forum 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕊𝕠𝕟𝕘 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝔻𝕒𝕞𝕟𝕖𝕕 (Closed rp, 6/6!)

Started March 07, 2023 by @ScotchTapeWorm group

tune

Name: Victoria "Toria" Rose Louise Alpin
Age: 24
Gender: female
Sexuality: lesbian
Physical Appearance: Victoria is close to average height at around 5' 5", built like an athlete from her training at different forms of combat (from her older brothers, since her family was very traditional and didn't like teaching girls to fight). She has a number of callouses on her hands despite her soft noble upbringing, and has an abundance of freckles covering her body. She has sun-tanned skin, which her makes her parents angry, since pretty noble girls are meant to stay inside or under cute little parasols to maintain their complexions. Victoria used to have long, wavy copper-brown locks that fell nearly to her waist, but cut her hair to her chin when she left home to join the rebellion. She rarely does anything with her hair besides tie it half up sometimes. Victoria still has her delicate noble bone structure, including her vibrant blue eyes which are framed by thick eyelashes and thin, lightly arched eyebrows. She has a straight, Greek nose and high cheekbones as well as bow-shaped lips. Whenever she has been exercising a lot (such as training or combat) or is embarrassed, her entire face turns red. Drinking alcohol also makes her cheeks flush.
artbreeder: https://www.artbreeder.com/image/d22ff83c652f9916ec3682bd9b28
Clothing:Normally, Victoria wears loose, easily movable clothing which is a far cry from the whale bone corsets and long, flowing dresses she used to wear to please her family. Whenever the crew is in battle, she rocks up in full armor, and will sometimes train in full armor for extra practice.

Personality: Victoria, despite what people may assume from first hearing about her, is actually quite shy. She was a people pleaser growing up, despite practicing her combat skills in secret with her older brothers and hating to perform the sort of femininity that was expected of her. She is now in awe with those who can comfortably perform femininity in their own ways and thinks that is very beautiful. She is generally soft-spoken outside of the battlefield, letting others take the lead since she has very little knowledge of things outside of the nobility due to her sheltered upbringing. However, when she feels passionate about something, she can get far more energetic and fiery, letting her passion guide her. She is much more authoritative on the battlefield and isn't afraid to order people around. She is actually fairly knowledgable about combat due to the many books she had growing up and her brothers, who both were interested in combat as well.
Powers (If applicable, if not, just put talents here): No powers, but she is skilled with both a sword and a bow and arrow, and great at horseback riding.
Preferred fighting style: She prefers to fight on horseback, either acting as archer from a distance or pulling out her sword for closer combat. She can also fight on the ground if for whatever reason the horse becomes more of a hinderance or horses are unavailable. Can do hand-to-hand, but is more skilled with her preferred weapons.
Conditions (If applicable): n/a
Backstory/History: Victoria grew up in a prominent noble house, one that was closely tied with the crown, and who many generations ago, had women who married into the royal family. Since then, every daughter has been groomed to become a wife to whatever prince or king sits on the throne to give their house better standing. After the Black Gold King rose to power, Victoria's parents thought that their status could protect them until the taxes from the Black Gold King devastated them, since their house had started to dwindle and get less prosperous gradually, however hard they worked to hide that fact. Victoria's father was sure the only way to get their house back to the station it was was to have both of Victoria's older brothers join the army and raise Victoria to be the perfect noble woman. She did her best to fill that role for the time, though her brothers talked of revolution and eventually, she stopped trying to please everyone and followed their lead. However, both of her brothers ended up dying in their attempts to stand up to the king, and her parents were ashamed at the shame that brought the family. Victoria was appalled at how little they seemed to care about their own children and ran away to join the revolution at 21, barely managing to survive on her search. But thanks to her brothers, she had some information to go off of and managed to make it to those were like-minded.
Other:

(hope this is ok)

