OfWindAndRain

Kingdom of Montemshaven

@Wick
Absolutely. Do you want me to skip ahead to the party?

Countries as people: World War One

@Dannyrulx

Countries as people: World War One

@Lady Selune
I can already imagine Freedom Eagle throwing maple syrup at angry Sam, shouting "GIMME BACK NICE ANNE, I WANNA DEAL WITH SOMEONE REASONABLE"

reasonable: someone who's nice

[Overwatch] Recall: The Second Omnic War

”Lyall,” the Shieldwolf

^{- Leigh Tessa Wynne -}

_{Chronological age: 66 (How long she’s lived)}
^{Biological age: 34 (How aged her body is)}

_HISTORY

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Born to parents Antionio and Adona Wynne, Leigh grew up in a somewhat distant, but loving household, raised primarily by a tutor/nanny. Both her parents worked with something security related- her mother being an employee of Italy’s Lockheed Martin division, and her father being a security consultant after serving a decade in the Italian elite infantry division, the Arditi, having fought in a few wars of his own.

Immediately after high school, Leigh went into the one place to serve the two traits that both of her parents had made sure to instill in her- duty, and honor. Having signed up for the Italian army, she shouldered her way through any obstacle. Because of her father’s connections, Leigh found herself being recruited for the Arditi training process- and was welcomed into the elite branch shortly thereafter.

Her career in the Arditi mainly consisted of covert ops, such as the [REDACTED] operation, and many other similar jobs. Some of them required infiltration of various neighbors such as [REDACTED], to [----------REDACTED----------]. Commanding officers gave only praise for the young recruit that had the drive and determination to do anything.

Only a few years after joining the Italian military, she applied for enlistment into NATO. The enlistment process was quick and easy for Leigh- her commanding officer sent a letter of recommendation, and two generals- one from the Arditi, another from NATO- worked together to put together a unit from the Arditi to transfer to NATO. The reason of this was clear- the Italian government wanted to make it clear they were devoting resources to the rising conflicts, those that were being called an Omnic Crisis.

Leigh Wynne was assigned a different route from those she transferred with. After completing the enlistment process to NATO, she was set to be trained under one of NATO’s premium instructors, and the two of them went on to train thousands of incoming NATO troops to deploy all across the world to fight the Omnic Crisis. Leigh, in some emergency situations, saw action from time to time, some of it because of omnic attacks on the NATO base she was stationed at.

Leigh spent two years serving in this capacity, before being promoted to Sergeant, to train larger groups, and continued on as such. She spent much of her time focused on making herself, and her trainees, as best as they could possibly be. Despite being so young- in her twenties- she scared the living hell out of as many people as she could.

Five years passed, and she spent most of it training members freshly recruited from being a civilian, to transfers from other nations’ militaries. The goal was clear- train them to fight as NATO. They were to discard their former alliances, and become a global peacekeeper.

Leigh Wynne never personally fought in the Omnic Wars- instead, she trained and sent out thousands of recruits over the years to fight in her stead.

After the Omnic Crisis, Leigh’s role switched from the organization’s best instructor, to Head of Security at an important, classified NATO facility located near Milan, Italy, accompanied by a promotion to Sergeant Major.

Shortly after the catastrophe with the Zurich headquarters, a Talon terrorist attack hit the NATO base and made off with whatever was inside- while the base was still stunned from the giant attack on the most successful global peacekeeping strike organization’s headquarters.

Two Talon agents ambushed Leigh while she was on an inspection of the base, in the lower levels around one of the classified labs, and very nearly killed her. When they slammed her into a wall, a pipe jutting out slammed into the base of her neck. Vertebrae discs C7, T1, and T2 were shattered, and the spinal cord was damaged. Paralysis occured, and the Talon agents left her helpless on the ground.

Sergeant Major Leigh Wynne was found by cleanup crews after the Milan base terrorist attack, having been protected from the majority of the fight by her position underground, five days later, barely alive.

