THE MERCENARY.
With the drums of rebellion echoing across the kingdom, LUCIUS AQUILA is currently sworn to OBSTINATAM. UTP currently bears the face of MARTIN SENSMEIER and is 36 YEARS OLD.
LUCIUS is a former mercenary. They were previously the leader of the Golden Company, a fearsome mercenary group felled by the Maximus Clan, Due to their mercenary upbringing, they gained insider knowledge of all the kingdoms as well as unmatched combat abilities. Their childhood also taught them to be unrecognizable, so they find it easy to blend in with a crowd and go unnoticed.
ALEIA IACTA EST.
YOU ARE THE HUMAN EMBODIMENT OF DEJA VU. A person rarely seen, someone never concretely recognizable— any and all who’ve identified you in passing can never ever pinpoint from where. The majority of those whose familiarity ventured beyond that seldom lived to tell the tale. You are a hunter who bears a thousand names— never quite the same person you were prior to completing a job. The work of a mercenary called for such obscurity, for no one in your line of work could complete their duties with their identity under constant scrutiny. You are a master of hunting in plain sight— never drawing more attention to yourself than necessary. The few people you’ve allowed to bear a small portion of your story always wonder if you’ve always been this way. You always asked them why it mattered— if this was the only version of you that they’d ever be able to know? It was reminiscent of a response received when asking the leader of the mercenary ring if it was your parents that initially dropped you off there. Why did it matter if you’ve never seen them and never will meet them?
You are raised by a clan of fearsome mercenaries, but ones not fearsome enough to slaughter you instead of raise you. It is a peculiar way of growing up, but one that served to be integral in the shaping of your abilities. You would learn to be everything— to be nothing at all when it best suited you. It made you a valuable soldier for hire, for you were always discreet in your undertakings, something vital as the seriousness of the tasks you undertook increased. Your brilliance in such matters would pave the way for you to become the leader of the mercenary group that once raised you— a strange, but welcomed undertaking for the being that bore no name.
Though not the most personable of leaders, you’d been wise, and you’d been fair, and the increase in opportunities and funding would slowly shift those hesitant about your leadership abilities. It is the very recognition you spent your life avoiding that would ultimately lead to the fall of your clan. Word would eventually get out about your clan, and the large sum of money you’d recently acquired— and the Maximus leadership decided it best to dispose of the clan in its entirety. You become the sole survivor of the Golden Company massacre, and purely out of chance— for you’d been away on a job when their army descended on the camps. The same mistake would not happen to you again, you assure yourself as you strip yourself of the name you’d grown the most comfortable in— hiding in plain sight within the common people of Celeia. You would join the cause of OBSTINATAM, knowing it had been ages since you completed anything resembling a mercenary job— but something about this particular one feels different. The longer you remain amongst their ranks, the longer your name seems to mean something to them— and this time around, you don’t have the urge to run. You do not know how much longer you can stand to remain. Not when the avenging of your clan still had not occurred.
CONNECTIONS.
TITUS MURENA. Annoyance. You’ve been around your fair share of spies in your line of work. They’re people you’ve grown accustomed to avoiding, for they’d been unpredictable in ways you preferred not to get yourself mixed up in. Though you found people in general to be untrustworthy, the stakes increased significantly when it came to people in this profession. You regard Titus with this same caution as you do every other spy, and it isn’t as if he’s given you a reason to think otherwise. He’s unpredictable in nature, and though you’ve been tasked to work alongside him, you would’ve preferred to have done anything but. He thinks he’s better than you— as if you weren’t from similar walks of life, both in professions that require one to possess a level of dubiousness in their character. Though you’re usually indifferent to most people, he’s managed to discover new ways of rubbing you the wrong way. You can’t quite put your finger on why.
SENECA VESTA. Friend. You met him upon deciding to align yourself with Obstinatam, explaining that you should join forces based on your mutual desire to usher the Maximus name into ruination. The group was a way for you to potentially avenge what you had lost— and was never meant to be anything more. You had not expected for the group to be a source of companionship. Seneca was pleasant enough to be around. When you weren’t at a meeting, you were drinking or taking up the sword together. He too had lost something dear to him— this much you recognized, but you were never one to pry. You aren’t used to making friends on jobs, and you know this reasoning alone will make it difficult to move on to the next one. Never mind that though, for you were still a mercenary at your very core. No amount of kinship and complacency would change the fact that your usefulness does not venture beyond being a soldier for hire.
LYANDER MARINELLI. False Idol. You saved them. It’s as simple as that. The opportunity presented itself and you took it with little hesitation, for there was little for you to lose by not doing so. They needed saving, and your unique skill set made it rather easy to get them out of that predicament with their life. You know they’re genuinely grateful for what you did— and they go out of their way to show you at every given moment. You wish they didn’t. You wish they didn’t act as if they owed you anything. You wish they didn’t inquire about some grander reason for saving them— for the matter was as simple and mundane as they appeared. For this reason, you regard them with something akin to pity. You’d never been motivated by grand, meaningful gestures. You presently had one goal— to avenge your fallen brethren; everything unrelated to that goal possessed little purpose. You are unsure how they’ll feel knowing you could’ve easily saved the next person, and it wouldn’t have changed a thing. You don’t want to crush their spirit. Just because you did not see life as having a grander meaning did not mean you wanted to destroy that opportunity for others.
FLORIN AMATA. Confusion. You’ve taken up the sword with more people than your memory allows you to recollect, but Florin was always someone that stood out to you. Rarely did you meet someone capable of matching your swordsmanship, and you honored the ones that did by never forgetting their face nor sword. You had not expected to ever come across him again, especially not as the personal guardsman to the snot nosed Maximus heir. The position seemed above him, though you’re not exactly in a position to share those sentiments. Your association never went beyond the sword, but since your reencounter, he’s begun bothering you with a curious line of questions— questions whose purpose presently escapes you. Though it’s unlikely, you wonder if it has anything to do with your present allegiance. You can only hope that the questions are as harmless as they seem, and that it won’t be necessary for him to make an enemy out of you. You’d stay out his way just as long as he stayed out of yours.
OTHER.
STATUS: Available for applications
ALTERNATIVE FCS: Lewis Tan, Ricky Whittle, Sonoya Mizuno, Diane Guerrero