Name: Franklyn Vale
Age: 16
Gender: Male
Sexuality: As far as he knows, straight.
Physical Appearance: Franklyn stands about 5'6, weighs in at around 130lbs. He's thin, with straight brown hair that is constantly in his eyes. He's a pale Caucasian with perfect skin. Small hands with slender fingers give him a delicate appearance, and his large hazel eyes make him look perpetually wide-eyed.
Clothing: He can typically be found wearing brown leather, the same type found on metal workers across the country. Boots, breeches, a white tunic under the brown leather poncho he wears, and goggles. In combat, he adds iron bracers that cover his wrists and the backs of his hands.
Personality: Franklyn is a generally quiet individual, unless you get him talking about a topic he loves. He's incredibly intelligent (nigh genius), particularly for his age, and often has trouble relating to his peers. However, he's a gentle soul with a warm and kind disposition, and would rather be helping people than harming. The war has been incredibly hard on him, and if not for his family, he wouldn't still be alive.
Powers: Franklyn is a fire mage. He can create and control fire of all kinds. He is also something akin to a technomancer. His mastery of gadgets and machines (think steampunk) has enabled him to build automatons and war machines for the rebellion. He is a master metal worker, his power with fire allowing him to forge and shape metal with his bare hands.
Preferred fighting style: Franklyn would prefer not to fight at all, but if he must, he's a living flamethrower. He's able to melt enemy weapons and armor with ease, and has a small army of machine allies and lethal gadgets on him at all times.
Conditions: Franklyn is a generally frail individual. He is sick often, and has struggled badly with his mental health. As such, his energy is often lacking, and his brilliance is dimmed by the depression fog.
Backstory/History: Franklyn doesn't often talk about his life before becoming a Vale, but his siblings are known by leadership. Franklyn, Romulus, Ronnie&Ronni, Valiel, and Lucky make up the Vale family; they aren't related, other than having adopted each other out of the gutters. Joining the rebellion was a given, as each of them had been screwed over by the Crown in a different way.

Other: Franklyn is loyal to the cause, but he's loyal to his siblings first. Their safety is paramount to him.
Romulus is a hulking foot soldier, all muscle and loud, boisterous personality. 6'6" of solid muscle makes a difference on the battlefield.
Ronnie is a quiet dead shot archer, serving with the Shadows. A soldier who never misses, even at impossible distances, is a valuable asset.
Ronni is a maimed and mute sister, able to move silently and unnoticed even at high noon, also serving with the Shadows. Anyone gifted with wings and flight is a gift to an Intelligence division.
Valiel is a shapeshifting sister serving as a medic. A doctor who can give the best empathy and help to her patients by assuming a form that is comforting to them, she's responsible for keeping plenty of people alive and in good spirits.
Lucky is a cavalry rider, riding Sinjoro his horse with high skill. It doesn't hurt that boy and horse are telepathic, able to read each other's thoughts and the thoughts of the animals around them with ease.
And Franklyn watches out for all of them, with gadgets and upgraded armor.

The battle had gone well.
As well as a battle could.
A light skirmish by most measures, leaving only a few casualties on their side, while they'd been able to repel the invading army.
What was concerning was that they knew where they were. The rebel army had no concrete base of operations, constantly shifting and moving to hide their location. It let them strike quickly and with surprise and avoid large scale battles with large scale casualties. Their forces were thin enough as is, they couldn't afford to throw lives away.

The battle had been quick and decisive, and their abandonment of their campsite even more so. The tents were being folded up, supplies loaded onto carts, and the soldiers preparing their things to go. The bustle and noise of the camp was familiar and welcoming to those who knew it. A horse neighed in the distance, and the smell of smoke was thick in the air. The enemy had been able to burn a handful of tents before they'd ran.

The encampment was large, but only one section of the rebellion as a whole. The leaders of the different small armies communicated to this one, where orders were sent out and movements planned. They were nearing the capital and the fighting was getting fierce. It was also getting harder and harder to hide. A man in armor briefly wondered if they'd ever look on battles like this fondly as they got into bloodier ones.

The general stood in his command tent, a large leather tent, with a table in the middle. He had papers covering it, with maps and plans and musings. The room was mostly bare otherwise, a few chairs for those who wished to sit and a smaller table with a pitcher of water for those who wished to drink. Otherwise the spartan layout matched the man standing in the middle, arms held behind his back, leaning over the table to look at something. A report of the battle from his intelligence division, they were spread the most thin and worked the hardest. The report was good, and Kerrim made a note to send commendation to the author of it. The facts were layed out neatly and with clarity, giving him a birds eye view of what had happened.

Two dead, four injured, one soldier unfit to fight from burns and smoke inhalation. The general frowned, a heavy weight settling on him. The camp was moving as quickly as they could, but they needed to be better prepared for next time.

