Xander Angelos's Questionnaire

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, is where I call home for me! I live in a one story house on the outskirts of the city more towards Darby. It's nothing fancy, just a place with enough room for me and my gear, though I wish I had more storage space. The house fits well with my straightforward lifestyle, no crazy set up in it, just foyer, living room with an open concept kitchen, two bedrooms, and a basement. I chose to stay here because Philadelphia has one of the largest HEMA/HMB community, and the events and tournaments keep me not out of a job, considering I am the one training them most of the time. Though, if the opportunity ever arose to relocate, I’d consider moving to either Chicago or Seattle. Both cities are hubs for HEMA events, and being closer to those would make traveling for battles and training a bit more convenient. But for now, Philly is where I’m needed for my students and where I feel most at home.

I primarily obtain my wealth from training various people, large or small, weak or strong, and anything in between, in HEMA/HMB combat. I tend to focus on less of the melee portions of it and teach people how to do CQC with their hands whenever they are disarmed, or simply teach them how to use a bow, throw rocks, slings, javelins especially, or simply how to train their endurance with all of the gear on. Usually I will spend my money on bills, food, not too many luxuries past training gear and repairs, considering that a lot of the work does include boxing and kendo practices.

My ambition is to become a lightning paragon, a person of justice with the power to protect the people on this planet from those who would harm it, even if it is the people who are here. I envision a world where the planet is safeguarded, and all people can live in peace and happiness. I’m driven to see a future where my efforts can bring about lasting change, even if it means facing the trials and tribulations ahead. I would never kill anyone for this ambition. I believe in justice without bloodshed and would only fight in self-defense if absolutely necessary, and even then, we can always find another way. While I wouldn't want to die, who would, I’m prepared to come close if it means standing up for what’s right. My commitment is to the well-being of others, and my goal is to make a difference without losing sight of the value of every life. I have to be a good teacher for my students, and show them what is right, and what is wrong.

The most defining event of my life? I think it was buying a pair of old wraps from a pawn shop. I was just starting out as a trainer, and these wraps were practically a steal. When I put them on and began to stretch, something incredible happened: they grabbed the static in the air and it took a shape of a lightning bolt. Seeing that bolt flash and dissipate was a very enlightening point in my life. It wasn’t just the display of power these wraps had, but it was the realization that I was touching something beyond the ordinary. This experience ignited my ambition to become a lightning paragon, helping me figure out my path in life, and what I want to do to change the world for the better.

I think the person I’m closest to is my dad, Michael. After my mom passed away, Dad stepped up in ways I could never fully appreciate until I was older. He worked tirelessly to support us and never gave up on my dreams, even when things were tough. His solid belief and foundation he formed for me, and instilled in me and his resilience have been my guiding light. He’s a quiet man with a heart of gold, always there with practical advice and a steady presence. His sacrifices shaped who I am and continue to inspire me every day. Lena Rodriguez is another one of my closer people. She's one of my dedicated students, fierce and talented as a fighter. She joined my classes a few years ago, and her growth has been amazing to say the least. Beyond her skill in the battles, Lena’s drive and commitment reflect a passion for HEMA. She’s become a close friend and a source of motivation, always pushing me to be better. Ethan Miller is another of my students. Ethan is a younger guy who’s still finding his footing. He’s enthusiastic and eager to learn, though he sometimes struggles with self doubt. I see a lot of potential in him and make it a point to encourage him. His progress and determination remind me of my own early days, and I’m invested in helping him build his confidence and skills.

My childhood was generally good with no real issues up until my 12th birthday when my mom, Sasha, was diagnosed with stage four skin cancer. Not even three months later, she passed away losing to it. Before then, her life was full of warmth and comfort from me and my dad. Mom was the heart of our home, always brightening our days with her boundless energy and encouragement. She had a knack for making every moment special, whether it was through bedtime stories or homemade treats. Her hope and nurturing spirit helped make who I am, emotionally. Dad, Michael, was deeply supportive of Mom during her illness. He was a quiet strength beside her, managing the logistics of her care while keeping our lives as normal as possible. His efforts to shield me from the worst of it showed his dedication to both Mom and me. After her passing, Dad became our rock, juggling work and parenting with a grace that helped us navigate our grief. I attended public school and engaged in sports like football, track & field, and wrestling. These activities helped me fit in and provided a healthy outlet for my emotions. While the loss of Mom was a heavy burden, school and sports offered a sense of normalcy and connection, easing the transition during a challenging time.

I’ve had a few small flings here and there, but nothing that truly felt like love. Most of those relationships were fleeting and didn’t go beyond the initial excitement, they generally just left some reminiscences and fleeting memories. I’ve always been focused on my training and my ambitions for life, which didn’t leave much room for a serious, long-term connection. My drive to become the thing I want most in life and my commitment to HEMA often took precedence, as well as the well being of my students. While I’ve experienced affection and companionship, I haven’t yet found that life changing, awe striking love. For now, my passion for my goals and my dedication to my students fill my life, leaving little space for a deep romantic relationship.

