Ferrocerium

Codex Auriferum: Game of Fate (alchemy-focused setting)

Oh, this looks so cool. Mark me down as interested.

Bastion: The Last Tank Crew

At Drake's order, Kirin wheels the tank to the side of the road. Out of sight, but only from far away. Leaving the engine idling, she clambers out of the Bastion, already retrieving a block of C4 from her pack. She plants it on the side of the road, a few meters ahead of the Bastion, and sticks a blasting cap into the malleable explosive. That done, she covers it in fist-sized rocks and fragments of rubble; when she triggers it, the explosion would send the rubble outwards, like a fragmentation grenade on a somewhat larger scale.

She checks her detonator, confirming that the remote blasting cap is linked up with it. C4 was a stable explosive, and it won't detonate until she pulls the trigger. Plus, if it doesn't get used, it's less hair-raising to recover than a land mine. With her impromptu trap set up, Saki returns to the Bastion.

Bastion: The Last Tank Crew

Saki, settling into her position at the front of the tank, snorts at Theo's comment. "I mean, 'well-trained' might be stretching the truth just a tiny bit. Still, I don't think I agree." She reaches down to find the levers to adjust the seat; the tank was built with adult men in mind, and Saki is a malnourished sixteen year-old girl in need of a bath. A fact that is becoming very obvious to her companions in the cramped space. She smells like sweat, gunpowder, and ammonia.

"See, the only thing the Yaks get is strength. They have the guns, the troops, the resources, and there's nobody who can stand up to them, so that means they're in charge. They take what they want, and their victims are expected to be grateful because hey, it could be worse, right?"

Finally, the seat is as far forwards as it can go, and the wheel and pedals are comfortably within reach. Next, she works at making the chair as high as it can go, praying that she won't need to sit on a box to see where she's going. "We could use this to pay their taxes like obedient, sniveling vassals, but that's only going to buy us a few months, tops. Who knows when they'll decide to tax us next time? Who knows what they'll want?" She grunts, sounding for all the world like a man three times her age. "I say fuck that. This is a main battle tank, not a fucking delivery truck. The yaks are thieves, murderers, and rapists, and we should blow them up and make it look like a drone attack."

Bastion: The Last Tank Crew

@Dynamo Frokane Um, I'm pretty sure you meant to mention me, not Mercenary Lord, who didn't even make an opening post. Or, you know, a character.

Falling Skies: Wavering Valor (Mecha, Space Opera)

Oh man, this looks cool. And I like your ideas on 'character roles'. I'm cautiously interested in the captain/naval officer role (in command of a huge-ass ship? Yes please), and I'd be willing to Co-GM, but I've never actually done that before. What sort of duties would that entail?

Bastion: The Last Tank Crew

As soon as the small hut on the edge of Omi came into sight, Ryoichi slowed from a run to a careful walk. He was sure that Takamori-sama didn't actually have a minefield set up around her little workshop, but there was no such thing as being too cautious, especially after what had happened to her last workshop. Thankfully, nobody had been hurt, but the crater was still smoldering.

After he finished the heart-pounding ten meter walk, Ryoichi breathed a sigh of relief that he knew he shouldn't have been holding in the first place. He cleared his throat and knocked on the door, composing himself to meet one of the heroes who would save the village.

"It's open!" a young woman's voice called out from inside. Ryoichi steeled himself, and entered the hut.

Takamori-sama herself was hunched over a workbench on the other side of the hut, surrounded by jars of powder and sacks of materials that Ryoichi couldn't make out. The hut smelled atrocious, a mix of sulfur and ammonia that made Ryoichi want to retch. He covered his nose and mouth with his shirt. "Takamori-sama-" he started, but was cut off when the young woman raised a single finger at him.

"Hold that thought. I need a hand," she said, her voice muffled. Ryoichi gulped, and approached her, the horrible smell getting stronger the closer he got to the workbench. Takamori-sama was wearing a gas mask, probably to avoid the smell. Clever.

She pressed two items into Ryoichi's hands: a heavy metal ball the size of an apple, with a round opening on the top, and a funnel, which she guided Ryoichi into fitting into the metal ball's opening. "Hold that there, and don't move," she warned. "Unless you're feeling suicidal."

The bottom of Ryoichi's stomach dropped out as he realized what he was holding. A grenade.

He whimpered as Takamori-sama picked up a jar of a thickly-packed black powder, and began to pour it into the funnel. "Careful," she said, her voice low. "One wrong move, and we both go up."

When the grenade shell was filled to Takamori-sama's satisfaction, she replaced the jar on the workbench, and selected a mechanism attached to what Ryoichi recognized as the handle of a grenade. She slipped the mechanism - a fuse? - into the shell, and screwed the handle on tightly. She clapped Ryoichi on the shoulder so suddenly that he squeaked. "Good job. You didn't blow either of us up," she said, pulling off her gas mask. Her face was streaked with black stains and grease, and she added one more as she wiped sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. She took the grenade from Ryoichi and began to toss it back and forth from hand to hand; Ryoichi couldn't take his eyes off of it. "So, what's up? Ryoichi, right?"

