Psyker Landshark

Prophetiae Adventum: Envoys of the Pantheon

Vyandar Urthac

It seemed his concerns were unfounded. From the moment the first aasimar walked into the tavern, Vyandar instinctively knew she was a fellow Envoy. Then the obvious devotee to Sol in the fancy armor. Another aasimar. Two more humans. His fellow creations of the gods certainly weren't very imaginative in choosing their hosts by race, were they? Not even an elf or even half of one among them. And it seemed a few had heard his little sermon in the city center. It was wasted on them, of course. Converting a fellow Envoy to the sole worship of another god was unthinkable, if not impossible. Agamemnon, Sol, Qhalus, Reemis, and Astarte. What an...eclectic bunch of choices.

"It's good to be appreciated, though I was hoping for converts." The dragonborn grunted back to the apparent Envoy of Agamemnon, examining her for a moment. "Hm. You're clearly not the Empress of Brudel. Odd. If your patron would have had anyone represent him, I'd figured it would have been her." He said quietly before taking a swig of ale. No sense in sounding like a lunatic by saying that they were all envoys of the gods as loudly as he could.

Vyandar continued to eat and drink as he examined his fellow Envoys. Of course, first impressions mattered little in the long run, especially considering he'd yet to see how they fared in battle. But at a first glance...well, at the very least, the one known as Orial damn well couldn't be trusted with the party's funds, if she squandered her own so readily on a pint for the house. Especially considering she was Qhalus's Envoy.

The innkeeper's interruption brought some thought to Vyandar's mind. He wanted to reject the offer outright, if only because it wasn't a guaranteed battle on top of the fact that missing militiamen had little to do with Sol or the Ancients. But...they'd been called to this tavern specifically for a reason. Was this seemingly trite job divine intervention, perhaps? But why? A chance to speak to this city's marshal? Was that it?

The cleric waited for the innkeeper to leave their earshot before speaking, finishing one last bite of his meal.

"Vyandar Urthac. Was already a cleric of Anhur before all this began. He grunted, introducing himself.

"In any case, it's likely not coincidence that we were called here specifically. Unless Sol's champion understands more of our orders than the rest of us do, I'm to believe that this is divine providence. Either we find something to help us along this path, or the reward of speaking to that lord leads us somewhere." Vyandar rasped his two coppers, jerking a finger in Aurelian's direction.

"In any case, outside of taking that job, I've no other ideas at the moment. Unless we all care to raid the Empire." He stated, entirely serious. "Look at our domains. Empires, the Sun, Debauchery, Vengeance, and both representatives of War. Evidently, our patrons had something especially violent for us in mind."

Prophetiae Adventum: Envoys of the Pantheon

Vyandar Urthac

Coris. Vyandar had been here before. Back when his past life...back when he had served that tour of duty against the Empire. Mere months ago, before the contract had ended and the company returned to Malia for other work. Including the one that killed them all in the end. They'd spent their leave away from the front in this city.

It was difficult to believe that it hadn't been that long since he'd been here last. And at the same time, it didn't matter at all. There was a job to do. A holy mission. Fortunately, he'd made good time since making landfall in Farwatch. The trek to Coris had been eventful enough, with Vyandar being able to honor Anhur a good few times through encounters with bandits and highwaymen on the roads. Still, they'd made for poor sport in the end. Best to unite with the other Envoys quickly.

And yet, as Vyandar passed through the city's main square, something told him that there was time. Time enough to make a brief stop. The way this city treated their impending demise at the hands of the Empire had always...disgusted his past incarnation. But their gold had been good, and he had his orders. Now, though? Now he felt he had the words to express it. And the freedom to do so. To maybe spread Anhur's dogma to even one person in this greed-filled hole.

Vyandar stopped in the middle of the city square, slamming his shield into the stone to get the attention of those around him.

"Nuniel comes for you all! A tide of blood rises from the north! The knights of Latis do everything in their power to hold back their advance! But what of Coris? You sit back and expect your wealth to save you. I have taken your gold! I have spilled more blood in the name of Coris than any of you ever have! Does that not fill you with shame? That a foreign sellsword has bled more for your beloved home than any of its native sons and daughters have?!" The dragonborn bellowed. Good. He had their attention. Now for the message.

"People of Coris, it is not too late to rectify your errors! To save yourselves! Honor the God of War, and he will bless you in battle! Take up arms yourselves! Invest your wealth in the cause of survival! Swords and shields to take to the front, and men and women to bear them! Do not wait for others to bring you salvation, when only through war at your own hands will you free yourselves from the blight of the Empire! Join your armies! Go to the front! Kill in defense of your home, and Anhur will grant you strength!"

