Zeroth Directive

Archive II

Anyone who claims to know what the Nightzmora were likely imagines them as portrayed in fantasy novels or television dramas. They are still seen as the demonic, mysterious army of millennia ago, the image having stuck around like a curse, the sound of their horns still invading dreams generations later. Most in the modern age would never consider that there could still be Nightzmora living among them, and there is no way of knowing how much of this Elder lineage still lives on in the Kuranta tribes of Sargon. As such, it is no wonder that operators are curious when she openly states her Nightzmora heritage. On one hand, many would like to know more about the tribe she hails from, but on the other, it is clear she is rather far removed from the frightening countenances of legend. According to her, her tribe believes themselves Nightzmora, and uphold their ancient nomadic practices. They regularly migrate from place to place according to seasonal changes in the weather, their belongings forever limited to whatever a few burdenbeasts can carry. From a young age, this custom has ingrained in her many techniques for both combat and survival. She knows how to tame wild leporibeasts, how to make clothes and wall hangings from fur pelts, and how to survive with her two curved blades and a handful of sand in a fight. The Nightzmora's reverence for plunder and their tradition of the Khaganquest upon adulthood both encourage the tribe's members to constantly be far from home, making the tribe has no fixed population, constantly losing and gaining members. This mixing of bloodlines means that both red-maned Nightzmora and ordinary Kuranta can easily be siblings, and the tribe asks all to follow their traditions without discrimination. 'I left home long before I came of age, though. By the time I was supposed to go on my Khaganquest, I couldn't just head home, but I wasn't going to abandon my lackeys just like that. So I thought we'd keep our plans flexible, delay the Khaganquest a few years, and have a bit of a casual trip first.' After finishing her lecture about her tribe's customs, Narantuya calmly justified her 'break from tradition.' Though she does not act like a stereotypical Nightzmora, she still shows what many believe to be characteristics related to her heritage. For example, if something captures her interest, she will spend days focusing on it without sleep, then crash for several more days once she's done with it. Another example would be how her onboarding examination had to be forcibly stopped the first time around, thanks to her Originium Arts triggering a passing operator's PTSD. Later, when the medical team on duty and the operator in question were huddled together, sipping the cystymilk tea Narantuya had provided by way of apology, they all agreed that while she might not be much like a Nightzmora, it was better than being a true-blue Nightzmora. [Weapon Evaluation] The two swords Narantuya often uses in her daily training are made with ordinary modern-day techniques. Despite her inordinate fondness for them, to the point where she has adorned their scabbards with garish decorations, Engineering has determined that their strength and sharpness are hardly outstanding. There's no need to pity her if you see her using her 'fine blades' to cut beastmeat. In combat, she uses two special curved blades. These paired blades can combine together into a wide fan blade via a mechanism, allowing her to easily use them as a thrown weapon. Engineering has not yet determined the composition of the metal these blades are made from, and she herself knows nothing about the history of these weapons or the etchings upon them. She only knows that they were what her parents intended to give her when she came of age, as well as the fact that when wielding them, she can cast her Arts with ease.

