Discovery Gaming Community

(( // Disclaimer: Bare with me, as this is my first time roleplaying a Human/Nomad character. ))




Many years ago. There lived a young man by the name of Kaito Ishimaru. A young pilot who served with the Kusari Naval Forces until his sudden disappearance. The story has it that young Ishimaru fled from the harsh hardship of Kusari to serve the Queen of Bretonia. Only to be held hostage for a mere week, before being released by a man named Austin Goodmen, who at the time, was a Lieutenant in the Armed Forces.

Ishimaru later resurfaced as a pilot flying with the Blood Dragons, and later as a Human trustee for the Consortium, a fierce cybernetic race.


Then, he vanished. Vanished off the face of the earth, so to speak. No one tried looking for him, no one cared. There are however rumors of him being captured by the Kusari Naval Forces and killed, though those are just rumors to be heard.

In recent months, after the events of 817 A.S. and the discovery of Gallia, a long lost pilot appeared. Or so it seemed....

He sat up, freezing. The cold air hit like an oncoming bus, quickly and deadly. Gasping for air he began to cough. Naked, confused, and covered with a strange mucus like substance.


Came a voice which was soon followed by thousands if not millions of thoughts. He began to scream and thrashed around. A few minutes passed by before he finally calmed down, now being able to control the thoughts, the thoughts that weren't his.


Came the voice again as he pushed himself to his feet, beginning to climb out of the tub like structure he's was in. He placed a what he thought was a firm foot hold onto the solid, cold, steel flooring and slipped. Falling backwards onto his back and letting out a yelp. A laughter filled his mind.


The voice said. He glanced around seeing no one else, just an endless room filled with tub like structures and bodies. He presumed they were human bodies. He scrambled quickly to his feet. "Where am I?" He shouted, quickly turning around twice before stumbling backwards into a freezing cold wall.


He grabbed his head with both of his hands and screamed. "Get out of my head!"


"Get...out of my damn head!" He shouted, dropping to his knees.


The voice came again, hasher and louder. He squeezed his eyes shut, only to be met with an image of a large firefight, followed rapidly by more images, more thoughts, dreams, that weren't his. He screamed again. There was another laughter, louder than the first. The thoughts and images stopped briefly following the laughter, but started up again.

He shouted again, this time something incoherent. He dug his fingers into his wet hair, screaming even more. "Stop it! Stop it!" He continued to shout. Something warm could be felt on his fingers, possibly crimson blood. Then there came a screech, a loud screech. Though the room he was in was still empty.


He groaned in agony. As if his head was about to burst open from the sudden and rapid motion of images. He forced his eyes open and dropped fully to the ground. "S-s-stop." He said weakly as he attempted to push himself to his feet.


The voice was softer this time, and a renewed strength could be felt throughout his body as he pushed himself fully to his feet. Despite the agony, he began to unwillingly limp his way towards a bright light. The cold air stung against his bare skin as he did.


Reaching the doorway, a smile appeared on his face as he glanced over to see clothing. He approached the pile of clothes and grabbed the towel. A minute or so after drying himself off he got dressed in a white long-sleeved undershirt, black dress pants, and a black business suit jacket. Loosely fixing his tie, and quickly running his hands through his hair messing it up and then fixing it to give it a sloppy look.

He continued to smile slightly, though it didn't seem to be his own smile. But that of whatever was controlling him. "One Mind, One Goal, One Purpose." He said, or it said. His voice was rough, It's voice was rough.