The Irish Tree

Menagerie Parade, A Fantasy World of Long Titles and Dumb Plots and Exclamatory Questions!? [Private]

Best friends take over the world together, y'know!?

Darkness swallowed Tamara’s sense as she plunged into the depths of the earth...or rather, what she could surmise as the earth. She couldn’t know if it was a hole or something else, but any walls that might exist lay far beyond her reach. Regalia was cradled in her arms, before she would find herself sitting on a rather luxuriously made couch upholstered with smooth and comfortable leather, the cushions being made of some sort of fur that was soft to the touch. Numerous stuffed animals surrounded the edge of the couch, many of which were actually moving, carrying trays of crumpets and teacups in an effort to set up the room. Tamara would see an empty chair before her be suddenly filled as the scent of a powerful demon flooded the room.

Sitting cross-legged with a closed hand poised at her chin, the woman smiled. ”Welcome to my little sanctuary.”

Madness Enhanced, Tamara's hands closed around Ariette's throat; putting her personal shielding to the ultimate stress test. Her emotion-based strength was on Overkill, because of the Demon King's youngest's foolish haughtiness. As long as she felt superior to Tamara, her strength would mount and mount until it tore her apart – however, that would take a long time, and Ariette would probably be strangled before it reached that point.

"Aren't you just so much like her," she asks, as her grip strengthened, voice distortion, as her vocal cords were strained.

Completely caught off guard, Ariette screamed as Tamara grasped at her neck, the barrier more than holding before it suddenly burst, sending Tamara’s hands flying out, giving Ariette time to dive behind her chair. ”WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!? Gah, this is why no one likes Cambions...always doing that emotion eater thing...”

Tamara was smirking. “I like seeing a girl break , shatter that false sense of bravado ... unfortunately, that lesser emotion isn’t as delicious,” she says, as her strength dissipated. “So, what are you? The loner sister? The jealous sister? Both?”

”I-I’m not a loner or jealous! Scarlette and Charlotte are just mean and won’t take me anywhere with them!” she cried out, before sighing. ”So...um...sorry about the whole, dropping you in here thing. It looked like you could use a get away card.”

“Me? No. You saved their lives, to be honest,” Tamara says. “They were going to die...”

An awkward silence filled the room, before Ariette slumped to the ground, pathetically curling up. ”I screwed uuuuuup...well, wait, actually, I guess those guys owe me now.” she said, pondering for a moment. ”Sorry about the mix up!” Ariette would say, getting up and offering her hand to Tamara. ”I was trying to do that thing my daddy does, where he rescues demons being beaten up by humans and takes them in, makes them incredibly loyal to him, and then becomes besties with them.”

“I could punch a hole through your chest, and deliver your heart to your Daddy. I don’t need rescue, little girl,” Tamara says, before offering a smile, “However, you did save Regalia from my unbridled wrath, so... appreciated.”

”Uh...thaaaanks. I guess. Not for the punching part. That’s just a weird threat that makes me feel like I really, really should just let you out now...speaking of...want a portal outta here? I kinda...set all this up for nothing, I guess.” Ariette said, feeling very unsafe and very awkward.

“There was a point to this? And, here, I thought it was an extravagant tea party,” Tamara says, before crashing back onto a table, and bouncing a cup of tea into her hands. “A lonely girl like you, in need of a friend, puts on a grand display, and hopes that flashing money and status will win the day, but, here’s a thought...”

Tamara crushed the cup, “Stop being so fake.” Sighing, Tamara laid across the table. “You needn’t kidnap people to make friends. So, I’mma be nice, and give you a second chance? Fair? Fair. Annnnnddd.... Take two!”

Ariette floundered, crashing back into her chair to try and once again have a poised look, clearing her throat. ”A-Ahem! I uh...a-are you okay?” Ariette asked, looking to Tamara and Regalia. ”And um...would you like some tea? Maybe a biscuit?”

“I’m rather well. Annoyed. I’m going to punch that flame demoness in her ear. I mean, right in her ear. A nice cold cock. That’s going to feel great. Then, I’m going to kick that human in the shin. Humans always assume the crotch, but, no, I’m going to snap his shin.” Tamara says. “After that, I don’t know. As for the offer, if you’ve something like Earl Grey and a nice, crisp biscuit, I’m all for it.”

”We do have Earl Grey.” Ariette said, pouring tea for Tamara, before running off to fetch the biscuits, which, strangely, were in what could be considered the fantasy equivalent of an easy bake oven.

“Good girl,” Tamara says, sipping her tea; the imagine of sophistication and grace, the stunning muse of masculine majesty and feminine elegance. It almost made you forget (or perhaps appreciate all the more) that she was as naked as legally allowed by most civilized societies.

Ariette would return with a piping hot plate of crispy biscuits, taking one herself and crunching on it, washing it down with some tea. Looking over to Tamara, she asked: ”Do you need any clothes, by the way? You’re kinda...almost in your birthday suit.”

“Everyone has a problem with my state of dress. It’s rather irritating,” Tamara says, looking down the bridge of her nose, and over her cup. “Besides, you are in little position to talk.”

”H-Huh!? But...Charlotte said this was fine…” Ariette would say, covering her cleavage with a hand.

“Her sense of dress is no better. My smallclothes are more modest that you’re, while very delightful, and very, very, very delicious, window to the soul... I lost my point...” Tamara says, before sipping her tea.

Ariette now felt very insecure as she curled up, pouting heavily. ”S-She said it’d help me do magic better…”

Tamara nodded, “That’s reasonable. The lighter clothing is, the less restrictive movement is. Casting all about motion; the finery of it is important.” Tamara tilted her head, and licked her lips, “However, you move too far to one side, and, suddenly, your eyes aren’t up there any more, are they?”

”...But...my eyes ARE up here.” Ariette said, somehow completely misunderstanding what Tamara meant. She was THAT naive.

“Grrr....” Tamara growled. Ariette was giving her flashbacks of Charlotte. “Haaaaaaaaaaa.... Oi...”

”...I-Is everything alright?”

“I have to remember that children are incredibly foolish...” Tamara says, before crunching her biscuit. “THIS IS SO ******* GOOD!!! HOLY ****!!! THIS IS DELICIOUS!!!”

”Hmhm! I’m the best at biscuits. I’m the bestcuit!” Ariette declared, puffing her chest out proudly. Now, the family resemblance was getting clearer.

“Do you have any water, cold; ice, if available,” Tamara asks, in spite of her tea being topped off.

”Mhm! Here.” Ariette would say, conjuring a glass and using magic to fill it, freezing solid cubes into it.

Tamara, without a word or warning, pulled the back of Ariette's pants wide, and dumped the glass against her rear end. "No." she was very against puns and lowbrows comedy; it was unbecoming a lady of her sophistication.

”AHHHH! WHY! WHY WHY WHY!?” Ariette said, shivering before she lit herself on fire for a moment, to heat herself up and to dry off her pants.

Tamara heaved a sigh, "A classy lady does not pun," she smacked Ariette's rear, "Hm... nice downstairs and upstairs..."

