and fuckn israfil SHITBAG ordred exfil. went in anyway no ammo no nothin but ████’s my fuckkin BRO and we dont leave angels BEHIND
saw sahaquiel go airborne thougt she was ditching but then i hear that goddamn dragonslayer roarin
got ████ out and i aint ever saying a FUCKING WORD to that shitheel evr again
fucking lov u ████.
Begin Playback:
So. Went out with ████ and ████ today, took’em to that spot like she remembered. Brought the food, and the rifle. Been clean since new years, but I found a bottle of the soda they used to drink back in ████ so we split that.
Hour or so later ████ showed up. I didn’t invite him—I mean, I woulda, y’know, but after last time I figured he probably didn’t wanna hear from me again.
Didn’t really say anything for a while. Everyone just got real quiet. Dumbass me, eventually I told’im—fuckin’—I said I was sober this time, so he wasn’t getting another free shot. That set him off, he came at me swingin’. You know how many assholes I’ve dropped? How many bar fights I’ve walked out of pullin’ some motherfucker’s teeth out of my knuckles?
Well I didn’t throw one fuckin’ punch. Might’ve slapped him back a bit, thrown him once or twice, but honestly? Kid’s a scrapper, he might’a actually had me towards the end. Should’a heard him screaming, pure fury, then it just…stopped. All of it. One second he’s wailing on me, roaring like an animal, then suddenly he’s just…sobbing. And he fuckin’ grabbed me. Hugged me.
Fuck, look at me, now I-I’m a fuckin’ mess too.
…Look I always kinda knew what this was. These kids. Could’a cut when they closed ████ down but I didn’t. I didn’t. They’re fuckin’ mine.
Said they needed some time. Gonna meet again next week. ████ gave me his number, said I could text him if I wanted. Still tryin' to figure out what to say. Not gonna fuck it up this time.
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Knew I packed this fuckin’ thing somewhere. Well, get a good look now, cause this is probably the cleanest this place is ever gonna get. That’s right baby, we’re in the Brights now! Fuck! I remember when I was like, nine, lookin’ up at these towers from the dregs, thinkin’ I’d live in a place like that one day.
Welcome to ‘one day’, girl.
Needless to say, things in █████ have been goin’ well. Corpo shit sorta slowed down, but you know how it is with the suits, one of’em is always gonna want another one dead. Or worse, broke. Job’s a job though. They point, I shoot. Not like you can really say ‘no’ at this level, anyway. Not that I’m complaining, I mean, shit, look at all this. Look at the view! Easy to forget there’re still stars in the sky sometimes. Not anymore.
████ and I still butt heads, but he’s backed off trying to ruin my shit. Maybe he’s finally getting his shit together. Can’t say the same about his buddy. Fuckin’ Israfil. Yeah, nothing’s changed there. Still a gargantuan, soulless fucking machine. Still doesn’t think he did anything wrong wanting to leave ████ behind way back. The rest of’em are chill though, even Sandalphon’s getting sick of his shit.
████ and ████ are coming over later, help me break the place in. Got pizza, got the new Hell Melter. Gonna start with 4 cause that was ████’s favorite.
…
Fuck, can’t believe it’s been a year.
Miss you, punk.
…Fuck, nope. Nope, not today. Did this crying shit already. Today’s a good day. We’re fuckin’ happy today.
████ forgot me again.
not as bad this time, still has a lot of it. mostly just my name and face. ████ talked her through it, p much norml again. gonna go out tomorro just me n her, have a remembering day.
just hit up a strip mall with ████ 2day and this fuckn girl pulls us into a jewelry shop cuz she wanted to get PROMISE RINGS for her and ████.
am i lame now cause i think thats cute as fuck ?
i bought her a new journal. lost the last 1 and it had a bunch of important shit in it. gotta put ████ in the new 1 for her cause she forgot him again like 3 months ago.
cant wait 2 see the look on her face
Begin Playback:
—got it! Come on, come on! Don’t hide! Look at the camera, come on let’s see it! Show it!
'Omigosh no stop! My eyes are all red it’s embarrassing!'
Aw come on what’s it say on it, huh? What’d she get engraved? ‘My Angel’? How fuckin’ cute is that? Atta fuckin' girl, ████!
Begin Playback:
Hey hey.
Back from another op. Yep, that’s my arm all busted up. Not too bad or anything, doc says I’ll heal just fine, and I’m good to pilot in the meantime anyway. Mainly it’s ████ I’m worried about.
