Cristoph Miststrike

History
Cristoph's story will be broken up into different sections, some with different narrators than Cristoph himself. It's a long read, so make sure you have a drink and something to eat. ENOY!

Early Childhood
(Cristoph's Childhood is to be told in the third person who raised Cristoph until he went into the Fahrar. Sort of.)

Cristoph Miststrike. I could assume you could call his childhood a mystery in that there's not really much to answer about it. Maybe I could say that he's a character that doesn't fit in from the very start of his life. A puzzle piece that doesn't belong to the puzzle that is the current charr society. I shall explain.

Cristoph was born into a family of Flame Legion shamans. His parents' names are not recorded simply because Cristoph has no memories of them. I won't really go much into detail about them because of time and our limited data on them. Both of his parents were proficient in the arcane magic of illusions and imagination. Quite the trickery pair. They were infamous among the Flame Legion, taking on all that had challenged them. They were not known for having a child however. This child was just like them, being able to possess the power to manipulate images and illusions. He was able to learn it at quite a young age, obviously a prodigy birthed of these two legends.Not many learned about this child within the Flame Legion, and not one outsider knew as well. Well, of course we did, but that's not something I'm supposed to disclose.

The Blood legion and the Iron legion had heard of the location of the Flame legion encampment, and were planning a cooperative mission to siege it. This plan would go without failure, so they thought. They were Two companies, twelve warbands, and about four-hundred charr. It was such a huge amount, no one could imagine that a small encampment of about fourty flame legion could hold them off. But Cristoph's parents were not to be reckoned with. They were masters of their magic, they couldn't be messed with.

I remember it like it was yesterday. We were told that it was an easy in and out mission. Destroy everything, Kill everything, and get all data you can. We rushed in on their encampment. Ten tents in total Swarmed in by all of us running in. Then it hit us. Warbands were getting thrown back by explosions. They weren't from gunpowder, but rather magic. We all knew who it was. It was those damn mesmers. They were using clones to explode among the groups. It seems one of their scouts saw us coming from afar.

We kept running, coming upon the tents. Flame Legion warriors and rangers were being shredded to pieces, we weren't leaving anything behind. Warbands kept getting blown up from the clones, but we all knew that once you got a mesmer up close, they were done for. For some odd reason though, as we kept approaching the tents, they stopped using the explosions. It was almost like they were trying to make it easy for us.

Two warband remained. We circled the two mesmers, rifles and blades pointed at them. We pulled the triggers. Blood splat everywhere. Their corpses were not recognizable anymore. Every Flame was dead. We had to find some data. The two remaining warband split up, I was assigned to a tent myself. I walked inside. I found a little cub, maybe four years old, playing with an illusion of a baby wolf. I aimed my rifle at him. He was still a Flame right? I kept my barrel on him, he looked up at me curiously like I was a friend. He offered up his illusionary puppy to me.

I couldn't do it. I knew this cub was too young to understand who he was. I put the rifle barrel down and went down to pet the puppy. Of course it didn't feel like a puppy, but it certainly acted like one. I had to get this cub out of here, but how? I pulled an elixir out of my bag, in it contained a sleeping powder that would render a whole battle field unconscious. I covered my mouth, and let a drop of it spill in front of the cub. The Cub looked at me curiously, the puppy illusion slowly fading away.

The cub laid down on the floor, asleep. I quickly stuffed him inside my large backpack and headed outside of the tent to report to my legionnaire. It went smoothly, but I was paranoid. If I was caught bringing the offspring of the Flame Duo that destroyed thousands of charr, I would be executed on the spot. I was sweating and panting. What would I do with him? I just can't leave him here to die. He was just a cub! He didn't know wrong from right. I left that day with that charr in my house, placing him in a spare bed.

The next day, I woke up to a scene of fear. One of those where you don't really know how to react. I woke up with fout wolves on my bed. I screamed and tried to toss my sheets, pushing the wolves off. The wolves were surprising light, almost weightless. Then they shattered in mid air. I looked down at the cub on the ground, crying from confusion. Yeah, I would be too.