Ariette pouted heavily, covering her rear with her hands. ”No touchie.” she would say, sitting down once more, back as pressed against the chair as could be.

“You wound me,” Tamara says.

”I did…? Do you need healing? I have potions.” Ariette said, dashing over to a nearby cupboard to try and find something for Tamara’s emotional boo boos.

Tamara facepalmed. “Park your rear. It’s too nice to stare at,” she says. “Anything else to this tea party of yours?”

Ariette looked confused. ”What do you mean? What else does a tea party need?” she would ask, taking a seat across from Tamara, and resumed drinking her tea.

“You don’t simply kidnap someone without a fair reason; justified, unjustified, righteous, or sinful,” Tamara says. “And, I don’t entertain spoiled children, between the of the common class the noble class or daughter of the Divine Being or daughter of the Demon King. So, why am I here?”

Ariette froze, timidly sinking back in her chair. ”I-I um...just...you looked like you needed help, but...you didn’t. So I guess it was just a mistake?”

She really didn’t have a reason. She’d done it because she wanted to.

“How rare? An innocent act. How unbecoming of a demoness, much less one of your standing,” Tamatsa says. “Daddy’s little princess, more mortal than eyes allow. I’m intrigued,” she says, “I like it. Such rampant cachaphony of the set standard. A silly girl like you... you can go places in a stringent world like this...” Tamara’s eyes glowed, “If properly given good guidance by a friend.”

Ariette shuddered. ”I can go places…? Also I really don’t like how your text suddenly got red.”

Tamara beamed, “Oh, the places you may go...”

Ariette just continued to be a smidge weirded out. ”Places like…?”

“Higher than your sisters,” Tamara says.

Ariette looked interested. ”How? I mean...I’m last in line for the throne…”

“There are always means to challenge such notions. Such as, destroying The Hero and his Party,” Tamara says. “Such a display of strength would put you above the rest. After all, only the strongest can break The Hero,” she says, “And, your father would simple love you more than your sisters... and, you’d be number one in line...”

Ariette was deep in thought about that idea, before she netted her fingers together. ”Do you...really think I’m strong enough to break a hero? T-That I’m Demon Lord material?”

Tamara smiled pleasantly, “I know it...”

Ariette gave it some more thought before she smiled, nodding. ”Y’know...Scarlette is a real big blowhard...and Charlotte’s a dummy. If I DON’T become Demon Lord, they’ll just ruin the whole realm! I didn’t even think about that!” she would say, smacking her fist into her palm at her realization. ”Mm! I’ll smash that hero, and then Daddy can retire in peace. Then I’LL be the new Demon Lord! And the humans will get tea breaks so that they stop revolting! Its genius!” Ariette said, letting out a cheerful, delighted laughter. Her evil laugh sucked. It was too...not evil. But she at least had the idea in her head now.

Tamara grinned, and stood up; clapping her powerful hand against Ariette’s shoulder. “And, I’ll be there with you... every step of the way... she purred pleasantly.

Ariette smiled happily. This was gonna be fun!

Tamara was pleased as punch. The fall of the Demon Lord... by the hand of his own daughter. That would be a happy ending. Especially, as she would have the new Demon Lordess in her control; so long as she kept her card well dealt and clasped to her bounteous chest. And, how knew, maybe, Ariette would be a decent Demon Lordess – surely, a sight better than Charlotte.

”Thanks for opening my eyes to that. ...Actually, thinking about it...we never introduced ourselves. I’m Ariette Alloces Nul Iscaron. Third daughter to the Demon Lord.”

“Tamara of Kybinae, but, you can call me, you’re best friend,” is the returned answer.

Ariette squealed delightedly, before hugging Tamara. ”Okay Bestie! Let’s go nab us a hero!”

Menagerie Parade, A Fantasy World of Long Titles and Dumb Plots and Exclamatory Questions!? [Private]

Cross Post Supreme! AKA: How to Barbeque Vampires, Pet Chimeras, and Shoehorn in new bad guys!

Tamara focused her attention, as she raced down the road, "Go!" Spurred, the horse charged ahead and they came charging on a river. "Whoa!" Tamara urged, pulling back on the reins, bringing the horse to stop on the shore. "Alright, vampire, welcome to your grave." Tamara drew Jacqueline, and faced the water. "Striking..." she says, shifting her stance, "Crane..." she stepped forward, swinging the cursed katana, "Jumping..." she turned on her heels, and drew back her hand. "Karp!" Tamara thrust her blade forward, and several bladed of wind created a wind tunnel that parted the river.

"In you go," she says, throwing Nimoa onto a towhead covered with grass, and surrounded by rushing water on all sides. "Enjoy -- not!" Tamara turned back to her borrowed horse, and started to cool him down. "Not a bad run," she says, "You're a sturdy one. Like a bug, or a roach," Tamara chuckled, "I'll call you Roche."


Over the sound of galloping hooves, a voice would give its own thoughts on the name Roche. “Never heard that one before,” Tristan sarcastically said, lunging off his “borrowed” horse and letting it charge toward Tamara. Nimoa seemed safe enough on her own little island in the middle of the raging river, so his priority was set to her kidnapper so he could keep her from interfering in their escape.

Whether she cut down his steed or dodged out of the way, she would soon hear the all too familiar sound of a rasping blade leaving its sheath as Tristan pulled his weapon free. Afterward, she would only have a fraction of a second to block an overhead swing from the hero. He was determined to give her as little time to recover as possible.

Tamara turned an eye to the horse that charged her, and, beneath her mask, the nature of a demon seeped; a scream like metal boiling in a tea kettle issued from her, and the horse withered away -- its body falling down at her feet. "You would challenge a Hero," Tamara asked, her armor creaking, as it failed to properly hold her expanding musculature; Tristan's sword buried through her palm, which was gripped around the blade. The Hero could almost feel the metal crumple, as Tamara crushed it. "The human condition to challenge anything clearly greater than themselves... Such a savory bravery,"

Suddenly, Tamara's arm burst out of her armor; sending rivets and plating flying. "Come, Villain, show me your bravery," she says.

As the fighting began, Nimoa furiously banged her tiny fists against the barrier the natural world erected, completely preventing her from crossing the waters. She wanted to help too! After all, Tristan had said that they would go find that alchemist together. She didn’t want to be a burden so early on...especially when he and Valkira were the first people to offer her help. As she saw Tamara start bursting out of her armor, her heart sank. Tristan may be a hero, but everyone knew that if a Cambion got serious, things could turn ugly fast. Thinking as quickly as she could, Nimoa grabbed a clump of dirt and hurled it at Tamara’s head, nailing her on the right side of her head. The wet mud clung to her hair, intermixed with a tiny, almost invisible traces of blood from Nimoa’s juice pouch.

Taking a deep breath, she would shout: ”YOU’RE NO HERO! You’re mean! And you kidnap children, and throw them onto toe-heads, and then beat up real heroes like Mister Tristan! AND YOU DIDN’T EVEN LET ME PLAY WITH YOUR PUPPY!” at the top of her lungs, cheeks red as she picked up more balls of mud, slinging them, as well as the many insults as she had in her tiny child brain. Including…

”Garlic breath!”

