Psyker Landshark

Star Wars - Winter of the Confederation

Expressing interest. Tenatively thinking of making a Mandalorian. Question, though, since by my reading the OP implies otherwise, are you going with the Clone Wars show Mandalore lore or just ignoring the pacifism stuff?

「 Persona: Reflections 」

Nakano Nagi

Mentions: Asumi@Ambra, Munehisa@Solace

God fucking damn it. Nagi wasn't going crazy. The crow was actually talking. And reacting. Yep, this was stupid. Nagi resisted the urge to groan as she listened to the bird protesting in Asumi's arms. Which was actually pretty funny, all things considered. For someone who wanted to be a vet, Asumi sure was mistreating the crow. Or maybe the feathered fuck was just bitching over nothing. Who knew?

"Uh, huh. Yo, Asumi." Nagi nodded as her best friend went on before cutting in. "You ever had someone insult you and then ask for your help right fucking after? I mean, what kinda dipshit does that, right? They'd have to be a real jackass to think that'd work." She gestured casually towards her phone, implying that was the content of her texts while shooting the bird a brief death glare, just to give it some shit for being a prick.

Either way, if she could hear the bird thanks to her Persona superpowers or whatever that mess had been yesterday, Nagi figured she might as well play along. Even if that meant giving the stupid crow what it wanted despite the shit it had been talking.

"Anyways, look. If this is about not wanting to pay the vet, give it here. One of my dad's boys likes birds, has a feeder in his backyard and everything. Lemme take it over to him and he'll probably know what to do. At the very least, he'll probably have some kind of food that this crow'll actually eat."

Of course, this hypothetical bird lover didn't exist. But Asumi didn't need to know that. Nagi just needed five minutes uninterrupted with the bird just to find out what it knew, if anything. If she didn't like its answers, well, it was going straight back into Asumi's hands.

「 Persona: Reflections 」

Nakano Nagi

Mentions: Asumi@Ambra, Munehisa@Solace

Nagi stared at the crow Asumi was so excited over with her usual unimpressed face. Well, it wasn't dying. It also wasn't eating the granola bar that her best friend had left for it, but even with Nagi's borderline-nonexistent knowledge of birds, she was pretty sure she understood why.

"Uh...Asumi?" Nagi tapped her on the shoulder. "I'm pretty sure the bird can't, you know, bite through the granola bar. Don't think that's how beaks work-"

She was suddenly cut off by an unfamiliar voice, causing her eyebrow to twitch.

"Oi, what the fuck-" Nagi cut off as she looked around. There was no one else around. Was she losing it after that shitshow yesterday? Hell, did they get sucked into that alternate dimension crap yet without her or Mune noticing? A glance around showed that the bushes outside the school still seemed normal, so that clearly wasn't the case. Considering it clearly wasn't herself, Asumi, or Mune that spoke, that only left one real culprit. God damn, she was losing it if she thought the crow was talking.

What was more disturbing, however, was the fact that Asumi didn't seem to react to hearing the voice. A quick glance at Mune showed that he clearly heard it too, so...that only really left one reasonable explanation. Somehow, having something to do with the freaky alternate world let you hear birds all of a sudden. Or at least this one. This really sucked.

Nagi shook her head apologetically at Asumi, shrugging as she decided to cover it up for the moment.

"Sorry, phone buzzed in my jacket. Forgot I left it like that." She made a show of pulling said phone out and flipping through her texts, looking up from the screen the moment Asumi's gaze was turned to narrow her eyes and glare at the crow. Damn, but Nagi really, really, hoped she was just hallucinating the first sentence. Dealing with talking birds wasn't something she wanted to deal with at all.

Bible of Ichor: Septet for the Dead

Dragan Meszaros

A somewhat familiar sound clattered through Dragan's ears after he returned his fellows' greetings, with him taking but a moment to recognize what it was. Firearms. He wasn't exactly unfamiliar with them, but they'd not factored into his tactics much. The kingdom he'd conquered had made use of a few, but they hadn't been enough to turn the tide against his undead hordes. Still, that meant the city was populated. Not much of a safe haven as it once was, but it was something, at least.

