Merry Christmas boyos, don't forget to, like, be a good person and stuff. Also start thinkin of a new years resolution you'll actually go through with.
2
likes
8 yrs ago
Status update: staying up all n8ght fuckin sucks and procrastination is a vile temptress.
1
like
9 yrs ago
4 months into this hole 'being a responsible adult thing' and I've come to a conclusion: It sucks and I want to go back to the days where I didn't have to plan out my game time.
1
like
9 yrs ago
Was supposed to be productive tonight. . . will try to be productive in the morning
"Your Holiness, I would ask that you refrain from the potential angering of your family with such comments." The voice of her Templar rose like a whisper behind the Scion as Marqué stepped forth from a nearby procession of Church Knights onto the redcarpet, donned in the basic formal wear required of his station, decorated with dull amber jewelry to show his dedication to the Scion of Fire as her Templar. Without another word he stepped forth infront of the reporter and stared up at them with an unreadable expression. "As for now, I believe any questions of Our Holiness Axan will have to wait until a later time when such questions are more appropriate. I am sure you can understand."
"Bu-" *The reportered started but Marqué held up a hand to stop them as he pointed towards the other Scion's present at the event.
"I am certain that the other present scions will be more receptive to your questions, particularly Our Holinesses Isabella Lanvaldear Rosaria and Miriam Grâce Desrosiers. In either case, Holiness Axan is not available for questions at this time and must prepare for the festivities at this time. Is that clear, Sir?" Any attempt at a possibe rebuttal was stopped in the reporter's throat by the dead-pan stare that the Templar gave, almost daring the man and his camera to continue, until with a bit of shrug, he moved on to bother one of the other scions.
It was only after they were out of earshot of any immediate reporters that Marqué turned to his Scion with a small quirk to his brow, as close as he game to an expression of discontent aro8und her as she'd ever seen.
"I shall not be one to question your decisions, Your Holiness Axan, but I would appreciate if you would well tell me when you plan to go to functions such as this one, rather than to leave me guessing as your potential arrival or departure times. Granted, I made certain to awake about two hours earlier than usual and scope out any potential dangers on the several routes your limousine could hjave taken before awaiting your arrival, but it would be much preferable to arrivie with my Scion rather than ahead of her."
As he spoke around a possible condemnation of her behavior, however, the Templar also made a nod to the Church proper and continued on.
"I have also found routes of egress from the Chruch that are unlikely to have much in the way of media attention, if you wish to avoid it. Granted, from my studies, this will likely cause more attention to be focused on your for a while. It is your choice as always, Your Holiness, but I figured it best to keep you informed. Also, you mentioned some distaste for the typical drink found at these events, so I've worked with a few of the supplies before hand to set aside a few stronger brews to be collected, should you still hold that opinion."
A small pause.
"Before you ask, no I will not be telling you where the spirits are located on the premises nor will any of the servants you talk to know. As this is not a Rodionian affair, I think your typical consumption of spirits would be more. . . disruptive than what one could expect. Especially given your familiy is around to stoke some irritation."
_______________________________________________ "The boy is the picture of devotion, discipline, and selflessness. For better and for worse." ________________________________________
"Your Holiness, it is the duty of a Templar duty to serve you til their dying breath. Nothing more, and nothing less."
Holy Sigil Location
Over his heart, same as his Scion
Appearance
The Templar is not the most standout individual, as is prefered. They stand at an unimpressive height of 5'2, with hair that is kept short and unstyled and amber-gold eyes that hold little in the way of emotion. Some would say they even lack a spark of life. His tanned skin is covered in a tapestry of old scars and strange runic patterns. If asked why he keeps them, despite the technology to make such unseemly blemishes being easily accessible for one of his rank, he only states that they're to be a reminder.
Beneath the scars is the physique of a solider and athlete, built out and maintained through a constatn work-out regimine and strict diet. It often is hidden beneath baggy, non-descript clothing, to better keep his appearance unseen and unnoticed when not on official business. He has no real sense of fashion, or really any preference in aesthetics. The only outwardly notable feature aside from his scars is that his eyes changed somewaht when he became a templar. Moments of intense emotion oftne cause a ring of burning firey mana to form along the edge of his pupil, one of the few indicators of emotion that any can grasp from him.
Personality
Marqué does not feel.
It is a constant thing said about the Templar and it is true in some ways, but not others. Phyiscally, it is as true as can be. Whatever the purpose of the experiements preformed on him in his youth, they have taken from the young man any capacity to feel physical sensations. Pain, Pleasure, warmth, cold, even exhaustion. HIs body does not communicate any of the information to him, and it has lead to him to often treat his body as an expendable resource more often than not. He pushes himself far beyond when a reasonable person would stop, and while he has gained enough of a sense of self to know his limits, this was a years long process that has lead to him being on a first name basis with every medical professional within the Church, and a few outside of it.
Emotionally. . . it is only partially so. It would be more accurate that, in this case, Marqué does not allow himself to feel. To do so would invite weakness, invite complications, would get in the way of the duty he has sworn himself to. The only thing he really things give his life worth. The Goddess deemed him to survive where so many others did not. The Goddess deeemed him as worthy of saving when both before and during that horrible experience, he had hurt many people. He was no devout follower, he had cursed her name many a night as starvation and pain took him, back when he still felt such things. But she had deemed him worthy of survival.
Or so he Marqué tells himself, because the alternative thought, which dogs at his mind every day, invites a creeping dread that he refuses to let win. It had to be for something.
It had to be.
Biography
Marqué is not the name that the Templar was born with. In truth, it's part of a designation, a word heard time and again in the midst of the drug-addled haze that are his memories. He can barely recall life before his kidnapping, though he had the sensation it was not much different than his imprisonment. He had no one but other urchins that struggled to survive in the streets of some Dourmerc township. No parents, no caretakers, just his own wits and hands. Sometimes he was hurt, other times he hurts. Sometimes he went to bed hungry, and other times, he managed to find some scraps to hold it off. And in the tangled threads of these memories, the threat of starvation was replaced by a different pain.
Agony that laced through his veins, the sensation of strange chemicals and mana being injected into his young body. Bright lights and sharp pains as he was pushed out before other kids, bigger ones and smaller ones, and forced to hurt them. THey were told to do the same to him. They never knew why, and knew better than to ask. That continued for a long while, a constant treadmill of isolation and pain that left him unsure if he was even still alive. He stopped speaking, as no one would ever respond. He stopped thinking, as thoughts only served to tourment him. And thus, when he stopped feeling. . . it barely made a difference, though the adults who prodded and examined him seemed excited.
And then. . . the Goddess came.
It was in a burst of action that she appeared before him, with hair like fire and a large blade in hand. She was followed by a familiar scent of iron that hung thick, with more voices behind her that cried out in horror and disgust. It wouldn't be till much later that the boy would learn that it was not the Goddess, but a mercenary by the name of Axan who saved him, not the goddess. But he still held onto that feeling, that the Goddess had come to lift him out of his misery. It kept him from slipping entirely into the darkness of unspoken thoughts, where the eyes of so many unclear faces stared back. They shared no features with him, but they all bore the same name. They all were Marqué. They all could have been him, if they had been luckier, and he had run out of it.
And so, like the scars, like the runes, the name became a reminder. Marqué was not a name. Marqué was not a person. Marqué it was a designation, and the boy just happened to be chosen for it. And so, in his mind, he had to be chosen for a reason.
So he became a squire for the church knights, htne a knight himself, and then a Templar for the very same woman who saved him, though she did not recognize his face. If Marqué was a person, that may have stung, but it was better this way. Marqué was not meant to stand out, as it would make the work harder. He had dedciated himself to helping others, saving others as he had been saved. Be it monsters born from Mana or monsters born from Men, he decicated himself to their end.
Weapon of Choice
Marqué prioritizes no singular weapon, but instead works to have a knowledge of as amny as he can feasibly learn to an acceptable degree. THere are few weapons which he is not at least proficient with and he has made sure to inscribe several transport runes to summon them to his side at a moment's notice. If Marqué was to have a preference, it would be with knives and small caliber fire arms, which can be used in nearly any enviornment with ease, but he also keeps a runes for a spear, a sword, and a rifle on him, and knows how to use a number of other weapons.
Marqué is a rather skilled mage, though his ability to learn is strangely more. . . instinctive than what one would expect. He cannot really explain the theory of most spells as well as one would expect, but if given time to try to cast a spell, he can typically figure it out, though this is often only for small scale spells. Larger spells are much beyond his ability to intuit.
As a consequence to his lack of ability to feeel much of anything, the Templar was worked hard to learn as much as he can about medicine and first aid and thus has taken to keeping a kit on hand for any occassion. While certainly skilled in the craft, his lacking of feeling also means that he takes to first aid more like a mortician works a cadaver, with little care to the comfort or pain of the patient.
His knolwedge of medicine has also spread into him learning more than a few details on several poisons, and he's taken to building up a tolerance to many common ones as part of his duties as a Templar. He has not told his Scion of this, but he often checks her meals in places where he does not fully trust the staff.