”Stinky PalaDUMB!”

”Bad-At-Making-Islands-Lady!”

”POOPYHEAD!”

Truly, nothing could withstand her verbal onslaught of G-rated insults.
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Tamara tilted her head, back, and grinned, like a sick predator, "Are you gunna cry, Little Monster? Ineffectual as you are, your emotions are delicious," she looked back to Tristan, "Awaken, Regalia," she roused the Chimera baby, "You have a friend to meet."

Regalia groaned, as she awoke, and looked for her friend. It couldn't have been the huge blob in front of her Mommy, since her Mommy told her, "Friends are smaller than me," which ruled out the horses, too -- especially the one on the ground all sprawled out. As such, it must have been the one in the water. Bleating in triumph of its own thought, the goat head, typically the smartest of the three, directed the snake and the lion to look at Nimoa. In charge of the body, the lion head agreed to go and play with their intended friend.

Easily, in spite of her infantile form, Regalia crossed to the towhead, and shook herself dry. Now, how to play? Nimoa was throwing stuff at her Mommy. So, she should throw stuff at her? Not her Mommy; never, no. But... what could she throw? Confused, the lion head asked the snake head, who looked to the goat head, as they held a discussion, before getting an idea.

In the middle of a throw, Nimoa would find herself struck squarely in the hind by a bolt of micro-lightning.


“Some hero you are. Kidnapping children, feeding them to your pets,” Tristan said as he watched his powerful attack prove to be as ineffectual as a teddy bear-wielding child at a gunfight. Seeing as how he wanted to get his weapon back and she wasn’t willing to be so courteous, the reluctant hero decided to be gracious enough to let Tamara keep half. Striking the already cracking blade with the shield he wielded on his left arm, the sword shattered just below where the hulking woman held it, giving Tristan the opportunity to get some room and reevaluate his poor life decisions.

“I’m no saint either, but at least I have the decency to recognize how terrible a person I am. You though? There’s no worse villain than the kind who thinks they’re doing the right thing. You can justify any act as long as it leads to what you think is good.” Challenge her hero complex and get her to make a mistake. It could be more poor decision making or it could be a brilliant strategy, only the number of his ribs she was about to break would tell, but Tristan was trying to get her mad. “Take it from me though, all it leads to are more scars than you can count, usually upon the people you were trying to protect. A constant reminder of when you were young and stupid, thinking anything you’d save the world from whatever evil you thought you saw.”

As he considered what to do next, thinking of what this woman turned berserker would break or tear off first, Tristan realized something. A flimsy piece of steel wasn’t going to do any good against someone who breaks swords like toothpicks. “Nimoa! Catch!” he called out, tossing his shield to the vampire girl. She could probably put it to better use than he could at the moment.


Nimoa would gasp as Regalia emerged, eyes shining, turning into shimmering stars as the beastial cub-kid-snek in awe, letting loose one last mudball at Tamara, before promptly getting struck in the butt by lightning. Yelping, the vampiress would rub her scorched behind, sniffling. "Owieeeee..." she would groan, before hearing Tristan. Paying the chimera no mind for the moment, she would listen in awe of his super cool table-turning dialogue. He was just like a real hero! Calling the baddie a baddie, and taunting them to get them to do something stupid. She heard this was a common tactic amongst humans.

Regardless, she was caught off guard as Tristan yelled for her to catch. Fumbling with the shield as it landed in her hands, she nearly dropped it in the river before getting an idea. Spinning her pink hammer around in her hand, Nimoa would lay the battered shield in her lap, before starting to beat the crud out of it with her hammer, the whole thing started to grow a vibrant pink as she poured blood on the edges, then the center. ["Bloodforge! Dracula Aegis!"] she would cry out, a brilliant vermillion light staining the shield, newfound spikes adorning the front, as well as the rim, made entirely out of crystalized blood that inhabited and strengthened the iron. Reaching over, she would gently pet the goat head of Regalia. "Tristan! I made it better!" she would say, holding the shield aloft before throwing it like a frisbee…

A frisbee that if Tristan actually tried to catch it would lop off his hand from the spikes. Tamara too, as she could sense how much stronger the shield had become, being infused with vampire blood. It was like a buzzsaw of doom that, once no longer airborne, would prove a damn protective shield.

For Nimoa though, she would grin, gently holding her hand out. "Do you know how to shake?" she asked, wanting to feel a chimera’s squishy little baby paws.


Let the flames dance upon this land so it shall know true hellfire!” Valkira said calmly as she walked to the island as slammed her sword into the ground below fire spreading from her blade as ground beneath morphed into a hellscape. Causing a large path of the water to split. ”Know my torment and burn in the fires!” She stated soundly as she once more walked towards the fighting her steps burning the very land she walked on as fire spread across the island consuming it in flames.

Tamara bent backwards; letting the reforged shield sail over her, and straightened out, as Valkira approached with her bold and brave emotions. This was a perfect storm of events. Tristan's existence. Valkira's bravado. Nimoa's innocence. So many pure emotions. It was utterly delicious... and, maddeningly empowering. She almost didn't want to draw her swords; she didn't want to stop enjoying this.

However, there was a small mangle of sound that ripped her out of her high, and she looked back -- Regalia was panicking, as she was more than able to take on a vampire with no sense or combat potential, but a full-blown demon was another story. All heads were in a tailspin of emotion; panic, fear, need -- all aligned to escape, but unable to do little more than be trapped against a river of fire.

Tamara had little recourse.


Nimoa yelped in shock, not expecting Valkira to fight fire with fire...or rather, just fighting WITH fire. It was working however, as the river evaporated, clearing a path for Nimoa. Just as she was ready to make a break for the exit, she heard the bleats, roars, and hisses of Regalia behind her. Her hands trembled for a moment, before she made a dash through the flames, using her parasol to shield to keep herself from going up in flames herself. As soon as she was by Regalia, she would scoop the chimera into her arms and struggle against it. Its panic made it hard to really hold her proper, but Nimoa could live with a few scratches and bites. Once more using her parasol as cover, she would dash through the flames with Regalia under her arm, completely burning up the umbrella as she entered the riverbed.

Now without protection from the sun, Nimoa would catch fire as her unholy form struggled against the radiance of day. Shivering, her legs started to buckle, and her arms loosened on Regalia, letting the chimera loose as she fell forward. Resting for a moment amidst the grass, Nimoa curled up, now in pain from the sun’s rays beginning to consume her.

”...It hurts...it hurts so much…” she would say to herself, crawling as she attempted to get to the shade of a tree.

The sun was bad. It was horrible. It hated her existence when she hadn’t done anything to deserve it.

But that same horrible bad sun was what the humans she loved needed more than anything.

Tamara took in the situation, then drew Rippa to her hand in a fashion that almost appeared to be summoning magic, before running the blade through her arm; of all emotions, pain was the easiest to summon forth and the strongest after hatred. It swelled inside, the pain wrought by the accursed blade's unfathomable edge, and it seeped free. "[Emotional Purge]...