He walked over to the entrance of the tent, brushing aside the opening flap with his arm and nodding at the two soldiers standing at attention outside, spears at the ready. He waved down a young soldier, sweating heavily from pulling a cart. Kerrim gave him some water and a order.

A list of people really. They needed to have a strategy meeting. All hands, and minds, on deck.
The general had an eclectic circle of people. He didn't go based on rank or position, the rebel army was not yet so organized, despite their years of fighting. He wanted several voices, as many opinions as he could from different branches to make his decisions, from the common soldier to the strangest tinkerer.

The general went back to his table and stood waiting for everyone to gather. They were busy with their movements themselves he was sure. But the needs of the many came before the needs of the few.

Kendra used to hate the idea of war. Her father used to sing about it, warning of the destruction and chaos that it caused. She would’ve never imagined that she would be here, involved in a war effort and a rebellion against her own country. Despite his hate for war, Kendra couldn’t help but think that her father would be proud of her. She was standing up for what she believed in, after all, and she was using her magic for the good of humanity.

Kendra was in the medical tent, trying to ease the pain of some of the soldiers, when the order went out for a meeting. While she was powerful enough to heal minor wounds and injuries, she still wasn’t capable of healing more critical ones. The dead bodies littering the field were a constant reminder of that.

After she finished up with her last patient, Kendra gathered up her supplies and hurried across the camp. She stopped by the mess hall first, gathering food for whoever came to the meeting. She knew how little the soldiers took care of themselves after battles, and she wanted to make sure that they were in the best shape for the days to come.

It wasn’t long until she had arrived at the general’s tent, and she exchanged a few kind words with the men outside before making her way in. She placed her basket on the table before nodding at her general. At first, she wasn’t sure how she felt about such a young man being in control of such a large army, but he had proved to her time and time again how capable he could be.

“You look like you’ve been busy, General.” She sent him a smile before walking around the table, looking down at the papers. “It’s good to see. We have a long few days ahead of us…”

She picked up one of the maps, the feel of it familiar in her hands. She used to travel the country with her father long before the war ever began. Gods, how she missed those days.

Franklyn woke up with a groan. His body ached and his head was pounding. Someone was leaning over him, shaking him gently.
"Franky? Wake up, the general is asking for you." Valiel's voice was gentle, but insistent. Franklyn opened his eyes to see his sister smiling down at him. "How are you feeling?"

"Cruddy." He sat up, only for his head to spin viciously and send him flopping back onto his cot. "What happened?"

Valiel explained, as gently as she could, what had happened. The enemy had come in, trying to use fire to win the fight, and Franklyn had joined the fight, using his powers to quell the flames. It was working, except he'd been sick recently and didn't have the strength to keep it up. He'd collapsed and Romulus had dragged him off the field before he got himself killed.
"You've been unconscious since."

Franklyn groaned again, this time in guilt and shame. "So I failed, huh… Vulcan blast it all, I've let them down…" He sat up again, closing his eyes against the spinning room. "How bad is the damage? Can I repair anything? Did we lose many? And is everyone ok?" By 'everyone', of course, he meant their family, who were always on his mind. "What can I do? Is it all over n-"

"You can relax for a moment, and report to the general like you've been ordered." Valiel said firmly. He'd spin himself into a tizzy, and he was already clearly having trouble. Exerting himself when he was already weak was what got him in this mess in the first place. "Our siblings are ok. Romulus got in a grappling match with some kind of half giant or something, but all he got was a black eye and some strained muscles. There's nothing for you to repair right away, though I suspect there may be soon. We're in the moving process now. I'll have the boys pack up your stuff while you're in this meeting. Now. Can you stand?"

Franklyn gave the slightest nod of his head, afraid of jostling it too much. "I'll have to, whether I can or not. Why does the general want me?"

Valiel helped him shakily get to his feet. "I don't know exactly. I just know he called a bunch of the higher-ups and brains in. I was in the medical tent when Kendra got called in, and your name was mentioned, so I came to get you." She looked around for something. "Where's your brace?"

Franklyn groaned again, and determined it would be the last one for a while. "It's over in the corner." His sister retrieved the contraption, and locked the clamp around his waist. The brace ran up his back, and a leather loop fitted over his head. He knew he looked ridiculous, and it was uncomfortable, but it would keep him from jostling his head. The brace would allow him to relax, and still stay upright, as well as cushioning his head and neck should he pass out again. "Coming with me?"

