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Agatha Smith | Herakles| F | 14 | Unaligned


Personal Dossier

Physical Description
Standing at 5’6”, Agatha has sharp features and a smile that could cut an NC to ribbons. Hair once flaxen has long since gone gray, which is pulled into a loose bun. Deep set green eyes and a pointed nose. Some people have told her she has the face of a 1st grade Math teacher who takes joy in assigning homework over the weekend. While not a weightlifter, she has a solid frame from years of hard work on the surface. Tends to wear a faded burgundy vest over an oil stained grey jumpsuit.

Personality Traits
Steadfast
Maternal
Good Humored

Stubborn
Guilt Ridden
Reckless

Effects of Polaris Shift
Perfect Synchronization yet to be achieved.

Personal History
Born and raised on the surface, Agatha always knew she was a special snowflake. At the bizarrely typical age of 14, she was found compatible to pilot an NC. Like so many before her she was drawn into piloting a bipedal weapon of mass destruction and had many mercantile adventures as an independent NC operator that aren’t worth recollection. The kinds of adventures that blur together but can often be summed up as, ‘Go to exotic locations, meet interesting people, and kill them’.

Throughout her ventures she had a loyal mechanic who would have followed her to hell and back by the name of Albert Smith. He wasn’t particularly handsome or clever, but he was loyal, sweet, and won over her affections through his perseverance. At 27 Agatha was married, by 28 she had a daughter and another on the way. Finding their means of employment too dangerous to foster a family, they decided it was prudent for Agatha to set aside the adventuring for a more sedentary lifestyle. Investing their considerable saving towards setting up shop in a scrapyard, Agatha began a new life as a mother and family woman.

For years, that was good enough. All the effort she had put forth piloting her NC was directed towards running the scrapyard and raising her kids. There wasn’t the same rush that came with piloting a multi-ton automaton, but she was satisfied for a time.

Then the children grew up, and left the nest to find out their own destinies. To be the special snowflakes that have fantastical opportunities all lined up for the taking if they only go out and claim them. Her husband of 29 years had grown ill and passed peacefully in his sleep.

That left Agatha, with a job she didn’t care for and no one relying upon her. Most would have considered this time to retire, settle down and indulge herself before the inevitable end, but she couldn’t. Even with the best years of her life in the past, she knew she had more to give. Firing up the old NC, which had been used as a makeshift crane for the scrapyard, she went out to recapture her lost glory, but found there wasn’t any demand for someone so long out of the game. The only ones as desperate as she was where the good folks down at New Anchorage, and they just so happened to be looking for any pilot that would come their way.

Tactical Preferences and Skills
Spatial Awareness: Between years of combat and decades of navigating shifting heaps of torn metal and forgotten scrap, Agatha has an excellent sense for the environment around her and any shifts within her proximity. Her youngest child joked she had a had a sixth sense for falling debris, but Agatha insisted she was just more willing to listen to all her sense then most.

Confrontational: There's no horsing around when the call to action arises. Up front and to the point, she'll tackle a problem head on even if it's not the most tactful or polite. It caused her no ends of trouble but she'd argue it's saved her life just as often.

Strong Constitution: Retirement didn't dull Agatha's drive to stay in top shape as much as she could. Finding healthy food wasn't the easiest thing away from the cities, but she maintained a routine workout regiment and abstained from the typical vices of alcohol and tobacco. Chocolate was a rarity saved for her daughter's birthdays, and the only coffee she drank was decaf. A commitment made all the more trying by the other member's of her family having no such compunctions, but it is a trial she has endured with good cheer and will power.

Notes
---
Neural Combatant

Codename
Herakles

Type

Squad Role
Assault

NC Description
A medium sized mech balancing armor and speed, differentiated from most bipedal NCs by it's emphasis on hands-free integrated weaponry and a reliance on laser weaponry. A lack of an expansive radiator system keeps the use of its laser weapons to short instances with longer cooldowns between engagements, prompting a reliance on close quarters combat and use of auxiliary missile launchers.

Weapons and Armaments
Dual Oscillating Laser Armatures: Each of Herakles' arms features two light laser batteries, firing in a three ray burst before alternating barrels to fire from, mitigating the heat build up somewhat while keeping the fire rate low enough there can be some semblance of accuracy. Due to the NC's arms being designed around the weapon's integration, it's firing angle in no way inhibits the free articulation of Herakles' hands.

Chassis Mounted Medium Laser: A heavier laser then the arm integrated variants effective at medium range, meant to hammer targets at a safer distance. Has greater penetrating power at the expense of being wildly inaccurate while moving unless at extreme close range, as well as limited rate of fire.

Four Quintuple Missile Arrays: Fitted to the shoulders with deployable armored canopy for added protection. Payload constitutes 10 airburst flechette missiles programmed to arch upwards and detonate at a designated range above ground for maximum dispersal. The remaining 10 missiles are willy pete obscure visuals and thermals on top of their intended purpose.

Reinforced Fists: Self evident in their purpose, but sporting added armor along the finger exteriors in order to improve striking power and protection from impact. Precludes the use of any delicate small arms by NC scales, though heavier armaments are feasible.
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[hider=The Warped Reality]

[center]Name: Rufus.
Title: The Warped Reality.
Age: Indeterminate.
Gender: Unknown.
Race: Eldritch Horror.

Abilities:
Rufus can perform one act with complete mastery, such that for any other being to even attempt it without complete dedication to the art instills upon him an unfathomable enmity for them. Rufus is without peer in the creation of Portals. It is how he entered reality, after all, and it this ability that marks his place as a terror upon the world.

Shape. Diameter. Duration. Distance. Location. Knowledge. Time. No factor not perceived or conceived can limit the creation of his portals, such that reality itself bends like a servant supplicating before its sovereign usurper.


Personality:
A sloven being enraptured with the mortals occupying a tiny speck in the grand cosmic opera occupying a single channel amidst countless possibilities. He carries himself casually, inviting ridicule from his shameless ways as he indulges in laziness, vagrancy, and petty pranks. A being who would life no finger in his own defense should a mugger see him stabbed in the gutter for a loaf of moldy bread, only to laugh through closing wounds at the cruelty humans can visit upon one another when pushed to their lowest points.

Rufus is mercurial, prone to long bouts of lounging only to be struck by the indomitable need to enter action, pursuing a rush like a man possessed at the expense of all else, before crawling away to a sofa dumped upon the highest peak of a rancid scrapyard.


Background:
An outsider among both Demons and Humans, he exists amidst the dregs of both, mingling at his leisure and twisting them both for his pleasure. Holding little to no martial or magical might, he looks a gnat antagonizing even novice Devil Hunters, yet not a one has survived to tell tale of him that didn't go without the distinct impression it was only at his amusement they carried onwards.

For all good heroes know that their stories can meet a sudden and anti-climactic end should a writer put pen to paper those most dreaded words, "Rocks fall, the party dies."

And Rufus is never far from a healthy supply of large boulders.
[/hider]
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