In a moment, all her pains, fears, guilts, and angers poured from her, and affected the area around them. Just like before, manifesting into a physical medium of a metaphysical ideal. Darkness shrouded the skies, and the sun was made to set for a time, as Tamara turned and walked across the burning river. Multiple paths crossed her mind, but, she selected a singular: save Regalia.

It wasn't for the selfless reason, nor affection, but emotionless requirement. A Chimera, tamed, was a rare element. Raised, even more so. Regalia was an investment of generations, and wouldn't be lost here over the misactions of others and the inaction of herself.

That was unbecoming of a Paladin.


As Tristan watched the frisbee of death fly overhead, letting it embed itself in a nearby boulder sitting at the water’s edge, the hero could not help but slap his hand against his face in a facepalm. He had given the shield to Nimoa to help her defend herself from the small chimera pup while he dealt with the real threat, and while he appreciated the upgrade, he was still much more worried for her safety over his own. Especially when her demoness friend appeared to turn the tiny island into glass.

“Am I going to get burn scars every day I’m in this world?” he asked no one in particular. Preparing to jump into the flames to save the young vampire girl, Tristan was stopped by the sight of her kidnapper using a special skill. He wasn’t sure what exactly it did, but anyone could recognize the menacing aura that surrounded her as she slowly approached the sandbank.

Perhaps it was his mistake for assuming the worst, but watching as all emotion drained from Tamara’s face along with the blood leaking from her arm, he mistook her objective to be Nimoa instead. That look in her eye was one of a killer, not a savior. “This is going to hurt.”

Lunging at the powerful woman from behind, Tristan attempted to stab his broken blade into her shoulder, before quickly untangling himself from her to return to Nimoa’s side. With her parasol gone, the hero scooped up the small girl in one arm and carried her to the nearest tree for cover from the deadly laser that was the Sun.

”Fire? I was born of this! Made of this and you shall be ended by it!” Valkira said smirking as she held up her hand the fire seemingly gathering around her as she smiled at her enemy. “Come you faux paladin it’s your holy duty to end my life isn’t it?” She asked as she stabbed her sword into the fiery orb causing the blade to ignite in flames as she charged forward.

"Aaaaahahahahaha~! You’re all so amusing! This is the best! I can see why Charlotte went on an adventure now." A voice called out from amidst the flames, apparently paying it absolutely no mind as their silhouette became visible through Valkira’s wall of flames. "Buuut, I kinda need the samurai alive. So...yeah." the woman would say, snapping her fingers before a beam of dark magic erupted from her, cleaving the path between Tamara and Valkira in twain, just short of Regalia’s snake tail and behind. The ground itself was gone, as if the beam just devoured it. Another snap, and Tamara suddenly sunk into the ground, a black hole with a violet border swallowing her up as the woman, now visible, waved at Valkira, not able to see Tristan over by Nimoa. "Tootles!" she would shout, before vanishing herself.

...Now, the duo of Hero and Demon Lord were left with a slightly burnt vampire child, and a deep sense of unfulfillment. Like as if they were fighting a boss they weren’t meant to win against, still won, but the cutscene insinuated that you super didn’t win.

YOU ARE NOW ON THE TOP OF MY SHIT LIST YOU HEAR THIS IT WILL GO INTO MY REVENGE JOURNAL AND I WILL GET MY REVENGE! Valkira yelled she wasn’t able to enjoy herself or release the full extent of her flames this was utter bullcrap. She would find her later and exact her revenge along with that damn goat.



“Did she say Charlotte? Goddamnit, I haven’t seen that cursed demon girl for an hour and she’s still indirectly trying to blow me up,” Tristan grumbled under his breath. With a sigh, he pushed himself up so that his shadow still hung over the vulnerable Nimoa to avoid exposing her to the Sun, but he could now look over the small girl for injuries.

“You alright? Anything still hurting?” the hero asked, once he’s taken in as much information that his eyes alone could discern.

Nimoa’s eyes would flutter open as Tristan’s shadow covered her. The tiny vampire would lift her head. ”I-I’m okay...thank you…” she said, struggling to sit up. ”...Where did the mean lady go…?” she asked, falling back over after sitting up.

“No clue. People like her don’t stay hidden for long though. Give it enough time and I’m sure she’ll be back,” Tristan said. Turning his head to the left and then to the right, he searched their surroundings for something to use to replace the girl’s destroyed parasol. While certainly tall, he wasn’t looking to have Nimoa stand in his shadow all day.

Nimoa would rummage through her pack, before simply putting the pack over her head, which, funnily enough, made it look like a giant bat was eating her head. ”I should be fine like this...sorry if I look silly.” Nimoa said, looking absolutely stupid. It was literally as if a giant cartoon bat was eating her head, but it certainly helped to keep her out of the sunlight.

”L-Let’s just forget about it for now. We have an alchemist to find!”

Holding out his hand for Nimoa to take, making sure his fingers brushed by hers so she could know he was offering it, Tristan planned on acting as her guide. After all, he imagined having a small backpack over your head would be extremely impairing for one’s sense of vision. With a nod, he replied, “Sounds like a plan.”

Wordlessly, Nimoa would reach her hand out to hold Tristan’s, trotting along happily as they went off to go find a cartographer. Valkira was free to follow...or hold Nimoa’s other hand. She had two, after all.

Tree's Garbage Dump

Theodore Graham, Free Paladin

_ＮＡＭＥ
Theodore Graham
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Hyur
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Midlander
_{ＢＩＲＴＨＰＬＡＣＥ}
Ishgard
_{ＯＣＣＵＰＡＴＩＯＮ}
Cook
_{ＳＯＵＬ ＣＲＹＳＴＡＬ}
Paladin
_{ＡＰＰＥＡＲＡＮＣＥ}


Theodore stands at a fairly average Midlander's height of 5'10", with a middling build. In terms of muscular development he's not particularly impressive. His hair is an ashen blonde, and often winds up covering one of his hazel colored eyes.
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Ishgard is a cold place, filled with colder people. In spite of this, Theodore is a notably warm person. He is kind to those whom he hardly knows, courteous to in need of it, and more than willing to draw his blade in defense for what he believes is right. He is however, very naive and easy to fool. More than once, he's found himself aiding "innocents" that turned out to be brigands or other such criminals. Though the events at the Battle of Cartenau did dull his thirst for glory, he cannot help but boast proudly after accomplishing something, and is a fan of friendly competition.

Frankly speaking, he's an idiot. A proud, kind, naive fool that is willing to die for people that he scarcely knows. And he wouldn't want to live any other way.

_{ＢＩＯＧＲＡＰＨＹ}

Warning: Long

The realm of Coerthas is a harsh, unforgiving icy wasteland, one where only a sole settlement endures to this day. For countless years, dragons and men have waged war against one another. These bloody conflicts continue without any end in sight, and for the average citizen of Ishgard, the thought of avenging the lost is all that keeps them interested in potentially joining the war. That and the lucrative promise of lordship to dragon slayers.