"Ye-yes, ma'am," Ryochi said. "Uh, Ki-Kiwami-sama. Townhouse. Bastion. M-ma'am."

Takamori Saki grinned. "Perfect timing," she said. "Let me grab a few things and we'll head out."

Ryoichi waited as Takamori-sama gathered her things: a large backpack stuffed with several bricks of plastic explosives; a bandolier covered with grenades of all shapes and sizes, which she donned after attaching her new grenade; a submachine gun, which she quickly checked to confirm that the safety was on; and a set of dog tags, which she hung around her neck with more care than she'd given the grenades. "Alright, ready," she said. "Now, just gotta find the map of the mine field-"

"Mine field?" Ryoichi shrieked. For some reason, Takamori-sama started to cackle.

"God no, I'm just messing with you. Lighten up, kid," she said, ruffling Ryoichi's hair as she passed him. Never mind that they were almost the same height, despite the difference between their ages.

Once again, Ryoichi cursed his bad luck for drawing the short straw.

--

Takamori Saki wasn't surprised when the young messenger made himself scarce as soon as they arrived in Omi proper. Teasing him so much had probably been unnecessary, but it had been impossible to resist. The kid had been as tightly-strung as a harp.

Despite herself, she had a spring in her step as she approached the town hall. With the Bastion completed, there would finally be some forward momentum. They would finally be able to do something, even if nobody knew what that something was yet. But regardless, it would be good to have a few inches of ceramic-composite armor between her and the wasteland.

The others were already waiting when she arrived. Sara was snatching a mug of coffee from Drake (the man seriously had a problem), Theo was being Theo, which meant 'quiet', and Hana looked like she had just taken a bath. Saki was reminded that it had been a week since she'd last taken a bath; she surreptitiously checked her own smell.

Eh. Probably fine. Hopefully.

Bastion: The Last Tank Crew

Name: Takamori Saki

Callsign: Kirin

Age: 16

Height: 150cm

Weight: 45kg

Nationality: Japanese

Tank Role: Driver

Infantry Role: Demolitions

Personality: Saki has lived a long, tough life in just sixteen years, and it's made her a bit more pessimistic than most. However, that pessimism (bordering on nihilism) is tempered with an iron will and a paradoxical desire to keep fighting even when she knows the odds are stacked in the house's favor. She also has a very cavalier attitude towards life and death, one that leaves her willing to take risks that would be branded 'suicidal' by anybody tragically inflicted with self-preservation instincts. In her defense, it's hard to not risk your life when you're wearing a bandolier of homemade grenades.

Bio: Once upon a time, the Takamoris were a happy little family. They had lived on Izayoi for generations, tending to their small farm in the highlands. They mostly raised sheep, and chickens, and grew some vegetables. It wasn't an easy life; with just four people (Hyoube, the father; Kyoumi, the mother; Takeo, the oldest son; and Saki, the youngest daughter), there was always work to be done, and it was hard to ignore the obvious steady decline. Still, the little family kept at it, eking out a living as best they could.

And then a horde of mutants attacked the farm, stole the animals, and dragged Hyoube, kicking and screaming, off into the night. Saki was six at the time. It's not one of her favorite memories.

The Takamoris left behind what was left of their home, and moved down into Omi village. They took up residence in a hovel on the edge of town, doing everything they could to keep food on the table. Takeo and Saki did errands for other villagers, and Kyoumi took up sewing, turning whatever scraps of cloth she could find into sturdy, utilitarian clothing. They went hungry many nights, but they were safe in the village, and Saki loved having neighbors to play with. They hadn't had those on the farm.

And then a gang of yakuza kidnapped Kyoumi. Saki has no idea what happened to her, and she does her best to keep it that way. She was nine at the time.

Orphaned, Takeo and Saki left Omi to go to the one place they might be able to find shelter: Cartwright Academy. Brother and sister were admitted to the small school, where for the first time in his life, Takeo had a chance to shine. Two years after admittance, he was made commander of his tank crew at the young age of sixteen, and earned glory and respect in numerous actions against the many hostiles that would have plagued Omi without the Academy's protection. But every moment he wasn't with his crew, he spent with his little sister, the only family he had left in the world. She was beginning to excel in her classes, showing the same promise that he had, and it was sometimes hard to stomach how proud the two siblings were of one another.

...And then Takeo was killed in action against a swarm of drones. They recovered the body, at least. Well, parts of it. Probably. It was hard to tell who was who when the entire tank crew had been rendered into mulch.

Saki was twelve at the time. As her brother was buried with full honors, she made a realization that no child her age should ever have had: the world was shit, and getting worse. What little remained of civilization was the barest shadow of what it had once been, and every day was a losing battle to keep going. If the yakuza didn't burn them down from the inside, then the mutants would probably eat them or something, and if that didn't do it, an AI would probably use them for target practice. And that was if they didn't starve, or succumb to radiation sickness, or freeze to death in the winter, or die from infected wounds, or fucking commit suicide or something.