While skilled in many areas of both combat and service, Marqué is absolutely clueless in matters of decorum, manners, or anything not tied to the duties he thinks are most important for a Templar or Knight to perform. This has lead to many an misunderstanding with those not used to his quirks, and as a Templar, even a few near international incidents as he unknowingly snubs an important figure in some manner.
Marqué has no hobbies, instead putting all of his freetime into training or learning more things for his job. This has often lead to many to thinking him to be some sort of advanced machine or even a spirit than a normal person, and his tendency to embrace pain or discomfort without complaint has done little to dissuade that.
_______________________________________________ "The boy is the picture of devotion, discipline, and selflessness. For better and for worse." ________________________________________
"Your Holiness, it is the duty of a Templar duty to serve you til their dying breath. Nothing more, and nothing less."
Holy Sigil Location
Over his heart, same as his Scion
Appearance
The Templar is not the most standout individual, as is prefered. They stand at an unimpressive height of 5'2, with hair that is kept short and unstyled and amber-gold eyes that hold little in the way of emotion. Some would say they even lack a spark of life. His tanned skin is covered in a tapestry of old scars and strange runic patterns. If asked why he keeps them, despite the technology to make such unseemly blemishes being easily accessible for one of his rank, he only states that they're to be a reminder.
Beneath the scars is the physique of a solider and athlete, built out and maintained through a constatn work-out regimine and strict diet. It often is hidden beneath baggy, non-descript clothing, to better keep his appearance unseen and unnoticed when not on official business. He has no real sense of fashion, or really any preference in aesthetics. The only outwardly notable feature aside from his scars is that his eyes changed somewaht when he became a templar. Moments of intense emotion oftne cause a ring of burning firey mana to form along the edge of his pupil, one of the few indicators of emotion that any can grasp from him.
Personality
Marqué does not feel.
It is a constant thing said about the Templar and it is true in some ways, but not others. Phyiscally, it is as true as can be. Whatever the purpose of the experiements preformed on him in his youth, they have taken from the young man any capacity to feel physical sensations. Pain, Pleasure, warmth, cold, even exhaustion. HIs body does not communicate any of the information to him, and it has lead to him to often treat his body as an expendable resource more often than not. He pushes himself far beyond when a reasonable person would stop, and while he has gained enough of a sense of self to know his limits, this was a years long process that has lead to him being on a first name basis with every medical professional within the Church, and a few outside of it.
Emotionally. . . it is only partially so. It would be more accurate that, in this case, Marqué does not allow himself to feel. To do so would invite weakness, invite complications, would get in the way of the duty he has sworn himself to. The only thing he really things give his life worth. The Goddess deemed him to survive where so many others did not. The Goddess deeemed him as worthy of saving when both before and during that horrible experience, he had hurt many people. He was no devout follower, he had cursed her name many a night as starvation and pain took him, back when he still felt such things. But she had deemed him worthy of survival.
Or so he Marqué tells himself, because the alternative thought, which dogs at his mind every day, invites a creeping dread that he refuses to let win. It had to be for something.
It had to be.
Biography
Marqué is not the name that the Templar was born with. In truth, it's part of a designation, a word heard time and again in the midst of the drug-addled haze that are his memories. He can barely recall life before his kidnapping, though he had the sensation it was not much different than his imprisonment. He had no one but other urchins that struggled to survive in the streets of some Dourmerc township. No parents, no caretakers, just his own wits and hands. Sometimes he was hurt, other times he hurts. Sometimes he went to bed hungry, and other times, he managed to find some scraps to hold it off. And in the tangled threads of these memories, the threat of starvation was replaced by a different pain.
Agony that laced through his veins, the sensation of strange chemicals and mana being injected into his young body. Bright lights and sharp pains as he was pushed out before other kids, bigger ones and smaller ones, and forced to hurt them. THey were told to do the same to him. They never knew why, and knew better than to ask. That continued for a long while, a constant treadmill of isolation and pain that left him unsure if he was even still alive. He stopped speaking, as no one would ever respond. He stopped thinking, as thoughts only served to tourment him. And thus, when he stopped feeling. . . it barely made a difference, though the adults who prodded and examined him seemed excited.
And then. . . the Goddess came.
It was in a burst of action that she appeared before him, with hair like fire and a large blade in hand. She was followed by a familiar scent of iron that hung thick, with more voices behind her that cried out in horror and disgust. It wouldn't be till much later that the boy would learn that it was not the Goddess, but a mercenary by the name of Axan who saved him, not the goddess. But he still held onto that feeling, that the Goddess had come to lift him out of his misery. It kept him from slipping entirely into the darkness of unspoken thoughts, where the eyes of so many unclear faces stared back. They shared no features with him, but they all bore the same name. They all were Marqué. They all could have been him, if they had been luckier, and he had run out of it.
And so, like the scars, like the runes, the name became a reminder. Marqué was not a name. Marqué was not a person. Marqué it was a designation, and the boy just happened to be chosen for it. And so, in his mind, he had to be chosen for a reason.
So he became a squire for the church knights, htne a knight himself, and then a Templar for the very same woman who saved him, though she did not recognize his face. If Marqué was a person, that may have stung, but it was better this way. Marqué was not meant to stand out, as it would make the work harder. He had dedciated himself to helping others, saving others as he had been saved. Be it monsters born from Mana or monsters born from Men, he decicated himself to their end.
Weapon of Choice
Marqué prioritizes no singular weapon, but instead works to have a knowledge of as amny as he can feasibly learn to an acceptable degree. THere are few weapons which he is not at least proficient with and he has made sure to inscribe several transport runes to summon them to his side at a moment's notice. If Marqué was to have a preference, it would be with knives and small caliber fire arms, which can be used in nearly any enviornment with ease, but he also keeps a runes for a spear, a sword, and a rifle on him, and knows how to use a number of other weapons.
Marqué is a rather skilled mage, though his ability to learn is strangely more. . . instinctive than what one would expect. He cannot really explain the theory of most spells as well as one would expect, but if given time to try to cast a spell, he can typically figure it out, though this is often only for small scale spells. Larger spells are much beyond his ability to intuit.
As a consequence to his lack of ability to feeel much of anything, the Templar was worked hard to learn as much as he can about medicine and first aid and thus has taken to keeping a kit on hand for any occassion. While certainly skilled in the craft, his lacking of feeling also means that he takes to first aid more like a mortician works a cadaver, with little care to the comfort or pain of the patient.
His knolwedge of medicine has also spread into him learning more than a few details on several poisons, and he's taken to building up a tolerance to many common ones as part of his duties as a Templar. He has not told his Scion of this, but he often checks her meals in places where he does not fully trust the staff.
While skilled in many areas of both combat and service, Marqué is absolutely clueless in matters of decorum, manners, or anything not tied to the duties he thinks are most important for a Templar or Knight to perform. This has lead to many an misunderstanding with those not used to his quirks, and as a Templar, even a few near international incidents as he unknowingly snubs an important figure in some manner.
Marqué has no hobbies, instead putting all of his freetime into training or learning more things for his job. This has often lead to many to thinking him to be some sort of advanced machine or even a spirit than a normal person, and his tendency to embrace pain or discomfort without complaint has done little to dissuade that.
"If I do that, I don't think I'll be getting back up."
Zhejiang chuckled, unperturbed by the ineffective strikes against the Outlander. She'd done what she'd set out to do, kept the gaze of the Mother open for Teddy just a bit longer. She could feel the thrum of the Thrill in her ears now, it beat louder than she had ever heard it before. The bullets from the downed Mech the blitzed her way never even touched the Stardust as, in the fraction of a moment that they nentered her senses, portals oppened to pass tehm on through behind her and then vanished. Surrounded by ripples of black as rifts opened and closes in rapid succession, she felt as if she could take on anything. IF she pushed just a bit more, perhaps she could eve-
CRASH
Whether that battle would have ended in a new awakening or a meaningless death, the moment of focus was broken as Lictor was catapulted into the battlefield, crushing the dangerous foe in a single blow that nearly blew the stardust off her feet as the Aberrant's field fell away. The rush of the thrill grew distant and the Mother's gaze fell away as the superior's words came through. For a moment, she felt indigation at this rescue and the order that came with it. Sher'd been the cusp of greatness, she was sure of it. . . but she bit back any such compliants. If nothing else. . . she'd tasted the feeling. The Void Mother, even in this cradle, had been so close.
"On it.
The response to Lictor was still clipped with a hint of irration as she turned her attention to the greenhorn from before as he flew, with some skill she had to admit, to defly avoid the flying warheads that were the Sparrows. A breath was taken. . . and while still dulled the Thrill hummed still. She could handle this much.
