Name
Corentin Braid
Age
23
Gender
Male
Species/Race
Unicorn (Deepborn)
Cutie Mark
None
Allegiance/Faction
Diablo Canyon Militia
Appearance
Pale blue unicorn colt with red mane and tail.
Character Skills
Energy Guns, Science, Unarmed
Character Perks - General
Meltdown, Super Slam, Abomination Hunter
Character Perks - Racial
(Due to origin setting and lack of proper spellcasting, for the purposes of perks Corentin is considered an Earth Pony and not a unicorn [see Spells].)
Unstoppable Force, Raise That Barn, Juggerpony
Starting Gear (Maximum of 5 points worth.)
T2 Ranged - Confederate Plasmacaster (Needs repairs)
T3 Special - Pipbuck 'Series 5'
Spells:
None!
An Earthgleam unicorn knows only how to lift objects with telekinesis, and due to the region they hail from they lack any knowledge of spellcraft. Earthgleam sits upon a broken leyline and is filled with a trash ore that actively soaks up spells that are cast, preventing the arcane from being involved in their lives almost entirely.
They are treated as unicorns that have never learned how to cast, but aren't inherently less magical; their magic simply manifests in unexpected (and often uncontrollable) ways, with little choice on their part in the matter.
For Corentin, his natural magical capability manifests as greater physical capability; he is treated as an Earth Pony in regards to perks, and is naturally a bit stronger and tougher than your average unicorn, but his size and frame don't change.
Biography/Brief History
The first lesson you learn is the easiest to remember, not because it's simple, but because it's the hardest to forget: There's a reason we're afraid of the dark.
At the bleak edges of the Equestrian south-west, off the beaten path to the nation of Roanoke, stands the crags of a mountain range so tall that the greatest of their peaks spear through the dense clouds and into the bright sky beyond, so tall that not even the might of weather-controlling pegasi can bring clouds to cover their tops. Winds drag the cloud cover against the teeth of the earth and now and then a glimmer of sunlight peeks through to flash across the mountainsides with glimmering sparks. The valleys are carved deep with rivers and the ground is littered with the broken stones of a people long vanished from the world. What few creatures that live in this land have been survivors since long before the war that brought the rest of the world to ruin; predatory beasts that stalk travelers that trespass in their domain of razored rock and broken rubble.
Hidden away from the world below these jagged mountain peaks, in the dark catacombs of tunnels carved in solid rock and punctuated by leaping caverns hollowed by the flow of water long since stopped, survives the secluded nation once known as Earthgleam. Tillers, sowers, and harvesters of the bare stone itself, who in an age long past were known only for their production of metals that helped bring the world to ruin.
To those who live below the desolate landscape the outlook on life is far different from those who stand upon it, and ‘fairness’ is not something of interest or consideration. The world is the world, and one’s place in it is determined by action, by word, and by skill. Through long-standing tradition, by the time a foal can pull a cart, heft a pick, or flap their wings enough to reach the ceiling, their course in life becomes theirs to determine through strength of will. Fate has no sway as far as they are concerned, the past is only for studying, and the future is carved in stone by the hard work of one’s own hooves.
In the labyrinthine caverns and tunnels of Earthgleam, ponies still hew at the rock to bring forth rich ores and gleaming gems, a slow and steady process of rebuilding an empire lost to war and time. Secluded from the rest of the world, Earthgleam ponies have learned to provide for themselves what they need to survive, utilizing the strength of industry to power their homes, provide water, and grow food - all away from the light of the sun or the kiss of the breeze.
But despite their survival, even their thriving existence by some standards, not all is as it seems.
In the dim caverns of Earthgleam, there is but one thing to blame for all the hardships of the world: Magic. Disgusting, perverted, miserable witchcraft, wrought by unicorns and their ilk. There is no greater heresy than that of the arcane, and in the eyes of the Gleamers, none of this would have happened were it not for the magic spells used by the warring nations. In some aspects, perhaps, they are right.
But their hatred for the arcane runs as deep and dark as the caverns of their home... and knows no lower limit.
For a unicorn like Corentin Braid, there are two constant terrors. One is bearable: the derision of your fellow ponies when they see your horn poking up through your mane or work helmet, a constant reminder that you're one of the arcane creatures responsible for their hardship in some roundabout way. Unlike a surface-dwelling unicorn, the most he can hope to muster up with your magic is to lift small objects; spells remain out of his reach.
