Howler

The Search for Elvarren

Stheno

In The Mirror...

What is your real name?
...Elizabeth St. John.

Make sure no one learns it. So, have you thought of a good alias for yourself?

Alias. I suppose I need one, now, don't I... Pity. I liked being Eliza.

...but call me Stheno.

How old are you, anyway?

Old enough to know better. Pre-thirty, and thanks so much for that little rose, Kyle...

...but I'm twenty nine.

How would you describe your own appearance? Height, hair, clothes, whatever.

I hate talking about myself. You know those people who hate talking about themselves? I'm one of them. I'm pretty, and slim, and I dye my hair more than I'd like but less than you think. I'm not tall. I've grey eyes, bleached white hair and...well, no figure...

...but if you must know, I like my collar bones.

Recently all of us are afflicted with these impossibly unreal abilities. Like Mystics. What is your ability?

'Ability', it says. What, you mean this little talent of mine? The one that means I shouldn't see my son again? Or husband? Or feel normal? This isn't a bloody comic book, you know, this is my life and it's ending in what might as well be bloody Siberia for God's sake. So yes, I suppose, I can take people's essence. Or life, or energy, or...whatever. Whatever it is, I take something from them, and if they're very lucky it comes back. Sometimes it doesn't. Is that what you want me to say?

No. No, of course it's not, because that's not enough, is it. There has to be more, there's always more. Trouble comes in threes, they say, so if you must know I'm... I suppose you could say 'strong', but let me stop you there. When I say that, you're thinking bodybuilders, weights at the gym, Arnold Schwarzenegger, but that's not on. Not quite, at least. I'm... more than that.

Swing-a-telephone-pole-like-a-baseball-bat more than that.

Toss-your-car-over-my-shoulder more than that.

And, while we're at it, my skin is strong too, and my bones. They must be, because that's the only bloody explanation I can think of as to why they don't rip or break or cut like normal. I mean sometimes, sure, but not like they ought to. I've put my hand through a car door without a bloody scratch, I mean, can you believe it? I don't know. I just don't know, sometimes.

...but they told me I was strong, and tough, so there you are then.

What is your voice like? Has he told you anything aside to search for Elvarren?

Oh yes, and thanks so much for that little chestnut. Going on about Elvarren, as if that isn't some made up word. I'd say I've gone mad, but apparently I'm not the only one. Mass hysteria is real, you know, I've read about it on the telly, and maybe that's what this is...

...but it's kind, kinder than I'd like. It tells me it's not my fault.

Where did you come from, and how long have you been looking for Elvarren?

Gloucester. I say 'England' and you all think London, like there isn't a whole rest of the country out there.

...but yes, I'm from Gloucester. I miss it. It was warmer there, though I'll give you not by much.

How did you end up here?

Well I flew, didn't I? I certainly didn't swim! London to Montreal to Saskatchewan to a rental car that I never took back...it ran out of petrol a ways back, and I suppose I...well, walked from there. At least I brought flats.

...but yes, I flew. What would you have done?

Anything else you want to get off your chest?

I miss them. God, I miss them so much. Kyle and...and Charlie. I'm so sorry, Charlie, honey, mommy's so sorry...

...but I had to go, didn't I.

It is good to meet you, friend. You’ll be safe here – for the time being…

Oh yes, I'm sure. Of course I will.

...but will you?

For your consideration. Let me know if it needs changes.

Mars Protocol

Color me interested.