Vyandar caught his breath from his ranting and raving, picking his shield back up and starting to walk off, heedless of whatever reception he'd gotten from those around him. He'd spread the word. It fell to the people of this blasted city to determine whether or not they wished to heed it. For now, Anhur pulled him in a different direction.

___

At the Red Snapper, Vyandar took a stool at the bar, setting his shield down next to him as his sword lay sheathed at his side.

"Ale and meat." He rasped to the tavernkeep, setting some silver down on the counter to pay for it. Now, where were his fellows...? Vyandar could feel them in close proximity, but were any here inside the tavern already? Despite having clear knowledge of his holy mission, Vyandar knew little of the other Envoys. If they were like him, would he be able to tell on sight?

He shifted slightly in his stool as a bowl of stew and a mug of ale were shoved in front of him, turning to watch the rest of the tavern with a wary eye as he ate and drank.

「 Persona: Reflections 」

Nakano Nagi

Mentions: Asumi@Ambra, Munehisa@Solace, Masashi@Zombehs, Hakuro@FalloutJack

April 24, 2025

That night, after getting back from school, Nagi had promptly cooked herself dinner and divvied up leftover portions for her father tonight and his, hers, and Asumi's lunches tomorrow. It seemed the old man was running late tonight, and Nagi really didn't have the energy to discuss her day, or more accurately, lie about it. So she promptly dragged herself up to her room and laid down in bed.

Surrounded by an ecelectic mix of plushies, Buchimaru merchandise, wrestling memorabilia, and a punching bag, Nagi grabbed her tablet and booted up a certain web page. While she didn't know the dumbass on sight or anything, she knew some weird kid from her school started up some podcast this year and liked to gossip. A lot. Unfortunately, there wasn't exactly much on Okamoto on either that site or the unofficial school board.

"Craaaaap." She groaned, setting her tablet aside as she murmured to herself. "So much for the easy idea. Now I'll have to actually ask the fucker in person. If he's not wasting my time, that is..." Nagi trailed off, deciding to turn in early for the night. As enjoyable as beating the shit out of that giant wasp was, the emotional outburst and the surprising drain of actually using her weird superpowers did tire her out.

___

April 25, 2025

Lunchtime Meeting

At lunchtime, Nagi gave Asumi a larger bento than normal, stuffed with ginger pork and stir-fried vegetables, as an apology for missing yesterday's study session before saying she had something to take care of today. With that done, the girl set off upstairs toward the third-year classrooms.

Sauntering into Class 3-A at lunchtime, Nagi started looking around. Where was the dipshit with the hat...? No one was wearing one. Motherfucker. She'd have to do this the hard way, then.

"Alright, which one of you's Kuroda?" Nagi folded her arms, standing in the doorway as Class 3-A was having their lunch. "Gotta ask you about something."

"What the-" Some proper-looking girl, probably the class rep by Nagi's guess, got up, looking annoyed. "I don't know who you are, but you can't just barge in here like that!"

"Then either get me Kuroda or do something about it." Nagi turned her sullen glare on the girl before looking back around the room, waiting for someone to speak up, or at the very least, inadvertently stare at the guy.

Well, he wasn't allowed to wear one in class! There he was, minding his own business - and his lunch - when in burst Nakano Nagi with a sudden urge to speak to him about something. One harsh gulp later, as Hakuro attempted to recall if he'd said or done anything to or about her - like he'd been trying to avoid so that she wouldn't feel inclined to bust his chops or his face - he stood up with a hand raised.

"Yo. Hatto over here. How can I help you, Nakano?"

After his conversation with Katsuragi yesterday, he was quick to remember not to refer to someone by the first name that he didn't know that well, especially if it's someone looking rather pissed for some reason. Hakuro gave the Class Rep a look like 'It's okay, I've got this.', so things could calm down.

"You, outside, with me, now." Nagi grunted, jerking a finger behind her. "Wasting my lunch with this, so hurry it up." Once he got up and started following her, Nagi led him to an empty club room on this floor that she knew no one was using at lunchtime.

"Right, before you start jumping to any conclusions, this's strictly business." Nagi said as she closed the door behind her. "I know you run that hat site or whatever it's called, not the point. You know shit. I need to know certain shit. Two things. One, Okamoto. Need as much dirt you got on her as possible. Second, you hear of any weird shit going on at school? Kids getting lost and confused or something?"

