Sebastian Brandt

"Orders, sir?"

0 · 122 views · located in Lunarwing

a character in “Lunarwing: Dawn of War”, as played by RageKage


Sebastian Brandt

Fever Ray - If I Had A Heart





Dominant Hand
Ambidextrous with no preference.


Bastian. Gunner. "Thing".


Face Claim
Kotomine Kirei(Fate Series)

Gunnery Officer First-class.


Six foot, two inches.

One-hundred and Seventy-nine pounds.


Hair Color

Eye Color

Though usually covered the left side of his chest, back, and arm are a woven mat of scar tissue, aside from that his hand bares the discolouration and damage of countless scorch marks.

He has a singular tattoo, located on the right side of his neck, near the collar bone, in thick, black ink. He refuses to speak of it, and goes to great pains to keep it concealed.

There is also evidence suggesting both ears have at one time been pierced.

Sebastian has a markedly clean and deliberate appearance, aside from his hair. His clothes are always, no matter the hour or impractical the situation perfected ironed, pressed and starched. And his shoes are of course, shined. This is in part because of the amount of uniforms he requisitions on a regular basis. Armament work is hazardous to clothing and so much as a stray hair on his collar, let alone a burnt sleeve, is unacceptable.

His hair is the only major exception. Think, ragged and bereft of a comb for the last decade it falls wherever and however it pleases. The only oddity being it is always, no matter what, the exact same length. He'd like people to believe sheer willpower prevents it from growing. He cuts it every morning, though.

Preferred Clothing
His uniform for any on the clock hours. The only difference between it and a stock uniform is that both the outer shirt and under are long sleeve, black-buttoned and silver clasped. As well as sporting a turtle neck. When off the clock he exchanges it for a remarkable similar albeit white shirt, gray pants and a blue and black reversible hooded jacket.


Engel's die TrΓ€ne: Six disposable yet complex throwing "blades". The hilts house both basic course-augmenting technology and Sebastian's prized laser-"wire" generators. Named after the bright white-ish/blue colour of the "blades". Beautiful and lethal.
Der Zeiger von Gott: Two heavily reinforced steel-meshed gloves. Mostly these are just jagged metal coatings to augment any punches delievered, but in times of great need they can emit both voltage and produce is a very small laser-like veil similar to his blades. Those functions however draw power from the wielders bio-electrics, resulting in fatigue and if careless injury or death.

Das fahles Pferd: A simple, old-style cordite consuming, powder smashing handgun. Chambered for the inelegant and painful Forty-fifth caliber round of ammunition.

Aside from this he carries a large "kit" containing a few standard issue grenades, flares, and a smaller tool kit for routine weapon maintenance tailored to whatever weapons his comrades are using that given mission, and of course. His only treasure, gleaming golden around his neck, on a humble leather strap.

Jack of All: Bastian has spent his young life perusing and learning whatever he can. By no means a genius he's well versed in a very broad spectrum of things.

Trigger Discipline: Marksmanship training was something he took to heart. Not a sharpshooter by any means but target acquisition and and hit-to-miss ratio are above average.

Weapon Specialization: If it shoots, fires, explodes, is thrown, hacks, slashes, bombards, shoots flames, or just in general has the capacity to kill someone, he can fix it, break it, maintain it or augment it. There's a reason he's a Gunnery Officer.

Indomitable will: Years of personal training and philosophical devotion have breed within him a near unbreakable will. He will not, cannot falter.

The path of Flesh: Martial arts and weapon training, though considered beyond dated these days in his family where something he took too early and with a fervent need. Over the years his body has been honed if not tortured in this pursuit, which has resulted in remarkable progress. While he his not inhumanly agile, his speed and grace could be concerning against an average opponent.

Orders are Orders: If given an order Bastian will carry it out. No matter how questionable, unnecessary, or dangerous. There is not debating whether it was right, or wrong, or if it may kill him to do it. A weapon does as bid.

His dream: A personal and private matter never spoken up, Bastian desperately wished to transcend humanity. Emotions, desires, ethical implications. He wishes to shed these and to become what he deems a flawless being, a pure, unthinking, unfeeling, weapon.


Aside from his obsession with turning himself into a living, breathing weapon he has this strange habit of looking past people when he speaks with them.

