Tania_Terzei

Across the universe, it's rare that you'll find a world that knows nothing of war. Even if it is only an entry in a textbook, marking an event inthe distant past, almost every world has had at least one, even if they'd rather not remember it. Of course, more worlds still have wars than don't. People fight each other over land, over food, over pride, and for no good damned reason at all.

All across Nevara, wars wage. Often over land, sometimes over pride, many times over resources. Sometimes, they wage for no apparent reason at all. It's always a big event, though, and quite a few of the bolder members of any given population find a nice, hopefully safe spot to watch the proceedings. After all, it's a hell of a thing to see, the armies lined up in shining armor, the infantry out in front, cavalry off to one side. IN the back, though, is the main feature of the 'show', as war-watchers call it. Some armies only have one or two, an unfortunate few have none, but some of them field massive numbers of Dragon Armor soldiers, and these are always a hit, on parade or in combat.

Standing fifteen to thirty-five feet tall, made of metal and other materials most of the pupulace doesn't know about, and powered by the still-beating heart pried from the body of a dragon, Dragon Armor changed the world when it was invented some centuries ago. The first nation to have Dragon Armor conquered much of the world, before the playing field was leveled, as other nations learned the secret to making it. Eventually, the first nation, Shandar, was pushed back to their original borders, by a coalition of nations with newer, stronger Dragon Armor. The world was never the same after that, though. Even the wizards, for all their power, had to admit certain things, when faced with the might of an army with such forces at its disposal.

Four hundred years later, and Dragon Armor is the mainstay of any army. Where we have tanks, they have giant, walking war machines, towering over the rank and file and wielding all sorts of weapons. Guns and swords are both used by infantry and Armor alike, and many mercenary Armonauts skilled in the use of their Armor are highly prized commodities. TO the war-watchers, the roster of mercenaries fielded by a particular army is often regarded as a deciding factor in any war. There's one, however, which is a real game-changer, no matter which side she's on. She can take one nation's army from 'Probably going to lose' to 'No way in hell I'm betting on that' simply by being hired, or push an even matchup to 'Certain loss' for one side.

Tania Terzei doesn't care about that, though. She's /tired/. She's been alive a long time, and fighting for the majority of her life. She's seen lots of her friends die in general, and a significant number of those die horribly at a young age. Worse, she knows she's going to live a lot longer than she naturally would, all because of her job. Assuming, of course, that her job doesn't kill her first.

Tania's a veteran Armonaut, you see. She's been at it for more than thirty years, now(And doesn't look a day over twenty-two), fighting for whichever side can afford her. Well, except for those first few years, but that was when she was working with a mercenary company, with her big brother, learning her trade.

They died first. Their company was sent into a bloody meat grinder, and she, herself, was damned near killed by the whole affair. They were only supposed to be scouting, not showing up in the middle of an enemy camp that was ready for an attack. Her brother was cut down before her eyes, his wife's Armor destroyed with her still inside, and only she managed to survive, in the end. When an enemy Armonaut decided to kill her, she simply snapped, overloaded her Armor, and ripped his to pieces, before running like hell, sobbing all the while.

She doesn't remember much after that, but it changed everything for her, and for that particular little war. The side that had hired her won, and then refused to pay her, stating that they'd contracted her company, not her. So, she walked out, without pay. She was angry, but by this point it was a cold, cold anger, eating away at her. Little else was heard of her for some time, as she picked up odd jobs here and there, dealing with bandits who had managed to salvage Dragon Armor of their own. There were a few stories, but nothing too significant. Then, she simply fell off the map for a few years.

Some years later, the country that hired her brother's company the first time around was at war again. They'd picked a fight with a weaker neighbor, and, it seemed, they were certain to win. However, the War Watchers had noticed a wild card on the field... a suit of Armor that they didn't recognize, red in color, with massive, razor-like claws on its hands, a masked face, and a winged skull on its chest, in silver. No guns at all, no swords, no conventional weapons at all. It seemed doomed, to them, so they wrote it off.