Why she didn't bring food along with her if the timing bothered her, he would never know, as Hakuro just picked up his own bento box to take along in as non-chalant a manner as possible. She'd find him still idly munching by as she talked, taking in her words with interest. He waited with a finger raised after she was done talking until his mouth was no longer full.

"Number one, I am investigating her, but I was warned that she had the Principal in her pocket and a bunch of Third-Years and Graduates that swear by her instead of at her, meaning she's protected in a way that makes attack difficult. I DID hear about what happened, and that's why I'm with you on this, but it's not gonna be as straightforward as that. We could get others in trouble for it, so I have to be careful now."

His fingers went from a one to a two now.

"Second, I heard yesterday that the reason for the curfews is literally because of people disappearing, and the police have been investigating, but to no avail as of yet. There is no word on whether it's a kidnapping or a runaway or what, just that it's happening and that's why we can't wander out in the dead of night anymore."

Then, he paused, because he'd been thinking something since yesterday, and Nagi right now was bringing it to the forefront of his brain again.

"You're thinking there's a connection, aren't you? I had a paranoid thought about it yesterday, but I'm not gonna write it off until I think it's unfeasible."

Nagi busied herself with taking her own bento out and eating as Hakuro started talking. Same contents as the one she gave Asumi, just at normal portions. Once he finished, she swallowed the last bite she'd taken, sighing while leaning back in her chair.

"Goddamn it, of course she's blowing him." Nagi pinched her brow before marshaling her thoughts. A bunch of third years and graduates with some kind of weird slavish loyalty to her? Wild guess by her standards, but that was probably what the alternate fake-tit Okamoto meant by submitting to her. Well, shit.

"Something like that." She shrugged. "Not that I'd give a crap if it wasn't making my life difficult, but it is what it is. As for the Okamoto problem...don't worry about it. I got a few ideas about that. Just needed more info." She polished off what remained of her bento before closing the box and tucking it back in her bag.

"Right, you've been surprisingly not useless. Thanks. One last thing before I go." Nagi fished her phone out and opened it up to the picture she'd seen last night, pointing to a certain line in the middle of the screen. "Who the fuck put this on your site?" Her eyes narrowed.

WHOA! Immediate flinch of surprise from the not-currently-Hatto-san!

"Good god, it's because she has high graduate levels in students, the ones that simp after her! It's an extortion racket, I think."

Which...would fit entirely in form with the whole 'I'm mad about this picture, fix the problem for me or you're all doomed' scenario that the woman was putting her class through. Nevertheless, Hakuro was swiftly trying to forget that line now. Nagi was just so goddamn blunt, sometimes... Still, she agreed there might be something there, but did not elaborate on it. Given the things that he knew about Nagi that he didn't write about so there wouldn't be a problem, it might've been that she was in 'Playing this close to the vest' mode, considering how she didn't want him to worry about it further. That was a veiled something, to be sure.

"My next move was going to be looking into these past students of hers, so if you were planning to do something unmentionable, you won't find me watching from a broom closet, if that's what you mean."

Lastly, there was the surprising return of that damn picture circulating around his site. Hakuro squinted at it for a second, like it was some kind of nemesis, and then pulled out his phone.

"Let's see here... Current account on the site is a 'MetalChick_99'. Huh... I think it's someone actually from here. Might even be...yeah. There's a girl around somewhere that really looks the part. Wild hair, lots of piercings, and so on. No idea why she drew it. Longtime listeners know I'm better than that. You let her know if you're going off to see her. I already responded to that on-site."

Suddenly, all the tension seemed to drain from Nagi's form as Hakuro revealed who it was.

"Yeah, I think I know who you're talking about. We're in the same club. She's harmless and this was just a stupid meme. Son of a bitch, I'm almost disappointed it's literally nothing now."

She tucked her phone back into her bag, turning to leave. "Well, whatever. I'm dipping out, then. Your time's appreciated. Lemme know if you find out anything more about Okamoto or her simps if I'm not done by then. Here's my burner's LINE." She promptly rattled off the number of the other burner she used for her non-personal contacts, not the spy cam one. Couldn't let him think he was getting somewhere by giving him her actual number, after all. With that done, Nagi left the way she came, making her way back downstairs without so much as a glance back.

