Churcheur DeSavoir [WIP]

Born as the 3rd child of the DeSavoirs, a wealthy family in Atlas, ‘Church’ was afforded every luxury imaginable. Butlers and maids? Easy. Yacht rides and private planes? Not a problem. Parental presence and affection? Not so much. His father, the chairman of the DeSavoir corporation spent all his days in his office, building his empire and grooming his 1st born son, Celo, to take over the family business. His sister, Feine, followed her mother into politics, travelling Remnant in search of political favour and trade deals, leaving Church to his devices at home, a sort of backup child in case failure came to the others. Were he an ordinary child, this would have socially crippled him. However, Church was no ordinary child; indeed, he had socially crippled himself long before the parental neglect could have done any damage; socially inept and physically weak, he took to science textbooks, finding a knack for analysing and processing the information within. In this world of knowledge, he drowned in, using his ever-growing knowledge to advance through school and start his college course in engineering by the time he was 13 and his course in computer programming by the time he was 16. Indeed, so focused on his studies was he that even his accidental discovery of his semblance could not take him away from his books.

By the time he was 20, he had amassed an almost absurdly sized library of textbooks and manuals on every topic from engineering to architecture to mass marketing. Though he had not yet read them all, he would at least be familiar with most of them. His family, happy enough with their own plans, cared little for Church’s scholarly achievements or his new employment in the same school, passing on knowledge to the next generation of students. Oft, his students would complain of the dry textbook-like style of teaching he practiced and the particularly difficult exams he administered. Church saw no flaw in his method as he always presented exactly what was needed to be known and explained how to examine the data. A year later, he would be vacationing in Vale as part of a faculty outing; there, he’d learn to take joy in drinking and watching others drink as seemingly every night, he’d find another bottle on the table with a bevy of colleagues. The time was enjoyable, but, through long conversations with his colleagues, he realized that he’d lost interest in teaching. Nearing the end of his vacation, he would visit the city square, looking for souvenirs and supplies. As he drifted from shop to shop, a strange turn of fate occurred. A train had come crashing in from a previously sealed off tunnel. As Grimm began pouring out in droves, Espoit was quick to hide himself away in one of the many stores, using shatter point to break into a ventilation shaft overlooking the town square, realizing that the civilians out in the open would be far easier targets for the grimm, keeping him safe until hunters showed up. Yet, as he did, he could not help but peek out from the vent, spying the grimm being beaten back by 4 young girls. The sight fascinated him, drawing more of him closer to the window to view it more clearly. As time passed, more hunters joining the fray, Church began to realize that it was not the hunters that drew his eye, it was the grimm. The way they moved together, their forms, their savage nature. He wanted to learn all of it. The battle ended soon after, leaving Church wanting for more specimen to examine. With no means to acquire any, he would return to Atlas soon after, refocusing his efforts into the study of Grimm. To this end, he immediately set out to purchase all available reading material on the Grimm; to his dismay, he found it sorely lacking. He wanted, needed more, realizing quickly that the only means was to drink directly from the source. But to face off against the Grimm would certainly be the death of him. To remedy this, he needed both equipment and training.

For the former, he needed only design his tools and have his family’s R&D teams build it. Key among them, he designed the MK.1 AARD Rifle and QU-EN (Quintessential Uniform- Enigmatic Nomad). While the AARD would pass its trial runs before the next phase of his plan, the QU-EN would not, requiring much more time to acquire the necessary materials from around Remnant. Deciding to proceed without the QU-EN, he needed to find a school that would take on a student of his age with so little physical promise. Fortunately, word of Syne academy had reached his ear in the interim, not likely to be too strict with their application standards, being a new academy. His mind set, the only thing that could have held him back was his family’s disapproval, intent on keeping the DeSavoir name dissociated from the military and huntsmen, especially after the events of Beacon academy. Church, however, long past caring for their opinion on the matter, proceeded at the cost of being cut off from the family fortune. And so it was that Church would travel to Syne, eager to begin his quest to learn all he could on the Grimm and explore their anatomy and physiology to the greatest extent possible.

Dawn must have just cracked over that late December as Church stepped into the empty training room, the cool breeze flooding in behind him. Finding a seat within one of the more discreet corners of the room, he took from his back a hefty looking rectangle and a toolkit from his side. For the next while, he simply sat there, tinkering with his rectangle until other applicants began trickling in, almost two hours after. As each applicant entered, Church began his analyses, running through a dozen or so strategies to take down each of them when the need arises. One would fall to a few well-placed shots to an injured leg, another in heavy armor could be beaten with a frost shot to the head, a third, looking to be a caster of some sort from the lack of arm or armor, could be made impatient by a few interrupting shots. Fighter after fighter entered the arena, filling it with noise of last-minute tinkering and chatter, each having his defeat planned before their fights had even been ordained.

“So, what do you figure that one’s got going on?” A voice spoke from the bleachers above, pointing past his head at one of the bulkier entrants. Taking a moment to look behind him, his eyes raced over her, looking for distinct features and possible weaknesses as she eyed him curiously. [i]Hmm…no injuries to speak of. Steel plate armor covering only vital organs and joints. Twin spears, good choice for this armor type. …All around, her melee defense is impeccable. Hmm…Faunus, canine variety. Refined dust to the face should interfere with her olfaction, momentarily blind her, at the least. Afterwards, blunt strike to the occipital region.[i/]

Realizing he’s yet to speak, he takes a breathe, recollecting his mental notes on her query. “His left leg-“. The screech of a microphone interrupts Church, drawing his eye to the center stage as a gritty looking huntsman cleared his throat and started listing off the match-ups for the combat trials. Church would go first, against the 42nd applicant he scanned. “Sorry, you’ll have to figure it out on your own.”

With that, he stood again, ignoring the girl’s whining as he approached the ring, rehearsing in his head exactly how he would win.