Criava Lonveu

As Captain of the Guard, Criava can be intimidating at first, coming off as cold and calculating. Truthfully this is no facade, 90% of the time she truly does carry herself with a stone cold stature.

Criava more than anything dictates her life by the demands of the governexus, loyal to the end and willing to put her life on the line. She is a fatalist by nature, dealing in absolutes and certainties more than chance.

She may be snippy often, but if you manage to catch her in one of her rare good moods you may be greeted with an almost uncomfortable sight, her greeting you, polite and proper, with a smile on her face. It is the same smile she wears after defeating an enemy in combat, and to her they mean the same.

She carries her pride above everything else, taking great care of her appearance and reputation. An insult to her pride is far worse than a physical wound. She is bound by honor.

As a young troll, Criava had always admired the Autocrat. One of her biggest fantasies was, once she would be sent off-planet, to join the military and die in a blaze of glory in the name of the Empire. Criava trained and worked in many positions as security or guard before her employment with the Governexus. It was where she had developed her skills with her strife specibus- a polished white, silver, and cobalt rapier by the name of Oblivion.

Her dream of course lay far beyond simple security work, she desired to carve her name into the planets above and prove to the autocrat her worth. So of course when one of the not uncommon gladatorial games comes around, she knew this was the time to prove herself worthy, above the rest.

Criava quickly enlisted, and among the rifles and brutal blunt weapons, she stuck out rather sorely with her rapier, refusing to resort to her castes common brutality. When it came time for the games, others charged with full force, butting heads with shouts and grunts, until inevitably it was her turn. her first round she finds herself across the field from an indigo troll, and while they may hold the caste superiority above her, she felt the more mature one as the soldier laughed and pointed, clearly confident in his chances. He was a brute, and made sure to brag about it to the crowd, mostly made up of highbloods who want nothing more than to see those below them fight for entertainment. It's not surprising they ate the indigo's act up.

However as the familiar bell of war tolled upon the arena, the familiar sound of battle began to erupt from its center. Oblivion's fine metal clashing against thick armor, sending a rattling screech amongst the crowd. He was cocky, however. The indigo was bound to make a mistake somewhere, and as Criava drew her blade from his chest, the crowd finally recognized what it had cost him. Criava bowed gracefully, far different from the excited cheers from other contestants. She took a knee as the crowd erupted into sound, some cheering, some booing, some throwing things at her from the stands.

As the tournament continued, Criava built a reputation amongst the audience, an underdog, a difficult to defeat Nobody who had come out of nowhere, and took on enemies that most would be terrified to, even going as far as killing a purpleblood. She had to admit she was feeling rather good about it, refusing to let it go to her head. She was a tactician, she was not beating them in power but mind, something clearly not common amongst her caste.

Unfortunately, while she might not have gotten cocky, sometimes even the best of minds can meet their match. A Purpleblood sauntered onto the field in nothing but a pair of baggy polka dot pants. He was clearly experienced, taking his religious face paint further, every scar painted over, creating a mosaic of history, markings of battle not hidden but displayed. He was different then the others, swaying back and forth. His eyes were covered by shaggy unkempt hair, and while usually she would scoff at such.. improfessionalism, something about this purpleblood was off. When the battle began, the crowd watched as one of the most intense fights of the day played before them, Criava struggling to find a tell, an in on this mad man. He fought with bladed claws as his specibus, and it didnt take long for the final strikes clash to ring through the ears of every patron, as the metal claws slid past her blade and into her stomach, where she collapsed upon her knees.

In this time of vulnerability is when most trolls would perform the alternian rite, which would be to execute the loser and take your victory with their blood on your hands. However in an unexpected turn, the purple drops his weapons, bowing. The Clown proceeds to announce that as a worthy opponent, she would earn his mercy, something he so rarely gave. While most of the crowd booed, Criava clutched her wound, unsure of how to feel. She felt torn amongst this bittersweet ending, one where she lived, but she lived as a loser. She almost wished the purpleblood had taken her life. these thoughts raced through her mind as she slowly lost conciousness.

When Criava awoke later in the infirmary, she was greeted by someone she had not expected. Ezalia Tridem, A well-known Governexus, and powerful figure amongst the empire. Criava was told while she had not won, her skills impressed the governexus, at least as much as someone lower than her caste could. Criava recieved an invitation to join Ezalia's guard once her injuries had healed, and Criava was.. struck with confusion. Her entire life had told her she was a soldier meant to go offworld, but here in this moment, the validation from Ezalia that she had recieved flourished her more than she ever had been. She knew right then that she wanted to protect the Governexus with her life, that was her mission.

It wasnt long before she was a member of their ranks, quite an intimidating one at that. She rose quickly as a natural member, a valuable asset to the team. Of course she owes this to the head guard of the time, her mentor and valuable teacher. She grew very close with him, taking personal lessons to wield her blade, and perform the best she could. She swore to herself she would never lose again, at least not while alive. Her mentor taught her to use this hatred, to turn it into raw power and finesse, and it wasn't long before the fateful day arrived.

It was the day of reckoning for those of the guard, a test of sorts. an ability to opt in to battle for the position of head guard, but also simply to test your aptitude. It was rare for someone to challenge, as it usually was a duel to the death. Of course whether it was hubris or courage, something made Criava thrust her hand into the sky upon asking for challengers.

The battle was a delicate dance of blades, metal meeting metal in bites of slashing and swiping. Neither ended the duel unscathed, but inevitably, one strike was far deeper than the others, as Criava cut her mentor deep. Most would feel remorse at this, but to the two duelists there was a clear agreement. this was no murder, she had proven herself. She smiled as the Head guard fell to his knees clutching his chest wound. She bowed and took a knee. The Head guard, in his last moments, could only smile as he finally fell forward, leaving Criava kneeling in the presence of the Governexus, beginning something new.