I got out of bed and tried to comfort him. I told him I was his Uncle, telling him his parents went on an important business trip and were going to be gone for a while. It took a while to drive this into his head. I didn't know his name or what he was like. All I know was that he was innocent. I took him to his room and cleaned off the clothes he had on. They were really dusty from being in my bag all day. He was having a conversation in the corner with an Illusion of himself. I kept hearing the name "Cristoph" from the illusion. I called out the name. Certainly enough, he turned to me and asked me 'what?'

Skip a year, Cristoph is ready to be placed in the Fahrar. I tried to repremand him for using magic. Telling him it was bad. Honestly, I felt so bad for it, but it was for his own good. He was going to be in the Iron Legion Fahrar, to be placed with a bunch of engineers. I taught him a little bit on how to use a pistol, and he seemed to pick up on it a little bit. He was curious, and wanted to learn more. I was happy. It was like seeing my kid off for work. Seeing him grow up in the world. That was the last time I heard from him.

Fahrar Days
(The following is told from a supervisor in the Fahrar.)

Cristoph? You want me to tell you about Cristoph! Huh, he was a strange cub. I'll tell you that. The first day we let him in, I don't remember him telling me what he wanted to be. He just stood there and expected me to tell him what he was supposed to be. His uncle who dropped him off told him that he was wanting to be an engineer who used pistols. Didn't matter to me because we train what we can get out of it.

His first day here, he didn't know anyone. Surprisingly enough, he was a white cub who stood out like a sour thumb. I thought the cub would be extremely popular. Apparentally not. It was odd too, not one of us had records of Cristoph, and no one knew him. But it wasn't like we could turn down a potential soldier. No sir. We accepted him with a smile on my face. Fresh blood meant more for me to push around.

Physically, he was a normal cub. He wasn't someone you could picture growing up to be a strong and bulky charr, but regular. When we did drills, he wasn't last nor first. I felt as if he was going to be our typical engineer who did nothing but shoot and eat. I guess that would what I classify myself, a gluttonous engineer. Well, he exceeded my expectations at the end, but let's start first at the very beginning.

Cristoph introduced himself to the rest of the cubs in front of him. They asked him who his parents were, he simply responded with, "I don't know, but I've been told they're on an important trip." I knew that was bullshit right away. That meant whoever was taking care of him didn't have the guts to tell him in the first place. "Listen here cub." I looked at Cristoph who put on an innocent face. "Whoever told you that is tellin' you a sack of shit. That means your parents ARE DEAD. Don't mean they're ever coming back? Got that cub."

I wonder to this day if I was a little too harsh on him by saying that, but I had to do it. I can't have a cub thinking about when his parents will come back the whole damn fahrar. I could tell that broke him, but the other cubs comforted him immediatelly. I let him have his time, but in a way, I got him friends. I don't know if he would have had friends if I didn't say that.

The next day, we continued with drills. Cristoph looked emotionless, determined, and a killer. I like that face. That's one you know will make Iron legion proud. One that will never make anyone dissapointed. I've had some failures in the fahrar, but none of them made that face. I smiled, I had made a perfect weapon in two days. He was quite normal with the other cubs, but during drills, he had some air about him. Oh it gave me the shudders just looking at him.

About a year of physical drills came to an end, and we were ready for weapon selection. Cristoph launched at the pistol and held it dear. He also grab a sword later, but swords and pistols never really mixed. We asked them to first use the close range weapon. He took his sword and wacked away at the practice dumby. He was weak, not that weight behind his strikes. I sighed, I wanted to let him use it a little longer before telling him he couldn't use it. He tried to prove me wrong time after time after time again. But I knew it just wouldn't work. He just wasn't one of those warrior kids. Trust me, I knew a warrior. He had a heart of a warrior, but nowhere near the body of a warrior.

About six months of close range combat came to an end and I had seen little to no improvement in Cristoph. We seperated those who wanted to stay with swords with those who wanted to move to ranged weapons. Again, Cristoph grabbed his pistol. It was something that he had a little experience with so I heard. He practiced a few shots. Wow, the kid was horrendous. He couldn't aim for anything.