Two days were spent nursing her health back, and another passed with intensive surgery. Eventually, the doctors gave up, and then came in the alternative- Doctor Angela Ziegler’s medical nanites. Leigh never remembered much about that time period, but a surgeon had later remarked that she had to push, hard, for NATO to allow nanites, which were still experimental and untested, relatively, to be used on a live subject in need of major medical care.

Another round of surgeries, coupled with Dr. Ziegler’s technology, initiated. The same surgeon briefed her on the modifications made to save her life, afterwards: titanium discs replaced every single vertebrae from the middle of her neck, to the small of her back. Throughout it, the spinal cord had to be augmented with various tiny surgeries installing small electronics to restore feeling to her limbs. In order to keep her body from rejecting the electronics, however- which it did- a constant flow of nanites has to run trhough her spinal cord. The “dura mater” of the spinal cord, which keeps the vertebrae floating in spinal fluid, had to be refilled with a thick solution filled with nanites. The nanites constantly repair and knit together the titanium, augments, and spinal cord, and keep her functioning.

Simply put: Half her spinal cord was replaced with titanium, and her spinal cord was augmented to be usable again. The spinal fluids were replaced with nanites, which keeps it all safe and working.

To keep the steady flow of nanites, the titanium discs were modified further to jut out her back farther, and have a port that could connect to an external source. The external source would provide the resupply. A secondary protective spine- something that attaches to five of the ports along her back- that lays on the surface of her skin was constructed (think of the health bar in Dead Space).

The augments took away one of her sources of pride- that she was baseline human, that she could fight just as hard as anyone, even one of those fancy supersoldiers. Anyone could become strong, that it could be trained, bred, not made in a test tube or factory.

She did one thing before retiring, with a full NATO retirement package- visited each and every one of those surgeons that spent so long trying to save her.

After that, she went underground, hiding away from the spotlight that occasionally found her, and dragged her, her past, and her augment into the light of day.

Satisfied with herself, she went back to living a quiet life. Over the years, a nagging suspicion became official, to her- the nanites that her body ran off of were infiltrating her entire system. Healing was far faster, she recovered from just about anything unnaturally fast, and never fell sick. The nanites that she was kept supplied by NATO were taking over.

Twenty years later, she put two fingers to her neck, and felt no pulse. She did the same to her wrist; no pulse. The augmentations to save her life finally took it, and replaced it with an artificial one: Leigh relied entirely on nanites to survive, now. She looked almost exactly the same as she did when she first received the augments- if not slightly healthier.

(Go take another look at Mercy. She has a massive amount of nanites in her own system, and heals very quickly over time, without external assistance. She’s aged extremely little, and even has an emote where she checks her own pulse, and shrugs as if she feels nothing. In-game, she asks Mei about how she looks so young- Cryostasis. When Mei asks Mercy about how she looks so young, she doesn’t answer. When you have the devil or imp skin equipped and use her ultimate, she says “Heroes never die- for a price.” Mayhaps that price is their humanity? Reaper’s halfway immortal, and is constantly reforming, because the resurrection wasn’t perfected.)

_PERSONALITY

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Leigh Wynne is bound by honor, duty, and strength. She believes that everyone has a purpose, and hers is to do her best to enforce the world’s laws to ensure peace. After a personal crisis following the destruction of her greatest role model- Overwatch- she went into seclusion, but nonetheless retains her sense of justice- helping those on the streets when she can, pulling bullies off children, etc.

She serves her beliefs- if she believes that being as straightforward as possible is the best course of action to get a mission completed, she’ll be straightforward. If she has to lie, she will. That being said, she does hate lying, and will attempt to be as honest as possible- but duty first.