Not sure if it was a good thing or not that Nagi thought nothing of the picture anymore. Did she expect him to be some kind of mad player, dissing people right and left? That just wasn't what the Hatto-san was all about. Maybe that wasn't her thing, but whatever the metal player thought of him wasn't his. After this, Hakuro was given the number for a throw-away phone, and contrary to Nagi's own thoughts on this, he felt this was a weird sort of mark of trust. She informed him that this was something she did, and she didn't want him all the way out when he'd taken it upon himself to investigate, regardless. This was now a collabotative effort, which meant he had a potential resource to call to if he needed something done. The number was taken down quickly as Hakuro nodded, saying "Be careful with her. This teacher just might be crazy in the worst way." as Nagi left. He had NO IDEA just how right he was, but at this rate...he was gonna find out.

___

After class, Nagi did her usual routine of starting to walk home with Asumi, Masa, and Mune. Surprisingly, Asumi hadn't made the assumption Nagi had figured she would. Yet. Masa'd probably bring it up in a bit just to give her shit. God damn it, she should have bitten him harder when they were kids. Prick.

But her musings were cut off by Asumi's most recent words.

"Wait, wait, wait," Nagi grabbed Asumi's arm in alarm. "Back the fuck up. You guys got fingered by the cops? Details. Now." Maybe some pussy normal person would think she was overreacting. But as the daughter of a known yakuza oyabun, being taken in by the police was never not going to be cause for alarm for Nagi. Of course, she definitely wasn't trying to dodge making shit up about what she and Mune had been up to. Not at all. Nope.

Prophetiae Adventum: Envoys of the Pantheon

Vyandar Urthac

Name: Vyandar Urthac
Race: Dragonborn
Age: 41
Envoy of: Anhur

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Class: Cleric

Description:
Stands at approximately 6'6". Is wide-shouldered and well-muscled. Scars line his body and his face, and one of his horns is chipped off, most likely as a result of battle.

Skills:
Veteran Combatant: Vyandar has skills and physique honed by a lifetime of battle. He is adept with all common martial weapons, and is in peak physical shape. Additionally, he has experience with a variety of battlefield tactics, and very little surprises him in a conventional fight anymore.

Divine Magic: Being a priest of Anhur, Vyandar is blessed with the ability to cast a variety of divine spells. He specializes in enhancing the physical abilities of both himself and his allies, though he can also heal wounds and sap the strength of his foes if needed. Direct damage spells such as holy flames are also in Vyandar's repertoire, though he doesn't favor them, preferring to wade into melee with the effects of enhancement spells upon himself instead.

Orator: As his mercenary company's sole clergyman, Vyandar was often called upon to deliver sermons and rites over the years, and became rather adept at public speaking as a result. After his ascension, Vyandar has taken to preaching in the street where he travels, seeking to exalt the necessity of conflict to all. He can also turn his gift of the gab towards other speaking pursuits such as debate or sophistry, but prefers to preach his patron god's dogma first and foremost.

Flaws:
Brute: Subtlety is not in this dragonborn's nature. At all. While Anhur's tenets state that pitched conflict is not the sole battlefield available to mortals, Vyandar still dislikes measures such as diplomacy and stealth when open battle is a viable option.

Zealot: Having already been a man of faith before his exaltation, Vyandar is fanatically devoted to his patron deity. While he tolerates worshippers of other members of the Pantheon and even respects their priests, he is still liable to take any insults to Anhur or rejection of his dogma extremely poorly. In addition, his constant preaching and prayer can quickly grow tiresome to those who do not follow Anhur in every single aspect of their daily lives.

Wrathful: Quick to lose his cool. Vyandar has a bad tendency to develop tunnel vision on those who anger him, causing him to focus on the object of his wrath above all else, especially in a fight.

Background:
Born in the frozen northern wastes of Malia, Vyandar of Clan Urthac found himself baptized in battle at a young age. At barely five years old, his village was raided by mercenaries paid off by a neighboring town that wanted the local fishing space completely uncontested. His family members were either slaughtered in the chaos or scattered to the winds, but Vyandar was abducted and taken in by the company after he showed an unusually spirited amount of resistance for a child, actually driving a knife into a sellsword's shin.

The company chaplain, a cleric of Anhur, practically adopted Vyandar, seeing him as a worthy successor to the priesthood. Throughout his adolescence, Vyandar was immersed in both priestly and martial training. Though as an acolyte of Anhur, the two were practically the same at times. While at first, he resented his abductors and sought only to make them hurt during training, Vyandar eventually came around to his teacher's line of thinking that what happened to his village and his family was regrettable, but only natural. The coast around his birthplace couldn't support the needs of two towns, and so conflict was inevitable. If anything, it had been his own village's fault for not trying to be rid of their competition first.