Star Wars

Sgt. Sem Taask

Name: Sem Taask
Species: Zeltron
Age: 24
Planet of Origin/Birth: Marisk IV
Force Sensitive: Yes (Untrained)

Skills/Abilities:

- One Shot, One Kill - Sem is a crack shot and everything that implies. He's been called an idiot savant before and he's alright with that--apparently being an idiot hasn't stopped him from being able to pop an Imp from as far away as is bloody possible. His time with the Rebellion has honed that skill, and now you'd be hard-pressed to find a better sharpshooter.
- Bleeding Heart - Like all Zeltron, Sem is mildly telepathic. While he's able to project his own emotions to a greater or lesser degree, he is unfortunately talented at reading and vicariously experiencing the emotions of others, which is just as awful as it sounds on the battlefield. This is further complicated by his latent sensitivity to the force--while he assumes his ability to pick snippets of thought us just an extension of his natural gifts, in truth it's a bit more than that.
- Come and Get Me - Sem may not be the strongest guy around but he's fast and knows how to make himself scarce when the time comes. For a guy in all red, he's really good at the disappearing act when he needs to be.
- The Zeltron Kid - No, that's not what they actually called him, but he spent some formative years putting holes in people from really far away and not getting caught. As such has some decent urban guerilla skills, and those have only broadened to include rural ones as well. One man's serial killer is another man's freedom fighter...
- Play Nice, Guys - Sem's no great shakes with a poem or a speech, but as one can imagine he's a fair hand with keeping up morale. Almost literally compelled to try and smooth things over, he's a smooth talker with a self-deprecating kind of humor that can't help but make the day a little easier. If that doesn't make him the best leader, it does at least make him a popular one.

Equipment:

- Blastech A280 Blaster Rifle with modified scope.
- 2 Blastech H30 Holdout Pistols. Shut up, they do they job.
- Uniform, unmodified
- Whatever type of camouflage best suits the situation and can be scrounged.
- Personal Comm Link
- Rations/survival equipment for one
- Vibroknife

Psychological Profile:

Sem Taask didn't care for a long time.

He was exactly the kind of soldier the Rebellion saw too many off, the ones that were already dead and just hoping to make it official (and take a few more Imps with them along the way). Nothing mattered to him because, as far as he was concerned, tomorrow was a bonus. A people pleaser by inclination and necessity, he was the first to make jokes around the camp at night and the first to head after a trooper who shouldn't have been alone just then. A self-deprecating joker who worried about others instead of himself, being placed in command of a squad has both helped and hurt this aspect of him.

In many ways, becoming a Sergeant is saving Sem. He needed to realize that his own life had merit, even if only for the people around him. In other ways it's exacerbated the problems he's always had--now he needs to deal with people more directly than ever, and it's hard not to take it personally when you can tell exactly how shit your talz buddy thinks you're going to be as a leader. If he spends more time alone than he did before, or at least far enough away from his troop not to have to deal with their thoughts and experiences, then there are worse things. Careful and cautious, a leader who puts the well-being of his troops ahead of straight victories, he's more determined and ever to see his men through now. He's not about to let these men who put their lives on the line go down when they finally started to win.

History:

Marisk IV was a shithole smuggler's moon out in the Outer Rim. Not large enough to be a major haven or in the way enough to be particularly useful, it was good almost entirely for being far enough off the beaten path that nobody would bother to look for you there. That is, unless you knock over an Imperial supply line and are stupid enough to leave a trap that ISB can follow. Sem would never know who it was that actually brought down the heat, but one day the Imperial landing craft showed up and never left. Anyone that would put up a real fight was smart enough to get the hell off world or to know that it wasn't theirs, and so the moon was occupied and oppressed with fairly little resistance. The big wig on the ship set up martial law, the troopers shot first, shot second, and then kicked you in the ribs a few times when they realized you were still standing and marched on to find some other street rat to kick for answers he didn't have.

A dancer by trade and a prostitute by greed, Sem's mother was actually fairly well reputed on the moon for having a heart of gold and a hot little...well. Popular enough to get by and raise her son after his deadbeat smuggler of a father got himself shot and his ship stolen to strand themselves on the stupid moon, life didn't really change very much for the two of them until a Falleen got rough with her. Sem, around fourteen or fifteen at the time and a moderately accomplished pickpocket, runner, and all around good-natured ne'er-de-well, got the smart idea in his head that he would make sure people didn't go around messing up his mom and put a few blaster rounds into his back.