Valiel shook her head. "I have to get back. You know where you're going, and I'll have the boys pack up your stuff, like I said. Get going." She squeezed his shoulder, before hurrying off back towards the medical tent.

Franklyn stepped out of his tent and headed towards the general's quarters. He had to focus on his feet, his steps unsteady, but he couldn't focus hard enough to block out the sights and sounds of a recently attacked camp.
Men yelling orders as they tore down.
The sound of clanking armor, weapons and gear as they were packed.
The yelps of men over in the medical tent getting treatment.
The sounds of nervous horses, nickering and stamping.

And worse than that, was the smell. The typical stink of people living in close quarters was overpowered by the stink of-… ash.

Ash and blood.

And that turned Franklyn's stomach for more reasons than one. He felt responsible in some way. I could have done more, if I wasn't so blasted sick all the time! There was nothing he hated more than feeling powerless.

He eventually made it to the general's tent, and was nodded inside by the guards. "General Levisay." He acknowledged the big man with a small salute, before sitting down. Half-collapsing, really.

Luan was out overseeing the packup of the armors and weaposn, snapping out orders, her black outfit making her an anomaly against the bright-ish sky, that was tainted with smoke and ash from the enemy's fire attacks.

Once she was sure that the people had everything under control, she rushes off, her extreme speed making her near invisible to the naked eye.

A short but loud shockwave resonates from the place she just was, making some people - who were new to the cause - flinch in anticipation of an attack.

She slows down and falls into a kneel in front of the commad tent, her head bowed in reverence for a moment before she stands up and enters the tent.

She shakes back her hood, letting her hair tumble out.

"General." she says respectfully and playfully before turning to Kendra and grinning, tossing one arm around the girl's shoulders, rubbing her knuckles into the top of her head.

"Hey girlie. Out saving lives, like usual?" she asks.

Kendra had remained mostly serious during her time in the general’s tent, but Luan had always managed to get a smile out of her. She snorted, rolling her eyes as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Trying my best. I’ve seen way too many good men die today.” She went silent, watching as Franklyn stumbled into the tent. “Speaking of saving lives…”

Kendra wandered over to the young teen’s side and took him by the arm, leading him over to the table. She sat him down and, using some of her magic, provided him with more strength. She seemed to be healing Franklin a lot lately; the poor guy remained sick often, so much so that Kendra thought about requesting to have him sent home on sick leave.

“You fought well today, kid,” she assured him. “Just keep yourself standing for the meeting today. You’ll do fine.”

Franklyn didn't protest as Kendra moved him. Valiel spoke very highly of the healer, and besides, he didn't have the strength to resist it just now.
He could feel her strengthening him, and shot her a grateful look. He wasn't sure what magic felt like to other people, but to him, it felt like fire. Again, he knew most people would feel that and think pain, but for him, the hot, burning, fiery sensation was just… nice. It felt good. Like he was constantly cold but didn't know it until someone brought him to a fireplace. He could also feel the knot on his head from where he'd fallen and clunked his skull beginning to hurt less. And as it hurt less, he could think more clearly.

He had to chuckle at Kendra's choice of words. "Keep myself standing, huh? Whadya think the brace is for?" A joke was easier than acknowledging what she'd said. That he'd 'fought well', even though they both knew he hadn't, that he'd let people down, that people were dead now because he wasn't stronger. She's just being kind.

The dynamic in these meetings was always… a little weird. There was the General, a strong, powerful, good looking man with brains and experience. Then, there were all of these women, skilled, competent, and beautiful in one way or another.
And then there was Franklyn. Small, frail, ten years younger than most of them… and smarter than all of them. He didn't flaunt that, or even like to believe it, but it was the only reason he was here. He had nothing else to offer them but brains.
And that was what made the dynamic weird. The women in the room tended to… mother him, for lack of a better word. And he'd long since given up trying to convince them not to, because A, it wasn't the worst thing in the world, and B, they were all bigger and stronger than him anyway, how was he going to stop them?
It also didn't help that all of them had one of his siblings working for them, and so they all heard him referred to as 'little brother' often.

In any case, just now at least, he was appreciative of Kendra's efforts.
"Thank you."