Of course, lordship is merely a pipe dream. Only the most talented at warfare can effectively fell a dragon alone, and wealthiness doesn't allow one to desert the fields of war. Its a place where one is born to die in a never ending conflict against a foe who swears revenge, and in turn, mankind swears revenge as well.

But, none of that really matters. Not to Theodore. Born to a servant's family for house Haillenarte, the boy's future prospects seemed to be limited to the scrubbing of stone floors, and the polishing of the "brave" men and women of the House's arms and armor. It wasn't a bad life, nor an especially hard one given the house's relatively lackluster estate compared to the other three houses. The head of the house was a bit disciplinary, but that just reinforced the idea in Theodore's head that serving was...really all that he was good for.

But, destiny conspires in peculiar ways. Namely, that Haillenarte was really, really damn bad at actually performing their knightly duties. As Skyfire Locks was constantly under siege, even the serving staff started being allowed to sign on to join the proud knights of Haillenarte. With the prospect of an upgrade from servanthood to lordship on the line, Theodore was excited. He'd often read stories of the brave knights of old in the libraries when he had free time, and the prospect of both letting his family live a life of comfort and becoming a hero was more than tantalizing to the young man of 14 years. It was downright seductive.

Of course, knighthood is anything but glamorous. Parking your fully armored arse in the icy outskirts of Coerthas, often fending off Goobbues and wolvevs more than anything remotely resembling a dragon was just a bit dismaying. Just a little. The Stone Vigil to the north was claimed by the dragonic brood, and Haillenarte didn't have the manpower, nor the support to reclaim it. If a knight was lucky, or perhaps foolish enough, they could ambush a Dravanian wyrm and attempt to fell it alone. Many tried, and so few succeeded, that it started being called the "Haillenarte Retirement Plan". Theodore, thankfully, learned well enough that this wasn't the glamorous crusade with promise of profit that he had assumed. This was a dead end...an infuriating, pointless dead end.

This only tempered the youth's thirst for that glory, that desire to better his family's lives. Three years would pass, each draining his resolve more and more. So much so that when the battle of Cartenau erupted to the south, and the Dragonic army of Midgardsormr fell upon the Garlean airships, Theodore felt a stirring in his soul. Not one devoted to the pursuit of wealth and dragon slaying, but of the desire for glory, and to defend his home. After all, Ishgard was part of the Eorzea that the Empire coveted, so if the Battle of Cartenau were to end in the Garleans' victory, they would be but a stone's throw away from Ishgard. As mighty as Ishgard's walls and wards were, the Empire had every possible technological, militaristic, and resource based advantage poised to overtake the whole of Ishgard. Not even the Heavensward, in his mind, could fight off the world's largest empire.

And so, alone, he would desert his post. Likely, he could never return to Ishgard for fear of execution for the crime of desertion. If he could make a difference then and there, he would. If not...it wasn't like the Empire took prisoners. It was either die then and there, or die knowing his home would be taken. And so he would march, a strange, foreign "knight" armed with the most basic of armor, sword, and shield, a temporary addition amongst the Gridanian Woodwailers. Every hand was needed in the fighting, and as Dalamud's red light began to shine down upon the battlefield.

The Garlean army, mighty as it was, proved a fearsome match for the conscripted armies, as well as the free companies of the adventurers. Theodore himself scarcely managed to square off against one Garlean footsoldier, before he found an arrow impale his shoulder. Now without the use of his sword arm, all he could do was throw his all against the next attacker. With Pilum striking back against steel, he was certain that he would meet his end at the end of a Garlean's blade. As his shield was splintered and his guard broken, he felt time slow as a blade moved against him, ilm by ilm growing closer. He closed his eyes and braced for the end, before the sound of steel clashing and time passing made him realize his life hadn't ended just yet.

A figure clad in white, an Elezen man that towered over him, had caught the blow with his shield. He would bark something to Theodore that he couldn't quite recall, his memory a haze from the battle. All he could remember was putting his sword in his good arm, and continuing to fight, covered by the Elezen paladin.

When Dalamud opened...that was when he felt the specter of death once more loom. Bahamut, the Primal of the Dragons, raged against the battlefield. Flare spells erupted, splitting apart the earth. There was no point in running anymore...no man could fight that thing. At once, he felt himself surrender, sword dropping to the dirt as he collapsed to his knees. Despair wracked his heart, before he felt a hand clasp his shoulder and shake him violently. Another set of words that he couldn't remember. Another rouse to his spirit that bade him to run. And run he would, as the blue lights erupted over the remnants of the battlefield. Flares pursued all upon the fields, and even the paladin's shield proved insufficient to block the primal's powerful attack.

When he awoke, he was half buried in the dirt, the courageous Elezen laying beside him, motionless. His body ached, his eyes burnt, and his limbs felt heavy as iron, but he bade himself to crawl. A hand felt at the man's neck, only to find nothing. No pulse of life, and no warmth. Only the cold embrace of the end had greeted this heroic man, who'd have most certainly survived had he not gone back for Theodore. Something shined within the dirt that caught his eye. Slowly he would reach out, and take grasp of a brilliant blue gemstone with a shield emblazoned on it.

As he ran his gloved fingers over it, he felt runes inscribed in it, in a language he did not know. But as he held it, he felt...at peace, somehow. He knew this had belonged to the paladin beside him, but...the stone made him feel as if it needed him to carry it. He would grasp it tightly in his hand before losing consciousness.

It was a mere stroke of luck that he survived. In the aftermath of Bahamut's defeat and the Garleans' retreat, he was lucky enough to be tended to by the Conjurers of the Twelveswood. Sadly, healing magic could only do so much on its own, and as such he was cooped up for six months while the wound to his shoulder healed.

After a lengthy recovery period in Gridania, Theodore would turn his back to Ishgard once more, taking up the mantle of being an Adventurer...and a free Paladin, one who would honor the tales inscribed upon the soul stone, and to carry on the unknown will of the man he never knew. Now a member of the Adventurers, he would perform various odd jobs for several years, until the day that a flier stuck to a tavern wall caught his eye.

_{ＯＴＨＥＲ}
Favorite Foods: Sohm Al Tart, Shepherd's Pie, and Salmon Muffins

His Ishgardian heritage has given him an inclination to distrust Au Ra, though that's solely due to his lack of interaction with them.

Color = E6FCFF
_{ＲＥＡＳＯＮ ＦＯＲ ＥＮＬＩＳＴＭＥＮＴ}

The Knight of the North

"BEGIN"

As one man's shout rang out, two fighters within the "arena" of the Lancer's guild begain sizing one another up. One, a Hyuran Midlander with hair white as snow, and eyes focused upon his opponent. His opposite, an Elezen Wildwood Woodwailer, bearing the traditional mask of his ocupation. With hair as black as coals and hands tightening on his lance, the Elezen would thrust forward wildly, using rapid thrusts to attempt to back the hyur into a corner.