Only ever seen that girl miss once or twice since she was a brat. Well, un-fuckin'-lucky but today was one of those times. We were out in ███████ territory. Some assholes from our side went AWOL. Took over this little town near a transport site, guess they planned to ambush it. Higher-ups didn’t want that kinda heat so, in we go, gotta take’em out, clear out the town, too. Make it look like raiders.
Don’t think she knew any of the deserters. Main issue was the civis. ████’s not too good about that part of the job. I mean, she’ll do it—done it—but sometimes, after she…y’know, the memory, she’ll start having doubts and shit. Basically what happened here. Hesitated, and one of the NC’s got me with a thermal blade. Hot shit, that. Closest I’ve come to biting it in a while.
All good now. Brass wants me to have a chat with her and I will, but…I mean, fuck. I’ll tell her a job’s a job, and sometimes things get dirty. But I’m not gonna rag on her for not wanting to kill civis.
Ever since ████ dropped out last year, she’s been on a real humanitarian kick. Think it’s getting to ████ now, too. Don’t think she’s told her about ████ or anything, but, shit, person you love starts telling you about how much peace matters, and how important life is, it’s gonna get to you.
Ugh. Gonna go take a shower, soak these fuckin’ burns.
████ called me. ████ got blasted at a bar and might have said something about ████ whn she got home. fk
not gonna report this yet. mayb can fix it
false alarm
████’s just a sappy drunk. was pretty fuckn gone when i got there but the girl’s a professional. pulled her aside when we had a moment and made sure she didnt say anything.
████’s worried cause ████ doent drink much and barely ever gets drunk. asked me to look after her at work. like i dotn already
gonna be weird when she wakes up tomorrow and doesnt remember anything, and its got nothin to do with her shfit lmao
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Well, back to it, I guess.
Some shit’s goin’ on in this little settlement on the territory’s border. ███████ or somethin’, I dunno. No mission yet but when you get pinged to be ready, you get curious, y’know?
Anyway, looks like some strike shit. Governor or whatever doesn’t think the levies are fair, or wants a better cut from their mines, or one of the billion other reasons these people have. Negotiations are apparently looking ‘unproductive.’ Guys really oughta just take whatever we’re offering. I get it, shit sucks beyond the walls. You can get away with a lot, but when you start messin’ with the money, these corpo douchebags can do some drastic shit.
Or they order other people to do some drastic shit, I guess.
Worst case ███████ gets a visit from some ‘raiders.’ City officially pulls support for them, they become pretty prime targets, so sweeping it under the rug’ll be easy enough. Sucks if we gotta do it to our own civs. ████’s gonna hate it. If she’s lucky, one of these days she’ll forget about it.
Gotta get down to the compound with the others just in case.
been sittin on my ass for days but shits happening
███████ bought some freelance muscle. 6 mechs, 3 NCs. pretty much fuckd at this point, negotiations got yanked right away.
background found these dudes have beef with a raider clan, so we’ve got cover. gonna repaint, then go in and ash the whole place. just me, ████, and ████.
not thrilled about runnin’ small group with the archie, but its better than fuckn israfil, i guess
FUCK FUCK FUCKFUKC FUCK FUCK ████ ISOUT THER E WIHT HER FUKCING HIPPIE CREW
████ DOSENT KNO DOESNT REMEMBR SHE WENTOUT THEREFUCKFUCK
CALLINGHR SHE WONT FUKCING PICK UP WE LEAV FUCKING TOMORRO
[LOG DELETED]
[LOG DELETED]
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…
…
I fuckin’—
…
I fucking tried. God I tried ████ I’m so fucking sorry. I don’t…if…
Fuck.
If you can…just…████ didn’t know. She didn’t know. I couldn’t…she doesn’t know. I won’t tell her, I can’t. I know you wouldn’t fuckin’ want that. I know. I’m gonna…I’m gonna have to think of something. You just…god why didn’t you pick up…
What do I fucking do?
I’m so sorry. I’m so, so fucking sorry, ████. I fucking love you. I didn’t deserve any of you.
[LOG DELETED]
she forgot ████
getting her out. dont care how long it takes. next mission with 3 of us, im deregistering al her implants, pulling her NC's trackers, and sending her out. gonna make it look like she got taken. kno someone in tech who can help.
whoevr comes with us has to die. hope its not ████, but thats how it is.
cant do it anymore. im sorry it took this long.
it was archie.
sorry ████. never liked you but you didnt deserve that.
████ didnt know what was happening, but she did what i told her. sahaquiel’s offline. far as brass knows she got scrapped by the raiders.
deadzone didnt last long enough. had so much more i wanted to say.
shes gone now. dont know where. dont wanna know. if i never see her again itll be what we both deserve.
████ ████ ████ i love you. i love all of you. i wish youd never met me.
throwing this damn tablet into a fucking fire.