_{COMBAT ROLE}

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+++ DEFENSIVE (with a leaning towards support): Command and Control
++ Primary weapon: Silent Semiauto Engagement Rifle Type 33 (SSER-T33)
+ Energy rifle
+ 13-round magazine
+ Moderate damage (slightly more than Ana’s)
+ Reflex sight
++ Secondary weapon:
Tracker Pistol
+ 6-round magazine
+ Each round does as much damage as DVa’s pistol, with a firerate of 2 rounds per second
+ Each hit target shows up to all allies for 15 seconds
+ Each hit target receives 15% more damage

- Passive: Slowly regenerates, all the time.
- Passive: Arditi training: silent footfalls, can jump off walls, and climb up round items, corners, or anything that has enough handholds.
- Carries and throws up to three short-range motion sensors (throwing range is about 10m)
- Medkit- can heal a friendly, but requires a full stop.
- Ultimate: Retreat, Hell!- all friendlies within sight have faster cooldowns, more healing received, and less damage received. All enemies receive longer cooldowns, less healing received, and a slight increase to damage received.

_{MISCELLANEOUS}

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= Is clinically dead
= NATO-supplied nanites have kept her alive for all these years.
= Has a pet wolf, with the name of Lyall. Lyall is the second pet; both the first and second are therapeutic animals for her PTSD
= PTSD: From when she was paralyzed, helpless, starving, and dehydrating, during a battle.
= She’s a mimic, and easily/fluently speaks Italian, Latin, and English

Kingdom of Montemshaven

Aww. Hope it doesn't turn out to be anything major, I do.

Countries as people: World War One

@Wernher

Schooled in Magic

Heh, you fine. Take as long as you need, until you have the time and creative juices to dump in.

Kingdom of Montemshaven

It'll take me a bit to get used to this character, and then I'll be right as rain!

Kingdom of Montemshaven

Wulfric cantered towards the city gates easily and fluidly. There was a small collection of guards standing at the entrance, but he expected little resistance from them; he had been told by those that had returned from Jormundyr’s path that almost no southern settlements refused visitors. Nonetheless, he did expect to be an oddity, as a northlander. For the most part, northlanders tended to look down on the softer southerners.

He was dressed for cold travel. Leather armor made up most of his outfit, from leggings, tunic, armguards, grieves, and boots. However, he did have finely crafted steel armor to cover his shoulders, to act as the outer piece on his armguards and grieves, and on either hip, hanging from the belt that also carried his two throwing axes. No one would be able to strike forearm, shoulder, or hip- places that he might use more often than the rest of his body. On top of his head sat a steel helm, with a fur and leather cap underneath to keep his head warm. The helmet was open-faced, and sat snugly. On top, the recently shed antlers of his caribou mount were worked into the helm, giving him two tall, 2-foot-long 7-point antlers to stick out of his head like some sort of nature spirit. All of it was layered, rather than one giant piece, so that it absorbed the most it could, while not being overly thick or suffocating.

The final part of his ensemble was his cloak- alternatively steel-grey and black, it was the fur of one of the fierciest predators in the north- the belek. The hood was made from the head of the beast, the clasp from its ivory teeth. Anyone who saw the cloak, or the three belek-claw scars on his left cheek, knew that he wasn’t someone to be trifled with.

The antlers had been shaved down from their original size- caribou antlers were too massive to have sitting on your head. The original antlers had been well over five feet long when they finally were shed.

His throwing axes were esquisite, a water-like pattern of slightly blued steel making up the surface of the entire blade on each. Godsteel, it was called, and it was stronger than any southerner steel by a fair margin. Rare, and only found in the mountains- which was why his greatsword, the extra-long double-handed longsword that was sheathed on his back, was only regular northerner steel. His hunting knife was also godsteel, sheathed next to one of his throwing axes on his hip, and he had several more knives hidden on him, stuck inside his boot or the like. Northerners never went anywhere without being armed to the teeth.

