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Eldridge Perrette

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a character in “Serpents in the Sun”, as played by Kilgannon

Description

ImageÉMILIE PSHENICHNIKOVA
AGE TWENTY-FOUR FACTION COMBAT WIND NORTH COUNTRY FRANCE
ARTIFACT 1 [S] CAMÉLÉON (JEANNE D'ARC'S BATTLE STANDARD)

[FC] i. Kuonji Alice (Mahōtsukai no Yoru) ii. Saber (Fate/Prototype)

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❝Ce n'est pas de votre procès.❞
- Jeanne d'Arc, c. 1428


On a cool Autumn morning, Émilie was born in Metz, France to Deymon and Zéphyrine Pshenichnikova, a couple best described as the latter half of a romance novel detailing a young, naive French girl studying and falling in love abroad in Russia. As Émilie grew up, she frequently requested trips to the Opéra-Théâtre de Metz Métropol which, even then, was old - its construction having started in 1732, when one Duke de Belle-Isle decided that the island it was to be built on was too drab. The official completion of the Opera House wouldn't be until twenty years later in 1752, where it was inaugurated with an extravagant ball. Her mother told her stories about how during the French Revolution, that the guillotine used for executions was erected in the parvise of the Opera House, where a show would be made of the imminent decapitations.

Quite the historian, her mother, and to Émilie it seemed that there was no better place for such a person than Metz, with its rich history and still standing architecture that had been around since the Romans populated the area back in 4 AD. In her bedtime stories, the fairy tales were replaced with lessons about the overthrowing of the French monarchy. She was told of the Hundred Years' War, in which the battle was for control of France, she was told of Jeanne d'Arc, a young woman (not much older than Émilie herself, as her mother liked to interject) that served as a hero to the people of France during this time and died a martyr at the age of nineteen. Her father, when he was home from his constant bouts overseas, would fill her in on the Russian side of her heritage. He had been born in Moscow, experienced poverty and hardship. He would describe to her what it was like to be working class during those times, and liked to reference where they all were in life now, as if to illustrate the point that hard work and patience would yield great reward.

Growing up, these stories shaped her, naturally. They taught her the importance of defending what is rightfully yours, of remaining perseverent in the face of adversary, of what it meant to be loyal, and to aspire for what you want instead of waiting for it to be handed to you. The lessons weren't wasted, and the woman that she is today still holds onto them. Although first impressions would label Émilie seemingly terse and restrained in expression, she acts quite the opposite of what her outward appearance dictates. In reality, Émilie is quite laid back in disposition but not without her eccentricities, seemingly a determinist in the sense that she believes what happens is what was meant to and always meant to happen. Not to detract from those that feel they've mastered their own fate, or feel themselves capable of doing so, but it is her stance that even they were meant to do those things.

She was fifteen when she first discovered the existence of ghosts, encountering a poltergeist in the basement of the basilica of Saint-Pierre-aux-Nonnains, one of the oldest churches in the world, let alone in Metz, France. A few days after she had described her experience to her parents, her uncle (on her father's side) visited and pulled her aside with her father, beginning then to explain to her the nature of spirit and the intent of the House of Four Winds. She was to return to Moscow with him and begin her basic training as a Saniwa, to which she agreed.

Not long after she had turned seventeen, her uncle died while out on an operation and her parents relocated to Moscow, Russia to live with her once more. It was also around this time that Émilie decided to take up a real job among her classes and training, and she started working as florist at a small corner-store.

~

During the trial which culminated in her execution, Jeanne d'Arc was questioned by the Rouen judges about her battle standard, a 3x12 foot ensign that she carried into battle with her. She described it as made of a white fabric called boucassin and fringed in silk, its field sown with fleurs de lys and depicting Christ holding up the world with two angels, each holding a lily, on either side of him. Near the end, in gold lettering the names Jhesus and Maria were embroidered.

Believing that she had been commanded by the lord, through the voices of Sainte Catherine and Sainte Marguerite, she had her standard made so she could boldly carry it in the name of the King of Heaven. She described that the depiction of Christ was in his final coming of Judgement.

During battle, she chose to carry it with her instead of placing it in her selle de bannière, or banner saddle, and did so to avoid killing anybody, claiming that she "liked forty times more her standard than her sword". The standard itself was lost before her trial, and any questions concerning where it may have gone were left unanswered. Its known location seemingly died with her on May 30, 1431, and the standard wouldn't be seen again until recovered by Émilie during her combat trial.