The rift opened beneath her and she fell upwards, Eight Ball beneath her as its pilot swerved this way and that through the skies onit's way to the main gathering point by Teddy. Shining Void trilled as she spun it in mid-air, an orbiting motiong as she fell end over end. Her muscles tightened as she drew her arm back and once more send the Spear rocketing through the VOid Mother's domain. The sparrow that was almost in range to explode upon Alto would be halted by the force of a sudden impact as the spear slammed into it, cracking through the flimsy barrier to plant into the flesh. As the energy within began to ignite and expand, the weapon retreated to her waiting hand. The Void opened beneath her, taking her to the ground running amidst the swariming hordes as the sparrow detonated overhead, catching several others in it's field to form a chain reaciton. The red tide would be sliced through for a brief moment, the thrill heightened by so many hungering foes. . . and then she returned ot the air, launching another strike from on high as she took to the role of ranged skrimisher, covering the Pilot's escape as best she could. @Fading Memory@Feyblue@Supermaxx@Xiro Zean
Zhejiang watched the two experienced constellations charge into the throng of monstrosity with rapt attention, every sense heightened to the sounds of combat and slaughter even with the grand distance between them. Carapace beign crushed, guts being rent, limbs going flying. The sight of Aberrant ichor doused the ground around the two like an expressionistic masterpiece, and it sung to the Thrill within her. But from her vantage point atop the Grizzly, she laso noted that things wer enot going to plan. The forces here were in greater number than expected, and while war was never safe, she noticed how they were now down to just one veteran Constellation to maintain the backline.
"Could this be. . ." Zhejiang stopped herself from finishing the sentence, banishing thoughts of that dark silhouette from her mind. She could still hear, she could still feel, she could fight. When the Constellation's eyes opened again, it was too lock sights on the intruding Spearman. The Abomination and its partner had already engaged it, the manic laughter both seemed to share playing over the coms. Despite herself, she had to admit that they were doing well. . . but not well enough. Not against that thing.
"I'm heading over to assist the abomination and the new blood, keep distance and stay safe, Teddy. This junker ain't that maneuveable wouldn't due to have you get caught in it's claws." Zhejiang gave a nod to one of the Mech's camera's before leaping forth to enter the fray, her form vanishing in mid-air as a portal appeared before her. It was not long before she appeaered a fair distance way, her form twirling out of the dimensional tear as she hopped from one to the other, covering an immense amount of distance in the blink of the eye. While the Abomination was faster, reaching the Spearman before Zhejiang could even engage, the Mortus Constellation showed her own combat prowess as she ducked and weaved thro Alto's plasma fire like a shadow.
Behidn the dirt spray of each shot she appeared like a phantom to tear through the weaker abberrant soliders that survived, Shinign Void cutting through carapace and flesh like butter before she slinked back in to the shadow of the Void to appear elsewhere. While the Thrill had her thing in its grip, unlike the Abomination, she knew better to give into it. Aberrant's like the Spearman weren't so foolish as to duck behind enemy lines like this. So, while Alto and the abomination clashed directly with the Bishop-class abberrant, Zhejiang stayed back, picking off stragglers and waiting for the hammer to dro-
"Behind!"
There it is.
Zhejiang turned from impaling an Abberant to see her own partner engaging the missing Outlander head on. A brave tactic that likely saved her or the Abomination's life. But one that seemed ready to cost them there own, as the monstrostiy lifted a bladed arm to tear into the Mech's cockpit.
Zhejiang took a deep breath as she drew her arm back, her will focused entirely on stretching her abilities as far as they would allow and then even further still. She hissed as, even through the Thrill, she felt her body light up with pain as she pushed herself to the very limit. But she pushed through it and, when the black tear in space opened before her she didn't hesitate to launch Shining Void through it with all of her strength. She didn't expect the spear to manage to pierce the field in just one strike, not ofr a BIshop class. But it would hopefully distract the creature as she dove into a portal to appear a bit closer.
From Teddy's perspective, he'd see the Spear clash against the Outlander's barrier before vanishing, hearing a voice both through his Com link and audio link as Zhejiang called out to her Foe from a short distance away.
"Stop playing with unworthy prey, monster. Zhejiang Erica Teteh Almark Trace Aeolia Julianne Nova Trine Alzmille Lenore Chandra Ral Shagia Kycilia Lucille Jacqueline Agrippa Elysia Paraya Verlaine Haro Tieria Kelly Sune Stabity Drasso Visch Milla Romanof Rosso Christine Sys Lichtendahl al Mortuus-Orbitae LXXXV, Stardust class, Callsign Signus and I have come to challenge you." Shining Void appeared in her hand as she once again drew back her arm, launching another dimension-crossing throw at the creature before backing away.
Draw some distance from Teddy, draw it towards either Lictor or the abomination, whoever I can manage. Zhejiang thought as she summoned Shining Void once more to her hand, prepared to either harrass the Aberrant once again, or dive in for a stronger blow if it didn't take the bait. Come on creature, let's see what's quicker: Your blades or my spear.
Zhejiang paid cursory attention to the introductions given after her own while she traced a finger along the shaft of Brilliant Void. They were all warriors worthy of at least some measure of respect, but she could not bother herself with them too much right now. For no other reason then the fact that she might see them the next day. While they were not heading into the heart of danger, this mission was still an active battlezone. There was no telling what horrors might occur, or what changes to the plan might come about as a result of the abominabtions they face. In her own mind, she offered a silent prayer to both the Void Mother and Stone father to see them through this coming battle.
But if dying here is to be our fate, let our ends be glorious and let those who live remember us.
When the signal went out for them prepare for landing, Zhejiang was one of the first to move, sparing no time to greet or talk with anyone else as Brilliant Void lept to her hand like a loyal hound. IN the bright lights of the ship's corridors, she could swear ti seemed to gleam with an excitmenet rivaling her own as the Thrill surged within. A trick of the light, but one that made her fill at ease. The weight of her predeccessors was held within this artifact, and she would do well not to disappoint them with a poor showing in her first engagement. She would make the abominations bleed, of that she was determined.
Speak of the devil. . . Zhejiang felt more than she heard the creature as it came into the hanger, the hulking thing seeming all to eager for the slaughter to come. As it approached, Zhejiang did not hide the disgust she felt from showing on her face, but said nothing to it. By the rules of engagement they were equals'and thus she had no stance to reprimand the thing for merely beign too clsoe to her. Much less ending it's miserable existence as would have been merciful. Luckily, it did not spend much time near her, pairing up with the young pilot from before as it floated up onto the back of his mech. Zhejiang was preparing to enter into her typical pre-battle rituals when a voice spoke to her through her com line.
"Hey, eighty-five. Looks like we're the odd ones out. How 'bout it? Wanna be dance partners?"
Zhejiang looked towards the Grizzly, blue eyes seeming to pierce into the cockpit to see the equally grizzled man within. She didn't quite respond at first, tilting her head a bit as if she didn't quite understand his words. Then, a small grin spread across her face as her body followed the tilt of her head,sending her entire form careening to the ground.
or more like into it.
Teddy would only have a moment to note the strange flash of purple and black on the ground were she would have been when a weight suddenly landed atop Grizzly. Before long, the blue eyes that had staring from far away now filled the viewport of one of the mech's cameras.
"Can you keep with anything in this tanker, Pilot Howser." Zhejiang voice took on a teasaing sing-sing as she tapped at the camera before hopping down the mech with an ease that appeared almost weightless. As she landed, she turned to give a small bow to the seasoned veteran before addressing him with a hand on her hip as she leaned against her spear. "If you think you can, then I'll be glad to work with a warrior such as yourself. Might even still let you call me '85'.
B A S I C I N F O [Name]Zhejiang Erica Teteh Almark Trace Aeolia Julianne Nova Trine Alzmille Lenore Chandra Ral Shagia Kycilia Lucille Jacqueline Agrippa Elysia Paraya Verlaine Haro Tieria Kelly Sune Stabity Drasso Visch Milla Romanof Rosso Christine Sys Lichtendahl al Mortuus-Orbitae LXXXV [Callsign]Cygnus [Gender]Female [Age]28 [Rank and Designation]Stardust [Place of Birth]Niǎndào [Official Statement]"I am not here to give you pithy quotes for your highlight reels. Get me out there so I can drive 光辉虚空 into the hearts of our foes!"
C O M B A T A B I L I T Y
[Anti-Barrier Sword]A.B. Sword 光辉虚空(Guānghuī xūkōng)/Brilliant Void [Anti-Barrier Quotient]29% [Physical Description] Brilliant Void is an odd weapon for an AB sword. A long spear with minimal decoration along it's shaft, mostly the flowing aniconic designs common to the Mortuus-Orbitae trace themselves down it's jet black body, representing the planets and stars of the system where it's ore was found. These markings are marred by some odd discolorations that appear all along the weapon as if exposed to a fearsome heat, blemishing it's simple beauty.
At base of the leaf-shaped blade, where in ancient antiquity a red tassel would be based to disoriented foes and absorb their blood, lays the marker of the 離(Lí)trigram. It serves as a stylized representation of it's Number among the many A.B. Swords the sword mother has made, but also as a symbol of Clarity, of Humanity's strength of will. To some whispered naysayers, however, the designation is an insult,as the AB material of the blade is made from the discarded run off of another blade that has been handed to the Hua Sect.