Also angered by the colour pink. No known explanation.

The Old World

Anything at all classified as a weapon.

His intense personal training regiment.

Routine maintenance.
Excessively loud people.

Discussions about the concept of humanity, individuality, purpose, or preference.


Most of his job duties and likes cross over into this field. This included large scale( i.e ship, vehicle, etc) weapons maintenance, arms manufacturing and augmentation, cleaning, and reading.

He also enjoys to sing, although he would never be so careless as to do so where someone could hear.

Snakes & Mirrors.


There's something about Sebastian that boarders on...Unnatural. Rigid. Practiced. From his movements, to speech, and to dress the man appears to be fundamentally lacking a certain spark. That small flame each individual possess to set them apart in a crowd. None of his movements waste energy or momentum, none of his speech is embellished or over sold. The man does and says what is needed, as ruthlessly efficiently as possible, and nothing more. Even his eyes never seem to rest on anything longer than necessary.

That being said, no matter how frigid and disinterested the surface may appear he takes in all the details he can. He pays immense attention to a person's emotions and body language, and internally fusses over those he cares about. The only flaw is he seems, and to a large extent is, unable to show or voice it. Bastian is cripplingly afraid of relationships, no matter how casual or platonic. This stems from both the fact that a closer bond means a more devastating loss, and let's face it. Soldiers die. Often, and a more personal concern. Bastian does what he can on the outside to seem disinterested and unfriendly because he's quite afraid of anyone knowing, or seeing what's on the inside.

After all. People don't care for weapons. People don't befriend them. People don't love them.



Mother & Father: Alive.
Sister, older: Alive.
Sister, younger: Alive.
Grandparents: Deceased.

Personal History
The Brandt family. There was a time it was a legacy. A name that meant pride, and commanded respect, if not fear. That however was before the Earth suffocated and the race took to the stars. Since the fall it's been just a name, much to the rage of generation after generation after generation, and so on. Always the previous generation pushed the former even harder to not only preform, but excel. At anything. Everything. It didn't matter as long as it could bring fame, fortune, glory, power, or fear.

The other thing that didn't matter was the members of the Brandt family being pushed. After all, fire consumes all. Und die wurden Durch Verbraucht Brandt.

Bastian was no exception. Politics, academia, soldiering, public speaking, salesmanship. All were pushed, and pushed, and pushed. He was utterly consumed under the burning will of his parents. His wants, needs, desires, hopes, they were all ground out of him. Tossed aside. Destroyed. Burned. He was no one, nothing but ambition and the failings of those who came before given flesh.

Some of the pursuits, like old world philosophies and martial arts, the dead language of his heritage, those were acceptable. Those were times when he enjoyed himself, when he asserted a personality. Those were the things taken from him. One by one anything he enjoyed, liked, felt was taken. Success was made by determination, by focus, by pain! They told him. Not idle whimsy, and enjoyment. Not by trying to find who you are, but by forging yourself into who will win.

It was on his Eighteenth birthday ceremony. When he was branded with the Insignien von Brandt like all "Potentials" his age that it snapped. Everything went well, and like all accepted potentials he withstood the pain without showing emotion. No. It was afterwards that he failed, in their eyes.

You see his great-grandmother was dying. She had never really shown him any extra kindness, or concern, but she was just about expired, and she knew it. It was desperation that later, after the ceremony she called him to her room. She put into his hand the one possession which he treasures. A simple necklace. Solid, pure and polished gold. Pure as an can be, in an odd shape. She told him the story of who it supposedly represented. A man long, long dead even before the Earth was killed. A man who welcomed, and loved people. All good people. For who they were.

For some unknown reason, the thought of that. Of someone accepting. Broke everything inside of Bastian. He stormed out, confronted his parents while clutching the necklace so tight his hand bled. It was a bitter fight, both verbal and eventually physical with his father. In the aftermath he was shunned. Cursed. Sworn to be forgotten, beaten and told that his own parents hoped the brand on his neck went septic and erased the stain he was.

The one moment in his life he tried to be himself, a person, an individual, he lost everything. He's never tried again since. Perhaps that's the cruelest irony.

Military life, physical training It's all been the perfect escape. Follow orders, no one gets hurt.

So begins...