There weren't a lot of big fish on Marisk, and he wasn't one, but there were a lot of medium fish and Sem was barely a minnow. If you catch him in an ironic mood, he'll say that it's funny how Imperial Law probably saved his life--when some of the falleen's friends came by to teach young Sem what happens to people that lit up their buddy, the only thing that stopped them from bashing his brains out was the troopers at the door who bust in and arrested everyone. Sem was 'taken to the infrimary' for his injuries (read: strapped to a gurney until they figured he wasn't going to bleed out) and his mom was taken away to the make-shift holding cells that people went to indefinitely for 'questioning'.

Throwing a zeltron whore into the middle of whatever pissed off scum the Imperials decided to haul in that day/week/month worked out about as well as you'd expect.

She wasn't the same when she came back, and when she put herself out of her misery a little while after healing up neither was Sem. Was it the Empire's fault that shit happened? Probably not. Could they have stopped it? Absolutely. More importantly, he never saw any of those fucking falleen again, and with an axe to grind and nobody to talk you out of it a white target is a white target. Funny thing about it was that it just seemed natural to him to head down to the local fence, get himself a blaster rifle and start picking targets. As a zeltron he knew better than to be anywhere near people when they died--you do not need all that shit in your head, especially if you're the one who made it happen--and he was never that great with a knife anyway. He knew the city, he knew how to run away, and very fortunately he knew how to shoot, which was sort of as much of a surprise to him as anyone else. Not exactly known as a thug or a fighter, it just...clicked.

Like the trigger, when he punched that first hole through the troopers face.

It went on a lot longer than he thought it would. He didn't really have a plan, didn't really know what he was doing other than fighting back. He was just so fucking angry, and if he didn't do something he'd have really lost it. Eventually Marisk IV got to be well known for its resistance snipers. There were copycats, there were idiots, there were little rebellions that got crushed and bigger rebellions that got crushed harder, and if the Imperials were there at first because they were looking for something they stayed because there was still someone out there shooting them.

He wasn't surprised that they caught him; he was surprised that they took so long. Riding suicidal depression like a cruiser in hyperdrive, his glowstick was cracked and leaking--he'd make enough credits for ammunition, food, and his narcotics de jour. He'd pick up his rifle, go hunting, and lather, rinse, repeat. One day ISB was waiting at his house and he didn't even bother to fight--he wasn't proud of it, but he surrendered, and truth be told he was happy enough to just let it...end.

It was going to be public with him, they told him after his story. This had gone on long enough, and between him and another three they rounded up earlier they were going to make an example to try and quell this once and for all. They probably would have, too, had the Rebel Alliance not seen a rife recruiting ground when they saw it. They sent in the Uslam Liberators to do what they do best--and they did--and when the smoke cleared he was out of his handcuffs and looking up to a rifle being handed his way. It would be a shame, they were telling him, to waste a trigger finger like that getting killed on some backwater moon. He was smiling when he took the rifle and got to his feet, because he knew they were right.

At this point, he was at least worth killing on some backwater planet.

That was three years ago, which is two-and-a-half longer than Sem and pretty much anyone else thought he'd make it. His squad had been through a lot and casualties were high, but Sem had both luck and talent on his side. He may not have been a brilliant soldier, but you don't send your best marksman in with the first wave. His talent for independent operations, support fire, and keeping his head down meant that he tended to keep his distance, which tended to increase one's life expectancy. His promotion to Corporal was unimportant to both him and the squad--Sergeant Biss was a sonofabitch who barely needed himself a second-in-command, and he'd gotten it more for being the longest standing member of the squad than he had any sort of ambition or desire to lead. And that was all well and good until Sergeant Biss took an AT-ST's Dymex concussion grenade to the face. After the battle chain-of-command had the Corporal of the squad take up the position...

And that Corporal was Sem.

Now the leader of Mynock Squadron under Lt. Gardevin, Sem and his newfound men have perhaps their most significant mission so far ahead of them. They and the rest of the platoon were 'on loan' to Han Solo and Chewbacca's little resistance thanks to a favor the Lieutenant owed the smuggler and have been sent ahead to scout Kashyyk for the assault proper. That things are about to go to down the rancor's throat is a given, but Gardevin isn't one to let a debt go unpaid.