Chelsea Emma <3 Glenn! Mox Holiday (you) Safie Calhan (also you) ((old you)) Sango Bay instant noodles! (Beef!) Dancing Post-post-ionic-punk (music)((good!!)) Sahaquiel
Before she was Mox Holiday, freelance pilot, she was scooped up in Project Cherub, an experiment conducted by Ecclesia, and headed by members of their special operations unit, Seraph.
Training at age 10, piloting by 12, Mox has spent the majority of her life in and around combat. Eventually rising to into the ranks of the Seraphs, she worked alongside her mentor and parental figure, Chelsea Solioun. However, the effects of her Shift and the weight of clandestine operations on her conscience took their toll. It cost her family, friends, and very nearly her own life.
With Chelsea’s help, she managed to escape Ecclesia and get herself into hiding. Now, with 2678 ahead of her, she’s come to Last Hope in search of…well, she doesn’t quite know yet. Maybe it’s too much for someone like her to ask for a purpose, but she figures she’ll look anyway.
Polaris Shift ◢
Some might view Mox’s Shift as a mercy, others as a boon. After having lived with it for most of her life, she would, unequivocally, consider it a curse.
When she was younger, full-synching with her NC would cause her to lose memories upon disconnecting. These began small, and isolated, but over time expanded to include larger and more crucial bits of information, such as her own name, and could cover anything from singular moments, to entire days.
After a decade of intense and consistent work, the Shift now occurs whenever she disconnects, full-sync or not. Blessedly, these standard losses are often innocuous and easily remedied with a reminder. But ultimately the lottery of her mind is random, and while full-synch’s still carry a significant price, there’s always the chance that she’ll lose something important anyway.
Personal Mission ◢
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Mimichi did most of her dreaming in the morning, it had come to be her most anticipated time of the day. When she opened her eyes, while the blurry world hurried into focus, she found she could catch full glimpses of the things that fleeted from her in the day. Some mornings she would see her home, nestled into the Lorro’s crux with naught but the torches to light it in the dark, early morning. Others, the grain in her eyes would fool her into seeing the valley proper, long and tapered like a delta of fertile land. Those were the nice mornings, the pleasant ones whose memories brought less pain than warmth. Some–bittersweetly few–were less kind. In the waking blur she would, on occasion, see her old friends. She would see the other Serpents, strolling the small roads or practicing in the field outside of the manor. She would see her brother, Sazo, sometimes happy, sometimes bearing the look of hatred and betrayal he’d worn the last time she saw him. Yuna, too, would appear on the drearier mornings. She was small, and still had hair down to her shoulders. Sometimes she would smile, sometimes she would cry.
These were the difficult mornings, where the nostalgia weighed so heavy her breath would catch and her eyes would sting. It hurt to see, but it hurt worse for the moments to pass. For every bit of agony, she would not trade them for the world.
This time she saw Hiroyuki lying beside her. His face was abnormally touched by the blur, but she could tell his eyes were shut, and he was smiling. By the way his side rose and fell, it was clear that this time he was sleeping.
A sting caught her eye, and when she blinked the world was focused, Hiroyuki was gone.
Mimichi rolled onto her back and groaned through a series of stretches. She reminded herself, 'this is not the valley,' when she was done and got to her feet. It wasn’t, these were forest trees, much taller and more densely packed than the trees of Lorro. The south was its own kind of lush, one she was not used to, but certainly welcomed. Forests were hard to track through and easy to hide in. Trading in a comfortable night’s sleep on the bed of an inn for the relative safety beneath the towering shadows was something she’d become long accustomed to.
She buried the remains of her cooking fire and pulled her bag down from the branches she’d hid it in. With dismay, she saw one of the flaps had opened, and some of her vials had come open. A misting had passed through earlier, the ground was heavily dewed, her blanket damp. Worst, the moisture had crept into her bag and turned a monkshood paste to slush, which had then seeped into a smaller satchel of raw ingredients.
Frustrated, she dumped the contents of the satchel, then buried the thing itself. It wasn’t exactly rare for ingredients to leak, but where she’d once just pick the replacements herself, her position and disposition made that difficult. She was near a small town, but during festivals even small towns were usually diligent about harvesting the most obvious herbs. What she had left–mostly odds and ends additives, and nearly empty vials of ingredients snagged from the valley–wouldn’t make much without the more basic components. She’d comb with careful eyes along the way, but it was becoming clear to her that she’d need to visit the town to restock what she could. A glance into the pocket holding her money told her it would not be much if she planned to eat.