An unwanted 'second daughter', a vapid black sheep. . . how fitting a weapon for it's current wielder. [Attributes] Brilliant Void, despite its simplicty, is a weapon deeply intwined with the anomaly of those descending from the Hua sect. When wielded by one of the Hua, it feels as light as the very air and strikes as quick as a cobra, like it knows where its blade needs to be before the wielder. So connected are the two that not even the illusion of distance can keep them apart, allowing the wielder to will the weapon to their hands with barely a thought regardless of how far away it seems to be.
When a wielder of Brilliant Void passes, it is said that the spear often vanishes from sight, rumored to even travel across the cosmos to appear before the last person their wielder thought of as the Void Mother closes her eyes on them one final time. A grim portent, and a somewhat troublesome aspect at times when it comes to the needed retrieval of the weapon to keep the true extent of the ar effort underwraps. Some have considered scrapping the rebellious weapon and repurposing the AB to a more compliant weapon, but the Mortuus-Orbitae argue desperately against such actions. After so much time on the frontier, a not insignifcant number of the A.B. swords lost in this war belong to members of their sect, so even a risky blade like Brilliant Void is considered to precious to give up.
[Anomaly]Void [Origin]Space-Between [Phenomena] "The Mother grants those so blessed to walk in her domain, traveling distances both grand and small as if they were not there at all. For in truth, there is no distance between things, only the belief in it's truth"
The Anomaly of House Mortuus-Orbitae is that of Void, allowing users to summon portals of various sizes, shapes, and properties into being with but a thought. The use of such a power in combat with Aberrants requires quick reaction time, decision making skill, and an ability to reorient oneself in an instant in three dimensional space in order to take full adavantage of the freedom of movement it gives them. For users of a scertain skill level, the very portals themselves can be used as a weapon to sheer through unwrothy flesh and bone, or to allow access to ur foes internals when their armor proves to thick to penetrate. Zhegiang has even heard tales of users who have opened up the Void Mother's true domain within the palm of their hands, a window to the pressureless depths of space, pressed right up against an abberrant's form. The results, if the stories ring true, are as impressive in effectiness as they are distrubing to witness.
To compliment this ability, the Constellations of Mortuus-Orbitae tend to practice a modified form of Baguazhang, adapting the styles focus on evasive circular movements and redirections into a style that often excels when one is not bound totally to the whims of gravity, but allowed to travel freely in the fullness of three dimensional space. Known as the 虚卦掌(Xū guà zhǎng), or Void Trigram Palm, its practice tends to unleash a sense of uninhibited Thrill in its wielders, especially when in the midst of life-threatening situations. They report senses of heightened awareness of the space around them, better senses of coordination, improved reflexes, even improved control over their Anomaly. And through it all, they feel as if they are being watched over by a presence. . . just out of sight. Whether this is just a strange coincidence or truly the eye of the Void Mother watching over her most blessed of children is a matter of much debate within the family,but whatever the case, it is an attribute of the Void Trigrams that must be managed carefully. The thrill of battle is a dangerous siren to lose oneself to, after all. [Limitation] Zhegiang herself has a long way to go from reaching such lofty heights of Anomaly Mastery.
As she is currently, Zhejiang's only skill with her anomaly power is to walk the mother's domain and send non-living objects through it, though her formation of such portals is alarmingly fast for how recently she has gained her abilities. Taken to them like a fish to water, she can near effortlessly flit through the portals she creates, but due to her inexperience, they portals lack the stability to resist contat with living material, often causing them to disperse. POrtal dispersal launches both the offending organism and Trace if she is within one out of the Mother's domain with no small amount of force. That said such a limitation can be a benefit as she learns, making the act of slamming a half-formed portal into a foe an effective method of gaining distance. Still, it makes for a very clear weakness to her ability to escape from dangerous situations if properly accounted for.
Profile
[Surface-level Impression] Proud.
More than anything else, Zhegiang is a proud person, to the point of flippant arrogance. In the face of any and all adversities or obstacles, her response is to take it head on and beat it into submission. She does not mince her words or hold her tongue around those who are, objectively, her lessers. Hers is a noble bloodline and thus, the only ones worthy of considering as equals are those of similar noble birth. . . or those who have proven themselves as worthy of respect.
[Personal History W.I.P.]
BrokenMore than anything else, Zhegiang is a broken person. Perhaps she always has been, only deluding herself through naive youth that she felt as others felt, walked as others walked, could be as others could be. But her father, Dingxiang, never let her forget what she was. Ever since she stole his wife from him though the mistake of her birth, she was never anything more than an inconvient parasite. A thing, to be kept at a distance, a thing to be addressed only when necessary for the sake of propriety. Not a moment sooner nor a second longer.
It was Zhegiang, not her father, who pushed to enter the constellation program when the time came. While the readings of her Anomaly skill were somewhat low, in every other metric she seemed to excel among her peers. She never needed any assistance from her teachers, taking to the rigorous training with a fervor and a natural talent that left near speechless. . . and yet, it wasn't enough to let Zhegiang shine. For with every accolade she tried to illuminate for the world to say, it merely made her elder sister Meixiu seem all the greater.
Meixiu, the one born to her parent's in the traditional way through science and safe external gestation.
Meixiu, whose shining skill with her anomaly earned her the title of "the Mother's own hand".
Meixiu, who tried her best to make her little sister's life joyous despite their father's stern hand.
Meixiu, the reason that Zhegiang abandoned the constellation program after 5 years of serving as a vessel to heap further praise on her. She hated her sister as much as she loved her, and that thought made her feel dirty and sick. She had only been kind and descent to Zhegiang, yet when the younger sister looked at the elder, only stern judgemental eyes tared back. Not just those of her father, but her teachers. Her uncles, her cousins, everyone she had ever known in her life looked at her the exact same way. All saying the same thing. . .
"Parasite"
BloodWhen Zhejiang thinks back to that day, sometimes all she can remember is the blood, the screams, and the overwhelming panic that took her over that day. Running through the halls with a rifle in hand, trying to guide civilians and non-combat to evacuation points, barely hearing any of the questions they asked as the beating of her own heart pounded in her ears.
There had been no warning
No alert called to get the thousands of combat personel on the Hēi xīng Station to their battle stations, no warning that Aberrant forces had even entered the system yet from the patrols. One moment, her and Duccia had been catching up on old times when they were both constellation-trainees and Zhejiang's coming tests to become a Pilot only to be interrupted by a strange garbled music to start playing through the station's intercoms. Disjointed and arrythymic, it didn't sound like anything Zhejiang had heard before. . . and then, a voice dripping with excitement whispered out among the discordant notes.
We Have Come For You
Then the screams started. . . and even hours later, as Zhejiang tried her best to lead any civilians she came across to the safety bays as was protocol, she'd yet to hear them stop. In constellation training, she'd been taught to see pawns as little more than an annoyance to be swatted aside individually and only proved dangerous in greater numbers. Such thoughts seem arrogant now as she saw bio-metallic carapaces skittering behind every corner, hounding her flock like wolves no matter how much she tried to fend them off with rifle fire. Through some hallways, she could hear the tearing of metal and the crunch of meat and bone. Others held the scent of blood and dead flesh so thick it mad her and those following her gag. The sounds of fighting was all arounded her, and she'd lost count of how many of the pawns she'd managed to put down, but it was never enough. There was always another pair of eyes watching from the shadows. Waiting. Watching.
Hunting.
It was her final return trip, an attempt to get to a group of survivor's holed up in one of the habitation blocks, when she encountered that thing. It was in the large food hall where her footsteps echoed in the relative silence and stillness. She tried to ignore the blood and the bodies, rifle raised and head ona swivel. She was fully aware of her surroundings, ears open and eyes wide.
She should've seen it enter. Should've heard it cross the floor towards her. But it wasn't until she felt those clawed fingers wrap around her throat ever so gently, that she noticed it standing over her. A towering shadow of nothingness cut against the backdrop of flickering lights stained red, as if her eyes were refusing to let any of the light that bounced off this monster to be properly observed. She couldn't move, so strong was her fear. Even as it slowly dragged the claws across her chest and dug them into her shoulder, the pain could not get her too move, as the knowledge that she was about to die to this [i]Monster[/i] gripped. It had come for her. This . . . was the end.
And yet, it was not to be.
A light to her side presede Meixiu, bursting through a portal to swing at the shadow, forcing it away from Zhejiang as Brilliant Void's blade sparked with dimensional fury. She would have fallen over entirely, her knees turned to jelly from panic, if not for Meixiu catching her. It was only now that Shejiang would realize that. . . she couldn't hear anything.