Sebastian Brandt's Story


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Nero Daemon Character Portrait: Lucia Lilith Character Portrait: Aleksej Kovac Character Portrait: Miriam Cortette Character Portrait: Sebastian Brandt Character Portrait: Morgan Stoyer

0.00 INK

Nero Daemon

Looking at the ship from the shuttle he was on Nero looked at his escorts. "So this is the ship I am to be put in command of?" he asked only receiving a simple nod in response. "I guess I should be grateful that they have enough trust to place me in command of such a important vessel." Slowly approaching the ship Nero noticed just how big it was 'certainly bigger then how they described it during the debrief.' he thought stepping out of the shuttle into the hanger bay. "The captain has boarded!" A synthesized voice rang out "No one told me there would be a V.I. on board." Nero stated with an annoyed look, but instead of lingering on the subject he made his way to the elevator.

Heading to the deck Nero crossed his arms losing himself in thought. "I may have a duty as captain but that doesn't mean I can't search for my people." He said moving his right hand up to his chin before catching himself and setting it to his side. "Cold metal is not what I want to be touching my face." With another sigh he pressed the button to take him to the deck.

As the elevator slowly reached it's destination Nero stepped out onto the deck looked around until he saw a red haired woman. "I take it your the chief officer." he said moving to a nearby console before continuing. "I'm Nero and I guess from today forward I'll be the captain of this ship." He said trying to sound as enthusiastic as he could before grabbing the data pad. "Well gotta address the rest of the crew other wise they'll wonder if I'm just some kind of bastard."

Pressing the button for the comm device and clearing his voice Nero began to speak "Hello I may not be the best for public speeches but it's something that must be done. First off let me get introductions out of the way, although many of you may already know it's just common courtesy to do any way. I'm the captain of this vessel Nero Daemon though I would prefer that every one would just call me Nero though if your comfortable addressing me as captain you may do so. Now then with that out of the way I would ask all of you to look at your neighbors, days ago they might have been a stranger, fellow student, or your best friend. But today they're crew mates, and the closest thing you'll have to a family for the next couple of months maybe years. So treat them as such and everything will go smoothly. Now then let's prepare to set sail!" Releasing the button Nero took a shaky step back tossing the data pad back onto the console he plucked it from, before releasing an exasperated breath of relief and turning back towards the elevator. "Now with that out of the way I think I'm going to head to my quarters, if anything pops up look for me there." And with a click of his heels Nero disappeared through the doors to the elevator.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Nero Daemon Character Portrait: Sebastian Brandt

0.00 INK

Sebastian Brandt

The only sound to be heard in the whole of the armoury was the rhythmic, soothing click of perfectly clipped and symmetrical nails crashing into the countless barrel of the fresh polished, primed, cleaned, and oiled rifles on rack. For the last three hours such droning, repetitive and necessary sounds had been Sebastian's only company. He very much had wanted it this way. All routaine maintenance, upkeep and general arranging was something he desired to be have done before the new commander set foot on his ship. It was, oddly enough, a happy time for the lone figure working tirelessly.

Until the announcement crackled in and shattered the piece.

With a jarring swivel and grit of teeth Bastian whirled on his heels to find the source, focusing on every syllable the new commander was kind enough to provide. All the while he inadvertently stood at attention.

"Hello I may not be the best for public speeches but it's something that must be done. First off let me get introductions out of the way," Unnecessary. "First off let me get introductions out of the way," Overly casual. His eyes closed in an attempt to picture his new C.O. "..although many of you may already know it's just common courtesy to do any way." Nervous. Unneeded explanations, excess breath-to-letter intake. The still image he'd been presented with when briefed jumped to the front of his mind, slowly animating as intercom continued. "..I'm the captain of this vessel Nero Daemon though I would prefer that every one would just call me Nero.." Sebastian's eyes snapped open, his stance lapsed for a single moment.

This man, this commander he dreamed of, the person who would lead him, wield him and his creations...Was honestly suggesting to his insubordinates to address him on a first name basis? An uncharacteristic sigh escaped him as he pulled another rifle from under his workstation, setting it under his lamp with the most tender care. Perhaps he feels "friends" operate better than tools. Either way...I will serve without flaw or question, and this armoury. His armoury. Will be in perfect order before he comes to inspect..