‘There’ll be work,’ she thought with some level of certainty. Big events, big crowds, these things tended to spark conflicts, and conflicts–at least the way she implemented herself into them–brought coin. Even if nothing needed doing that day, she was confident the next days would see plenty of people in search of aid of one kind or another. Investing in the materials would be worth it. She could likely find cheap food during the festival anyway.
This time she made sure the bag was entirely shut, and all its contents were secure, before slinging it around her shoulder. Last, she hooked the two halves of her weapon to her belt, bound in cloth to keep them from clacking together as much as to hide what they were. She might have called the thing a naginata, if she’d ever seen any respectable form of the weapon come apart at the middle, and require a ridiculous twisting mechanism and pin to keep from breaking at the slightest motion. Even the blade was more a ruined spear than a glaive, which was due more to the shoddy quality of the metal than the shape itself. But it had been cheap, and, to her surprise, had endured crossing a bandit’s sword–though the edge was now severely chipped.
The town, of which she didn’t know the name, wasn’t far. With the traffic, she even felt she could follow the road without trouble. Indeed, festivals, crowds, excitement, they had their merits, and part of her wondered if she might find some enjoyment in the events herself. A small part, though, and one she didn’t give much mind to once she was on her way.
Kuromizu Mimichi (formerly Kitamura Mimichi), Serpent of the Valley
黒-"Kuro" meaning "black" and 水-"Mizu" meaning "water." 海-"Mi" meaning "sea" and 道-"Michi" meaning "path."
Age:
35
Totem:
Snake
Appearance:
Mimichi has always possessed a sort of youthful androgeny. She is too sharp in the joints to be considered strictly feminine, and too rounded elsewise to be called a man. Her face–unadorned–gives no hint either way. Long hair would have once given her away, but wild foxtails and messy buns are not uncommon among fighting men, nor are they with her.
She stands at average height for her age, with the kind of lean muscle expected of a woman training since youth. Though she lacks bulk, one could almost tell from her posture alone--straight, with a shell of former pride to it--that she'd spent her life in service to a lord.
Her attire could be described as “formally practical” or perhaps “ceremonially dutiful.” Toughened yet flowing cloth laid under cured guards about her limbs, never clunky or restrictive but never quite casual either.
Personality
Once, Mimichi was a brash, hot-headed girl fueled by a competitive nature and an eagerness to serve the ruling family of her home. Later, through a dutiful friendship and eventual marriage to the heir, these fires were tempered by the virtues of combat and second-hand politics.
Patience, key to the philosophies of the Serpents and the court alike, is engrained into her. Though no longer given to meditation, Mimichi boasts a level of self-control one might expect of a monk. As such, her approach to most things on and off the battlefield is steady and tactical.
However, beneath Mimichi’s subdued nature is an eroded sense of duty, an understanding reached during the treacherous collapse of the Lorro Valley: loyalty–true loyalty–is without bounds. Sometimes, for the sake of what and who you love, heinous sacrifices must be made and retribution must be forgotten.
Strengths
Serpent of the Lorro Valley: Hailing from a long line of retainers loyal to the daimyo of the Lorro Valley, known as the Serpents of Lorro, Mimichi is a viciously weathered and experienced warrior. Her weapon of choice, the naginata, has long been among the Serpents’ icons, and as such she wields it like an extension of herself. The Serpents utilized an outwardly simple combative style, utilizing the naginata's reach to keep enemies at bay and retaliate with swift pokes or cuts, but they have always molded to a single combat philosophy: Patience. As such, she is a keen observer, able to weave nimbly around opponents, studying their movements until faced with the opportunity to go on the offensive.
Venomous: Aside the naginata, the Serpents’ namesake also derives from their affinity for poisons, and habit for coating their weapons with them. The Lorro, being a lush and plentiful valley, lent its resources to the study of toxicology, which became a founding block of the Serpents’ teachings. Mimichi is able to concoct a variety of elixirs–few of which bear any properties beneficial to long-term health–as well as trace poison through things like smell, taste, and symptoms.
Motherly Disposition: Though separated from her daughter for over a year since they fled the ruined valley, Mimichi raised the girl almost entirely on her own. She understands children, but she also understands what it means to teach, how to nurture, and how to convey meaningful things in simple ways.
Politically Minded: She saw little of her husband in the last years of their marriage, but her years as his body guard taught her many things extending beyond combat. She accompanied him to court, met many nobles, and learned how to navigate the political landscape as she would any other battlefield. Later, when her daughter was poised to become Lady of the valley, she was prepared for the brutal cruelty that would befall her. Now branded a traitor to the empire, Mimichi cannot–and truly never did–consider herself a politician, but she’s taken measures to ensure she would not be so easily ensnared in the many traps the field holds.