The other terror is only faced when the lights go out.
Within the depths, every pony in the caves knows things lurk that want to kill and eat every member of your family from the smallest foal to the strongest draft stallion. Things with teeth, things with claws, things with pincers, things with wings as wide as the unseen sky and a shriek like dying souls... all somewhere out there in the depths, twisted by dark magics leaking from the ruins above and pooling in the catacombs at the roots of the mountains.
Only through the constant vigilance of the Confederate Military is anypony safe, and they lose percentages of their number every year. No amount of old-world technology and military training has changed that for decades, and every Gleamer knows that.
The lesson every pony learns first is the easiest to remember: There's a reason we're afraid of the dark.
Corentin Braid, however, made the choice of facing his darker terrors rather than his constant ones; only in service to the Confederate forces could a unicorn hope for any respect among other ponies. After all, self-sacrifice was one of the most revered traits.
Stationed at the edges of the Earthgleam Confederation, however, Corentin found that his darkest terrors became his constant ones.
Most common were the harpies. Twisted griffonfolk, black as black and with empty sockets leaking stickiness, these blind hunters were the most common hardship of any Confederate soldier. Capable of silent flight and able to see with only ultrasonic clicks, these creatures craved the flesh of the ponies that shared their caverns, and ever wanted to press further into the territory of the Gleamers. Plasmic weapons worked wonders against them.
Then there were the drakes. Armored quadrupeds, the remnants of dragonkind that slept in irradiated pits beneath the mountains, these beasts were intelligent and cruel, and energy weapons did little to nothing against their hides. They could only be killed by drowning and suffocation... and Corentin lost count of the friends he'd had to see sealed into chambers behind him, just to use as a distraction for killing these horrible beasts.
But worst of all were the things no one spoke about, but everyone knew about: Cavewraiths. (refresh page on click, it'll work)
Unseen but sometimes heard, calling in the vast distance of the catacombs, an eerie and chilling warble of call and response echoing from somewhere light had never touched.
This was the second lesson, learned by every soldier in the Confederacy: Never let the lights go out.
No pony had ever seen a Wraith, because they never approached lit areas under any circumstances. It was thought that light might hurt them, but that was only a guess.
Only in utter blackness would they begin to call, louder and closer, waiting until every source of light gutters out. And then, as quick as a heartbeat, it's over.
Six patrol groups had been entirely lost to the cavewaiths before Corentin decided he'd had enough. Enough of friends dying, enough of being hated for something he couldn't control, enough of living in fear of the dark depths, and enough of living in Earthgleam.
Abandoning his post, what few friends of his remained, and any thought of return, the unicorn sought out the decaying hatches that led to the surface world and crept through to the wasteland beyond.
Here in the wasteland, outside the bounds of the broken leyline in Earthgleam, Corentin has found that his natural magical capabilities as a unicorn have begun to manifest in unexpected ways. He can't always determine exactly why things happen the way they do, but it is undoubted that the sheer untapped potential within him is struggling to make a dent in the world around him (Random Perk). His magical talent manifests as physical prowess rather than as spellcraft as with most unicorns, resulting in a slight-framed pony with a mighty swing and boundless energy.
Of his past, Corentin is reluctant to share with the strangers on the surface, now that he has fled his homeland. He could talk for hours about curfews, propaganda, separatist laws, papers for travel, inquisition squads, internment camps, and gas chambers. Living in the bleak but supposedly thriving nation of Earthgleam made him somewhat numb to such things, or perhaps he is intent on forcing those parts of his past out of his mind entirely.
Corentin finds that, though he busies himself with simple survival, though he devotes himself to the technologies he is familiar with, though he wonders if others like him have left, he can't shake off the flickering visions that come unbidden every time he closes his eyes at night. In that artificial blackness of sleep, it's hard to not recall the Deep. Very hard to not think about honeycombed passages worming their way only a short way below your hooves, filled with nothing but the blackness and black creatures.
The first lesson anypony in Earthgleam learns is the easiest to remember because it's the hardest to forget: There's a reason we're afraid of the dark.