"I believe it would be best for us to recover our strength, even if we must resort to beasts over man for the moment. We can hardly serve the Goddess fresh out of torpor, weakened as we are." Dragan replied to Ilena, deciding on pragmatism over taste. He could already tell that his abilities were heavily diminished from what they were. In his current state, Dragan doubted he could raise more than a dozen undead in an instant, where once he'd be able to reanimate several times that number.

Unfortunately, the being that appeared before them was hardly a viable candidate for being fed from, even with his lowered standards. For one, it was a fellow vampire. The smell of rotten blood at least meant that this wretch could be slain without issue, whether it be from degenerating into a lowly beast or having incurred the Goddess's disfavor. Or, quite possibly, both.

"Pitiful. I'll dispose of this one, and we can be on our way." Dragan sniffed down at the undead, forming a crimson rapier with blood magic to clutch in his hand. Not his preferred choice of armament, but a smaller weapon meant less blood used, and he needed to save as much as he could at the moment. He lunged forward, intending on staking the lesser undead through the chest.

Bible of Ichor: Septet for the Dead

Dragan Meszaros

The Last Age

The lord of this land fell to one knee, his mace clattering from his hands as battle wounds, silver, and holy smites took their toll upon his ravaged form and rent armor. Numerous paladins surrounded him in his throne room, each mightier than he had been in his mortal life.

"It is over, Death Knight." One particularly mouthy champion uttered from within his bucket helm. "The shame you bring upon your church, upon your brothers, upon my order, shall be ended at last."

Ah. That explained it. They'd been pledged to the same deity at some point in time. Separated by centuries, of course, but the sentiment apparently still stood. Self-righteous fools.

"Allow me to extend my congratulations, brothers and sisters." Dragan chuckled mockingly, ripping his helm off his head. It wasn't as if he had any need for it anymore. Not with his unlife fast approaching its end. "In slaying me, you have doomed the people of this land. In assauging your precious egos and pride, you have stripped away any bastion of safety and security that any person within this kingdom could have had. After I butchered their mad tyrant of a king, this is the first time that this realm has seen stability and peace within decades. And you've all just stripped it away. No armies defending their borders. My presence stayed the hand of vampires that would have been worse than myself eyeing this territory."

A bitter, rasping laugh escaped his lips even as his vision blurred.

"But by all means, crusade onward. Leave the shattered lives of an entire kingdom behind. You've more creatures of the night to slay, after all..." Dragan spoke his last, the final dregs of his strength expended as his body succumbed, collapsing.

___

Present Day

Dragan rose, and was given succor. An unfamiliar setting greeted him, and he frowned from...beneath his helm? A quick inspection of his body revealed that he was still wearing his armor, damaged as it was from his final battle. How odd. He could have sworn that he'd at least died without his helmet on. Still, while the plate was servicable in its current state, it was far from acceptable. That would have to be fixed after he got a handle on his surroundings and dealt with the thirst creeping up within him.

He was in...the middle of a city slum? This certainly wasn't where he'd died. Someone had moved his body. Their bodies, judging by the forms of the occupants of the other two sarcophagi rising from their torpor as well. And yet...ah. A familiar sight at last. The Cathedral. They were in Alavaris, then. Safe ground, at least in theory.

The Death Knight removed his helm as he beheld his two compatriots, tucking it under his shoulder. Well, well. He was at least familiar with the other two. The love martyr, and the shadow witch. Dragan certainly could have had better companions at the moment. Still, he could also have had worse. After all, neither were the Blight Lord, though that was certainly an admittedly low bar.

With no one else saying anything for the moment, it fell to him to break the ice.

"Well met, the both of you. Our goddess has given us a call to answer. Shall we oblige her?"

Prophetiae Adventum: Envoys of the Pantheon

Vyandar Urthac

Damn it all, why had he agreed to be out here again? Vyandar grumbled in displeasure as he trudged along the riverbank, his eyes peeled for any sign of the unusual. The question was rhetorical, but the sheer tedium of the investigation was still getting to him. He'd thought that overhearing the guards the previous night meant that there would be imperial soldiers out and about in the farmlands, but so far, there'd been nothing.