What followed happened in a blur too fast to really comprehend, as Meixiu grabbed Zhejiang and tossed her through a portal sending her back the way she came towards the escape pods. As she looked at her sister the last time, Zhegiang could see that she seemed to mouth something to her before slamming a fist on the control panel near by, slamming the airlock doors shut as two more constellations appeared behind Meixiu as the three turned to face the lightless void of a monster that had brought ruin to their lives.
As she made her way back to the escape pods, collecting another ten civilians along the way to save, she tried to convince herself that everything would be fine, that there was no way that Meixiu would be beat. She was the best, she was the prodigy, the Constellation that everyone wanted to be.
And yet, as she boarded and piloted the last escape vessel, her flock in hand, she heard something clatter to the floor by her side, followed by the now all to familiar iron smell of blood. But she didn't look. Not when the passengers started crying, not when the ship started to explode and burn around them while going through the flight procedues. Not even during the long travel to the nearest warp gate, now flooded with ohter escape craft from the doomed station. It was only when they were finally docked and she was no longer in control of the ten lives aboard that she dared to look down to her side in the cockpit, seeing the familiar weapon lying there. . . with a hand still holding onto it.
The tears came freely and in great numbers that day, and for many days after that, as she finally realized what her sister had tried to tell her before they parted.
"I love you"
VoidThat was what left in Zhejiang's heart after the attack on Hēi xīng, amidt the blood and the horror that played themselves again and again in her nightmares. They might have taken he over completely, subjecting herself to the Cold Mother's touch if not for Duccia. In the months that followed, Duccia never left her side if she could help it, never stop giving encouragement, never stopped watching over Zhejiang. She was her guiding star, the one thing she coudl turn to for some source of stability, comfort, or compassion in a world of pitieous looks or hidden disdain.
Despite getting a medal for her actions, saving a total of 40 people from that massacre all on that own, it porved a bitter comfort when the number of the dead rose was several thousands and the whole system had to be evacuated because the U.A.S. command in the sector could not figure out how the abberrant's had managed to bypass every safeguard.
And while the bloody dreams and shadowy figure never left her mind in those dark cold knights where the woman by her side proved her one and only comfort, something else finally began to match it. It did not fill the void in her soul, it aggravated it. Filled her with an overpowering itch to *Do* something.
So, using her family's name and her actions as collateral, she reapplied to the constellation program. The fear hurt her badly, made her weak, made her struggle more so than she had ever done before in her life. She had come face to face with the horrid realities of death and it scared her to her core. . . But she chose to fight on regardless, even as her father sought to blcok her path.
But with Duccia's support, she made iot past every oobstacle, turning her fear into burning passion and desire to not only uphold her family's honor and name, but to avenge her sister. To make sure their sacrifice wasn't for nothing. As such, when she finally earned her place amongst the stars, it was Brillaint Void that she chose to be her weapon. To carry on her sister's legacy.
The irony was so bitter she might have choked on it.
Rumored to be the first exploration vessel by their sect founder in the early days of Earth's expansion, the Niǎndào is a huge vessel from pre-civil war times that stands as a testament to the Mortuus Orbitae's ability to adapt and repurpose things to fit their needs. Home to millions of citizens, military ersonell, and the heads of the Family, it is a rather haphazard spacecraft, its hull covered in various repairs and structures to denote the many differing eras of Mortuus design philiosphies it has bore wtiness to, though the main design is an extremely boxy function over form design that still holds a somewhat rugged form to it.
Despite its. . . unconventional appearance, however, you'll find few spacebound structures in the U.A.S. more structurally stable or well-defended. Armed with the latest in energy-based weaponry and Core-power shielding integrated into old-earth kinetic weapon, holding in it's depths an untold number of crusiers, fighters, and artillery ships that it can unleash at a moment with it's standing battle force. A veritable flying fortess, it has always been the speartip of the Void Mother's faithful, and was one of the few spacecraft able to repel Abberant assault in the early days of the war, though not without extensive damage and loss of life.
[Culture] The Way of Void [W.I.P] To walk this path is to know that your end is inevitable, but it is in the inevitability that the followers of the Void Mother find their reason to keep persisting anyway. For they know that despite the cruel indifference she shows to them with the face of the Cold Mother, she does love and care for her children. We must prove ourselves worthy of her gaze.
The followers of the Way believe in several aspects of Divinity:
The Stone Father, who imbues the Universe with passion and crafts the planets to act as either examples of his genius or to serve as cozy Cradles for life(mainly humanity) to use while they figure how to wonder the stars.
The Vlid Mother, the principle figure of worship whose love surronds and coddles us so delicately. Yet this is a harsh love, for she does not offer guidance but the chances and struggles needed to show us how to become worthy of her gaze. She knows thst all life will ultimately end, but it is in that ending that kne cam find fufilment and joy.
And finally, the Cold mother. The second face of the Void, she is thr ceaseless vacuum, the creeping chill that boils blood and steals breath. She is the harsh death and disdain saved for.those who give in to.their fears, there sorrows,their woe. She who sets the Cold apathy on unworthy shoulders and forbids them the Void's kindness till rhey prove themselves worthy once more
[Warrior Family] Mortuus-Orbitae
A "warrior" family that draws a direct connection the the Hua sect, most that do not make a habit of serving along the frontier have likely never heard of this most reclusve of Warrior clans. Believers in a fringe religion(sporting only a few million registered believers across the expanse of frontier space stations they contro), many find them a bunch of esoteric fanatics that the Hua sect should denounce entirely. To these voices, the Mortuus-Orbitae have accomplished no great accomplishments, have offered no boon to Humanity's empire, merely sitting in their celestial space stations and looking down on those who dare to live planet side where they belong.
Those who have a deeper knowledge of this sect, however, know that they form the very *foundation* of Humanity's expansion across the cosmos. From the early days of conquest, through the turbulent period of civil war, amidst the painful rebuilding of empire, and even during this most brutal of wartime struggle against the abberrant tides, the Mortuus-Orbitae have sought to expand the hand of HUmanity into the vast void. Like the main sect itself, they have fingers in multiple industries related to the goal of galactic expansion and space travel.They manage the maintaince and construction of Space lanes and warp gates, they test, refine, and improve the standard quality of spaceflight technology, help run both colonization and evacuation efforts, and boast perhaps one of the deadliest and most coordinated starfleet armadas among any organization.
To the family itself, however, these are not reasons for accolades. These accomplishments are, in fact, the standard and focus that all of humanity should strive for. To explore the stars in the name of the goddess they call the Void Mother, they throw themselves into the study of technologies to not only better travel her empty depths, but to better their ability to survive it. Strict controls over-reproductive rights, generational genetic manipulation to lower the energy and oxygen needs of their people, and many shifts in doctrine have led to a culture that faces death as not an end, but an inevitability to embrace and accept.
They were the blacksheep of the Hua sect, and may have even been disbanded eventually despite their achievements . . . but then, the abberrants came. The first years of the war were blooyd and terrible, but for some, they praise the tactics and fearless bravery of the Mortuus for humanity's survival to the point where they could begin a counter offensive. In every engagement, the mortuus would never retreat, would never surrender, would never even waver in their formations. Fighters streakign across space to their deaths to buy escape ships just a few minutes more, troops, manning atmospheric rail cannons and firing down at invasion forces even as abberant troops breaking into the the sealed firing rooms, even turning entire space stations into nuclear bombs to take out an invading swarm fleet.
The Mortuus Orbitae was not afraid to put their everything in resisting the aberrant threat in every front they found themselves in. As such, many Frontier planets will often treat them with some level of respect, though their odd mannerisms and tendency to distance themselves from 'stonedwellers' as they called those living planetside continued to keep a barrier between them and those they fought to protect. And despite their efforts, the cost of their tactics has long sense taken a toll on the Family who has focused the bulk of it's forces along the frontier planets and galaxies. Of the many sects and sub-sects, none ould be said to have lost more than the Mortuus to the Abberant fleets, nor can the depths of their hatred and outrage towards the Swarm be over-stated.
Notable Contacts
[Name] Duccia
[Relation to Subject] Duccia Is Trace's Voidbound, her true partner in life while she is legally married to a man she's never met who knows how many light years away for some political favor or the other. Her guiding star, the light which has brought her back from the celestial edge of Apathetic wasting, the one true death that awaits those who find life's futiltiy too much to bear.
[Analysis] A fellow constellation, albeit one of Main rank, Duccia is the hearth that tempers Trace's roaring flame of fanatical passion. Possessed of an infectious energy and enthusiasm for life in all it's forms and features, but possessing a warrior's honor through and through. Duccia proves to be a steadying hand against the baser desires that drive her Voidbound's self-destructive behavior.
In battle, she fights like a Knight of old, energy shield on one hand an a grand lance known as the Venusian Star granting her a control over intense waves of arid heat and superheated gases. Launching herself into the thick of battle, she maintains a more defensive style while exuding waves of heat to exhaust her foes, though this does make her a hazardous ally to those ill-prepared to work with her.
Out of battle, she is a woman of a grand empathy for those with less, having become a true believer of the Mother's Kindess despite being from a seperate family entirely, the 3rd daughter of some fifth son. Unimportant in the grand scheme of noble power plays, which is more than fine by her.