Besides, they're almost ready. Intelligence suggests a gap in the blockade in a few days, which means reinforcements. What could possibly go wrong.

Let me know if this works and if you're still accepting. I can adjust it easily enough.

Broken Skies: War in the Eversky

Interested.

𝐀𝐁𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐔𝐓𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐄

---

Episode 2: Mass Rave

---

What a dump!

Gray had to admit, when he heard 'giant rave party' he hadn't exactly pictured 'endless parking-garage full of sketchy hovels'. Well alright, he sort of had, but he'd left the creepy ninjas with teeth the color of eel-water out. Or maybe he'd just expected them to be balanced out by more other people. Whatever. Either way, he was happy enough to let Poole handle the guy--it wasn't that he was scared or anything, but when you've got a guy like Poole on your side you learn to let him do what he does best. Meanwhile, Gray was working on doing what he did best to try and figure out all sorts of reasons to get them into a club with a fucking hyena in front of it.

Venusians liked hyenas. Maybe it was their street-smarts, the way they could figure out even complex coordination problems faster than even most pre-gene-tamped apes. Maybe it was that they were survivors, ready, willing, and able to chow down on anything that may remotely have been alive (and plenty of things that weren't) until there was literally nothing left to waste. Or maybe it was that even the females were dicks, or at least had something like one. For not the first time Gray quickly deleted the term 'pseudo-penis' from his search history, preventing one of a dozen little viruses from reading the extranet query and supplying him an unsettling number of suggestions related to the term. It doesn't do to be caught by one's own little traps.

While one small window scrolled through known facts and anatomical configurations of crocuta crocuta, a significantly larger one was pulling information on the Sakura Club. Venus was a hodgepodge of different security levels, security systems about as secure as a five year old's vid card lined up next to cutting edge Zaibatsu work ripped off for some criminal who meant business (or thought he did, or was sufficiently paranoid, or wanted to show off, or, or, or...). The Sakura Club was one of the latter, its own books and internal servers off-net and protected by a not-insignificant Vorsicht Gruppe security suite--that meant money, the kind that you didn't get by catering to guys buying 5.75¥ eel juice.

All of this, of course, took place in the second or two while Poole was talking. Visibly, a bright exclamation point popped up on Gray's helmet as he made for the bouncer and his pooch excitedly. Beeftip might not be here but someone who knew where Tipbuktu was going down would be, and even then this place seemed awfully big-fish for a neighborhood like this without someone pulling in the big bucks. One servo-enhanced hand had even taken Yeva by the wrist, half to drag her along and half to make sure she didn't run off. Even Gray knew that the last thing they needed was him alone in the middle of a rave trying to hunt down a notorious drug dealing. Most things that started off with "Gray on his own" didn't end particularly well.

Entertainingly, yes, but not well.

Over the speakers in his helmet came a sudden series of low-pitched, staccato grunts a bit like a laugh. It wouldn't make much sense to the bouncer, but his hyena might perk up a little. Standard vocal response to a hyena approaching another of a different clan with deference--they used the same things for lions, once upon a time. For his owner, his response was much the same.

"Sup, homie. We in?"

He even added a thumbs up!

𝐀𝐁𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐔𝐓𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐄

---

Episode 2: Mass Rave

---

If Poole hated Venus, Gray loved it.

Really. There was so much going on at any given time that he could literally turn his head and be entertained. Because really, what was that thing dangling over there?_{Dried axolotl frills.} And that little old lady was selling what exactly?_{Improperly labeled soy-based supplement.} And what the hell did that guy have on his face!_{Tumor. Hopefully.} His heads up display was alive with crawling lights and translations, so many small green boxes drawing and calculating and redrawing at any given time that he could barely keep up. Mandarin, Kanji, Arabic, English, a dozen and a half different languages in the air and on the walls and--

The loud clunk of his helmet on yet another doorway brought him back to attention, his breath hot in his ears. As much as he relished the chaos, this was not a great place for Gray. Skipping the obligatory ADHD jokes, there really was just too much for him to process at any given time. While the rational part of him said that he was getting too worked up, that his heart beat was well over optimum, but he was much too busy trying to cover for the clay pot he'd broken turning to look at the seemingly endless drawers and cavities of Ginseng Joji's. The man would probably say it was hundreds of years old or something and charge them an arm and a leg for it if he noticed, but a careful navigation of a few jars had the mess carefully concealed from sight.