The dragonborn let a small wisp of flame loose from his lips in irritation as mud continued to splash over his greaves. It would have been one thing if he'd had a mount like his fellow Envoys on this case did, but he'd never been much of a rider in the first place. He'd spent too much time in his youth learning both clerical magics and martial combat as it was. Adding riding and cavalry training to the mix wouldn't have been feasible. Plus, not many mounts could hold a large dragonborn with full harness in the first place. In any case, hopefully either Kyra or Aurelian was having better luck in the search.

Vyandar continued to slog along the riverbank upstream, resisting the urge to waste magical power on casting a sending spell just to check in with either of the other two.

Qualia: Mission Sub Rosa

Valeriya Zhukova

Well, that entire affair had been a considerable waste of time, all things considered. Shou may have been tolerable, but Valeriya had been very unimpressed with Ryuuko after that absolute debacle with the Manbat. So when the Japanese girl simply left the island after the trial, Valeriya was about as sad to see her go as she had been with Jeanne. In other words, she practically celebrated by having a few drinks and hopping into someone else's bed for the night.

Speaking of beds, the news that Lucretia was moving out of her dorm and rooming with that Mesmerology hack Franz took Valeriya by surprise as much as anyone else. Given how socially stunted the girl was, she hadn't exactly given Val much warning about what she was going to do. Not that Valeriya was going to take offense. She didn't have all the information, and for all she knew, the little German was rooming with the Austrian because she needed someone more pliable or pathetic to dorm with. Oh, well. At least privacy issues were much less of a concern now that she had an entire dorm to herself.

Once everything with the trial was said and done, Valeriya dutifully drafted another coded report back to the Motherland, sending it off as soon as she was able. Within it was a brief summary of the situation, as well as details of the major players that she'd been involved with. So the Manbat, Shou, and Ryuuko.

Days after everything had settled down, Valeriya returned to her ideal routine. Working on her projects, experiencing world cuisine around the island's restaurants, and generally just enjoying herself as she awaited further orders from her handlers.

「 Persona: Reflections 」

Nakano Nagi

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

"Yeah, yeah, my bad." Nagi grunted in response to Asumi, still just rolling with this cover story. "What can I say? Mune's goddamn hopeless sometimes. Anyways, Chen's dad a better cook than me, then? Don't do much Chinese, myself."

She sighed to herself as Masa clearly didn't buy their excuse and took the opportunity to fuck off. Probably gonna have to make it up to him, just so he didn't have something to hold against her for whoever knew how long. Whatever, she'd get him food or something later. For now, there was still other shit to get done. Like accompanying Asumi to see...a half-dead crow, if hers and Masa's words were any indication.

"Uh..." Nagi raised an eyebrow as she let Asumi drag her along. "Asumi, I know you wanna be a vet and shit, but if this crow's as fucked up as Masa was making it out to be, shouldn't you have taken it to the actual vet? Also I ain't really a bird girl. More of a..." She paused, tapping her chin with her free hand in thought. "Shit, what animal do I like? I dunno, fuck it, Buchimaru's a panda, so that, I guess. Anyways, we're here, so let's see your fuckin' crow, then."

Bible of Ichor: Septet for the Dead

The Death Knight

Dragan Meszaros

Gender:
Male

Appearance:

Stands at a large 6'4. Broad of shoulder and hulking in build. Well-defined muscle, though deeply scarred across his body. Favors furs over silks when outside of his armor. Typically favors massive two-handed weapons, and is most commonly seen wielding a massive flanged mace.

Abilities:
Dragan primarily utilizes both blood magic and necromancy in tandem, befitting a vampire known as the Death Knight.

As a blood mage, Dragan specializes in physical enhancement, preferring to fight in melee with a physical weapon in hand. Of course, he's entirely capable of utilizing the other aspects of blood magic as well, resorting to blood weapons when disarmed and blood barriers to defend against magic. Strangely, though, he has never been seen actually casting a ranged blood spell.

As a necromancer, Dragan keeps it simple, traditional, and efficient: zombies, skeletons, and other such more mundane undead with which to drown his foes in a sea of corpses. One will occasionally see larger abominations within his forces, but these are rare and tend to be pre-prepared, with Dragan seemingly unable to raise these at will in the field as he could with groups of lesser undead. Of course, Dragan cannot simply raise armies at will. Without preparation, he tends to be able to create a dozen or so undead soldiers at a time, given enough materials. With the proper rituals and rites, however, Dragan is entirely capable of acts such as raising entire graveyards at once or binding the shambling bones of large creatures into his service.