Also, absolutely horrid with money and finances, and banned from handling their shared accounts by Trace after falling for a interstellar phone scam one time too many. Did I mention she's a tad gullible too?
Aissi- Insert Excali-bruh face Lictor: And old uncle-type she has some old fond memories of, a man who made her father act almost passable to her whenever he was around and someone who didn't seem to blame her for her failings. She respects him deeply, especially after he sponsored her continued Constellation training following the 'accident' as the Sects have chosen to refer to her father's actions when in the public eye. Critical PC connection Aalto: This kid is either good or he's gonna die. Teddy: A veteran of many battles, and thus due some measure of respect. Could have even been a colleague if she continued training as a pilot. Dissapointed in his behavior towards the thing, however.
Like ants picking at her nerves, the sharp pains spiked with every jostle of turbulence that shook the lander as it rolled through Alora's stratosphere. Only years of discipline and training kept it from showing in her face and posture, forever the image of regal excellence that she had been made to embody. With eyes closed to help block out sensations, she would seem to almost be in a state of meditation with the way she remained still if not for the occasional deep breaths that she took. In truth, this was just the way the Mortuus-Orbitae were, every child learning to keep their breathing as minimal as possible to avoid overusing precious oxygen in case of emergencies. It also kept the mind calm in moments like this, when pain seemed an ever present companion.
The not-insignificant amount of painkillers she'd taken prior to this mission in preparation didn't hurt either.
Zhejiang was dressed lightly in her Zayin DC, bright red jacket seeming to be the heaviest piece of clothing on her. Not unlike the Eorman, her own muscularity was on full display in the form of a strong core toned to the point where her abdominal muscles were just barely visible. If not for the suite of nanobots she held in her system, she'd likely be covered in no small number of scars due to the... intensity of her training methods. Instead, only one scar stood out—an ugly triptych of pale white lines that trace up from her hip to her right shoulder. A reminder of her greatest failure.
She'd be sure to give the creature that gave it to her one to match before she tore out his core with her bare hands. Slowly, so she could sa-
Zhejiang's eyes opened when she heard the Eorman constellation speak, thoughts interrupted by a voice much too loud and abrasive for his position in her opinion. Alas, such was the nature of the Dragon sect and it was not her place to correct a man many battles and years her senior. Though after she gave his figure a once over, she allowed herself a small amount of relief that Duccia was not here with her. Her Voidbound would have talked her ear off about the man's exaggerated physique.
I'll never understand her taste in men. She shook her head before turning attention to the other overseer of this little 'field test' as he called it. He acted more in line with what was expected, but Zhejiang couldn't find anything else impressive to note about him. He gave an impression not to unlike her old tutor's when they caught her trying to sneak out her remidials, stern to the point of farce.
Speaking of a farce. . .
Zhejiang didn't look at the thing as it spoke with a quivering modulated voice, though she could not help the sneer that appeared on her face as it made an attempt at a joke. She'd heard the one pilot talking to it, likely beguiled by a pretty face and shy demeanor into pitying the thing. She had expected better from a man as seasoned as he was, but it was only a natural response. To pity the monster and ignore both the horror that created it and what horrors will follow. It's likely why they let it look passingly human to begin with. A perfect figurehead.
She didn't pay much attention to the pilot aside from noting the surname as being familiar, though with the buzzing in her head and the general irritation she felt, it proved hard to focus on where she'd heard it. He seemed fresh out of the academy, exuding a sense of bravado and confidence that came with either ignorance or a self-assured confidence in his own skill. She'd reserve further judgment of the boy until she saw him in action.
Before Zhejiang could begin her own introductions, as pointless as she felt they were given the aforementioned briefing they all should have received, Lictor spoke up all of a sudden. The man's tone held a low grumble, but no real anger to it for the most part. She did find herself appreciative that he was open about stating that the thing needed to be watched. Dancing around the obvious was not a tactic befitting a Constellation. It was only once Lictor was fully finished with his introduction that Zhejiang herself would take the stand.
"My name is Zhejiang Erica Teteh Almark Trace Aeolia Julianne Nova Trine Alzmille Lenore Chandra Ral Shagia Kycilia Lucille Jacqueline Agrippa Elysia Paraya Verlaine Haro Tieria Kelly Sune Stabity Drasso Visch Milla Romanof Rosso Christine Sys Lichtendahl al Mortuus-Orbitae LXXXV, Stardust class and bearing the Callsign Signus." Her voice remained steady and unbothered as she spoke her entire introduction in one breath (as was the custom), even as a wave of nausea overcame her for a moment. Fighting against the discomfort, she continued without missing a beat, a hand placed over her heart with a head inclined toward her superiors in the room. A crisp Mortuus-Orbitae salute. "The Blade I wield is the honored Brilliant Void, and we both hope to learn much from the masters present here today."
For a moment, she wanted to press her superior's about the nature of this... 'field test', and what it would mean going forward if it proved successful. If they could truly trust a thing that was barely human to begin with, especially with what they knew of Aberrant functions. But it was not her place as a stardust to question those above her, and if the Sects believed the thing would cause issues, they would never have allowed it onboard. Like Lictor stated, it would be handled, and she should focus instead on her duties and mission in helping the war effort on Alora.
So she instead sat back in her seat, the picture of dignity even as it felt like her skin was trying to twist itself off her body the further they descended. It wouldn't be much longer, however, till relief was in sight. The Thrill was the only thing that pushed the pain away—the sheer adrenaline of losing herself in a pitched battle. Absently, her fingers thumbed Brilliant Void in anticipation, a little bit of the Thrill singing in her mind as she finally turned her gaze towards their destination.
A chaotic Starburst is what filled Zhejiang's mind—a burst of pain and emotion flowing through every neuron kept in place only by chains of self-discipline and expectation. However, beneath the ache, the disgust, and even the slight tinges of battlelust, the star held in it a passionate sense of love that kept everything in place. Duccia was never far from her thoughts, and thinking of her helped to hold back both the pain and the Thrill in equal measure.
B A S I C I N F O [Name]Zhejiang Erica Teteh Almark Trace Aeolia Julianne Nova Trine Alzmille Lenore Chandra Ral Shagia Kycilia Lucille Jacqueline Agrippa Elysia Paraya Verlaine Haro Tieria Kelly Sune Stabity Drasso Visch Milla Romanof Rosso Christine Sys Lichtendahl al Mortuus-Orbitae LXXXV [Callsign]Cygnus [Gender]Female [Age]28 [Rank and Designation]Stardust [Place of Birth]Niǎndào [Official Statement]"I am not here to give you pithy quotes for your highlight reels. Get me out there so I can drive 光辉虚空 into the hearts of our foes!"
C O M B A T A B I L I T Y
[Anti-Barrier Sword]A.B. Sword 光辉虚空(Guānghuī xūkōng)/Brilliant Void [Anti-Barrier Quotient]29% [Physical Description] Brilliant Void is an odd weapon for an AB sword. A long spear with minimal decoration along it's shaft, mostly the flowing aniconic designs common to the Mortuus-Orbitae trace themselves down it's jet black body, representing the planets and stars of the system where it's ore was found. These markings are marred by some odd discolorations that appear all along the weapon as if exposed to a fearsome heat, blemishing it's simple beauty.
At base of the leaf-shaped blade, where in ancient antiquity a red tassel would be based to disoriented foes and absorb their blood, lays the marker of the 離(Lí)trigram. It serves as a stylized representation of it's Number among the many A.B. Swords the sword mother has made, but also as a symbol of Clarity, of Humanity's strength of will. To some whispered naysayers, however, the designation is an insult,as the AB material of the blade is made from the discarded run off of another blade that has been handed to the Hua Sect.
An unwanted 'second daughter', a vapid black sheep. . . how fitting a weapon for it's current wielder. [Attributes] Brilliant Void, despite its simplicty, is a weapon deeply intwined with the anomaly of those descending from the Hua sect. When wielded by one of the Hua, it feels as light as the very air and strikes as quick as a cobra, like it knows where its blade needs to be before the wielder. So connected are the two that not even the illusion of distance can keep them apart, allowing the wielder to will the weapon to their hands with barely a thought regardless of how far away it seems to be.
When a wielder of Brilliant Void passes, it is said that the spear often vanishes from sight, rumored to even travel across the cosmos to appear before the last person their wielder thought of as the Void Mother closes her eyes on them one final time. A grim portent, and a somewhat troublesome aspect at times when it comes to the needed retrieval of the weapon to keep the true extent of the ar effort underwraps. Some have considered scrapping the rebellious weapon and repurposing the AB to a more compliant weapon, but the Mortuus-Orbitae argue desperately against such actions. After so much time on the frontier, a not insignifcant number of the A.B. swords lost in this war belong to members of their sect, so even a risky blade like Brilliant Void is considered to precious to give up.