Corentin Braid
Age
23
Gender
Male
Species/Race
Unicorn (Deepborn)
Cutie Mark
None
Allegiance/Faction
Diablo Canyon Militia
Appearance
Pale blue unicorn colt with red mane and tail.
Character Skills
Energy Guns, Science, Unarmed
Character Perks - General
Meltdown, Super Slam, Abomination Hunter
Character Perks - Racial
(Due to origin setting and lack of proper spellcasting, for the purposes of perks Corentin is considered an Earth Pony and not a unicorn [see Spells].)
Unstoppable Force, Raise That Barn, Juggerpony
Starting Gear (Maximum of 5 points worth.)
T2 Ranged - Confederate Plasmacaster (Needs repairs)
T3 Special - Pipbuck 'Series 5'
Spells:
None!
An Earthgleam unicorn knows only how to lift objects with telekinesis, and due to the region they hail from they lack any knowledge of spellcraft. Earthgleam sits upon a broken leyline and is filled with a trash ore that actively soaks up spells that are cast, preventing the arcane from being involved in their lives almost entirely.
They are treated as unicorns that have never learned how to cast, but aren't inherently less magical; their magic simply manifests in unexpected (and often uncontrollable) ways, with little choice on their part in the matter.
For Corentin, his natural magical capability manifests as greater physical capability; he is treated as an Earth Pony in regards to perks, and is naturally a bit stronger and tougher than your average unicorn, but his size and frame don't change.
Biography/Brief History
The first lesson you learn is the easiest to remember, not because it's simple, but because it's the hardest to forget: There's a reason we're afraid of the dark.
At the bleak edges of the Equestrian south-west, off the beaten path to the nation of Roanoke, stands the crags of a mountain range so tall that the greatest of their peaks spear through the dense clouds and into the bright sky beyond, so tall that not even the might of weather-controlling pegasi can bring clouds to cover their tops. Winds drag the cloud cover against the teeth of the earth and now and then a glimmer of sunlight peeks through to flash across the mountainsides with glimmering sparks. The valleys are carved deep with rivers and the ground is littered with the broken stones of a people long vanished from the world. What few creatures that live in this land have been survivors since long before the war that brought the rest of the world to ruin; predatory beasts that stalk travelers that trespass in their domain of razored rock and broken rubble.
Hidden away from the world below these jagged mountain peaks, in the dark catacombs of tunnels carved in solid rock and punctuated by leaping caverns hollowed by the flow of water long since stopped, survives the secluded nation once known as Earthgleam. Tillers, sowers, and harvesters of the bare stone itself, who in an age long past were known only for their production of metals that helped bring the world to ruin.
To those who live below the desolate landscape the outlook on life is far different from those who stand upon it, and ‘fairness’ is not something of interest or consideration. The world is the world, and one’s place in it is determined by action, by word, and by skill. Through long-standing tradition, by the time a foal can pull a cart, heft a pick, or flap their wings enough to reach the ceiling, their course in life becomes theirs to determine through strength of will. Fate has no sway as far as they are concerned, the past is only for studying, and the future is carved in stone by the hard work of one’s own hooves.
In the labyrinthine caverns and tunnels of Earthgleam, ponies still hew at the rock to bring forth rich ores and gleaming gems, a slow and steady process of rebuilding an empire lost to war and time. Secluded from the rest of the world, Earthgleam ponies have learned to provide for themselves what they need to survive, utilizing the strength of industry to power their homes, provide water, and grow food - all away from the light of the sun or the kiss of the breeze.
But despite their survival, even their thriving existence by some standards, not all is as it seems.
In the dim caverns of Earthgleam, there is but one thing to blame for all the hardships of the world: Magic. Disgusting, perverted, miserable witchcraft, wrought by unicorns and their ilk. There is no greater heresy than that of the arcane, and in the eyes of the Gleamers, none of this would have happened were it not for the magic spells used by the warring nations. In some aspects, perhaps, they are right.
But their hatred for the arcane runs as deep and dark as the caverns of their home... and knows no lower limit.
For a unicorn like Corentin Braid, there are two constant terrors. One is bearable: the derision of your fellow ponies when they see your horn poking up through your mane or work helmet, a constant reminder that you're one of the arcane creatures responsible for their hardship in some roundabout way. Unlike a surface-dwelling unicorn, the most he can hope to muster up with your magic is to lift small objects; spells remain out of his reach.