Vyandar eventually came of age to be both a full-fledged member of the mercenary company that took him in, as well as a cleric of Anhur, ordained in battle. He served for a decade in combat and as the company's secondary chaplain until his adoptive father and teacher fell in battle, causing Vyandar to take his place in full. The company took contracts both in Malia and in foreign lands where Malian mercenaries were in high demand, and Vyandar even served a tour of duty for the Twin Kingdoms against the Nuniel Empire at one point.

However, it was on a job back in Malia where Vyandar fell, and subsequently ascended. The assignment was eerily similar to the one that had shaped his course in life decades ago: raid a village that was competing with their employers for hunting grounds in the nearby forest, and teach them a lesson. But it didn't pan out like it had thirty-six years ago: the target village had hired their own mercenaries to do the exact same thing, and both companies met in the middle. Having no knowledge of each other, both sides were caught off-guard, and the situation devolved into utter chaos as the two mercenary companies rushed each other in a disorganized, unplanned charge.

The carnage was immense. By the time Vyandar succumbed to his numerous wounds, several arrows piercing his armor, the last thing he noticed was that both companies had wiped each other out nearly to a man. Despite being on the verge of death, he smiled. He would die honoring Anhur. What he didn't know, however, was that through his last hour of life, he had been chosen.

When next he woke, the being that understood its host body's name to be Vyandar Urthac found his wounds miraculously healed, though the damage to his armor remained. Moreover, he had a mission to fulfill. Vyandar rose, callously brushing off the corpses of men he'd trained, fought beside, and feasted with for years, working out how long it would take to reach the nearest port that would sail him to the Twin Kingdoms.

Gear:
Holy Symbol: An iron catalyst crafted in the shape of Anhur's mark. Worn around Vyandar's neck beneath his armor at all times, and serves as his casting focus for divine magic.

Full Plate: A suit of steel platemail, worn and dinged by decades of battle. Engraved across several parts of the armor are Anhur's mark, to represent devotion.

Sword and Shield: A large, dragonborn-sized steel longsword with an accompanying kite shield to match.

????????

Misc.
Voice claim: Steve Blum

「 Persona: Reflections 」

Nakano Nagi

When next she opened her eyes, Nagi found herself outside the entrance gate of the school. As in, right next to it. She slumped against the wall, running a hand through her hair as she caught her breath.

“Holy shit…” She murmured, taking a moment to look herself over. Uniform, check. Bag, check. Brass knuckles, back in her pockets. Gun...nope. Damn. Would’ve been nice to have kept it, though Nagi supposed it was better to not have it on her person at the moment. After all, it wasn’t as if her school bag was spacious enough to accomodate an entire assault rifle. Now, what was she missing…?

Oh, right.

Nagi looked to her side.

“You awake, Mune? There’s no way in hell I’m dragging you all the way to your house.”

The boy had spilled out onto the ground, laid on his back with his limbs sprawled out as they were returned to the ‘real’ world. “Barely,” Munehisa whined, sitting upright and rubbing his forehead. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt this exhausted in my entire life, even after basketball practice.”

Seeing that his lounging was beginning to attract the occasional glare of attention, Munehisa let out an exasperated sigh, slowly rising with an audible wince. “I think I broke my ass,” he half-joked, looking back up towards the ordinary architecture of their school. There was simply no way that any of their friends would believe a single word about what had happened just now– Personas, beehives, that alternate version of Miss Okamoto. Even he couldn’t believe it to be some parallel universe. “You down to just, forget everything and never step in there again? I don’t even know how you would get back– oh right, that app on my phone.”

Nagi looked askance at Mune. While she was relieved he was alright, what he was saying, well…

“Mune, we already got dragged in once. What’s stopping that shit happening again? Let’s face it, we’re probably gonna have to stamp this problem out ourselves if we don’t wanna get jumped by an alternate world just turning a corner in school or something.”

She sighed, fishing her phone out to check the time. And...huh. That app hadn’t been there before. Judging by what Mune had just said...

“Plus, somehow that app you’re talking about got on my phone too. Pretty sure none of this is gonna leave us alone if we stick our heads up our asses and pray. No one’s gonna believe us, so we’ve gotta deal with this before someone like, I dunno, Asumi gets dragged in-” Nagi paused, checking her texts with a groan.

“Aw, fuck. We forgot about the study session. Don’t think you’re in any shape to go, and honestly, I don’t really have the energy for it either. Ugh...screw it. I’ll come up with something to tell Asumi tomorrow. Or I’ll let her believe we ran off to make out or something, that’s probably the first thing she’d think of.”

