Odda

[Code Name] Odda

[Gender] Male

[Combat Experience] 18 Years

[Place of Birth] Kazdel

[Date of Birth] Jan 1

[Race] Sarkaz

[Height] 168cm

[Infection Status]

Originium crystals distributed across surface of body, confirmed Infected by medical examination.

[Physical Strength] Normal

[Mobility] Normal

[Physical Resilience] Excellent

[Tactical Acumen] Normal

[Combat Skill] Standard

[Originium Arts Assimilation] Standard

Odda, once a member of Babel, now makes a living as a Messenger in Kazdel. He frequently visits Rhodes Island carrying letters and packages, and will occasionally accept field missions in the Kazdel region.

Imaging tests show the indistinct outlines of internal organs, obscured by abnormal shadows. Originium granules detected in the circulatory system. The subject is confirmed to be infected with Oripathy.

[Cell-Originium Assimilation] 13%

Operator Odda has suffered from Oripathy since childhood, and his infection is relatively severe, with many Originium crystals on the surface of his body.

[Blood Originium-Crystal Density] 0.40u/L

Operator Odda is constantly exposed to Originium products without protection due to his long-term residence in Kazdel, and his condition could worsen at any moment. Luckily for us, he is quite cooperative with treatment.

If there is any occasion the people of Rhodes Island look forward to more than a holiday, it's the day a Messenger arrives. On those days, everyone gathers in the mailroom to receive letters and gifts from home, then departs with smiles on their faces—everyone save our Sarkaz operators.

After all, not many of them even have anywhere else to call home. And of those who do, it is rare to find ones who can afford a Messenger. And of that subset, it is even rarer for them to have family able to write letters. Finally, only a tiny minority of Messengers are willing to cross countless battlefields to deliver such letters.

Odda is one of those Messengers. He travels between Kazdel and Rhodes Island year-round, bringing hometown news to the ship's Sarkaz operators, but never receives a welcome like the other Messengers do. Almost no Sarkaz would pay a hefty price just to deliver a few tender-hearted words. Their letters almost always describe a grim reality, such as 'a member of your family has passed away.' So whenever Odda arrives, there are instead worried murmurs among the Sarkaz operators: 'Did you hear? The Messenger from Kazdel is here again.'

That's just who Odda is. A not-so-popular Messenger who nevertheless arrives at Rhodes Island at the same time every year to deliver bad news. The strange thing is, every time he comes, he will still be crowded by Sarkaz waiting to receive those terrible tidings.

When asked why, they would simply say: 'It's news from Kazdel.'

As the man in charge, Odda himself says: 'If I can bring at least one piece of good news back to their relatives in Kazdel, that's enough for me.'

Many merchants in Kazdel deal in weapons, but only a very few make their own. They are all rather calculating like that. If the spoils of war are enough, why waste energy making more?

As a Sarkaz veteran, Odda has plenty of combat experience, and even more time spent gathering equipment on the battlefield, the sort that render one speechless. His armor is of gun-knight make, and passed through who-knows-how-many hands, while his fearsomely heavy hammer is a repurposed engine cylinder from some abandoned vehicle. It can still accept fuel, and will happily ignite on command.

Aside from this, 'inheritance' is another way Sarkaz obtain their weapons. When a Sarkaz child comes of age, their relatives will prepare a weapon that suits them. Naturally, there are also those who obtain a weapon from the older generation before they grow up, which is more common.

Odda's father was once a slave of the Scar Market who eventually joined a mercenary band. He gathered a huge stockpile of weapons, but the only one Odda kept was a greatsword that could be set alight. The rest were either lost in the chaos of battle or sold off; after the death of his parents, he needed the money.

After joining Babel, Closure remodeled his hammer and greatsword, giving them even more handy tricks to use on the battlefield, but that only gave rise to new issues. Due to some serious injuries sustained as a child, Odda was weaker than other Sarkaz, and he was unable to even lift his new weapons. He could only drag them along the ground.

The warriors of Babel devised a special training program to give him the strength to wield them. Many would save a portion of their rations for him, and between moments of intense battle, they would cheer him on through grueling training.

After a year, Odda was finally able to swing his hammer with ease, each heavy swing swooshing through the air. Babel's training room erupted into raucous cheering, and even Her Highness and the Doctor stopped by to see what the commotion was.

In the wake of Her Highness's passing, Odda followed a few disillusioned warriors back to Kazdel, where they began their lives anew. He ran errands for a blacksmith, caring only about whether his belly was filled. After finding a former comrade in dire straits, he changed his mindset, and decided to gather former Babel members together once more. They would have a much easier life looking out for each other. Considering they were being monitored by the Military Commission, none were particularly popular.