[Anomaly]Void [Origin]Space-Between [Phenomena] "The Mother grants those so blessed to walk in her domain, traveling distances both grand and small as if they were not there at all. For in truth, there is no distance between things, only the belief in it's truth"
The Anomaly of House Mortuus-Orbitae is that of Void, allowing users to summon portals of various sizes, shapes, and properties into being with but a thought. The use of such a power in combat with Aberrants requires quick reaction time, decision making skill, and an ability to reorient oneself in an instant in three dimensional space in order to take full adavantage of the freedom of movement it gives them. For users of a scertain skill level, the very portals themselves can be used as a weapon to sheer through unwrothy flesh and bone, or to allow access to ur foes internals when their armor proves to thick to penetrate. Zhegiang has even heard tales of users who have opened up the Void Mother's true domain within the palm of their hands, a window to the pressureless depths of space, pressed right up against an abberrant's form. The results, if the stories ring true, are as impressive in effectiness as they are distrubing to witness.
To compliment this ability, the Constellations of Mortuus-Orbitae tend to practice a modified form of Baguazhang, adapting the styles focus on evasive circular movements and redirections into a style that often excels when one is not bound totally to the whims of gravity, but allowed to travel freely in the fullness of three dimensional space. Known as the 虚卦掌(Xū guà zhǎng), or Void Trigram Palm, its practice tends to unleash a sense of uninhibited Thrill in its wielders, especially when in the midst of life-threatening situations. They report senses of heightened awareness of the space around them, better senses of coordination, improved reflexes, even improved control over their Anomaly. And through it all, they feel as if they are being watched over by a presence. . . just out of sight. Whether this is just a strange coincidence or truly the eye of the Void Mother watching over her most blessed of children is a matter of much debate within the family,but whatever the case, it is an attribute of the Void Trigrams that must be managed carefully. The thrill of battle is a dangerous siren to lose oneself to, after all. [Limitation] Zhegiang herself has a long way to go from reaching such lofty heights of Anomaly Mastery.
As she is currently, Zhejiang's only skill with her anomaly power is to walk the mother's domain and send non-living objects through it, though her formation of such portals is alarmingly fast for how recently she has gained her abilities. Taken to them like a fish to water, she can near effortlessly flit through the portals she creates, but due to her inexperience, they portals lack the stability to resist contat with living material, often causing them to disperse. POrtal dispersal launches both the offending organism and Trace if she is within one out of the Mother's domain with no small amount of force. That said such a limitation can be a benefit as she learns, making the act of slamming a half-formed portal into a foe an effective method of gaining distance. Still, it makes for a very clear weakness to her ability to escape from dangerous situations if properly accounted for.
Profile
[Surface-level Impression] Proud.
More than anything else, Zhegiang is a proud person, to the point of flippant arrogance. In the face of any and all adversities or obstacles, her response is to take it head on and beat it into submission. She does not mince her words or hold her tongue around those who are, objectively, her lessers. Hers is a noble bloodline and thus, the only ones worthy of considering as equals are those of similar noble birth. . . or those who have proven themselves as worthy of respect.
[Personal History W.I.P.]
BrokenMore than anything else, Zhegiang is a broken person. Perhaps she always has been, only deluding herself through naive youth that she felt as others felt, walked as others walked, could be as others could be. But her father, Dingxiang, never let her forget what she was. Ever since she stole his wife from him though the mistake of her birth, she was never anything more than an inconvient parasite. A thing, to be kept at a distance, a thing to be addressed only when necessary for the sake of propriety. Not a moment sooner nor a second longer.
It was Zhegiang, not her father, who pushed to enter the constellation program when the time came. While the readings of her Anomaly skill were somewhat low, in every other metric she seemed to excel among her peers. She never needed any assistance from her teachers, taking to the rigorous training with a fervor and a natural talent that left near speechless. . . and yet, it wasn't enough to let Zhegiang shine. For with every accolade she tried to illuminate for the world to say, it merely made her elder sister Meixiu seem all the greater.
Meixiu, the one born to her parent's in the traditional way through science and safe external gestation.
Meixiu, whose shining skill with her anomaly earned her the title of "the Mother's own hand".
Meixiu, who tried her best to make her little sister's life joyous despite their father's stern hand.
Meixiu, the reason that Zhegiang abandoned the constellation program after 5 years of serving as a vessel to heap further praise on her. She hated her sister as much as she loved her, and that thought made her feel dirty and sick. She had only been kind and descent to Zhegiang, yet when the younger sister looked at the elder, only stern judgemental eyes tared back. Not just those of her father, but her teachers. Her uncles, her cousins, everyone she had ever known in her life looked at her the exact same way. All saying the same thing. . .
"Parasite"
BloodWhen Zhejiang thinks back to that day, sometimes all she can remember is the blood, the screams, and the overwhelming panic that took her over that day. Running through the halls with a rifle in hand, trying to guide civilians and non-combat to evacuation points, barely hearing any of the questions they asked as the beating of her own heart pounded in her ears.
There had been no warning
No alert called to get the thousands of combat personel on the Hēi xīng Station to their battle stations, no warning that Aberrant forces had even entered the system yet from the patrols. One moment, her and Duccia had been catching up on old times when they were both constellation-trainees and Zhejiang's coming tests to become a Pilot only to be interrupted by a strange garbled music to start playing through the station's intercoms. Disjointed and arrythymic, it didn't sound like anything Zhejiang had heard before. . . and then, a voice dripping with excitement whispered out among the discordant notes.
We Have Come For You
Then the screams started. . . and even hours later, as Zhejiang tried her best to lead any civilians she came across to the safety bays as was protocol, she'd yet to hear them stop. In constellation training, she'd been taught to see pawns as little more than an annoyance to be swatted aside individually and only proved dangerous in greater numbers. Such thoughts seem arrogant now as she saw bio-metallic carapaces skittering behind every corner, hounding her flock like wolves no matter how much she tried to fend them off with rifle fire. Through some hallways, she could hear the tearing of metal and the crunch of meat and bone. Others held the scent of blood and dead flesh so thick it mad her and those following her gag. The sounds of fighting was all arounded her, and she'd lost count of how many of the pawns she'd managed to put down, but it was never enough. There was always another pair of eyes watching from the shadows. Waiting. Watching.
Hunting.
It was her final return trip, an attempt to get to a group of survivor's holed up in one of the habitation blocks, when she encountered that thing. It was in the large food hall where her footsteps echoed in the relative silence and stillness. She tried to ignore the blood and the bodies, rifle raised and head ona swivel. She was fully aware of her surroundings, ears open and eyes wide.
She should've seen it enter. Should've heard it cross the floor towards her. But it wasn't until she felt those clawed fingers wrap around her throat ever so gently, that she noticed it standing over her. A towering shadow of nothingness cut against the backdrop of flickering lights stained red, as if her eyes were refusing to let any of the light that bounced off this monster to be properly observed. She couldn't move, so strong was her fear. Even as it slowly dragged the claws across her chest and dug them into her shoulder, the pain could not get her too move, as the knowledge that she was about to die to this [i]Monster[/i] gripped. It had come for her. This . . . was the end.
And yet, it was not to be.
A light to her side presede Meixiu, bursting through a portal to swing at the shadow, forcing it away from Zhejiang as Brilliant Void's blade sparked with dimensional fury. She would have fallen over entirely, her knees turned to jelly from panic, if not for Meixiu catching her. It was only now that Shejiang would realize that. . . she couldn't hear anything.
What followed happened in a blur too fast to really comprehend, as Meixiu grabbed Zhejiang and tossed her through a portal sending her back the way she came towards the escape pods. As she looked at her sister the last time, Zhegiang could see that she seemed to mouth something to her before slamming a fist on the control panel near by, slamming the airlock doors shut as two more constellations appeared behind Meixiu as the three turned to face the lightless void of a monster that had brought ruin to their lives.
As she made her way back to the escape pods, collecting another ten civilians along the way to save, she tried to convince herself that everything would be fine, that there was no way that Meixiu would be beat. She was the best, she was the prodigy, the Constellation that everyone wanted to be.
And yet, as she boarded and piloted the last escape vessel, her flock in hand, she heard something clatter to the floor by her side, followed by the now all to familiar iron smell of blood. But she didn't look. Not when the passengers started crying, not when the ship started to explode and burn around them while going through the flight procedues. Not even during the long travel to the nearest warp gate, now flooded with ohter escape craft from the doomed station. It was only when they were finally docked and she was no longer in control of the ten lives aboard that she dared to look down to her side in the cockpit, seeing the familiar weapon lying there. . . with a hand still holding onto it.
The tears came freely and in great numbers that day, and for many days after that, as she finally realized what her sister had tried to tell her before they parted.
"I love you"
VoidThat was what left in Zhejiang's heart after the attack on Hēi xīng, amidt the blood and the horror that played themselves again and again in her nightmares. They might have taken he over completely, subjecting herself to the Cold Mother's touch if not for Duccia. In the months that followed, Duccia never left her side if she could help it, never stop giving encouragement, never stopped watching over Zhejiang. She was her guiding star, the one thing she coudl turn to for some source of stability, comfort, or compassion in a world of pitieous looks or hidden disdain.