He lacked an animated reaction towards Nagi’s last sentence, only rolling his eyes as Munehisa was cosigned to their new duty. “Ughh, I guess you’re right,” he pouted, instinctively pulling out his phone upon her mention of the app now appearing on her device. His tongue clicked upon seeing that he’d received five unread text messages, opening the inbox to see that they were all from Asumi hounding him about their whereabouts over the span of a few hours. “Yeah, I’m definitely goin’ straight home. I need a damn nap,” he pocketed the phone, thinking back on the final glimpses of the escape.

“Was that really Okamoto, though? Like, there’s no way it was someone else, but… this whole thing just gives me a headache,” Munehisa briefly pondered on the supposed overlord of their school’s alternate universe before his mind drifted to their newly acquired superpowers. “Hey, you heard it too then, right? That ‘other’ voice, calling itself a Persona? Yours was pretty badass, too!”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Was yours screaming at you to kill people too? Because mine was.” Nagi shrugged at the thought. Then something else occurred to her. “By the way, since your outfit changed, I guess mine did too. You get a glimpse at all? Because I didn’t have the time to tell other than I had a jacket on my shoulders.”

Nagi quickly fired off a response text to Asumi as she spoke, telling her that something came up and she’d tell her about it tomorrow.

“Anyways, beats me if it was or not. Probably shouldn’t be talking about it just off school grounds, though. In case she gets any more creative ideas on how to give our class shit. Should probably skedaddle the fuck on outta here too before someone gets on our ass for loitering.”

“Mine wasn’t that edgy, no,” Munehisa shook his head, tapping his shoes together and hoisting his backpack over his shoulder. Her indirect mention of Okamoto brought a frown to his lips, stirring a pinch of resentment in his stomach. “If it’s true, I just can’t believe she already knows about it, but just wants to lead a witch hunt anyway,” he bit the inside of his mouth, sighing. “But whatever, enough for today then. I’ll see ya tomorrow, Nagi.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Nagi sighed back, waving him off as she started to walk off. “Go home, get some sleep. We still gotta deal with her shit tomorrow too.”

Prophetiae Adventum: Envoys of the Pantheon

Vyandar Urthac

Name: Vyandar Urthac
Race: Dragonborn
Age: 41
Envoy of: Anhur

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Class: Cleric

Description:
Stands at approximately 6'6". Is wide-shouldered and well-muscled. Scars line his body and his face, and one of his horns is chipped off, most likely as a result of battle.

Skills:
Veteran Combatant: Vyandar has skills and physique honed by a lifetime of battle. He is adept with all common martial weapons, and is in peak physical shape. Additionally, he has experience with a variety of battlefield tactics, and very little surprises him in a conventional fight anymore.

Divine Magic: Being a priest of Anhur, Vyandar is blessed with the ability to cast a variety of divine spells. He specializes in enhancing the physical abilities of both himself and his allies, though he can also heal wounds and sap the strength of his foes if needed. Direct damage spells such as holy flames are also in Vyandar's repertoire, though he doesn't favor them, preferring to wade into melee with the effects of enhancement spells upon himself instead.

Orator: As his mercenary company's sole clergyman, Vyandar was often called upon to deliver sermons and rites over the years, and became rather adept at public speaking as a result. After his ascension, Vyandar has taken to preaching in the street where he travels, seeking to exalt the necessity of conflict to all. He can also turn his gift of the gab towards other speaking pursuits such as debate or sophistry, but prefers to preach his patron god's dogma first and foremost.

Flaws:
Brute: Subtlety is not in this dragonborn's nature. At all. While Anhur's tenets state that pitched conflict is not the sole battlefield available to mortals, Vyandar still dislikes measures such as diplomacy and stealth when open battle is a viable option.

Zealot: Having already been a man of faith before his exaltation, Vyandar is fanatically devoted to his patron deity. While he tolerates worshippers of other members of the Pantheon and even respects their priests, he is still liable to take any insults to Anhur or rejection of his dogma extremely poorly. In addition, his constant preaching and prayer can quickly grow tiresome to those who do not follow Anhur in every single aspect of their daily lives.

Wrathful: Quick to lose his cool. Vyandar has a bad tendency to develop tunnel vision on those who anger him, causing him to focus on the object of his wrath above all else, especially in a fight.

Background:
Born in the frozen northern wastes of Malia, Vyandar of Clan Urthac found himself baptized in battle at a young age. At barely five years old, his village was raided by mercenaries paid off by a neighboring town that wanted the local fishing space completely uncontested. His family members were either slaughtered in the chaos or scattered to the winds, but Vyandar was abducted and taken in by the company after he showed an unusually spirited amount of resistance for a child, actually driving a knife into a sellsword's shin.