The momentum he carried was wild at best. After all, the elezen was only ranked as a First Spear, barely better than a fresh recruit. His thrusts kept missing the mark, often easy enough for the Hyur to track with the steel pilum clutched in his arm. With one large step, the Elezen attempted to bypass the shield and disarm his opponent...

*CLANG*

The impact of spearhead against shield resounded throughout the Lancer's Guild, as iron ground hard against flat steel and attempted to slide past the defense of the Knight of the North. He had taken a step back, nearly to the wall even. In one swift motion, Theodore would step forward while lowering his posture, pushing the pilum of upon his arm upwards and away, effectively leaving the Woodwailer recruit completely open. Now ilms from his throat was Theodore's blade, which slowly sunk back to his hip.

Relaxing his stance, the Ishgardian would smile. "That's the biggest thing you need to watch out for with a lance. Its a really good weapon for keeping your distance, but once that distance is breached then you have no choice but to retreat. And the best way to make sure you're unlikely to be caught off guard like that..." he would explain, guiding the recruit's feet and shoulders, so that his left shoulder was facing Theodore.

"Lead with your less dominant hand to guide the spear, when you're on the offensive, then put your dominant hand at the front instead if you're on the defensive. Easier to parry with more control, but easier to thrust with more force in the back. Oh, and make sure you carry something light as a side arm..."

"I think that's enough, Graham. Thanks for the lesson." The Woodwailer's superior, a midlander woman would say, smiling a bit beneath her mask. "Hard to believe you don't even use a spear with all the advice you spout. You ever thought about joining up? The Twin Adders could use a man that can whip recruits up a bit, she would add, giving her fresh recruit a clap on the back that nearly knocked the young Elezen off his feet.

Giving the thought a quick mulling over, Theodore simply shrugged before sheathing his sword at his hip once more. "Its a good offer, but...I'm still not done searching yet. Besides, its a big world. And someone's always in need of a good sword arm or two," he would say, a smile tugging at his cheeks. "Thanks for everything though. Popping in here now and again has helped me improve a lot. Sorry for messing up some of your plans though, Ywain." the paladin would say, bowing to the guild master of the Lancer's Guild.

The Hyuran lancer would give a slight shrug. All were welcome to learn the art of the lance so long as they had the conviction, but he seldom got a request from someone asking for sparring. Ywain had trounced Theodore thoroughly in more than a few sparring sessions, but the score over the past year had netted Theodore a few victories. "In a way, it helps my students to fight people with other weapons. After all, one can hardly call a lancer who's never fought a sword user 'experienced'. Good luck to you."

With all that needed to be said spoken, Theodore would stride out of the guild, still a might bit sore that he never did manage to even the score with Ywain. It was a bit of gil to rent a chocobo all the way to Thanalan, but performing odd jobs in the Black Shroud, especially near the honey yard, had netted him sufficient funds for that and lodgings for a few days when he arrived. He had heard of a free company's formation...or perhaps "reformation" was a more apt description. The "Blessed Twelve" had posters up all within the Gridanian Adventurer's Guild, so it was no surprise that it caught the young paladin's eye.

Whether he would join or not would depend on the characters seeking enlistment. After all, he couldn't judge a free company until he knew what "company" they kept. With that in mind, he would pay the porter with a small sack of gil, and hop upon his assigned Chocobo. He was no stranger to riding them, there were enough times in Coerthas that he would ride upon the birds...and ever since, he couldn't help but love the feeling of riding upon one. the somewhat soft yellow and black plumes, the adorable way their eyes glittered when something sparked their curiosity...perhaps one day, he'd open a chocobo ranch. Even their smell entranced him, the bird he was riding getting a quick sniff on its neck from the Knight before he hopped on.

With a thirst for glory and companionship in his heart, he would ride to the South. To the city of gold, Ul'Dah, where there were no doubt many in need of one willing to fight for what was right, not just for what was profitable.

Fire Emblem: Chronicles of Ash

I'll plop my interest down here.

I haven't really played Three Houses, but I'll do my best to keep up with whatever growth system is in place.

Tree's Garbage Dump

ENTER USERNAME AND PASSWORD

ACCESS GRANTED

Appearance

Name: [Subject's real name has been judged as impractical to write out, as it is a seemingly meaningless sequence of four hundred characters, of which only 15 are standard english alphabet characters. As such, he will be refered to as "Conduit" within this document. Simply because Jxclurgram is too difficult to type or pronounce.]

Known Aliases: Conduit

Identity Status: Secret

Race: Elemental Construct, Force of Flow

Nationality: Layer of Flow, Earth Realm

Gender: Identifies as Male

Age: 70 Million years old, Conscious for only a year, "alive" since the eve of the Knull's invasion.

Abilities:

Mastery of Flow: A being formed of the raw metaphysical power of change and motion within the universe, the Conduits most prominent powers seem to center around teleportation, the creation of portals, and the swapping of positions between objects and beings.

Understanding of Esprit: Another plane of magic that the Conduit has access to, allowing him to mend the wounds of others, cause the subtle, yet substantial growth of plant life, and even the age of smaller forms of life such as saplings and infantile animals.

Understanding of Axiom: A plane of magic focused upon "Truth", or the understanding of that which IS true. Through the use of Axiom, the Conduit is capable of reading the thoughts of others that he comes into physical contact with, to make himself resistant to illusionary powers or magics, and to force one who is slightly unhinged into seeing reality as it is.

Background: When one life ends, another begins. But when countless end...what if there was simply only one "beginning"? That is what the one called "Conduit" is. Roughly 70 million years ago, during the Cretaceous period, countless lives were snuffed out. A meteor that kicked up enough dust to blot out the sun lead to the Ice Age. But the deaths of the beings known as "dinosaurs" weighed heavily upon the planet.

Oh yes, the planet is indeed alive. How could it not be, if it provides the ability to live for so many? But rather than alive in the "living and breathing" sense, this world that humans stand upon is attuned to a vast network of energy that permeates the universe. That simple piece of space rock worried the planet. An anomaly from elsewhere launched with explicit purpose to destroy Earth's harmonic existence. Panicked, every ounce of energy screamed out from Earth, the very mass of the meteor bleeding as Stygian energies seeped in where they were not needed, destroying that which wasn't destined to die. And then, he was born.

A being formed purely of energy, of the elemental plane of Flow itself manifested upon the planet. Earth's guardian, attendant, and self-defense mechanism. For millions of years he would rest within the Earth's Crust in the form of a gargantuan crystalline rock. For millions of years he would await a threat worthy of the arcane might an entire realm had to offer.

For millions of years, he awaited the Knull. The alien invaders wouldn't understand the force unleashed upon a section of their armada, as halfway through one of their bombardment runs upon a city, an earthquake shook the city state of Faqistan before a blue blur of light emerged. Floating between the Knull and the citizens below, the Conduit would awaken, and with a wave of his hand, the fire of the Knull was turned back against him. The single being waged a one-man war against the Knull occupying the airspace, eventually outnumbered, and outgunned. By the time that the Knull were fought off, the Conduit had fallen to the earth, his body cracked and his power drained.