As Émilie grew up and heard the stories of Jeanne d'Arc from her mother, she had been told about how Jeanne was a cross-dresser and lived a majority of her life as man, not quite unlike Sainte Marguerite had done before her. Now, the result, equal parts childhood misunderstanding and fantasy, was that Émilie more often than not envisioned Jeanne as an actual man, and furthermore considered Jeanne to be her foil.

As it turns out, Émilie's perspective wasn't exactly a fresh one, as during and after the time that Jeanne was active, there was a fair share of outcries refusing to believe that armies were being rallied by a woman, and either passed her off as a man or plainly nonexistent. Additionally, many consider her to be an androgyne, occupying a different, third order, neither male nor female.

It was this sentiment, mixed with several others of its kind from her childhood (not to mention, a very low Understanding on Émilie's part), that resulted in the physical incarnation of her Artifact. Named after Emilie's favorite animal, Caméléon embodies the visualizations Émilie had of Jeanne while hearing the stories, appearing as a man that is quite androgynous in looks himself.

Caméléon is cut from the same inspirational cloth as many great leaders before him, highly determined in action and capable of subscribing people to his side through sheer personality and sincerity alone. He has keen observational skills, specifically those of discrimination, able to pick out that which does not belong. Complacent in his faith and ideals, Caméléon is a brave individual that would sooner stand his ground boldly and die than repudiate what he believes in.


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F a c t i o nxxxW o r k s
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Following her trial, Jeanne d'Arc was branded a heretic and witch and burned at the stake. After she had died and the embers had been raked back to expose her body, to prove that she had indeed been killed in the fire, it was ordered that her body be burned again, to reduce her body to ash. After some of her organs failed to burn, she was burned a third time and once she was finally nothing but ash and embers, her remains were scattered into the River Seine.

One Gilles de Rais, age 24 at the time, had fought alongside Jeanne multiple times, and was notably present during the siege of Orléans, the first major victory for the French with Jeanne d'Arc in the army. But, more importantly, he was with her in Compiègne when their party was ambushed and captured. While Jeanne and her rear guard were captured, Gilles and a decent amount of the rest of her military unit were able to escape to nearby fortifications. Shortly thereafter, Jeanne had agreed to her surrender and Gilles remained in hiding until the armies had cleared out.

Returning to the point of Jeanne's capture, Gilles scavenged the area and discovered her standard in the dirt, torn and stamped into the earth. It was unknown if this act were intentional or if it had just been a casualty of her capture. He recovered it and resumed his hiding during Jeanne's trial. Over the following years he worked to have it restored to honor her, and it soon found itself passing hands from Gilles to a close friend shortly before he confessed to being a serial child murderer.

The standard passed down as heirloom through the family of the friend that Gilles had trusted the standard with, and it had been kept secret within the family all the way up to its seemingly final resting place, deep within the Catacombs of Paris. Émilie's search for the standard was a laborious one, and all she seemed to find were dead ends until she finally tracked down a descendant of the family of bearers and was able to retrieve a vague detailing of where to search.

Taking inspiration from the gladiators of old that she liked to read about as a kid, Émilie's fighting style and gear are a beautiful amalgamation of the retiarius and trench warfare. Preferring to keep her distance, she wields a 1.8 m long staff and utilizes boleadoras to help disarm and ensnare her opponents. In case of close combat, she also carries a trench knife in sheath and has an additional pouch that contains caltrops for aiding in escape

Her journey into the catacombs was one of several days, and vengeful spirits and poltergeists alike littered the path to her goal (not to mention the singular crazed catacomb squatter looking to rob her of her things). Upon reaching it, Émilie discovered not only the standard, but several other items Gilles had been able to recover and keep safe, including Jeanne d'Arc's personal journal, the contents of which detailed and Jeanne's position as a Spiritualist Saniwa. While this was news to her, she ventured a guess that among the Saniwa this wasn't exactly uncommon knowledge, especially those within the Spirituality branch. Within the pages of Jeanne d'Arc's journal, a rival Inquisition was described, unveiling how they sought to end the heresy that the Four Winds had brought upon the church. After its recovery, Émilie reported her findings to the head priest of the North Wind and proceeded onto the creation of Caméléon.