The company chaplain, a cleric of Anhur, practically adopted Vyandar, seeing him as a worthy successor to the priesthood. Throughout his adolescence, Vyandar was immersed in both priestly and martial training. Though as an acolyte of Anhur, the two were practically the same at times. While at first, he resented his abductors and sought only to make them hurt during training, Vyandar eventually came around to his teacher's line of thinking that what happened to his village and his family was regrettable, but only natural. The coast around his birthplace couldn't support the needs of two towns, and so conflict was inevitable. If anything, it had been his own village's fault for not trying to be rid of their competition first.

Vyandar eventually came of age to be both a full-fledged member of the mercenary company that took him in, as well as a cleric of Anhur, ordained in battle. He served for a decade in combat and as the company's secondary chaplain until his adoptive father and teacher fell in battle, causing Vyandar to take his place in full. The company took contracts both in Malia and in foreign lands where Malian mercenaries were in high demand, and Vyandar even served a tour of duty for the Twin Kingdoms against the Nuniel Empire at one point.

However, it was on a job back in Malia where Vyandar fell, and subsequently ascended. The assignment was eerily similar to the one that had shaped his course in life decades ago: raid a village that was competing with their employers for hunting grounds in the nearby forest, and teach them a lesson. But it didn't pan out like it had thirty-six years ago: the target village had hired their own mercenaries to do the exact same thing, and both companies met in the middle. Having no knowledge of each other, both sides were caught off-guard, and the situation devolved into utter chaos as the two mercenary companies rushed each other in a disorganized, unplanned charge.

The carnage was immense. By the time Vyandar succumbed to his numerous wounds, several arrows piercing his armor, the last thing he noticed was that both companies had wiped each other out nearly to a man. Despite being on the verge of death, he smiled. He would die honoring Anhur. What he didn't know, however, was that through his last hour of life, he had been chosen.

When next he woke, the being that understood its host body's name to be Vyandar Urthac found his wounds miraculously healed, though the damage to his armor remained. Moreover, he had a mission to fulfill. Vyandar rose, callously brushing off the corpses of men he'd trained, fought beside, and feasted with for years, working out how long it would take to reach the nearest port that would sail him to the Twin Kingdoms.

Gear:
Holy Symbol: An iron catalyst crafted in the shape of Anhur's mark. Worn around Vyandar's neck beneath his armor at all times, and serves as his casting focus for divine magic.

Full Plate: A suit of steel platemail, worn and dinged by decades of battle. Engraved across several parts of the armor are Anhur's mark, to represent devotion.

Sword and Shield: A large, dragonborn-sized steel longsword with an accompanying kite shield to match.

????????

Misc.
Voice claim: Steve Blum

Prophetiae Adventum: Envoys of the Pantheon

@FrogRFlowR Mmkay, gotcha. Will try to get the sheet up within a few days, then.

Prophetiae Adventum: Envoys of the Pantheon

@FrogRFlowR

Forgot to ask earlier, since this is D&D-based, what's the verdict on divine magics? Was thinking of apping a cleric or paladin type.

Prophetiae Adventum: Envoys of the Pantheon

Throwing my hat in the ring too, I'll try to have a CS up soon.

「 Persona: Reflections 」

Nakano Nagi

Mentions: Munehisa@Solace

That tore it. Nagi howled in fury, dashing forward to slam a brass-knuckled fist straight into the giant bee in lieu of being able to punch Okamoto herself. The first blow just glanced off. So did the second. But the third…Nagi’s third punch actually left somewhat of a mark on it. She glared up at Okamoto, her eyes bloodshot.

“If I go to the slammer, it’ll be after I’ve buried you six feet under, you worthless fucking whore!” She bellowed. “You think you can just do whatever the fuck you want, and everyone’s just gonna sit there and take it?! Go on, then! Try! I’ll bring you down with me if it’s the last thing I goddamn do!”

Has your bloodlust finally awakened?

Nagi doubled over, her entire body feeling as if it were set aflame. She started to scream again, a hand reaching up to her mouth.

You, who have the strength to ensure that the worthless cannot enact their will upon you as they please…
Have you finished hiding behind the skirts of reason and sanity?
Will you continue to hold yourself back?

Nagi fell to one knee, heaving as she slammed a fist in the ground. The pain was still ever-present through her entire self, but the sensation of knuckles crashing against tile grounded her. The voice was right. No more of this shit. Not when she could still do something about it. Nagi forced herself back up to her feet, a black-and-red spiked half-gas mask forming from her nose downward, leaving her baleful glare fully visible.