And so, he would be captured for research purposes, relocated to [REDACTED], and kept as both a useful asset to [REDACTED]'s military technology, and in the newfound interest the scientists held in the arcane arts.

Psychological Analysis: The Conduit is a rather eccentric figure, frequently seen monologuing to himself when he is alone within his cell. He has been shown through security footage to carefully document conversations that he has with the scientists that interview him, showing a heavy sense of paranoia. Despite this, he seems elated to explain the unknown, is innately curious, and has a deeply rooted love for knowledge in any form. Rather than needing to be coerced for his knowledge on the Arcane, he instead offers it in exchange for the knowledge of those who seek to learn.

Known Rival: None currently

Tree's Garbage Dump

ENTER USERNAME AND PASSWORD

ACCESS GRANTED

Name: Subject C-201, Also goes by "Atticus"

Known Aliases: C-201, "Bug", Scarlet Scarab

Identity Status: Known only to research personnel and high ranking government officials

Race: Insectoid Bipedal of unknown origin, not native to Earth

Nationality: Alien Planet, discovered in Egypt

Gender: Identifies as Male, has no discernible genitalia

Age: Approximately 250 Million Years Old

Abilities:

Enhanced Jumping: Capable of clearing thirty foot spaces in a single bound.

Enhanced Strength: Can lift 30 times his own body weight with relative ease. Maximum load tested: 8 Tons.

Enhanced Durability: Bullets tested up to 7.62 have proven ineffective at penetrating his carapace.

Advanced Intellect: Subject C-201 possesses a brain structure completely different from a human, and has shown capacity to master human languages with only days of study, understand complex machinery, and observe social customs between humans with startling ease. When given a Rubik's cube, C-201 initially took 2 hours in order to solve it, which halved to one hour on the next pattern, then down to 2 minutes, 37 seconds. His current record held is 24 seconds. 37 if blindfolded. He has also proven to be a valuable asset to [REDACTED], as his lack of formal education leads him to examine mechanical problems from a unique angle.

Paralytic Quills: The fine red hairs that trail the length of his shoulders and mid back can be launched through muscular release, carrying a neurotoxin that paralyzes the nervous system of whatever it pierces. These quills seem to regrow over time, but will return in full instantly after a molt.

Regenerative Molt: Subject C-201 is capable of shedding his current carapace, and to do so must enter a cocoon-like state for a period of 48 hours. After the period passes, C-201 will emerge completely unscathed, with all bodily injuries completely healed, including severed limbs, missing organs, and recent brain damage.

Background: [A Summation Of Your Life Story]

Psychological Analysis: [Your Personality]

Known Rival: N/A

See Attached File

Re:Unison

Fubuki was intending to charge at the canine once again, halted by the ear-breaking howl, and encroaching miasma of acid that was eating away at her icy terrain. Whatever that substance was, it had a freezing temperature that was far below zero. Even if she kept the zone going long enough to freeze it over, the enemy by that time could either have run away, or Yuuto would just keel over from exhaustion. She faltered, losing her nerve for a moment as Lun was lunged at. Suddenly, Yuuto shouted out: "What are you hesitating for, Fubuki? Your Ice Age is unbeatable, especially by some dumb mutt!" An exaggeration to be sure, but it did wonders to boost her confidence. Adamas giving her the death stare didn't help, but she couldn't let herself just back down after entering the fight.

The stone construct was powerful to be certain, but if his arms rotted off then that was it. Fubuki would lower her stance, placing one hand upon the frozen ground before she dashed forward. The icy construct would take a leap to align itself with the wolf's back, the entire area instantaneously returning to its former temperature, before it sharply shot back to cold. Ice crept along the ground once more at her new position, still close to the group, but now only Adamas was within the radius, with Lun being just outside of it. Taking a deep breath, Fubuki would thrust her palms to the ground and channel her control over the zone into it, before a myriad of jagged spikes formed across the surface of the ice in a straight line towards Adamas, but stopping just beneath him. Her intention was clear: If he missed, the Construct would be trapped by the spikes and offer another chance to strike.

She didn't intend to simply support however, as her hands dug into the ground. Finding purchase against the seam of something, she would heft the heavy object up to reveal one of the tiled pieces of flooring that made up the floor of the area. With that in hand, she would begin stockpiling projectiles to use, tile after tile being yanked free of its proper place. She wasn't armored, nor was she innately ranged, so improvisation was the best she could come up with. Yuuto however seemed pleased at his Construct's independent thinking...but he had to wonder: Where was the Professor that was in control of the construct? It was unlikely it was attacking without their orders.

Taking the initiative, Yuuto would begin running around, attempting to find the Professor, while maintaining sufficient distance to power Fubuki. She and the others had this under control for the time being.

Re:Unison

"Yeah, no, I uh, kinda don't want to catch a cold. Sorry dude."

"Aren't you the guy that broke the fountain? Wild. Way to make a first impression, loser."

"Uh...I would, but like...I'd rather...noooot. Cute construct though."

"Nah."

"No way."

Yuuto at this point was infamous due to one little duel that went just a small bit awry. It wasn't his fault that the crowd gathered, after all. But even though he'd WON that duel, his ranking had already plummeted the same amount of points on account of the colateral caused. As such, he was now prohibited to fight with Fubuki around buildings, mostly having to take bouts to wide open spaces. At least, until Fubuki could figure out how to limit the initial size of her Ice Age. Having spent the entirety of the morning trying and failing to find an opponent to face off against, Yuuto's efforts bore no fruit whatsoever. Now, he was simply sitting beside his Construct, mulling over the state of affairs in his head.

"...I'm sorry." Fubuki would say, looking to her feet. She felt responsible for Yuuto's current lack of any significant rank increase, due to her inability to "shrink" her power, only capable of having it grow over time, rather than starting small. About 35 meters was a lot of space to have to clear out, meaning that anybody challenging Yuuto would have to deal with fighting VERY specific places on the school grounds.

Smiling slightly, Yuuto would put his hand on Fubuki's shoulder. "You only did what I asked you to. The fault is mine...though I really hadn't expected rumors to spread so quickly. But, no matter. We'll prove ourselves to be above the rest in due time," he would say, his usual overconfidence making Fubuki a bit nervous, but she was at least relieved that he wasn't mad with her. Even if he was a handful, Yuuto was comforting in his own unique, full-of-himself way. Just as Yuuto rose, ready to seek out more opponents, he would hear someone cry out for help. Smiling, Yuuto would look at his watch, saying: "Well, that took less time than I expected. If we want to prove that we're worth fighting, subduing that mutt should do nicely. Fubuki, get within twenty meters of it and begin using Ice Age." he ordered, beginning to run over himself.

Fubuki had been slower to rise from her seat, but her physical superiority as a Construct allowed her to overtake Yuuto quickly. As the girl entered the specified range, the very air around her gained a deathly chill, human breath becoming easily visible amidst the chill. Rough concrete was crushed smooth by ice creeping over the surface, the intricately laid out tiling rising up as the thin cold swept throughout. Now within her territory, Fubuki's speed and maneuverability suddenly rose, her rush of footsteps becoming a graceful glide as her legs gaining absurd power upon her icy playground. The previously-gargantuan stone golem was already upon the beast in a bid to grapple it, but if the bestial construct attempted to retreat, she would already be moving to intercept it. Adamas was probably barely affected by the cold, if at all.