His caribou mount was Erling, one of the finest specimens in the northern calvary. At 18 hands (6 feet) tall, he stood a slight bit taller than any large horse, and as big as a warhorse. Because spring had only recently arrived, and caribou shed their antlers in the winter months, there were only stubs on his head. Nonetheless, his black-and-brown coloring made him slightly unique, as did the great white section that rose from the base of his neck all the way up to his ears. It was a coloring and strength that was bred, and something that Wulfric was proud to own.

Trotting up to the guard, he inclined his head to the oldest of them.

“Wolfric Norvegr. I’m-”

The guard sergeant waved his hand, interrupting him. “Save it, Northlander. You can head on in.”

Wulfric frowned at him, but nonetheless kicked Erling, cantering on past and through the gate, perturbed. They didn’t care, really? Ah, well.

Once he passed thorugh the gates, the size of Erling became nothing. There were crowds in the main street, their reason obvious because of the market stalls that were set up on either side, leading straight through the city to the keep in the middle. Ah, the keep- just what he was looking for. Maybe introduce himself to the local ruler, see if there was anything to be gained here.

He dismounted, and took Erling’s reins by hand, leading his friend through the throng. People cursed or muttered angrily at being pushed aside by the northlander, but those mutters ceased when they turned and saw the fiercesome, attractive northlander face peering at them curiously. The weapon on his back and the size of his pack denoting that he was a man of strength and endurance- more than enough to cause any anger to wash away into sudden forgiveness.

Wulfric wasn’t too terribly impressed by these people, but was nonetheless fascinated by all this… culture. He could pick out so many little things- foods he’d never seen, patterns and designs for weapons, clothing, that he’d never be able to imagine. It was a very different land, Wulfric knew, and he was determined to see anything it had to offer him.

He was busy striding through the throng when someone caught his eye- a pretty young woman with hair red as flame. Standing behind a stall of her own, she beamed and waved him over. Intrigued, he dutifully strode over, and she began introducing to him- in their strange southern accent- of all the treats she had to offer! He hadn’t heard of any of it, of course, but it… sounded nice?

“I’ve no coin, merchant.”

He felt… kinda bad about the way her face fell, but there was nothing to be done. He turned to walk away, and instead bumped into a raven-haired lady tugging along what must be her sister. The woman immediately began apologizing- but the sister, and her mouth…

“HAHA! You have spirit, girl, something many of these people seem to lack! Do not apologize, and be on your way. You are forgiven!”

He stared after the two of them as they hurried away, the somewhat odd encounter replaying in his mind.

He wasn’t that ugly, was he? Spirit was good and all, but he thought his nose rather suited his face…

---

An hour’s wandering had found him at an inn. Trading a bundle of wolf hides to a tanner, he had earned himself enough money to afford an inn. His Path mentor had told him about inns and taverns- they gave you alcohol, lodging, and usually stew for low prices. So, he settled into a room, got himself a bath, a bowl of stew, and a bit of mead. Having refreshed himself, a stableboy took care of his caribou- which had to be calmed, because not just anyone could handle a northlander’s steed- and he made his way towards the keep.

He had discarded his greatsword and heavy pack, but he kept his axes, knives, and cloak. Needed to look good for the ruler, after all.

He marched into the keep as if he owned the place, surveying it for defensibility and practicality. It was certainly well-furnished- perhaps the ruler would rather have a palace- but there was a strength and solidity to its walls that appealed to the northern warrior.

A guard blocked his path just inside the first courtyard from the gate. The other guards hadn’t given him any trouble, but this one seemed determined to set him straight.

“A Northlander, then? You all look so… barbaric. Alright, I guess you want to meet with King Montemshaven. Or First, as you northerners call him. Every time, I have to deal with you people…”

The guard- mid-thirties, mayhaps, with paler skin than those outside, and wearing his armor and sword as if they were a great burden to the world, waved him towards the oak double doors on the other side of the courtyard.

“My Lord’s not busy at the moment, and accepting visitors. Straight through there will gain you an audience.”