Never again. After that, they never underestimated the effect of a Wild Card again. The Red Armor named Vallandasi proved to be much more than it seemed, as it surged into battle, faster than any of the Armor they'd seen before. Fast, agile, and more heavily armored than anticipated, it withstood several artillery rounds, its armor plating repairing itself as they watched. And, then, when it got closer to the enemy Armor, armed with spears and longswords, it lashed out with something that had not been used before on the battlefield: Liquid metal, reshaped by the magic of the Dragon Heart powering the Armor, thrust forth as a spear, penetrating the Armor facing it and the armonaut within, taking it out of the fight before anyone knew what was happening. From there, it only got worse, as those claws rent Armor and flesh, tearing Dragon Armor open like thin aluminum cans. That liquid metal system it used also proved beneficial, the metal Vallandasi extruded shaping itself into swords and shields apparently at the will of its pilot, reshaping and repairing Vallandasi's plating as it was harmed, and eventually carrying the day, with the help of the army that hired it, and its Armonaut. And, in the end, a year later, when they took the capitol, Tania took great pleasure in revealing herself. "That," She said, "was for my brother."

She's become a legend, since then, but at the same time the years have worn heavily on her. She's made new friends, since her debut as a Game Changer on the battlefield, and seen most of them die. She's learned the price of the Liquid Metal Weapons her Armor employs. She's seen acquaintances grow old and die, and enemies panic at the sight of her, only to die of a heart attack. She's seen too much death, and frankly, she's tired of it. The problem here, however, is that death, and the making of war, are all she know.

And so, she drinks. She drinks herself into oblivion, between jobs, and acts like a surly bitch. She keeps everyone as far from her as possible, knowing she's probably going to see most of them die, or at least know they've died before her. She's learned, the hard way, exactly why sorcerors who know the secret to eternal life decide to live forever come to regret it. At least, those who do come to regret it.

You see, her Armor's infamous Liquid Metal Weaponry comes at a price. The Metal itself is a poison, of sorts. It seeps into the Armonaut using it, linking them to their machine almost as though they were one and the same, allowing them to pilot the machine with ease, so long as they have the proper type of suit. However, the metal itself is infused with the essence of the dragon's heart that powers the Armor, and it carries this taint into the Armonaut. As a direct result, Tania is a lot longer-lived, stronger, and harder to kill than any ordinary human, a fact that she has come to regret on the few occasions she's been captured. There may be other changes, as well, but if she knows them, she does NOT want to talk about them. No, for now, she'd much rather drink herself into the blissful darkness of sleep...

Appearance, though, because you kind of do need to know. Tania is five feet two inches tall, with medium-long black hair and fair skin, with lovely, deep blue eyes. Her figure is lean and slender, toned by countless hours of training and the rigors of piloting Dragon Armor, but it's not without its appeal, sporting just enough curve that she's not going to be mistaken for anything other than a woman. Her features are youthful, for the most part, but for the weariness in her eyes and in her bearing, and she looks to be at the peak of her physical health. Which isn't quite true, probably, as much as she abuses her liver. Typically, she's either in simple, loose clothes for comfort, or in her Interface Suit, which consists of something like a cross between latex and leather, armored in places with a strange metallic compound that absorbs damage nicely, with a thin underlying layer of liquid metal, and a rounded resevoir on the back. Most of the suit is a fairly attractive silvery-blue, with silvery-purple plating. It is also worth noting that this suit also has a pair of gauntlets that very nearly match the claws on Vallandasi, save for their size.

As for Vallandasi itself, it's about twenty-five feet tall, and no longer the brilliant red it had been. Roughly humanoid, with massive, sharp claws on its hands, and several vents in its forearms and its palm for the liquid metal system to use, it uses that same fluid for hydraulics, making it immensely powerful in its own way. It's body is roughly shaped like a human's, if a human were wearing thick, angled armor, though its face is an almost-featureless mask. It does have a pair of luminous blue eyes, when Tania is inside it. Remnants of red lacquer can be seen on it, here and there, among other colors, from numerous paint jobs over the years. Now, though, it has been scuffed and damaged and repaired so many times that it's a simple, dull gray color, the only embellishment being that winged skull on the chest, which Tania keeps painted in a vivid black. All else aside, that mark still means something to her.