My worst fears? It’s not pain or death; I’ve come to terms with those long ago, well not death, but still! No, my fears revolve around others, the people who rely on me, especially my students. You see, when someone steps into my training space, they’re not just there to learn swordplay, or the technical aspects of HEMA, or simply there to "get fit". They’re trusting me to guide them, not just in battle but in life, even if they don't know it. If something were to happen to one of them under my watch, if they were to be hurt because I didn’t teach them well enough, or worse, if they lost their life because of my failure... I don’t know how I could live with that. It’s not just about the physical side of things, either. People come to me sometimes when they’re lost, looking for more than just a fight but for purpose, discipline, maybe even redemption. If I fail to help them find that, if my guidance leads them astray or isn’t enough to keep them going, I fear it could cost them more than they can afford. That weight sits heavy on me because I know, at the end of the day, it’s not just about swinging a sword. It’s about making sure they walk away stronger, in every way.

My most prized possessions? It has to be my HEMA gear, especially my wraps. Every piece of my equipment has been with me for years, and each one tells a story. My short bow, battered but reliable, feels like an extension of myself, while my fencing jacket and mask have seen me through countless bouts, offering more than just protection. They represent the dedication and discipline I’ve honed over time. But the wraps? They’re something else entirely. I picked them up from a pawn shop, and I quickly realized they were no ordinary wraps, oddly enough. These wraps have a power, something... ancient; something electric. When I wear them, I can feel a charge coursing through my arms, and when I focus, they allow me to throw lightning javelins. Imagine that, lightning, harnessed and controlled by my movements. They’re not just tools; they’re like a gift from another life, something that connects me to forces beyond the physical idea of combat. Every time I use them, I’m reminded that there’s more to this life, more to the battles we fight, than just steel and skill. They’re my edge, my secret weapon, and the connection to something greater than myself.

Well, right now it's a bit tough on the money spectrum of things. Fun fact, people that do HEMA and HMB do not really need people to train them; they usually work out in their own yards and train themselves in order to be skilled enough to take down others. The people I train usually don't have enough space or simply to put, don't have enough time if they don't actually dedicate themselves to the practice. I have about a dozen students that I am currently working with, and I do my best where they don't have to buy equipment and stuff, and a fairly low rate, generally session pay with achieving a goal in mind, or until they call it, not me. It's easier that way so they get their money's worth. It's an honest practice, but I cannot say that it rakes in the cash. But we stay honest, stay willing, and we can make the money.

Well, we wake up and greet our cat, James, and then feed him. He is needy, but more hungry. Next we proceed to shower, and make sure we clean up properly from yesterday's practice. We step out, get dressed for our morning run, and try to hit a mile before 8:00 AM. Get back, and check our schedule to see if we have any training for the day, and if we don't, we get in a comfortable breakfast; if we do, I make a special shake that will get me through till about 2:00 PM. Now, we then hit the gym for our daily work out, and then by 3:30 PM we try to find something to do; paperwork, taxes, scheduling stuff, or simply go out and find something. We make sure everyone that we talk to is okay, and we just go about our day and... honestly that's it. I do my best to keep it short, sweet, and simple. No need to complicate it beyond its normal day.

If I was going somewhere special, something real important, maybe a celebration or meeting someone who mattered to me, I’d keep it simple; but I’d still want to show respect by cleaning up right. First thing, I’d get a good shower in. Not just a rinse, a real scrub everything down, make sure I’m fresh. Might even use that old cologne I’ve had sitting around. I don’t use it often, but for something that matters, why not? For clothes, nothing too fancy. I’m not the suit-and-tie type unless it’s a funeral or wedding. I’d go for a nice button-up, probably white or blue, with sleeves rolled halfway. Jeans or dark pants, not ratty ones, something that fits right. Boots, always boots. Cleaned and shined if I’ve got the time. Maybe my leather jacket if the weather calls for it, or if I just feel like I need a little extra weight on my shoulders.

It wouldn’t take me too long, maybe an hour or so. Longer if I’ve been out working or on the road and need to shave or patch up scrapes. I’m not a vain guy, but I like to feel put together, sharp in my own way.

I haven’t really thought much about my next birthday. Never been big on throwing parties for myself. Growing up, birthdays were pretty quiet, maybe a dinner, maybe a call from family if they remembered. I don’t hold it against anyone. Life’s busy. But turning 25 feels like it should mean something, doesn’t it? Quarter of a century. Feels like I should do something different this year. If I had my way, I’d keep it small. Few close friends, maybe go out somewhere with good food, real food, not just cheap takeout like I usually get. Steak, maybe, or something grilled, with a cold beer. Sit outside if the weather’s good, watch the sky while the sun goes down. Wouldn’t mind that at all.

Maybe I’d take a drive before or after, just me and the road. No real destination, just letting the miles roll by while I think about where I’ve been and where I’m going. I’m not sure if I’m where I thought I’d be at 25, but I’m here, and I’m standing. That’s enough for now. No big parties, no flashing lights.