I just hope no one needs anything between now and then...


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Nero Daemon Character Portrait: Lucia Lilith Character Portrait: Sebastian Brandt

0.00 INK


Lucia had different priorities. As much as she enjoyed the company of people, as a person who gained interest by mere sight, she can't say she is intrigued by anyone. Though the ones of white skin and hair she would assume to be the Drevakresses. Slain by one of the mighty beasts of dark matter. That has a bit of a ring to it, doesn't it? She'll be sure to see if she can attain her dream a bit early.

Speaking of the one of white hair. He decided to perform a speech. It was only natural for Lucia to drone out the droning. As she began silent humming, she only heard the words "I'm the captain" before the speech came out of the other ear. She would be one to wander off during the speech, to explore the one thing that really caught her eye, the ship. She would look into her office last as she knew she would end up there eventually.

The bow was rather impressive. She wouldn't dream of dying in such a manner of suicide by jumping from an elevated height, but the design surely looked appealing. Killed by the mighty vessel, the Lunarwing. It sounded more disgusting than anything, but it sort of rolled of the tongue.

As Lucia was a sheltered girl, she was unfamiliar with the thrills of flying. Even if the fixing of the wounded is her sole job on this ship, she can't help but wonder about the anatomy of such a craft. She'll be sure to stop by to pry questions into the engineer. She only had time to investigate the main deck before her exploration was cut short as everyone was prompted to take their stations. With a deep sigh, she stumped over to her office. Lucia didn't have much of a preference over doctoral supplies as she is able to work with most. She doesn't like performing surgeries, but since they are a combat unit, she was given an immense amount of tools, much to her dismay. The only thing that seemed out of place was the sniper rifle she brought with her luggage. She decided to drop it off in the armory when she finished up.

As she was rather bored, she decided to make a new quote to live by, although briefly. "The most interesting people look like the most boring people." Just give it some time, it'll become a thing in the future. The most boring out of the bunch was the other man, who seemed to harbor a blank but analytical stare. So her stop by the armory would be more fulfilling than just an errand. She entered without knocking, and dropped her rifle in a hurried fashion. With the up-most passion in her voice, she sat down on the armory floor and explained her reasoning on coming here. "I've recently come to believe that the people who look the most boring will be the most intriguing. So I hope you don't mind telling me answers to my questions." Lucia took a deep breath."If you were a worm, how long would you be? Last furry thing you touched? You discover a beautiful island upon which you may build your own society. You make the rules. What is the first rule you put into place? Favorite Finger? If you can have a lifetime supply of any alcoholic beverage, what would it be? How weird am I making this?" Odd questions make way to odd answers and Lucia has been dying to hear some.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Lucia Lilith Character Portrait: Sebastian Brandt

0.00 INK

Sebastian Brandt

Horror. That would be by far the most apt explanation for the composition of Sebastian's entire being as someone barged into his sanctum without knocking, practically threw a rifle onto his table and proceeded to pelt him with the most inane questions imaginable. At least to his limited imagination. Not that you could tell, of course. Posture flawless, eyes dead and only fixed on the cause of vexation for a mere moment. Long enough to size her up, before fixing his stare to her hastily abandoned weapon.

What a strange creature. Purposefully bizarre. Fear of being forgotten? Her remark about seeming boring slid directly off of him, but her questions stuck. For a split moment he wondered if she was actually attempting to glean anything meaningful. A thought quickly dismissed.

With a single deft movement he scooped the rifle up and his fingers began to crawl along every edge and detail of it's frame. It was his job after all, and it easily masked the fact he was stalling. Of all the people here, why me. Convenience or does she think added difficulty will make her attention seeking more meaningful? He quickly wracked his brain for the appropriate response while examining the calibration of the scope. This was both his first, and undoubtedly most uncomfortable encounter of his new assignment. Of course his initial desire was to send her away with a wave and begin on the rifle, but from what he remembered of the briefing. Which is to say excruciating detail. This was the chief medical officer. At least his rank, if not higher which, meant one thing, and one thing only. Choice was removed.