“Per…so…na…”

Excellent, most excellent!
Bring judgment down upon those who would bind us in chains!
Let our pact be sealed!
I am thou…thou art I…
Rise up in madness and fury!

Nagi reached up to the top half of her mask and violently ripped it downward, blood dripping from both sides of her mouth. Azure lightning crashed down upon her, and the pain stopped. When the flash cleared, she emerged. Gone were her blazer and skirt, to be replaced with a black waistcoat over a red dress shirt and black tie with dress slacks equally as dark. A long white jacket hung over her shoulders like a cape, its collar decorated with fur trim. Brown snakeskin shoes clacked against the floor as Nagi stepped forward, her same brass knuckles still wrapped around her fists.

Floating behind her was a female figure, clad head-to-toe in gleaming armor. In her hands were a massive sword and an equally large shield, and an aura of palpable menace surrounded the specter in sharp contrast with its knightly appearance.

“Alright, Okamoto.” Nagi snarled as she slammed her left fist into her right palm. "Here’s what’s gonna happen: I’m going to kill your eyesore of a pet. Then I’m gonna drag you down here and make you hurt. We clear? Then let’s dance, bitch!”

A bloodthirsty grin crossed her face.

“Seethe, Bellona!”

She dashed forward, and Bellona charged with her. The armored figure strode forward, and a single cleave of her sword severed the claw holding Munehisa, causing him to fall to the floor just in time for Nagi to catch him. She gently set him down as Bellona brought lightning crashing down on the giant wasp, causing it to screech in agony.

“Where’s your pleasure now, dickhead?” Nagi mocked the creature as she stepped forward. Bellona floated backwards, allowing her summoner to leap up and latch onto the wasp’s head, starting to pummel its head in with her right fist. “How’s it feel to have a fight when the other guy’s not completely gassed out, huh?” Nagi bellowed in its face. The wasp’s remaining claw shot up to try to smack her off, but Nagi kicked off of its head and into the air, her brass knuckles fading away as an AK-47 materialized in her hands. She raised the rifle in midair, stared down the sights, and opened fire even as she kept falling to the ground.

DAKKADAKKADAKKADAKKA

Nagi landed on the ground on one knee, braced in a shooting position as she finished emptying the rest of the assault rifle’s magazine into the beast. As the wasp lay reeling, she stood back up, brandishing her rifle as she stalked forward. The black-haired girl loomed over the fallen insect, raising her gun before bringing it down, mercilessly beating it to death by bludgeoning it with the stock repeatedly.

“One down,” She hissed, adrenaline coursing through her veins as she checked the pockets in her waistcoat and jacket cape, eventually finding a fresh magazine. “One to go.”

Nagi quickly reloaded and whirled around, acquiring Okamoto in her sights as lightning crackled around Bellona. Both summoner and Persona opened fire, intent on, at the very least, knocking the woman from her perch.

Okamoto screeched in disbelief and fury as the bee-like creature’s form disintegrated into a shadowy mist. Not only had the boy found out he had these strange supernatural powers, but the girl did, too?! In the middle of her shock, she saw Nagi aim her weapon at her. Grunting, Okamoto leaned against the back of her mount, which spurred it to fly out of the way of the bullets. “You’ll pay for this!” she howled. “I swear to God, you’ll rue this day! Get them out, you useless maggots!! GET THEM OUT!!”

At her command, a storm of wingbeats sounded from further down the hallway. At least a half dozen more of the cryptids poured out of the corridor within seconds, their sights set on the two individuals that had caused so much chaos in their abode. In the midst of the flurry of wings and thrashing limbs, Okamoto had chosen to turn tail and head back down the corridor and left the angry soldiers to deal with the remnants of her mess.

“What the-get back here, bitch!” Nagi snarled, not bothering to waste any more ammunition against Okamoto as she flew out of her range. “Motherfucker!” She shifted her aim towards the approaching bees, directing Bellona to electrocute as many as she could while Nagi moved to help her friend up.

“Mune! Mune?” Nagi shook him, but to no avail. Damn it, it looked like he wasn’t getting back up anytime soon. “Ah, crap…” She groaned, feeling the drain of her Persona’s continued lightning attacks. As much as Nagi wanted to continue the fight, they couldn’t stay. Not like this.

Coming to a decision, Nagi hefted her AK up with one hand while starting to drag Mune away with her other hand, allowing Bellona to fade away as her gas mask reappeared on her face. She fired wildly at what bees remained, hurriedly dragging Mune through the exit.