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Name: Acheron Jericho Age: 37 Gender: Male Height: 186 cm (6’ 1”) Weight: 67 kg (147 lbs) Eye Color: Dark Brown Hair Color: Black Appearance: Link Other Information: - Psychodriver Biography: A power vacuum is a dangerous thing. So much false hope invested in the Granzon. What nonsense...

The sight of Duminass' body collapsing beneath massed fire brought Elhirut neither relief or catharsis. The final embers of the battle were simply vanishing. No, not vanishing, retreating - no, no, no, no, no. How many lives were slipping away at this moment? How many had disappeared into the...

"No effect? Then - " The Org-Valu's frame screamed as Duminass' reply reached across space, the twinned lances of light piercing directly through the Circle machine's lower torso. Immediately, its cockpit filled with the complaints of a suddenly stressed spaceframe, alarms screaming as the...

The stars were bleeding. Yes, that was the sensation - a thousand thorns, prickling inside out, and the worming, ever-expanding knot in Elhirut's chest adamantly refused to subside. His ears just wouldn't stop spinning, and the Org-Valu moved like it was puppeteered by an inexperienced...

As the Meyven's voice flickered into Elhirut's ears, the Psychodriver felt his calming chest fill with cement. The dying man's words were meant to be slightly reassuring, encouraging, even, but in spite of it all, the much younger figure could do nothing to stop his heart from quickening once...

The Org-Valu watched with unmoving horror as the Zeydram was pulverized amongst the intersecting streams of rampaging light, emerging a broken wreck. Even as Decima fled, her pathetic cries filling his ears, Elhirut could only push desperately on his controls to send his machine towards the...

The Org-Valu rocketed forwards and "up" as Prometheus evaded the Pater's grasp, a furious glow still growing below the machine's chest. Uncomfortably ensconced within its cockpit, Elhirut grimaced as the Zeydram blindly charged, spewing fire from every one of its weapons. So this had been...

"They - they rammed the Tantra - " Evidently, the Meyven's companion was yet to share his impassioned poise. The Org-Valu had simply remained frozen as the Kurogane violently tore into the Tantra, silencing the battleship's main weapon in an astounding display of pyrotechnics. What was wrong...

As unnerving as his taste of their apparent enemy had been, Elhirut wasted no time in following the Meyven's lead. The Org-Valu blasted out from the Abraham's bays at nearly full thrust, its pilot white-knuckling the controls as he readied the unit's arsenal. The paired set of cannons atop the...

Elhirut's eyes were wild, breaths paced to the uneven beat of an inexperienced sprinter. Despite the Meyven's attempt at a reassuring gesture, Madin's presence did little to assuage the repulsive aftertaste squirming within the back of the psychic's mind, and Elhirut's face concealed nothing...

Things should have been looking up. Madin's meeting with Earth officials had gone...well? No, that wasn't it. As much as Elhirut had gained somewhat of an appreciation for the Meyven, the conference had clearly been a rushed affair. To the Circle Psychodriver, it'd been a miracle that he'd been...

Compared to the battle seething outside, the Tantra's hangar proceeded with the same, almost apathetic aplomb that characterized much of the Circle's more mechanical operations. Rushing did not exist, at least not without rhythm - there was always enough time, enough perfectly allocated time for...

The Tantra’s hangar (well, one of several), felt reassuring in all the wrong ways, now that Elhirut stood back within it, watching titanic blocks of metal shift and turn. Another Liege Geios spun to life as he watched, lifted under its own weight, and stepped forwards, moving... The motion made...

Elhirut merely watched dispassionately from a distance, weary and currently adorned with medical patches across his left arm and side of his face. Lost deeply in his thoughts, he observed, but did not comment. He saw every inch of that unnatural, precise movement. At once, some alien instinct...

The Org turned towards the signal, the Zeidram, and back, as if Elhirut was to ask a question; then, without a word, the machine accelerated, moving to the drifting pod, the purple glow within the machine's twin barrels fading. The blinking pod now lay gently within the Org-Valu's hand, as it's...

Elhirut coughed, suddenly realizing how utterly tired he felt; as if every fiber and inch of his being had been rotted, just a little. He didn't want to think. That power... He shook off the thoughts, forcing himself to move as the Meyven's voice crackled over his comms. "S-sir? The enemy...

Elhirut had spent an unknowable amount of time staring into the cold, faceless void of space, eyes closed. Drifting, floating, endlessly grasping for anything in his blind existence. But he had seen. And it had seen him. And it had begun screaming. He had wished he was alone. Deaf. Blind...

In yet another heart-attack inducing burst of simultaneous clarity and fear, Elhirut realized his unit was still holding it's laser blade. The scythe clashed against a sudden flare of green energy, it's rippling, bladed tip already digging into the Org's chest armor, peeling back an outer layer...

"Ghk~!" Elhirut's chest pushed in on itself as the Org-Valu's back flared with a bluish burst of light at an angle, slamming him forwards into his own restraints. The machine slid backwards and down, a sudden inversion of it's initial course. The dark beam barely scoured the internal frame of...

Elhirut's eyes widened, a brief, yet infinite flash of horror, revulsion, fear and fury flashing across his gaze for all of one second, watching the slugs rocket back, mere milliseconds from finding purchase; and then, the Zeidram, rushing in to protect him only to be sundered apart. One moment...