You wouldn't know it unless you paid careful attention, but the breath he took before speaking was measured to the count of syllables he require to answer.
"Dead. Dog. Averages. None. Caelaluna Red, Vintage serial #04102. Exceedingly." He fixed his eyes on hers again as he carefully slid the magazine out of her rifle. "Come back this evening. Unless requested otherwise I will disassemble, clean, polish, repair and hand-load this for you. Do you require further assistance?" As soon as the words left his lips his gaze returned to his palm, effectively dismissing the existence of the woman he spoke to in favor of a a bullet prized from the mag. Inferior production. Powder likely sub-standard and non-evenly mixed. High probability of jamming under prolonged usage. Filth.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Nero Daemon Character Portrait: Lucia Lilith Character Portrait: Aleksej Kovac Character Portrait: Miriam Cortette Character Portrait: Sebastian Brandt Character Portrait: Morgan Stoyer

0.00 INK

Nero Daemon

Walking through the door to his room Nero set Black Heart to the side. "Alright first thing. V.I could you bring up the captains log then give me the status of our current destination." he said moving to his desk and put in his entry. "I've kept in mind the position I'm in and it still boggles me..." mid sentence he cut himself out some how unwilling to finish his statement "either way it doesn't matter now I'm here and I'll lead... Captain Nero signing out."

Feeling his left hand rubbing his arm Nero shook his head before standing up only to very narrowly avoid falling back down as a heavy vibration shook the entirety of the ship. "What the hell was that?!" He called out regaining his composure. "Warning, Warning the Lunarwing is under attack!" as the alarm blared Nero could feel himself moving to the window before he could will himself to make his way to the main deck. "They were quicker to the uptake then originally thought... Guess the pirates aren't all that keen on having something like this getting out of port." He said to himself darting out the door and down towards the deck. "Alright V.I get every one to their stations! This voyage has just got allot more serious." He called out along the way.

As he stepped back onto the deck he could feel the tension that hung in the air "What's our status! he shouted as the alarm was blaring in his ear. "Sir we've been hit port side! the pilot shouted back. 'Great I thought this was going to be a smooth start but I guess the pirates are a bit eager to see what this new ship can do.' Nero thought clenching his fists. "Well what are you waiting for start scanning and trace any residue you find from that last attack back to it's owner! Turning to the com Nero let out a sigh. "I didn't plan for the second time I'd have to use this to be during a combat situation." he said steeling his frazzled mind.

"Guess it's no surprise we're under attack. But all the same." He said before pressing the button to the com "Get to your stations. This is not a drill! I repeat this is not a drill!" He said his tone more commanding then before. "Engine room prepare to prime the warp engine once things get hairy we're going to jump to the closest safe place, med bay you best be prepared for casualties before this is over. Finally guns we're scanning for our assailants now so the moment we find their location lock on and hit them with all the force that these cannons can muster. Everyone has their orders get on it!" he declared removing his hand from the button and letting the intercom fall silent once more. 'I don't plan to lose anybody the first day I'm captain.' he thought looking through each screen to see what he could pick out while gripping his right arm in frustration.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Lucia Lilith Character Portrait: Aleksej Kovac Character Portrait: Sebastian Brandt Character Portrait: Morgan Stoyer

0.00 INK

Morgan Stoyer

Scarcely a moment had passed after the door to engineering had opened when Morgan was greeted by a rather grumpy-looking chief engineer. She had looked over the profile for this one. Aleksej, her name was. Listed as a potential troublemaker, one to keep an eye on. No sense in unnecessarily antagonising her.

"I was merely familiarising myself with the ship's layout," Morgan stated. "I hadn't yet explored the aft decks." The security officer stood there for a moment, debating on whether to continue onward and risk disturbing the engineer when the alarm sounded. The captain was on the PA system once again with a call to arms. The ship was under attack! But how? This region of space should have been safe from pirates! Morgan's hand reached for her sword, the other going for her pistol. Her shotgun had been stored in the ship's armoury, and if the enemy managed to board the Lunarwing then she was going to need all the firepower she could get. Without a word, the security officer turned and left engineering, hurrying towards the armoury.

Had the door not slid open as Morgan approached, she probably would have barged right into it. A brief glance round the room and she spotted the officer on duty there, along with the ship's chief medical officer. "Ensign, my shotgun." An order, and straight to the point at that. She acknowledged the presence of the other woman with only a slight nod; there was no time for pleasantries when their first of many battles was almost upon them.