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S t a t i s t i c s
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Émilie Mirèio Pshenichnikova
KNOWLEDGE x★★★★x| x UNDERSTANDING x★★★★ x|x CHARM x★★★★ x|x COMBAT x★★★★★

Caméléon d'Arc
SURVIVAL x★★★★★ x| x LEADERSHIP xx★★★★ x|x IMPULSE x★★★★★ x|x MOBILITY x★★★★★ x SPIRITx★★★★★

So begins...

Eldridge Perrette's Story

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It smelled of petrichor as Eldridge maneuvered himself between the trees, which meant many things. As it was high past noon, the usual swelter of the day had returned despite the morning rain, and the humidity that the forest contained made his clothing stick to him like a second skin. He paid no mind, however, as he was more focused on his mark, which the still damp soil was enabling him to track so swiftly.

He was following the large impressions left behind by his target, as well as the general breakage of branches and scratch marks in bark it left behind. If this were still the old world, one might confuse the beast he was tracking for a bear.

But this wasn't the old world anymore.

Nor was it a bear.

A sudden stillness in the air caused Eldridge to halt his pursuit, and he stood motionless, senses acutely aware of everything going on around him. The sound of a twig breaking in the distance caused El to snap his head in that direction, only to see an animal of quite inferior size to what he was looking for dash out of sight. He smirked.

A rabbit, huh? And here I thought they were extinct.

He was unable to continue that train of thought, however, as a rather loud roar pierced the silence, followed by a deep rumbling in the ground. With a grace that almost betrayed his humanity, El moved to gain the high ground, scaling a tree with wide branches and drawing his bow.

An arrow was drawn and notched by the time the rumbling had begun to near, and El kept his eyes in the direction of the source, waiting for whatever it belonged to appear on the horizon. Nothing did, however, even as the rumbling grew louder and closer.

Then, all of a sudden, it ceased.

Hair stood on end as El sat there, with no nearby animal life to pierce the silence. No, all the other animals had already ran. But from what?

The answer to that question suddenly burst out from underneath the ground, sending rocks and other debris flying in all directions. Partially uprooted by the emergence of the creature, the tree El crouched in began to list over, slowly at first, but then its descent gradually began to pick up.

Before hitting the ground, El jumped and rolled, springing up after the roll ended and notching an arrow with pristine speed once more. This one didn't remain notched, as El had let it loose the moment the arrowhead had lined up with the creature, which could only be described as a combination between a mole and a bear.

It was a bit larger than a bear in stature, and its front claws were much larger than its hind ones, as they were used primarily for digging and hunting. The creature also had no eyes, which only meant to El that it had one less weakness. Which is why, when he aimed, that he had aimed for the neck.

Not that it did much, besides piss off the poor thing, which began to flail wildly and let loose more dirt and more angry noises. It wasn't close to dying, not yet, but it sure put up a fuss. Fortunately, no eyes also meant that it couldn't see him.

Deducing that its primary form of identification was its sense of smell, El slowly moved to mask his scent with the surrounding earth. He backed up as he did so, crouched low and feet wide apart to minimize the amount of noise he generated. After he got a reasonable distance back, he debated running, but instead notched another arrow and took aim.



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Character Portrait: Eldridge Perrette Character Portrait: Tyra Vinter
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None, not a single trace, this was the wrong spot. In order to track it one would have to find some sort of mark it left behind, it wasn't in this area. It annoyed her immensely she was having difficulty finding her target, even if the beast traveled underground she should find some sort of remnant of its tunneling. Had she been given the wrong area? Cursing under her breath, Tyra lifted her goggles from her eyes, this was no hunt.

Despite the obvious danger, in the woods she felt at peace. The warm, moist air brushing against her skin while she walked casually through the trees. Her ears were picking up even the slightest noises, the light chirping of birds, the slight breeze rusting the branches, her own footsteps into the soggy earth. Then unexpectedly, erupting earth, a toppling tree, but most importantly, the howls of a beast.

In a moment the goggles shielded her eyes once more, dashing quickly and silently through the forest. Each step carefully placed to mask her approach despite the great speed. Through the thicket she saw it, the bear like creature that had been avoiding her, now revealing itself and howling like the prey it was.

An arrow was already inside its neck, providing nothing more then displeasure to the thick skinned brute. Its protruding bones gave it even greater natural armor on top of the natural bulk and muscle filled exterior. With a skull that thick the only ways she could kill it were poisons, attrition, or piercing its heart. Only one of those were an option however, she lacked poison, and with its burrowing abilities in would simple escape should it not be killed quickly.