Weaknesses
Wanted Woman: Mimichi finds herself entangled in the conspiracy surrounding the fall of the Lorro Valley. Blamed for the murder of her husband, the former daimyo Hiroyuki Kitamura, as well as the kidnapping of her daughter, Yuna, there was a brief time following the siege’s conclusion that Mimichi could hardly step into a town without being assailed by imperial soldiers and headhunters. Though the pressure to bring her in has since slackened, and though the young heiress herself–now living with her uncle–attests that her mother in fact saved her from the siege, the warrant and price on Mimichi remains.
Honorless: The carnage of the siege and the shame brought by Mimichi’s conviction utterly ruined the Serpents of Lorro Valley. The guilt of the bloody swathe she carved in her escape with Yuna combined, weighed heavy enough to break many of her virtues. None would trust a woman condemned of such crimes, and perhaps that is rightly so. The codes of honor, the vows to protect those in need, and the loyalty to her allies, these things have all gone from her. She acts in her own interests, and even in the company of others, one can never be sure if her plans and suggestions truly consider everyone’s wellbeing.
Nostalgic: Mimichi is haunted by the loss of her old life. Often she will see her husband still in the edges of her waking vision, or hear him call out to her in the peaking bustle of a busy street. The greatest ache, though, is that for her daughter, Yuna. The heiress resides with Mimichi’s brother, and a daimyo more powerful than Hiroyuki had ever been, she is still gone under the protection of the Empire. There is little, if nothing, Mimichi would not do to see her daughter again, she is her crux. As well, while she may not consider herself as loyal to the emperor any longer, she always keeps an ear to the ground for news of Yuna’s new home, and any threats that may be encroaching upon it.
Venomless: A wide understanding and skill in toxicology is wonderful when surrounded by a variety of plant life. However, it is currently difficult for Mimichi to obtain the ingredients needed for the more potent poisons of the Serpents. Being a wanted criminal makes navigating more renowned markets difficult, and the smaller farms rarely carry the herbs she requires. As a result, her current collection consists mostly of petty toxins, unfit to adorn her weapon, if prime for meager tasks.
黒-"Kuro" meaning "black" and 水-"Mizu" meaning "water." 海-"Mi" meaning "sea" and 道-"Michi" meaning "path."
Age:
35
Totem:
Serpent
Appearance:
Mimichi has always possessed a sort of youthful androgeny. She is too sharp in the joints to be considered strictly feminine, and too rounded elsewise to be called a man. Her face–unadorned–gives no hint either way. Long hair would have once given her away, but wild foxtails and messy buns are not uncommon among fighting men, nor are they with her.
She stands at average height for her age, with the kind of lean muscle expected of a woman training since youth. Though she lacks bulk, one could almost tell from her posture alone--straight, with a shell of former pride to it--that she'd spent her life in service to a lord.
Her attire could be described as “formally practical” or perhaps “ceremonially dutiful.” Toughened yet flowing cloth laid under cured guards about her limbs, never clunky or restrictive but never quite casual either.
Personality
Once, Mimichi was a brash, hot-headed girl fueled by a competitive nature and an eagerness to serve the ruling family of her home. Later, through a dutiful friendship and eventual marriage to the heir, these fires were tempered by the virtues of combat and second-hand politics.
Patience, key to the philosophies of the Serpents and the court alike, is engrained into her. Though no longer given to meditation, Mimichi boasts a level of self-control one might expect of a monk. As such, her approach to most things on and off the battlefield is steady and tactical.
However, beneath Mimichi’s subdued nature is an eroded sense of duty, an understanding reached during the treacherous collapse of the Lorro Valley: loyalty–true loyalty–is without bounds. Sometimes, for the sake of what and who you love, heinous sacrifices must be made and retribution must be forgotten.
Strengths
Serpent of the Lorro Valley: Hailing from a long line of retainers loyal to the daimyo of the Lorro Valley, known as the Serpents of Lorro, Mimichi is a viciously weathered and experienced warrior. Her weapon of choice, the naginata, has long been among the Serpents’ icons, and as such she wields it like an extension of herself. The Serpents utilized an outwardly simple combative style, utilizing the naginata's reach to keep enemies at bay and retaliate with swift pokes or cuts, but they have always molded to a single combat philosophy: Patience. As such, she is a keen observer, able to weave nimbly around opponents, studying their movements until faced with the opportunity to go on the offensive.