Realizing this simple, stark truth, most would have given up. Saki, however, decided that she hated the world enough that the best way to tell it to go fuck itself was to keep on living, no matter what it threw at her. She drowned herself in her classes, picking up every scrap of knowledge she could use to fight. She showed great skill in commandeering a tank ("you can't do donuts in an MBT", they said. Saki proved them wrong), and a disturbing proficiency for explosives of all types ("Takamori, for the last god damn time, stop sculpting your C4 into penises." "Make me.").

...Aaaaaaand then Cartwright Academy was reduced to a smoking pile of rubble by some unknown dickhole. At this point, Saki has stopped being sad and started being flatly pissed off.

Bastion: The Last Tank Crew

Am I good to put my sheet in the characters tab?

Bastion: The Last Tank Crew

Finished my picture. It's only SLIGHTLY garbage :D

Saki

Bastion: The Last Tank Crew

Here's the first draft of my character.

Takamori "Kirin" Saki

[Image: Working on it.]

Name: Takamori Saki

Callsign: Kirin

Age: 16

Height: 150cm

Weight: 45kg

Nationality: Japanese

Tank Role: Driver

Infantry Role: Demolitions

Personality: Saki has lived a long, tough life in just sixteen years, and it's made her a bit more pessimistic than most. However, that pessimism (bordering on nihilism) is tempered with an iron will and a paradoxical desire to keep fighting even when she knows the odds are stacked in the house's favor. She also has a very cavalier attitude towards life and death, one that leaves her willing to take risks that would be branded 'suicidal' by anybody tragically inflicted with self-preservation instincts. In her defense, it's hard to not risk your life when you're wearing a bandolier of homemade grenades.

Bio: Once upon a time, the Takamoris were a happy little family. They had lived on Izayoi for generations, tending to their small farm in the highlands. They mostly raised sheep, and chickens, and grew some vegetables. It wasn't an easy life; with just four people (Hyoube, the father; Kyoumi, the mother; Takeo, the oldest son; and Saki, the youngest daughter), there was always work to be done, and it was hard to ignore the obvious steady decline. Still, the little family kept at it, eking out a living as best they could.

And then a horde of mutants attacked the farm, stole the animals, and dragged Hyoube, kicking and screaming, off into the night. Saki was six at the time. It's not one of her favorite memories.

The Takamoris left behind what was left of their home, and moved down into Omi village. They took up residence in a hovel on the edge of town, doing everything they could to keep food on the table. Takeo and Saki did errands for other villagers, and Kyoumi took up sewing, turning whatever scraps of cloth she could find into sturdy, utilitarian clothing. They went hungry many nights, but they were safe in the village, and Saki loved having neighbors to play with. They hadn't had those on the farm.

And then a gang of yakuza kidnapped Kyoumi. Saki has no idea what happened to her, and she does her best to keep it that way. She was nine at the time.

Orphaned, Takeo and Saki left Omi to go to the one place they might be able to find shelter: Cartwright Academy. Brother and sister were admitted to the small school, where for the first time in his life, Takeo had a chance to shine. Two years after admittance, he was made commander of his tank crew at the young age of sixteen, and earned glory and respect in numerous actions against the many hostiles that would have plagued Omi without the Academy's protection. But every moment he wasn't with his crew, he spent with his little sister, the only family he had left in the world. She was beginning to excel in her classes, showing the same promise that he had, and it was sometimes hard to stomach how proud the two siblings were of one another.

...And then Takeo was killed in action against a swarm of drones. They recovered the body, at least. Well, parts of it. Probably. It was hard to tell who was who when the entire tank crew had been rendered into mulch.

Saki was twelve at the time. As her brother was buried with full honors, she made a realization that no child her age should ever have had: the world was shit, and getting worse. What little remained of civilization was the barest shadow of what it had once been, and every day was a losing battle to keep going. If the yakuza didn't burn them down from the inside, then the mutants would probably eat them or something, and if that didn't do it, an AI would probably use them for target practice. And that was if they didn't starve, or succumb to radiation sickness, or freeze to death in the winter, or die from infected wounds, or fucking commit suicide or something.

Realizing this simple, stark truth, most would have given up. Saki, however, decided that she hated the world enough that the best way to tell it to go fuck itself was to keep on living, no matter what it threw at her. She drowned herself in her classes, picking up every scrap of knowledge she could use to fight. She showed great skill in commandeering a tank ("you can't do donuts in an MBT", they said. Saki proved them wrong), and a disturbing proficiency for explosives of all types ("Takamori, for the last god damn time, stop sculpting your C4 into penises." "Make me.").

...Aaaaaaand then Cartwright Academy was reduced to a smoking pile of rubble by some unknown dickhole. At this point, Saki has stopped being sad and started being flatly pissed off.