Wulfric nodded his thanks, and strode past the man to the doorway. Shoving his way through, he strode into a large, long throne room- with the man himself sitting on a chair, up on a dais about four steps above the rest of the floor. As it was, the man probably wasn’t that impressive, but at least he had a strong jawline and stare.

“Wulfric Sundberg, I am, from the settlement Norvegr. I come as a pilgrim on the Path of Jormundyr.”

Countries as people: World War One

Name: United States of America

Appearance:
See above. 6' 3" tall freedom eagle.

Allegiance:
Technically speaking, the Triple Entente, though it took a while for the US to get involved.

Personality:
This freedom eagle is very definitely full of himself. He believes that he is right, and knows most everything. Always makes a point of inserting his opinion wherever possible- because really, America's opinion carries weight. As the victor of the Spanish-American War in 1898, and the establishment of America to be a World Power, really, who would dismiss their opinion? However, America only does this- when he's present. Otherwise, he keeps to himself, trying to enforce a policy of isolationism, only interacting occasionally with a few people. Simply put- America thought it best to keep some distance between himself and all the other people.

America is also very self-centered. Generally, when considering anything someone else asks of him, he looks to himself and wonders- does this benefit me somehow. It's all about the gain, of something.

Enjoys keeping up his reputation, which is also very important, and so will go to great lengths for that as well. And, of course, keeping all things his safe and protected. No one double-crosses America, and gets away with it!

Likes:
Money, not dying, freedom, funny things, bravery.
Trade! Most definitely trade- gaining some sort of benefit from others is always fantastic. There's always something to be gained, even if you're giving a great deal.
Survival! America has had trouble with surviving before- in the early days, when Great Britain is in charge. Staying alive is on the tippy top list of priorities.
Freedom! There's nothing like doing what you want. Anyone who isn't free are scum, and those that are, those are friends. They are allies- they are worth associating with.
Fun! America loves fun, for as long as he isn't the butt of the joke. And even then, America kinda likes those jokes too. America sees humor in everything.
Honor! Courage! These are great things, and are to be rewarded greatly. It was through great courage and bravery that America fought free from the parentals- the UK. And as such, he's willing to applaud anyone and everyone who's got some balls.

Dislikes:
Not-freedom! If it's not more democratically-inclined, it's BAD. And frankly, America hates not-free. Communism, extreme socialism, authoritarians, fascists- America dislikes dealing with them on principle alone, and more besides!

Special Talent: There's really two
Mass manufacturing of decent quality! America's quite good at manufacturing large quantities of goods that are reliable and efficient, with only a small time taken to shift production from one set of things to another.
Ingenuity! America's fantastic at creating new things, fighting a different way, or combining different things together to be unusually beneficial!

Weaknesses:
Conspiracies are one. Things that might confuse him are halfway deadly- because he can become nearly gridlocked if properly confused with some major moral or mental conflict. Things grind to a halt if something's wrong with some sort of logic, and requires some sort of revelation to break free of.
Surprise attacks. America's never been on the ball about attacking first, and so leaves themselves open to being attacked or targeted first. The only way to negate this is to really piss off America, or to have something America really, really wants.
Burst damage. America can mass manufacture a great deal of things, and has so much resources and industry that small-scale attacks, or trying to wear America down is halfway useless. A shock to the system with a sudden, short-term high-effect attack or the like is most effective, because it's hardest to recover from, and can shock America into uselessness for a short time.

Familial Relationships:
Darth Vader is the United Kingdom/Great Britain. However, America's on good terms with the formerly tyrannical parental. There's lots of trade, and America has built up a good relationship.
Other friendly nations are some of those colonies that he's associated with- Canada, for example.
Most European countries also have some pretty nice relationships, most of them beneficial with trade going back and forth. America's happy to trade.
Someone America doesn't really like, though, is Japan. They've been wanting the Pacific Ocean, and while it may be a long ways away... who says they have the right to it?

Other:
MUUUURICA!
FUCK YEAH!