"Cristoph, you sure you practiced that?" I questioned him. Cristoph simply nodded back to me, trying to aim. Well, some of the other kids laughed at him, but it was a good laugh. It meant that they would spend more time with him. I guess that'd be true, but he still was horrible with pistols. I watched as he tried to aim down the sights, and would miss by a longshot. With most charr, we have another cub stand near the target to make sure they aim correctly. But Cristoph was hitting other people's targets. I couldn't risk it in this situation. He just had to learn by himself.

He seemed to be a good kid, nothing wrong about him. He was undoubtedly going to have a good warband coming out of the program. He just had to be. Sure he wasn't the best shot to begin with, but for some reason, he was great at escaping. He just knew had to get out.

He has graduated the Fahrar at the age of 18 and has gone to be in the iron legion Rotary Warband.

Warband
(This story is told in the view of Cristoph himself)

I remember it like it was yesterday. My warband was great. We all loved each other, a big giant family of engineers. We all had our ranged weapons, and we had no problem taking out the enemies that we came across. We had no diversity in our warband. Essentially, we were all gunslingers without a single means of doing anything else. I offered to pick up a sword again since we had no means of fighting without a pistol or ammo. They accepted, but I had to pick up an extremely light sword. I didn't really put much weight behind it.

We had a legionnaire, and that was it. We really treated each others as equals. But one day, we were ordered to salvage the ruins of a Flame Encampment. I bent down and found a journal. I picked it up and started reading it. It was a journal of a mesmer. A female from the sounds of it. I began reading it, taking interest in it. I don't know, but something about magic with illusions interested me. I stored it in my coat for personal value.

We headed back and I sat down in my house reading the journal. Apparentally this woman was a wife of another flame legion mesmer. They were famous amongst their ranks. Oh and what's this... They had a child. A white cub with black spots. Huh... that's like me almost. I was intrigued and I read deeper into this journal. He had light blue eyes and spikey white hair. Why.... Though, the worst part was this.... "His name was Cristoph, our beloved son."

I looked back at my own paws. That was me... No, It couldn't have been me... I kept reading.

"Cristoph, you should be five at this point, I have to rush this writing because the legions are coming to attack us. I'm having a clone write this and hide it. We loved you, and if you read this when you come back, I hope you don't hate us. We'll miss you and your illusionary puppies. If you're taken in by them and tortured, remember you are a mesmer at heart, don't let that stop you."

What... something was coming to my mind.. I don't remember... Why.. I looked down and focused on the ground. I imagined a puppy. Suddenly, a puppy appeared on the ground before me. I was shocked, was this my true calling? Was I really the son of this mesmer? I had to be. I had powers just like them. I flipped a couple of pages and found a drawing of the puppy I made by this woman. It was exactly the same as the one in front of me. It was true. I really was from the Flame legion. But... How...

I couldn't explain this to my fellow bandmates, but I told them simply I was wanting to be a mesmer. They looked at me like I was crazy. A mesmer in iron legion? Get out of here. But nevertheless, I did it. I started seeing what weapons I could do what with. I liked my sword again, because I didn't have to use my weight anymore to try to do damage. I also used a pistol to create my own bullets. Ones I could choose where it would go.

My warband didn't like this, and slowly, they started seperating me from their group. They didn't want me to participate with them, calling me a heretic. One of them even called me a Flame Legion Shaman. Maybe I was really, did I really even belong here? No, I've been assisting against the Flame legion. I couldn't do anything like that. I guess I'm killing my own kind? I don't understand.....

Finally, my warband snapped on me. The grabbed ahold of me and forced down an elixir down my throat. It burnt with such immense pain. I made a portal at the end of my throat and ported it outside of me, preventing further harm. I still had half of my throat destroyed. At that moment, I switched with a nearby clone and hightailed it out of there. I had no business in that warband anymore. I will search for a purpose with my mother's journal and notes.