Archive III

[Announcement 1] Narantuya Kapudan, approximately twenty-five years of age, Kuranta, tall and sporting extremely bright red hair. Suspected of organizing illegal commercial activities, causing great damage to the local art market. If anyone has information on the suspect, inform the Alliance of Collectors at once. 'Oh, that one. We were offloading some art onto the black market, and I let one of my lackeys practice his business skills. It was only afterwards we found out he's terrible with numbers and that he sold the goods with a couple of zeros missing on the price tag. Anyway, why are those collectors even going to the trouble to find me? They'll find paintings in teahouses even prettier than the ones in their collections. Once they buy them, they'll calm down, yeah?' [Announcement 2] In the name of the lord of the city, we will comb all of Jawaher to find those tomb robbers who recently desecrated our many ancient tombs. The lord ameer shall reward you handsomely for any suspects brought to us alive. We have confirmed their identities: First, Narantuya, age unclear, Kuranta, red of hair and sporting many curved blades. ... 'The announcement's just a pretense. It's way faster to use an arrest warrant to find someone than a recruitment pamphlet. That lord ameer thought we were rather professional, so he hired us to help him dig up a bunch of tombs, hoping to find treasure. We never meant to damage them, but the entire town's built on top of tombs, so digging a tunnel means you'll be digging out broken antiques all the time. Funnily enough, thanks to my lackeys shattering too many pots as we dug them out, we were stuck working for the guy the whole month, and didn't make any profit either.' [Announcement 3] The city's biggest smithy was recently robbed by knife-wielding maniacs, and three blacksmiths are currently missing. Their families are awaiting their safe return. If you have any information, please contact the blacksmith's guild. Additionally, the guild is hoping to obtain information on the following people (feel free to smash their heads in with hammers): Narantuya, a red-haired Kuranta, around twenty years of age, rather tall. Her shoes have iron soles, so her footsteps are very distinctive. ... 'Oh, that was a misunderstanding a real long time ago. We just wanted to get a prosthetic hand for one of our guys, so we looked for smiths in town. They thought we were there to rob them; frightened 'em so bad they just shoved their coins and rarest materials right into our hands. We needed some to come with us, but once they were done, I sent them back. They were fed and paid, so did we even do anything wrong? Is it so wrong to want the best smiths for the job? 'Seems like I'm always the first one people notice. My hair's hard to hide, not that I'm trying to hide in the first place. If I hid my identity or my deeds, how would I ever get my name known all across Sargon?' ... The above are all the charges levied towards Narantuya that we found. It can be determined that admitting her as an operator would not negatively influence our operations in Sargon. At the very least, during her time as a bandit, Narantuya was still quite far from having 'her name known all across Sargon.'

Archive IV

Narantuya has promised Rhodes Island her bandit days are behind her. This is not because she is considering turning over a new leaf. To her, banditry is merely a job, not a crime. Like how a century or more ago, whenever a caravan would refuse to trade important necessities with a nomadic tribe, the tribe would have no choice but to rob them. When it comes to 'professional banditry,' the most important thing to have are companions, and Narantuya's much-mentioned lackeys have already left her and scattered to the four winds. According to her, her infamy led many in desperate straits to seek shelter with her, including people who were essentially slaves for other bandit groups, forced to work and whipped for their trouble. As her posse grew, some rival gangs began to feel threatened, while others saw their leaders fly into a rage as their underlings defected. So they formed an alliance, agreeing to meet at a specific time and place to raze Narantuya's stronghold and slaughter its inhabitants. But when the appointed hour came, none showed up, and her stronghold was already empty. Bloody slaughter was averted as, having heard the rumors, she decided to keep the peace, visiting each and every bandit chief with a vast amount of treasure in hand—or to be more precise, begging them for forgiveness. 'I'd been doing well for myself, so it's natural for others to get jealous. Knowing the consequences of your actions but doing nothing to prepare is like knowing the dry season's coming but not readying any supplies. 'I've always had the backup plan of breaking up our little gang for a while once we had too much heat, and I let my lackeys know as much. In the end, they envied me, not our money. If that was all they wanted, they wouldn't need any excuse to just kill us for it. There'd be no way to stop that except force. Jealousy, though? I can go bow my head a few times, apologize a bit, and everyone's happy.' Narantuya may have gotten all her rivals to back off, but there was one thing she didn't consider: most of her lackeys lived very well on the coin they had split once they found places to settle down, and did not wish to return to their days of roaming the wilderness. For a time, she did think she had let them down, having taken most of the valuables to calm the other chiefs. Surely this made the others lose confidence in her, right? And so she sought to gather up another mountain of gold and bring her former fellows back into the fold. However, from how enthusiastically she invites other Rhodes Island operators to be her lackeys, she seems to have had a change of plans. 'Everyone wanted to get the details, but every time we asked, she'd only say a sentence or two about it. We all thought it was a sore spot for her or something. It wasn't until she did some cross-country training with Gavial that she spilled the beans on the entire story, all while running. Maybe that's how Nightzmora prefer to tell stories?'

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