<div class="floatright">(http://fc04.deviantart.net/fs70/f/2011/118/7/f/captain_by_shuangwen-d3f38xf.jpg)</div><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 16pt;"><strong>SERAPH XIII (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1027084)</strong></span><br/><br/><strong>Race:</strong>Male Android<br/><strong>Age:</strong>2 since awakened (early 20's appearance);<strong>Height:</strong>5' 10"<br/><br/><strong>Personality:</strong>Seraph has an inquisitive nature befitting his agile mind.  His time among mercenaries, however, has not left him with many social graces and he tends to be somewhat blunt in his interactions with others, more often than not, avoiding conversation altogether.  When he does talk, it is mostly of factual and quantitative matters.  At his core, Seraph is a sensate, and wants to experience the world and everything it has to offer.<br/><br/><strong>Physical:</strong>Seraph has the appearance of well-built, athletic young man.  Whilst his features are general handsome in an elfin sort of way, there does appear to be something slightly off about his appearance, almost bordering on artificial - as though every aspect of his appearance was an act of design and deliberation rather than natural growth - a person of exact measurements and matching symmetry.  Numerous blue tattoos cover him intermittently from head to toe; azure and seemingly metallic in hue.<br/><br/><strong>Background:</strong>The first memory Seraph has is of a tugging sensation in his hand and taking a swipe at a wide eyed man who suddenly leaped back.  For whatever reason, he had been standing naked and insensate in the middle of a wasteland surrounded by corpses of all kinds, a black sword gripped tightly in hand.  A band of passing mercenaries, skirting the edges of the Mournland had discovered him, but had little idea of what to make of him - he had apparently not responded to anything they did until they tried to pry the blade from his hand.  Before his bewilderment could get the better of him, the leader of the group came forward and managed to settle things down, inviting him to join her group.<br/><br/>For the two years after, his employment was less mercenary and more that of a sex toy - the leader had correctly identified him as an android and, with functional parts, but sterile, he proved useful for her purposes despite being an oddity.  Whilst he learned some of the ways of the sword, he was usually confined to the her tent, where he spent much of his time riffling through her spell books from which he began to pick up on her craft.  Whilst it was an almost luxurious existence, it didn't not prove a satisfying one as Seraph began to seek answers of himself - such as his name and the number tattooed under his neck; why was he found in the place he was; was he the last of his kind; what role, if any, had he had in this war that had just so recently ended?  The answers to these and many other questions weren't about to be found among the mercenaries, the pavilion, or between the silk sheets of his employer.<br/><br/>After a particularly exhaustive night, Seraph left his employer curled up in sleep on her bed, leaving a single blue rose she had once favourably compared to the colour of the tattoo-circuitry on his body.  Picking up a backpack he had prepared over several weeks, he walked out of camp on pretext of going to pick up a few things for captain in the nearby town they had settled near.  Seraph has not looked back since.