Venomous: Aside the naginata, the Serpents’ namesake also derives from their affinity for poisons, and habit for coating their weapons with them. The Lorro, being a lush and plentiful valley, lent its resources to the study of toxicology, which became a founding block of the Serpents’ teachings. Mimichi is able to concoct a variety of elixirs–few of which bear any properties beneficial to long-term health–as well as trace poison through things like smell, taste, and symptoms.
Motherly Disposition: Though separated from her daughter for over a year since they fled the ruined valley, Mimichi raised the girl almost entirely on her own. She understands children, but she also understands what it means to teach, how to nurture, and how to convey meaningful things in simple ways.
Politically Minded: She saw little of her husband in the last years of their marriage, but her years as his body guard taught her many things extending beyond combat. She accompanied him to court, met many nobles, and learned how to navigate the political landscape as she would any other battlefield. Later, when her daughter was poised to become Lady of the valley, she was prepared for the brutal cruelty that would befall her. Now branded a traitor to the empire, Mimichi cannot–and truly never did–consider herself a politician, but she’s taken measures to ensure she would not be so easily ensnared in the many traps the field holds.
Weaknesses
Wanted Woman: Mimichi finds herself entangled in the conspiracy surrounding the fall of the Lorro Valley. Blamed for the murder of her husband, the former daimyo Hiroyuki Kitamura, as well as the kidnapping of her daughter, Yuna, there was a brief time following the siege’s conclusion that Mimichi could hardly step into a town without being assailed by imperial soldiers and headhunters. Though the pressure to bring her in has since slackened, and though the young heiress herself–now living with her uncle–attests that her mother in fact saved her from the siege, the warrant and price on Mimichi remains.
Honorless: The carnage of the siege and the shame brought by Mimichi’s conviction utterly ruined the Serpents of Lorro Valley. The guilt of the bloody swathe she carved in her escape with Yuna combined, weighed heavy enough to break many of her virtues. None would trust a woman condemned of such crimes, and perhaps that is rightly so. The codes of honor, the vows to protect those in need, and the loyalty to her allies, these things have all gone from her. She acts in her own interests, and even in the company of others, one can never be sure if her plans and suggestions truly consider everyone’s wellbeing.
Nostalgic: Mimichi is haunted by the loss of her old life. Often she will see her husband still in the edges of her waking vision, or hear him call out to her in the peaking bustle of a busy street. The greatest ache, though, is that for her daughter, Yuna. The heiress resides with Mimichi’s brother, and a daimyo more powerful than Hiroyuki had ever been, she is still gone under the protection of the Empire. There is little, if nothing, Mimichi would not do to see her daughter again, she is her crux. As well, while she may not consider herself as loyal to the emperor any longer, she always keeps an ear to the ground for news of Yuna’s new home, and any threats that may be encroaching upon it.
Venomless: A wide understanding and skill in toxicology is wonderful when surrounded by a variety of plant life. However, it is currently difficult for Mimichi to obtain the ingredients needed for the more potent poisons of the Serpents. Being a wanted criminal makes navigating more renowned markets difficult, and the smaller farms rarely carry the herbs she requires. As a result, her current collection consists mostly of petty toxins, unfit to adorn her weapon, if prime for meager tasks.
Renault Allard Male | 26 | Doumerc Scion of Lightning
_______________________________________________ "He doesn't smile right. I don't know. Like when a dog shows you its teeth, it's not happy—it's gonna bite." ________________________________________
"It's so very good to be back."
Holy Sigil Location
On the palm of his right hand.
Appearance
Renault strikes a distinctive figure. He stands just over six feet, and has been described as ‘gangly’ by the less than generous, though they aren’t far off. An avalanche of red hair falls well down his back, and bright, almost lupine eyes sit behind a pair of sleek glasses. Most people, however, notice the smile first. He wears it often, even when it might be inappropriate, and to hear it said it makes him frustratingly difficult to read. Perhaps that's the point.
Though a sharp dresser, he doesn’t bother adapting to new trends. Renault has a small but trusty wardrobe of dress shirts, button-ups, vests and coats that he’s worn since he first stepped foot onto the aristocratic scene. He favors dark colors, and smart cuts that don't cross the line into flashy, but still command elegance on the right shoulders.
Personality
When it comes to appearing like your stereotypical aristocrat, Renault does his level best to fit the bill. Polite, well-spoken, and measured, he enjoys conversation and is always eager to meet new people. An avid reader with a taste for arcane academia, he isn’t a scholar but he has a passion for magic that’s stuck with him since childhood, and is always out to learn more than he knows, regardless of the subject.
Most see past the smile quickly, but coming from politics he’s used to distrust. Having supported Nadine Lucienne’s stances for most of his career, he makes no secret of his relative distaste for the Church’s conduct. He believes Incepta chose her Scions for a reason, seeing in them the potential to be more than pretty figureheads.