A plan formulated quickly, without hesitation she took an arrow from her quiver. Tyra pulled the arm of her coat down, bringing the tip of the arrow and cutting down a previous scar that was on her forearm. With the tip of the arrow coated in blood, a tight grip formed around her bow, and in the next moment she aimed and fired. Before that arrow even landed another was notched into the bowstring, waiting for the moment it would be sent into the creature. The first arrow soared, landing in the back on a tree nearby the animal, high enough to ensure it would have to knock the tree down or climb. She had barely acknowledged the man who was in the dirt, only hoping his scent was mostly masked.

Hearing the arrow in the tree, like any blind creature on the hurt, it would assume its prey was trying to hide or escape. The sensitive nose of the target would pick up on the blood quicker then the other hunter if he had masked his scent with the dirt. Everything went as she hoped, in the moment it reared to take the tree down her arrow was loosed. It spiraled straight into her prey, piercing the heart of the brute.

It took only a short time for it to perish from the wound, the shot was true and the vital organ had failed her prey in its time of need. Blood dripped down her left arm and trickled off her fingers, dotting the earth below her. Her plan would never have worked if she was much closer to the animal, it would have failed if she wasn't upwind as well. Failure however, was not something she did often, circumstance allowed that plan to work and she was certain if conditions were different another would have formulated.

Using her right arm, Tyra lifted the goggles to the top her head. Current she lacked anything to bandage her other arm properly, so she would have to return home with relative haste. However now that the hunt was over, more concern for the other hunter had entered her mind. Other forest critters had cleared out with the more ferocious one arriving, so it was safe for the time being anyway. Dashing through the brush with feline grace, Tyra made her way to the male hunter. She offered nothing other then a cold gaze and simple words, "Are you wounded?"

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The arrival of another startled him, and if he hadn't been as focused as he was at the time, he might have instinctively sent his arrow flying at them rather than the beast. The other was wearing goggles, and after a few short seconds, Eldridge was able to identify her as female.

His heroine.

She moved fluidly, her actions seeming to sync up with the piston-fire in his brain as he processed what was unfolding before him. She had sliced her arm to apply her own blood to her arrow.

A deterrent. Clever.

The blood-soaked arrow was shortly loosed after, and he tracked its progress into the thick of a tree beyond the beast. With another mental nod to her resourcefulness, and perhaps a mental note to remember to steal that move, he lowered his arrow at the same moment she had fired off her second one and it planted itself into the creatures heart.

He was making the motions to replace the arrow in his quiver and standing up when the female hunter approached him. Her goggles had been moved by then, and her eyes were now unobscured. The daggers she bore at him were cold, but the ones he glanced back were only fueled by a sense of wonderment and admiration.

She questioned his well being, and he almost chuckled aloud at the irony, instead choosing to mentally acknowledge it. Before answering, his gaze dropped from her eyes to her own wound, and he noted the old scar tissue that bordered the cut.

She's done that before.

He held his bow still, in his left hand, not entirely off edge yet. A firm nod answered the girl before he approached the now deceased creature. Turning his gaze back to her, he spoke.

"The contract said it was just a dire-bear."

He figured that explanation would be enough, if she was what he expected her to be.



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He was mislead, no, the contract was more then likely mistaken. From behind the two creatures would look rather similar, knowing this however did not stop Tyra from doubting the other hunters ability. Striding forward to her deceased prey, she reached to her upper thigh, pulling her knife from its home. Kneeling down in front of the beast she began to carve its paws, the sharp claws may prove of some worth despite her inability to carry back a full load of meat. Without looking away from her process she spoke to the man coldly.

"You can tell the difference from the tracks, and the territorial markings." She quickly finished removing the sharp, and weighty, claws from one of the paws. Bundling them in her arms, Tyra picked one out and tossed it over to the other hunter.

"Top heavy, sharp, curved differently for burrowing." While the bounty was little it was proof of the finished job, now she could return home. Beginning herself on the way, without looking back she spoke once more.

"Learn that if you don't want to die." Keeping the claws held in her right hand, the left one raised at a right angle from her shoulder, as a way to wave goodbye. Now internally she desperately hoped he had something else to do out here or would take a different path. Those words were the cool 'I'm not walking in the same direction as you' kind.