Mirai Ahtmhas

"Mirai. *Just* Mirai."

## Mirai

"Mirai. Just Mirai."

Character Information

Though she spent most of her adult life in a mercenary company, Mirai always prided herself on being the most disciplined in the troupe, and that conscientiousness carries over even now. Her ebony duster is pressed and impeccable over her armor and leathers, her spurs well oiled and painted with pitch, so they neither jingle when she steps nor shines in the sunlight- perfect for someone creeping around to line up that perfect shot. Her boots are not subject to the same conditions, and the leather there is clearly polished within an inch of its life, ready for military turnout to this day.

As for Mirai herself, her pale face & amber eyes peer out at the world from under her wide brimmed hat, the headpiece as good for lining up a shot as it is for blocking out the sun during a mid-afternoon nap. Platinum blonde hair cascades down and frames her face, reaching down past her shoulders, past the scarlet facemask used for…extralegal activities, and down to her back. Bandoliers cross her chest, lined with ammo and potions, and a holster slung extra low holds her beloved pistol, the one that’s kept her company all these years. Finally, kept on a chain that ends in her duster, is her Travelogue, without which she’s never seen. If she’s not drinking, shooting, or sleeping, and you’ve lost sight of her, just assume she’s jotting the day’s events down there.

 Or at least, hope she’s scribbling in there. Otherwise, you may have lost sight of her for a very good reason, and the glint of metal, far off in the distance, could be the last thing you ever see.

## Personality

Having lived the earlier part of her life at the beck and call of others, Mirai is now determined to live for herself, consequences be damned. Snarky and loud, she chose her god as much a matter of convenience as a matter of faith, figuring the Lucky Drunk as appropriate a symbol for her life as any other she’d ever found. Besides, if she was being honest, she had enough of stuffy clergy in stuffier clothing with sticks so far up their asses they could sweep with them. Better to surround herself with men and women who enjoyed life, friends and comrades that she could be comfortable with, people that she could cheer and raise a drink to as much as trust to have her back in battle.

Scoundrel. Rogue. Trickster. Mirai has been called all these things, and this devils-be-damned personality of hers shines through regardless of the situation. No matter where she goes, no matter the situation, even in the midst of battle, a smile will always grace her lips, as if life is one big game to her. She is almost always relaxed- or at least, always appears relaxed- and thus able to take a step back to view a situation in full detail. She is confident in her every move, and is always optimistic about any course of action. Even her smooth, practiced walk- with her shoulders back, head held high, and arms freely swinging, nowhere near her holsters- illustrates her steadfast pride. This pride allows her to shrug off most insults, and laugh at those who would cast such petty words, but this pride certainly does not affect her memory. She may forgive a slight or two, but she will certainly not forget it- nor will she forget you. To this day, she still plans to go back to that forest that haunts her dreams and exact her revenge against every last living beast in that forest. Once she does, she won’t stop until even the crickets refuse to chirp.

Towards this end, despite her usual happy-go-lucky nature, Mirai is incredibly driven. She constantly forces herself to grab whatever ounce of power she can at all times, in a desperate attempt to cover up her fear of weakness, to keep the control over her life she so desperately struggled for. She’s ambitious to a fault, willing to achieve power by hook or by crook, so long as she achieves her goals. The good times can last, but we have to be willing to fight for them- and Mirai’s got enough lead and black powder on her person to fight to the last man.

## History

When they came to her little fishing village, she didn't even have to think twice about her choice. 100 gold pieces signing bonus, just to stand in a line and pull a trigger? That was more than anyone in her village made in an entire year. She didn't even have to hit anyone, just had to make it look good. To her, the deal sounded almost too good to be true.

So she signed on with the Wild Hunt, a mercenary corps that specialized in hunting owlbears, manticores, and any other magical beast that dared to wreak havoc across the frontier. Sure, the captain was an uppity prick, but he paid on time, and after the first few battles, her companions finally began to treat her like a sister-in-arms, making her feel welcomed to the pack.

Oh, right.

The battles.

Mirai mostly remembers the fear. The feel of the rifle shaking in her hands, the metallic tang of the air, her breath quickening in her chest; all these sensations are jumbled together. But the manticore- the manticore, with its wings outstretched like claws towards them, its paws eating up the distance towards her company as if they hungered for their blood almost as much as its maw did- and its maw, like the toothed gate to hell itself- these she remembers as clearly as a wizard casting Major Image.