"I won't lose...!" Fubuki reassured herself, competitive nature manifesting as she started speeding up.

Re:Unison

And now the waifu-constructs have appeared. woooo

@ERode

I swears I was gonna do a huge buff fire husbando, but felt that ice suited way more.

also I genuinely thought there would be more waifus first.

Re:Unison

Yuuto Kagawa

Name:
Yuuto Kagawa

Age:
16

Appearance:

A young man, fair of face and long in stride, he stands at a height of 5'7" and has a rather lithe figure. His hair is usually a feathered mess of lilac, though at formal occasions he'll tie the back into a ponytail and comb the front and bangs back. The mark of his contract is placed on the palm of his left hand.

Personality:
Flamboyant to the extreme, Yuuto is a man of eccentricities and focuses so heavily on appearances and status, one would be forgiven for calling him shallow or a Narcissist. Or rather, he at least acts in a manner befitting one. He's a very self-assured kind of person, possessing complete faith in his own abilities and judgement, carrying himself with a peacock's grace and refinement. Despite how self-centered he comes off, he worries about others' well-being and health when they're clearly down in the dumps, but comes across as very pushy if his help isn't accepted.

Background:
What can one say of one born into the lap of luxury? From birth, Yuuto was blessed with wealth, a future already paved at his father's company, and the unflinching confidence that he was god's greatest damn gift to Earth. It was the kind of confidence that came naturally in his position, the spoiled rich kid that had everything going for him, and every desire answered. Naturally, he was an insufferable brat that was generally awful to everyone around him. So life would continue, until, as it always does, something went awry.

No, nothing needlessly tragic like a death in the family or some kidnapping. Rather, his father's company tanked. Hard. Like, comedically hard. Now out of money and forced into a "normal" suburban life meant that all the kids he had picked on naturally turned around and picked him apart. Going from having everything to comparatively nothing wasn't really "humbling" for him. Rather, it was infuriating. Humiliating. And also getting beat up really, really hurt.

Through enough beatings and complete social rejection by his peers, he would grow somewhat. Enough to go from a spoiled brat, to a slightly-less-spoiled-but-still-kind-of-a-dick young man.

One day though, something would change his life forever. As strange as snow falling in summer, ice caked the ground of one of the more dilapidated buildings lining Shinchi's slums. Having come seeking rumors out of boredom, he found a girl collapsed on her side, red caking the white planes of ice beneath her.

With a single, honest question that would start everything, he would ask:

"Do you need help?"

Magic:
Yuuto's magic is a form of magnetism, allowing him to polarize objects to be attracted to one another. While he isn't limited to metal objects only, he cannot polarize living things, and polarized objects will only start getting attracted within thirty feet of one another. The longer the two objects stay within that range of each other, the stronger the magnetic pull will get at a rapid rate.

Fubuki

Name:
Fubuki

Type:
Humanoid

Appearance:


Personality:
A quiet girl that is completely passable for human, Fubuki is largely inconspicuous. She is calm, reserved, and generally about as normal as a high school girl could be. Y'know, minus the whole not being human thing. She is easily startled, and is an incredibly sore loser, which in turn gives her an oddly competitive side beneath her reserved exterior.

Core:
Perpetuality

Background:
The life of a Construct begins much like any other being's, not in a biological sense, but in that its "parent" has the desire to create. What most separates the birth of a Construct from a Human's is that upon formation, their brain is already fully developed. Memories remain intact from the first time their senses alight and consciousness is granted. This memory of her birth was one that would stain Fubuki's personality. The sight of her creator already bathed in blood, the last of his life force spent in a desperate attempt to generate a guardian against his assailant.

For a being that knew nothing beyond that it existed, Fubuki struggled with the concept of death as she held her creator's body limp in her arms. It was as if a newborn was left with the ability to ponder the death of a mother in labor. It was an empty sort of sadness, one filled with nothing but regret that was unreasonable. After all, how could one lament the death of someone they'd never even met while they were alive. Yet still, tears clouded her vision as she craddled the man's dying form. His life force spent and now within another Construct, the Rogue assailant left, departing with the words:

"Decide for yourself if they're worth crying over."

---

That scene etched into her heart, Fubuki would wander clueless to her own existence as a Construct, a ring of frost tracing her through the wilderness. Her core of Perpetuality encouraged stagnation, the same thing repeated over and over again, resulting in a daily pattern of the same wallowing again and again. A pathetic sight, she was often chased away by residents of the slums as she neared due to her obvious nature as a Construct. But, due to her habit of repeating again and again that which felt natural, she returned again and again, merely watching the people living in the outskirts of Shinchi before being chased off again. Sometimes there was violence directed towards her, and sometimes there were simply harsh words. Both stung deeply for the woman with the worldly knowledge of an infant. It was a final act of violence that culminated in a gunshot to her stomach would shatter her peaceful existence.

As she was angered and frightened, that would be the first of Fubuki's Ice Ages that manifested. But, it was left at that. She ran, pained and injured as she collapsed in an abandoned building. Looking at her hand stained with her own blood, she would come to her own opinion: Humans were most certainly not worth crying over. None would weep for her, the Rogue Construct that never took a life, the wandering icy maiden that would die with her name barely seeming real in her mind. Her eyes grew heavy, and the frost began encroaching on her body as she opted to choose her own way out.

...That was, until footsteps approached. A young man who had been undeterred by the cold appeared before her. His eyes weren't like the others. Rather than see a Construct that had no master, he saw someone in trouble. Someone dying. Regardless of circumstance, regardless of intent, he was here, much like how she had been for her dying master.

"Do you need help?"

A question that demanded an answer that would bring tears to her eyes. The water from her eyes hardened into ice before it reached the ground, and, with one word she would answer honestly.

"...Please."

Abilities:
Ice Age: An ability that causes the entire area around Fubuki to freeze immediately, causing an extreme drop in temperature as well as the formation of ice crystals over nearly every inanimate object in the area. Once an Ice Age zone has been created, Fubuki is capable of freely manipulating the ice around her. The longer the zone remains active, the greater the area it will cover, but this also causes the drain on Yuuto to increase exponentially. Theoretically, if she had enough life force she could cause a permanent Ice Age across all of Japan. Once an Ice Age is no longer supplied with magic, it will immediately begin thawing, causing any frozen objects to be damaged from the rapid temperature shift. Weaker individuals are likely to succumb to hypothermia due to the shock of a temperate environment suddenly reaching below 0.

Default Range: 120ft/~36 meters.

Swan's Grace: In addition to creating the zone, Fubuki is completely unaffected by the normal physical inconveniences of ice. She does not grow cold, does not lose her balance upon slippery footing, and can in fact sprint faster than her normal top speed so long as she is within the boundaries of an Ice Age zone. Her physical strength also increases by a moderate amount.