All their lives managed to improve rather quickly, other than Odda himself. As leader of this extended family, he now had a lot more things to worry about, many of which were more complex than he was used to. Not to mention the war orphans he had taken in. He got busier and busier, with less and less money. His job at the blacksmith was no longer enough to pay for his expenses. And so, he had to make the difficult decision to return to the battlefield.

After the civil war, the flames of battle in Kazdel subsided, but a few minor conflicts burned on. Even a simple battlefield scavenger carries no small amount of risk, but Odda picked the most difficult path of all: becoming a battlefield Messenger.

At the time, the Military Commission allowed the mercenaries of the Scar Market to control all routes in and out of Kazdel. Be it mercenaries or illegal minerals going out, or plunder from other nations coming in, the Scar Market mercenaries were getting paid a pretty penny to transport them. And naturally, they were unwilling to permit any lone agents trying to step into their business. If they ran across any Scar Market mercenaries, they would likely be forfeiting both their goods and their lives.

But armed with courage and small build, Odda would time and time again evade the mercenaries' patrols to find secret paths across the danger-strewn battlefields. At first, he was like a burdenbeast, only transporting other's goods. After he saved up some money, he started his own business, and the range of his services gradually expanded. He even managed to contact our offices in Rim Billiton, leading to our collaboration with him in transporting pharmaceuticals into Kazdel's hinterlands.

Eventually, he gained the courage to risk bringing some sick children directly to Rhodes Island. As thanks for treating them, he brought us some home-made Kazdelian cookies, but regretfully, they were too hard for any of us to bite.

[Voice Log]

Though Kazdel has been sealed off by the Military Commission, we still have means to obtain intel from the city, Doctor.

—Ascalon

[Classified File]

[Top Secret]

Informant Odda, former member of Babel and long-time resident of Kazdel, undercover as a blacksmith and a Messenger.

Baby-faced, short, has an endearing countenance, rather amiable and easily trusted by others, does not put people on guard. He's lain dormant in Kazdel since leaving Babel, but reestablished connections with us in Rim Billiton on ■■■ ■■ 109■, and has been our informant ever since.

As proof of his loyalty, Odda informed us of three assassination and ambush attempts targeting Rhodes Island, all of which proved accurate. There were some minor inaccuracies in his other intel, but he is worth consulting all the same.

After some discussion, it was decided that we would retain his services in exchange for our support.

[This file is not to be removed from the S.W.E.E.P. office]

There are many former Babel members living in Kazdel to this day, but they continue to receive special attention from the Military Commission. There is no need to connect them with Rhodes Island—doing so would only lead to their deaths.

But Odda is an exception. Despite his occupation as a Messenger arousing some suspicion, his quick thinking can dispel any doubts when needed. His baby-face and gentle sincerity also put people at ease.

Within the junk he carries, there are one or two sweaters. A thorough examination of them will reveal some very special knitting techniques. Among the smudged and stained letters from home he carries are countless misspelled words in crooked handwriting, but when folded and held up to the light, they reveal a whole new set of writing, one containing no misspellings at all.

The man looks astonished, as though not expecting you to ask these questions. He puts down the mail he was tidying up and nervously scratches his forehead.

'That's right, Doctor. I've been in and out of Kazdel many times, but the guards never did notice anything peculiar in my bag. Though one time I thought I was about to get busted.'

He sighs before continuing to fold the letters neatly, carefully wrapping a stack of them in oilpaper as though they were priceless treasures.

'There was an officer who thought I was suspicious, and he insisted on checking every letter one by one. He only got through a handful before he could bear, though. He was quiet for a long while before finally asking me if these letters could really be delivered.'

Odda paused for a moment, taking out a plastic bag from a drawer and placing the oilpaper bundle within.

'I said 'Of course,' and he said 'Good' before sending me on my way.

'A few months later when I returned to the city, a soldier stopped me, and I thought I was in for another interrogation. He ended up just handing me a letter, and told me that his officer gave it to him to forward to me, before the army set out for Londinium. I was to make sure it got to the officer's daughter.'

After stuffing the bundle of letters into his bag, he gently pulls the zipper, doing his best to avoid catching the bundle.

'I figured the reason they never raised the alarm might not be because I was especially good at hiding them, but because they didn't dare examine those packages too carefully.

'Sometimes a letter cuts deeper than a sword, after all.'