Biography
Renault never saw House Allard at its weakest, before Nadine Lucienne became Scion and rose it from the aristocratic squalor it wallowed in, but he has seen it at its most pathetic. When things were low, House Allard sprawled to survive; it sired bastards, it married down, it branched shallow, but wide. Falling out of relevance had the unique effect of liberating them from the expectations of a higher House, while simultaneously shaming them for it. In the distant reaches of the family, this shame turned inward, gnawing at each new generation that failed to rise above their station.
As a member of one of the House’s most far-flung branches, Renault’s prospects were meager. He and his sister Coralie grew up in a modest home in the Racine suburbs, unable to afford a place in the city’s heart. Coralie was a sickly girl who spent many of her early years bedridden, though she blossomed to be wildly sociable when she became a little healthier. Renault, however, was a bit of a recluse. He was magically gifted, but hopeless when it came to strangers. Often Coralie was his only company, and he spent many days in her room, reading and talking, and entertaining her with paltry spells when she couldn’t muster herself out of bed.
Eventually in their teenage years, the duty of their crumbling House fell upon them. Coralie, still withered but only in body, began to pursue a career in Doumercene politics. She was personable, diligent, and driven by an admiration for the savior of House Allard: Her Holiness Nadine Lucienne. She began to shadow the Scion of Lightning, and spent many high school summers interning with Nadine’s party. Even if her role was minor, it was a meaningful step to her.
Renault, for his part, was torn. His affinity for magic was growing, taking to the arcane like it was his mother tongue. He wrote runes as deftly as his own name, could speak spells with the linguistic precision of a scholar, and may very well have found himself with an early, full ride in one of Doumerc’s legendary universities. But, he didn’t want to abandon Coralie, who despite having grown popular by the time she graduated, was surrounded by people who manipulated and deceived for a living. It was too late for him to join her on the political stage, at least, not I the same capacity. He wanted to stay close.
At sixteen he found a low-level politician tangentially related to Madam Lucienne’s party in need of interns. Renault’s social skills had improved somewhat from his proximity to his sister, but he was still politically fresh, and he’d learned well that the Allard name, especially when it belonged to such an outlier, held little weight despite Nadine’s position. So he was surprised to be invited onboard so readily. Until he actually met the man.
He wasn’t a politician, more of a white collar grifter, and Renault had not been brought on because of his name, or initiative, but because of his magical aptitude. A good number of the interns were magically inclined, others weren’t kids at all, just adults who looked like they had no place in a noble’s court. Which made sense; none of them were going to be spending time there.
Renault learned his first lesson in politics: Dirt leaves stains—keep your hands clean.
Lobbying, bribery, blackmail and, occasionally, threats. Everything the grifter couldn’t do in the open, he delegated to the interns. Charms and illusions did wonders for minor-league espionage, and where backroom diplomacy failed, the more physically inclined of the bunch took charge. Renault broke more laws in a week than he had his whole life, which was not a high bar, but one that weighed on him nonetheless as those weeks turned to months.
Was this Coralie’s life, too? He couldn’t believe if it was; she was always smiling, always looking so eager towards tomorrow, and Renault hardly wanted to see the next moment. By happenstance, it turned out that one of the people his grifter had pressured was in opposition to Nadine. His folding made things easier on the whole party—and by extension, Coralie.
As can happen to anyone, the grifter’s luck eventually ran out. Whether he was outmaneuvered, or pushed the wrong person, or simply got sloppy, his crimes went public and his office collapsed. It was nothing short of divine luck that Renault wasn’t buried too, and had he been wiser, he might have taken the opportunity to start clean and refocus himself on his studies.
Not so.
He found another ambitious aristocrat, and this time when things went south he would make sure it wasn’t luck that spared him. Bringing along what remained of his former employer’s portfolio, Renault found himself a step above the other nameless, unpaid and unrecognized interns. When it came time to do his job, he remembered his lesson. He delegated, he used aliases, he kept his nose clean where he could and wore a mask where he couldn’t. Things moved slower, but he learned that was the proper way of things. Collapses like the grifter’s were rare, and were usually a sign that somewhere along the chain of diplomatic pressure, someone had failed to navigate gently enough. The people being blackmailed often wanted their secrets revealed as much as the people blackmailing them.
This went on for a few years more. Renault would flit between internships, proving himself both effective and discrete, and found the means to continue his arcane studies. When he graduated, there was no shortage of candidates eager to have him on their campaign teams. This moved him out of the shadows and onto the stage of political theater, where he was finally able to talk face to face with the sorts of people whose careers he had helped stabilized and unstabilize.