Still, she held the line, and something in her soul held her back as her body twitched and screamed at her to fire and run, run for her life from this apex predator, run all the way back to her village where the scariest thing she may face was a particularly ornery catfish. Like one of the constructs she heard about in the city, her body moved on automatic as the commander called out orders.

“Hold.”

“Aim...”

“Fire!”

Flames licked out from her rifle, and she stepped exactly one large pace to the right, as she had been taught. The Cavaliers flicked down their faceplates, couched their lances, and charged, easily mowing down the stunned beast. And that was it. Terror incarnate, wiped from the face of the earth by the roar of black powder and the steel of man. Mirai laughed from how ridiculous the whole affair was. She earned 30 gold from that mission alone.

The years slowly moved on, and Mirai became more and more experienced as her troupe traipsed across the wilderness, offering their services to any who could afford it. Having some experience gathering herbs for her village’s wise woman, Mirai apprenticed herself to the corps’ surgeon, learning one more skill to keep herself and her comrades alive as they scoured the lands of beasts of every stripe, and earning gold from every contract they penned. But it is for good reason that many say adventuring is merely consigning oneself to a slow suicide. A wealthy nobleman had spent far too much on his personal wardrobe than his town’s defense force, and so upon angering the local fey, he quickly capitulated to nearly every one of the Wild Hunt’s demands.

Looking back, Mirai wished he had stuck to his guns a little harder.

The mercenary company was quickly overwhelmed and overrun by the horde of beasts the slighted fey sent in retribution. She had sent a godsdamned hydra to their gates! The company fell into panic and disarray, morale and discipline be damned. Mirai propped up the bannerman as he fell, grabbing the flag and holding it high in his place, but rallying the remnants of the mercenaries to her side proved useless, as the hydra’s uncountable heads treated even the knights and cavaliers as mere snacks with a bit of crunch. Dropping the banner and rolling backwards to avoid the poisonous fumes spilling from the hydra’s jaws, Mirai scrambled for her backup firearm, only to catch sight of the bitch that had caused the deaths of so many of her friends and family.

Making her way amongst the rubble, ignoring the screams of the tortured and dying, Mirai drew closer and closer to the contract’s target, the fey simply laughing at the carnage before her as if it were a play. Mirai held her breath as the fey slowly entered the town to see the fruits of her labor, and as the wild woman made it past what remained of the tumbledown houses, Mirai struck. Dashing out from the ruins, Mirai tackled the fey, taking her to the ground as they wrestled for control of the gun. By sheer, ugly rage, Mirai overpowered the fey, worming the gun under the dryad’s chin and pulling the trigger.

Avenging her comrades as best she could, Mirai didn’t turn around to look at the beasts she knew had heard the gunshot ring out behind them, instead racing towards some poor pack horse that had been hidden by the ramshackle stable. Cutting it free from its bindings, Mirai clung to the beast’s mane for dear life, fear granting the creature wings as both fled the village, in no particular direction other than away. Riding for two days without rest, nearly killing the horse from exhaustion, Mirai eventually slumped off the horse, falling asleep before she hit the ground.

 When she next woke up, Mirai found herself in a bed, the comforting murmur of a lively inn resounding from the floorboards beneath her. An older woman looked up from her journal, smiling at her, before quickly getting up and tearing up a loaf of bread, feeding Mirai one chunk at a time.

Over the next few days, Mirai learned that Tesselae called herself a Walker, and that she had sworn an oath to help out weary travelers wherever she could. No longer possessing any kind of goal- or a map, for that matter- Mirai decided to travel with the woman for the next few months, picking up a few of her tricks and techniques along the way. They were peaceful times, merely filled with travel, sightseeing, and Tesselae’s constant scribbling in her little notebook.

Still, all good things must one day come to an end, and eventually Tesselae decided it was time for them to part ways- but not without passing Mirai a Travelogue of her very own. Explaining more about herself and her order, Tesselae asked and received Mirai’s oath to the Wayward Path. Finally inducted to the society, Mirai began wandering on her own, deciding to live for herself this time around, and not just as another’s tool.