The other terror is only faced when the lights go out.
Within the depths, every pony in the caves knows things lurk that want to kill and eat every member of your family from the smallest foal to the strongest draft stallion. Things with teeth, things with claws, things with pincers, things with wings as wide as the unseen sky and a shriek like dying souls... all somewhere out there in the depths, twisted by dark magics leaking from the ruins above and pooling in the catacombs at the roots of the mountains.
Only through the constant vigilance of the Confederate Military is anypony safe, and they lose percentages of their number every year. No amount of old-world technology and military training has changed that for decades, and every Gleamer knows that.
The lesson every pony learns first is the easiest to remember: There's a reason we're afraid of the dark.
Corentin Braid, however, made the choice of facing his darker terrors rather than his constant ones; only in service to the Confederate forces could a unicorn hope for any respect among other ponies. After all, self-sacrifice was one of the most revered traits.
Stationed at the edges of the Earthgleam Confederation, however, Corentin found that his darkest terrors became his constant ones.
Most common were the harpies. Twisted griffonfolk, black as black and with empty sockets leaking stickiness, these blind hunters were the most common hardship of any Confederate soldier. Capable of silent flight and able to see with only ultrasonic clicks, these creatures craved the flesh of the ponies that shared their caverns, and ever wanted to press further into the territory of the Gleamers. Plasmic weapons worked wonders against them.
Then there were the drakes. Armored quadrupeds, the remnants of dragonkind that slept in irradiated pits beneath the mountains, these beasts were intelligent and cruel, and energy weapons did little to nothing against their hides. They could only be killed by drowning and suffocation... and Corentin lost count of the friends he'd had to see sealed into chambers behind him, just to use as a distraction for killing these horrible beasts.
But worst of all were the things no one spoke about, but everyone knew about: Cavewraiths. (refresh page on click, it'll work)
Unseen but sometimes heard, calling in the vast distance of the catacombs, an eerie and chilling warble of call and response echoing from somewhere light had never touched.
This was the second lesson, learned by every soldier in the Confederacy: Never let the lights go out.
No pony had ever seen a Wraith, because they never approached lit areas under any circumstances. It was thought that light might hurt them, but that was only a guess.
Only in utter blackness would they begin to call, louder and closer, waiting until every source of light gutters out. And then, as quick as a heartbeat, it's over.
Six patrol groups had been entirely lost to the cavewaiths before Corentin decided he'd had enough. Enough of friends dying, enough of being hated for something he couldn't control, enough of living in fear of the dark depths, and enough of living in Earthgleam.
Abandoning his post, what few friends of his remained, and any thought of return, the unicorn sought out the decaying hatches that led to the surface world and crept through to the wasteland beyond.
Here in the wasteland, outside the bounds of the broken leyline in Earthgleam, Corentin has found that his natural magical capabilities as a unicorn have begun to manifest in unexpected ways. He can't always determine exactly why things happen the way they do, but it is undoubted that the sheer untapped potential within him is struggling to make a dent in the world around him (Random Perk). His magical talent manifests as physical prowess rather than as spellcraft as with most unicorns, resulting in a slight-framed pony with a mighty swing and boundless energy.
Of his past, Corentin is reluctant to share with the strangers on the surface, now that he has fled his homeland. He could talk for hours about curfews, propaganda, separatist laws, papers for travel, inquisition squads, internment camps, and gas chambers. Living in the bleak but supposedly thriving nation of Earthgleam made him somewhat numb to such things, or perhaps he is intent on forcing those parts of his past out of his mind entirely.
Corentin finds that, though he busies himself with simple survival, though he devotes himself to the technologies he is familiar with, though he wonders if others like him have left, he can't shake off the flickering visions that come unbidden every time he closes his eyes at night. In that artificial blackness of sleep, it's hard to not recall the Deep. Very hard to not think about honeycombed passages worming their way only a short way below your hooves, filled with nothing but the blackness and black creatures.
The first lesson anypony in Earthgleam learns is the easiest to remember because it's the hardest to forget: There's a reason we're afraid of the dark.