They were the worst.
It was all fake, which he’d known perfectly well already, but having to interact with them was different. They were all arrogant or obsequious, dishonest by default, and they all absolutely hated each other. Even people representing the same parties, the same teams, smiled and shook hands with daggers behind their backs.
Once again he couldn’t believe his sister thrived in a place like this. He searched, subtly, for dirt anyone might have had on her, anxious that she might have been as twisted as her company, but ultimately found nothing. In a way, that was worse. It would be devastating to learn she was never who he thought she was, but she was, and that made it all the more terrifying. Did she not know? Was Nadine’s party really some bastion of ethics? The Church certainly didn’t think so. How could someone like Coralie, who’d never worn a disingenuous smile in her life, survive in a place like this?
It turned out she couldn’t. After years of good health, her illness returned suddenly, fiercely, and in the end, fatally. She was gone in the day it took Renault to rush home. The fall was inexplicable—even the doctors were stunned. There’d been no warning, no symptoms, she had been happy and healthy one moment, and the next she’d collapsed in the middle of a donor social. There was a brief and half-hearted investigation that fizzled from disinterest as quickly as it started. She was chronic, after all, it was just nature. Who would want to waste their time?
Renault would.
Like Coralie’s death, Renault’s turn was sudden. His current employer’s campaign crumbled when it was revealed he’d been embezzling from his own charities for a decade. Tragic and disgusting, good riddance. Then the CEO of a premier magitech company was ousted when her affair with a competitor’s bookkeeper became public. A high-profile House was thrown into chaos when it came to light they’d bribed a judge to dismiss a lawsuit against one of their own. Scandal after scandal hit the public, and it didn’t stop at Doumerc. A Rodion general who poisoned his opponent before the duel that helped secured his position. A beloved Rosarian author who’d been using ghost writers his whole career. A Lorenzian art collector dealing in counterfeits. Every week, for months, someone had their skeletons thrown out of their closet and into the open daylight. When it did eventually end, a slew of once-public-faces had simply vanished, and Renault returned to the political stage with a smile on his face.
His involvement in the ordeal was an open secret; the result of his own efforts at finding the truth behind his sister’s death, culminating in a wanton divulgence of some of his portfolio. Some, he stressed giddily, but not all. He’d followed many threads, and found nothing, but was undeterred. Why rush?
Renault was now a campaign manager, freelance. Few sought out his services, wary or outright fearful, but as the years went by people learned to answer when he knocked. He came to enjoy the façades, the nervousness in their smiles, the clamminess in their handshakes. Everyone hated each other, yes, but it felt good to cut a swathe through the aristocracy’s tangled hierarchy. His name never made the nightly news, but when someone’s career imploded, the nobles' eyes turned to him, and he smiled back.
He kept clear of Nadine’s party, for the most part, though he did make efforts to cripple her opposition where he could. That they shared a family was already risk enough; she didn’t need someone with his reputation tied to her. Not when she so frequently butted heads with the Church.
Renault’s view of the High Cardinal and her ilk only soured over time. As his leads dried up, he found himself more and more believing the Church had been involved in Coralie’s death. He’d made no small number of enemies, but no one as powerful as the Mother’s eyes and hands. She was herself a small fish compared to Nadine, but she’d done a lot for the Scion’s party.
He was still undeterred, but knew that if he was going to take on the Church, he would need more than scandals. Sometimes there was no substitute for raw power. Renault was no soldier, he was a poor shot and had no talent for swordplay. What he did have was magic—but so did the Church, in much larger quantity and much stronger quality. So he turned his focus to the one thing they didn’t have. He went after the Curses.
It did not end well. He was caught attempting to unravel the arcane lock set by Duchess Flores, and was promptly thrown in prison with little process. The Doumercene aristocracy collectively exhaled, and life went on. For about a year.
Renault’s ascension to Scionhood was nothing less than divine comedy. How could the Mother choose someone like him? What purpose could he possibly serve in her designs? Renault didn’t know—he didn’t care. All that mattered to him was that he was free, and that now he had all the time, and power, he needed.
Weapon of Choice
Renault isn't much for weapons. He's hopeless with a gun and hasn't held a sword for anything more than ceremony. If a confrontation is unavoidable and magic isn't an option, he keeps an old pair of knuckle dusters handy, a memento from his earliest days in politics.
Misc.
Theme tbd
Renault is quite a talented dancer, especially with a partner.
Has a passable singing voice but can't play an instrument to save his life.
Lemons
Master EffeX
Alby47
Obscene Symphony
Asura
Nallore
Kuro
Abstract Proxy
Stern Algorithm