Despite getting a medal for her actions, saving a total of 40 people from that massacre all on that own, it porved a bitter comfort when the number of the dead rose was several thousands and the whole system had to be evacuated because the U.A.S. command in the sector could not figure out how the abberrant's had managed to bypass every safeguard.
And while the bloody dreams and shadowy figure never left her mind in those dark cold knights where the woman by her side proved her one and only comfort, something else finally began to match it. It did not fill the void in her soul, it aggravated it. Filled her with an overpowering itch to *Do* something.
So, using her family's name and her actions as collateral, she reapplied to the constellation program. The fear hurt her badly, made her weak, made her struggle more so than she had ever done before in her life. She had come face to face with the horrid realities of death and it scared her to her core. . . But she chose to fight on regardless, even as her father sought to blcok her path.
But with Duccia's support, she made iot past every oobstacle, turning her fear into burning passion and desire to not only uphold her family's honor and name, but to avenge her sister. To make sure their sacrifice wasn't for nothing. As such, when she finally earned her place amongst the stars, it was Brillaint Void that she chose to be her weapon. To carry on her sister's legacy.
The irony was so bitter she might have choked on it.
Rumored to be the first exploration vessel by their sect founder in the early days of Earth's expansion, the Niǎndào is a huge vessel from pre-civil war times that stands as a testament to the Mortuus Orbitae's ability to adapt and repurpose things to fit their needs. Home to millions of citizens, military ersonell, and the heads of the Family, it is a rather haphazard spacecraft, its hull covered in various repairs and structures to denote the many differing eras of Mortuus design philiosphies it has bore wtiness to, though the main design is an extremely boxy function over form design that still holds a somewhat rugged form to it.
Despite its. . . unconventional appearance, however, you'll find few spacebound structures in the U.A.S. more structurally stable or well-defended. Armed with the latest in energy-based weaponry and Core-power shielding integrated into old-earth kinetic weapon, holding in it's depths an untold number of crusiers, fighters, and artillery ships that it can unleash at a moment with it's standing battle force. A veritable flying fortess, it has always been the speartip of the Void Mother's faithful, and was one of the few spacecraft able to repel Abberant assault in the early days of the war, though not without extensive damage and loss of life.
[Culture] The Way of Void [W.I.P] To walk this path is to know that your end is inevitable, but it is in the inevitability that the followers of the Void Mother find their reason to keep persisting anyway. For they know that despite the cruel indifference she shows to them with the face of the Cold Mother, she does love and care for her children. We must prove ourselves worthy of her gaze.
The followers of the Way believe in several aspects of Divinity:
The Stone Father, who imbues the Universe with passion and crafts the planets to act as either examples of his genius or to serve as cozy Cradles for life(mainly humanity) to use while they figure how to wonder the stars.
The Vlid Mother, the principle figure of worship whose love surronds and coddles us so delicately. Yet this is a harsh love, for she does not offer guidance but the chances and struggles needed to show us how to become worthy of her gaze. She knows thst all life will ultimately end, but it is in that ending that kne cam find fufilment and joy.
And finally, the Cold mother. The second face of the Void, she is thr ceaseless vacuum, the creeping chill that boils blood and steals breath. She is the harsh death and disdain saved for.those who give in to.their fears, there sorrows,their woe. She who sets the Cold apathy on unworthy shoulders and forbids them the Void's kindness till rhey prove themselves worthy once more
[Warrior Family] Mortuus-Orbitae
A "warrior" family that draws a direct connection the the Hua sect, most that do not make a habit of serving along the frontier have likely never heard of this most reclusve of Warrior clans. Believers in a fringe religion(sporting only a few million registered believers across the expanse of frontier space stations they contro), many find them a bunch of esoteric fanatics that the Hua sect should denounce entirely. To these voices, the Mortuus-Orbitae have accomplished no great accomplishments, have offered no boon to Humanity's empire, merely sitting in their celestial space stations and looking down on those who dare to live planet side where they belong.
Those who have a deeper knowledge of this sect, however, know that they form the very *foundation* of Humanity's expansion across the cosmos. From the early days of conquest, through the turbulent period of civil war, amidst the painful rebuilding of empire, and even during this most brutal of wartime struggle against the abberrant tides, the Mortuus-Orbitae have sought to expand the hand of HUmanity into the vast void. Like the main sect itself, they have fingers in multiple industries related to the goal of galactic expansion and space travel.They manage the maintaince and construction of Space lanes and warp gates, they test, refine, and improve the standard quality of spaceflight technology, help run both colonization and evacuation efforts, and boast perhaps one of the deadliest and most coordinated starfleet armadas among any organization.
To the family itself, however, these are not reasons for accolades. These accomplishments are, in fact, the standard and focus that all of humanity should strive for. To explore the stars in the name of the goddess they call the Void Mother, they throw themselves into the study of technologies to not only better travel her empty depths, but to better their ability to survive it. Strict controls over-reproductive rights, generational genetic manipulation to lower the energy and oxygen needs of their people, and many shifts in doctrine have led to a culture that faces death as not an end, but an inevitability to embrace and accept.
They were the blacksheep of the Hua sect, and may have even been disbanded eventually despite their achievements . . . but then, the abberrants came. The first years of the war were blooyd and terrible, but for some, they praise the tactics and fearless bravery of the Mortuus for humanity's survival to the point where they could begin a counter offensive. In every engagement, the mortuus would never retreat, would never surrender, would never even waver in their formations. Fighters streakign across space to their deaths to buy escape ships just a few minutes more, troops, manning atmospheric rail cannons and firing down at invasion forces even as abberant troops breaking into the the sealed firing rooms, even turning entire space stations into nuclear bombs to take out an invading swarm fleet.
The Mortuus Orbitae was not afraid to put their everything in resisting the aberrant threat in every front they found themselves in. As such, many Frontier planets will often treat them with some level of respect, though their odd mannerisms and tendency to distance themselves from 'stonedwellers' as they called those living planetside continued to keep a barrier between them and those they fought to protect. And despite their efforts, the cost of their tactics has long sense taken a toll on the Family who has focused the bulk of it's forces along the frontier planets and galaxies. Of the many sects and sub-sects, none ould be said to have lost more than the Mortuus to the Abberant fleets, nor can the depths of their hatred and outrage towards the Swarm be over-stated.
Notable Contacts
[Name] Duccia
[Relation to Subject] Duccia Is Trace's Voidbound, her true partner in life while she is legally married to a man she's never met who knows how many light years away for some political favor or the other. Her guiding star, the light which has brought her back from the celestial edge of Apathetic wasting, the one true death that awaits those who find life's futiltiy too much to bear.
[Analysis] A fellow constellation, albeit one of Main rank, Duccia is the hearth that tempers Trace's roaring flame of fanatical passion. Possessed of an infectious energy and enthusiasm for life in all it's forms and features, but possessing a warrior's honor through and through. Duccia proves to be a steadying hand against the baser desires that drive her Voidbound's self-destructive behavior.
In battle, she fights like a Knight of old, energy shield on one hand an a grand lance known as the Venusian Star granting her a control over intense waves of arid heat and superheated gases. Launching herself into the thick of battle, she maintains a more defensive style while exuding waves of heat to exhaust her foes, though this does make her a hazardous ally to those ill-prepared to work with her.
Out of battle, she is a woman of a grand empathy for those with less, having become a true believer of the Mother's Kindess despite being from a seperate family entirely, the 3rd daughter of some fifth son. Unimportant in the grand scheme of noble power plays, which is more than fine by her.
Also, absolutely horrid with money and finances, and banned from handling their shared accounts by Trace after falling for a interstellar phone scam one time too many. Did I mention she's a tad gullible too?
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C O M B A T A B I L I T Y [Remove Section if Pilot] [Anti-Barrier Sword]Insert Number and Name Here [Anti-Barrier Quotient]Insert Percentage Here; recommended number being above 10% to affect Aberrant barriers. Higher Quotient of AB material makes for more fragile weapons. [Physical Description] Insert Physical Description Here [Attributes] Insert Auxiliary Ability Aside From Hitting Things Here If Applicable
[Remove Section if Constellation] [Mech Model]Insert Name and Number Here [Type]Insert General Purpose/s Here i.e. Crowd-Control, Tank-Buster, Hyper Mobility, Interstellar Combatant, etc. [Size]Insert Height and Weight of Mech Here; limited to 60 feet in height. [Core]Insert Core Rank Here; limited to Delta-Class below 40 foot size and to Epsilon above. [Armaments]
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Profile
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Home World
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[Warrior Family] Insert Text Pertaining to Warrior Family if Applicable Here; Mandatory For Anomaly Users
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Lemons
Neziul
Ariamis
Obscene Symphony
Scrawl Banditta
Pirouette
ChronicleMan
Simply Not Real