Both of these aspects combined leave this particular vampire as a frontline general, leading undead armies into the thick of battle.

Personality:
Dragan follows a twisted sense of noblesse oblige in his dealings. To him, vampires are inherently higher life forms as compared to humans, and thus bear responsibility towards them as a result. Humanity in Dragan's eyes are, at the very least, higher than cattle. It would be more accurate to say that he treats mankind as ignorant children: unable to fend for themselves or make wise decisions. Thus, vampires are to safeguard humanity within their borders, and for this service, deserve the blood they require to survive. After all, this was simply the feudal contract as existed in eras past. Only now with more worthy lords to rule over man.

As a follower of noblesse oblige, Dragan strives to be as great as he can in his personal conduct. He conducts himself with elegance and decorum. However, this is also matched with a penchant for violence and direct action. Where other vampires prefer subtle manipulations and secrecy, Dragan simply strides through problems with a suit of hulking plate armor, a massive weapon, and an undead horde at his back. He is a lord, after all, and lords do not skulk like cowards when their authority is challenged.

In regards to the Goddess, Dragan is a loyal enough follower that he swears to fulfill his divine mission without complaint. Having served the Queen once already, he sees little issue with working to bring her back.

Bio:
The vampire lord known as Dragan Meszaros, the dreaded Death Knight of eras past, was once known as the crusade's greatest shame. Born as an orphan ward of some irrelevant church of a now-dead god, Dragan grew to be a paladin of the same church, setting out on quests throughout the land. He slew monsters, saved the innocent, and championed the light of his god.

Despite his successes, however, Dragan slipped ever into deeper frustration and melancholy as he saw the same stories happen time and time again. Men create problems for themselves that he had to solve for them. Tragedies and villians were created through human sins. The apathy, greed, and wrath of humanity were greater foes than any mere monster that had ever stood in his path. Men were ever more incapable of managing themselves.

Dragan's final days as a paladin were spent chasing the rumors of a vampire in a great duchy of a now-forgotten kingdom. When he arrived, however, every value he held was challenged. The duke was a vain tyrant, working his people past the breaking point and abusing the fruits of their labor to glorify himself. The commoners barely cared about this vampire in the territory: a few deaths a month barely compared to the starving masses. In fact, when Dragan did finally track the vampire's thralls down to an outlying village, he saw something there that broke him. The people in that village, the vampire's cattle, were doing far better compared to the rest of the duchy. Better fed, working for themselves, and just...happier.

It was then that Dragan knew his truth: man was inherently unable to rule itself. Left to its own devices, humanity would eat itself alive. Dragan gave up. He fell. Returning to the duchy's capital, the once-vaunted paladin launched a brazen assault on the duke in broad daylight, slaughtering him and his meager guard. Afterwards, Dragan returned to the vampire's village, throwing the unworthy ruler's head into the middle of the town square. With the vampire's attention piqued, Dragan knelt before him, stating that he had seen the true light.

Bemused at the thought of taking a fallen paladin as Ichor's child, the vampire turned Dragan. After a period of time adjusting to his new existence and learning all he could of vampirism, Dragan took his leave, setting out on his own with his patron's blessing. Centuries later, the vampire known as the Death Knight scourged the land, conquering a kingdom with his undead army in the name of the Queen. He sought to replace the incompetent rule of man with his own benevolent tyranny. But this was not to be. Not in this era. Such a public, reviled monster was one of the first targets of the Hundred Paladins, made more urgent by the shame that he was once a paladin himself. While the bulk of the Hundred tore through his armies with their silver swords and divine blessings, their strongest champions engaged Dragan himself and laid him low. The Death Knight was shattered with his kingdom, his dreams dashed as the Hundred moved on.

Bible of Ichor: Septet for the Dead

Rune:

Generally, I would say having some skill in blood magic plus a secondary affinity would be a good idea.

@Rune_Alchemist

Also Rune:

"why everyone take blood magic"