My greatest regret is the loss of one of my students. His name was Aaron. Young guy, eighteen at the time. Full of energy, wanted to prove himself. He looked up to me like I had all the answers. I tried to teach him control, patience, how to use his strength and skill without issues. But he was impatient, always pushing too hard, chasing that feeling of power. I saw the signs. He was overextending himself, running bright and fast, like a fuse racing toward the end. I told him to slow down, warned him, but I didn’t make him stop. I thought he’d learn the way I did, by falling a little and standing back up stronger. But he didn’t fall a little. He overloaded during a field run; adrenaline right through his system. Cardiac failure. He lived, but he doesn’t train anymore. Can’t. It broke something in him.

I regret not stepping in harder. Not pulling him from the field until he was ready. I wanted him to feel respected, trusted. In trying to let him grow, I let him get hurt. That failure is mine. I still teach, still guide people like him, but I never forget Aaron. Every student after him gets a little more of my time, a little more caution, because I learned the hard way that sometimes being a mentor means being the wall, even when they hate you for it.

I don’t think my skills are something I earned. I didn’t climb some mountain or pass a test to deserve them. They were given to me, granted to me, or maybe revealed is the better word. Like the power was always there, buried deep, waiting for someone to dig it out. That’s what the contract guys do, I think. They don’t grant wishes. They see something in you, something you might not even see in yourself. They bring it to the surface. Whether you’re ready or not.

The lightning… it’s always felt natural to me. Like it’s part of my blood, my breath, my sight. But I didn’t know how to reach it until I took the leap. That was the key. Or the spark, I guess. Now, every time I call it down, I feel like I’m just living up to what was already waiting inside me. Like I was built for this.

I wouldn’t call myself religious, well, not in the way most people mean. I don’t go to church, don’t follow scripture or recite prayers. But I believe there’s something bigger out there. There has to be. I’ve felt it in the quiet between lightning strikes, in the way the air bends right before a storm breaks open. It’s not chaos, not just raw energy. It’s purpose. Ancient, watching, listening. Not judging, not guiding… just there. Some people see that and call it God. Others see it and call it science. I just call it the current; the flow of things, the way energy moves, connects, pulls people together and tears them apart. I don’t think it cares about us in the way a preacher might say, but it knows us. And maybe, just maybe, it chooses people sometimes. Not to be prophets or messiahs...

I don’t need a holy book to tell me right from wrong. I believe in action. In responsibility. If you’re given something powerful, something sacred, you don’t waste it. You don’t hide from it. You use it to protect others, to carry weight they can’t. That’s my belief. Not in heaven or hell, but in purpose. In doing the right thing even when no one’s watching.

Before the Contracts, my world was pretty solid. I believed in what I could see, feel, train for. I did HEMA on the weekends, worked with my hands during the week with training others, and figured if I kept my head down, stayed decent, the world would keep turning steady. Good people got good outcomes. Bad people got what was coming. Simple. Or it used to be.

Then the Contracts came. Harbingers. Monsters. Powers that don’t follow any law of nature or morality. I saw a man peel reality like paper. Watched a kid turn into things and vanish into nothing. And I still can’t tell you if we’re chosen, cursed, or just caught in someone else’s game. At first, I didn't even realize things were happening like that. I tried to explain it away; hallucinations, tricks, maybe even just dreaming or too mentally gone. But there’s only so long you can lie to yourself. Now, I live with the fact of life. I still train, still try to stay grounded, but part of me is always waiting for the next impossible thing to walk through the door. It doesn’t kill my worldview all the time, sometimes it bends it. Forces me to admit that I don’t know everything. Maybe I never did. But that doesn’t change who I am. I'm still a guy who loves to throw things and teach people how to defend themselves.

Well, I'll start with the one that I feel like a lot of people would know, Trussardi. He is a bit of a trip, but a good man. Met with him a couple times, but just to help each other out, and just get it done. We work well together!

Then there is Santiago... a kid. Well, he is a kid, but he is more than a kid. He has some interesting abilities and doesn't have a care in the world! He minds his own business, and listens to the adults when things get serious. Which they always get so serious when the going gets tough.

Marigold was a trip and a half; had a sister too, Poppy. They were like the complete opposite of each other. Marigold was a bit ditzy, but had a very compelling way of making sure she was heard, and was noticed. Poppy though, knew what was happening around us, keeping an eye out, but couldn't really do a lot of the talking. It was strange.

Met another electric guy, Sparkman he called himself. Had a suit and everything. Didn't know much other than he shot a laser at someone and they fried real quick.

The perfect room for me? It isn’t big. Doesn’t need to be. Just enough space to breathe, to move, to think. Wood floors, real ones, not laminate or any plywood stuff. A solid desk against the wall, scarred from years of use, but still very nice to look at. A few training weapons leaned up in the corner; longsword, arming sword, maybe a javelin. Not for show, but for practice. A bookshelf with a mix of old military history, mythology, and a couple fiction novels I keep rereading.

One window, tall, with heavy curtains I can pull back when the light’s right. A storm rolling in, that’s when the room feels most alive. I’d have a leather armchair, worn but not cracked, and a speaker for playing old instrumental tracks or quiet blues. Nothing flashy. Just tools, warmth, and quiet. A place where I don’t have to explain myself. Where everything has a place, and nothing is louder than it needs to be.