Gray's whirring thumbs up to Poole was very subtle.

Really this was all Yeva's doing. She was always off after this herb or that herb, and while normally Gray had no interested in hopping along for the ride he wasn't about to miss the chance to head out into the Venusian concrete jungle and muck about with the natives. It was one of the few places he didn't stand out too much at that--yes, his exoskeleton was bulky and sure, his coat tended to get caught on the odds and ends of the bizarre marketplaces and tchotchke shops, but nobody cared. They were all to busy trying not to get caught doing whatever the criminal activity of the day was to care!

Sort of. Kind of. Not really. Between Poole and Gray both nearly filled a hallway each, but while the massive man had a sort of swaggering self-awareness Gray was a walking disaster. They probably wouldn't have let him come, but in a place like this--

Hippie-dippie music festival. Layer Q, Venus. Techno. Yearly.

"Tipbucktu!" Gray's vocalizer spat out, mechanically excited, as massive exclamation mark appearing pointedly across the orange of his visor. On the other side, strings of green data were scrolling invisibly over the world as page after page of young people getting fucked popped up on his visor. Not literally, of course--well, sometimes literally--but they sure as hell weren't sober. Mister Beeftips had seen to that. The orange faceplate turned expectantly towards his comrades, swiveling between them, before growing an exasperated chibi that dripped sweat above an enormous forced smile.

"Seriously? As in, you guys really don't--" As per usual, Gray didn't wait for a response. He could already tell that neither of the other two had any idea what he or the old man was talking about and was already ahead of them, pulling up one of the vid-logs he'd found and streaming it over the front of his helmet. An excited youth, some Asian variety with a tattoo instead of an eyebrow and a string of Kanji running down from below his right eye, was obviously tripping balls. Pupils the size of saucers, he was babbling almost as quickly as the voice recorder could pick up, its granulation obvious as the picture blocked and unblocked itself in odd increments. The downside of using what was no doubt a hacked wrist-com was obviously lost on him as he babbled.

--gonna be crazy tonight, man, gonna get wrecked! He was saying, chugging from a plastic bottle of water before tossing it off to the side and throwing his head back. Let's merge, babies, let the vibrations make us one! See you at Tipbucktu, losers, I am so--

"Going. We are, right? I mean, come on. We basically have to." The video cut out to Gray talking, his exoskeleton whirring to keep up with him. It was a very strange thing to see a seven-foot exoskeletal giant basically bouncing on his feet. "This thing is supposed to be ridiculous. It's the only time Mister Beeftips gives away handouts in person, the rest of the time he's like a ghost." Did they know who Mister Beeftips was? They had to know who Mister Beeftips was. It was hard to tell if Gray was more interested in the party or the bounty, but did he really have to choose?

"Forget the ginseng, let's get some Beeftip!"

Summary

Gray's a fish out of water on Venus but digging it, especially when he hears about Mister Beeftips sweet dance party down below. He's got a pimp Robot and an empty wallet and hoping to get some use out of both.

𝐀𝐁𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐔𝐓𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐄

---

<sub>"And I love the Fourth of July
When bombs start flashing!
And I wish I had a shiny red top
And a bugel with a big brass bell to cheer me up
Or maybe something bigger that would really go pop!
So I could make the gardening stop."
- Atomic Garden, Bad Religon</sub>

---

<!Open_6R4Y_H44T.pers//Decrypting::
<<--Username//6R4Y_H44T
<<--Age//--4_44--
<<--Appearance//D45H11N6-R06ISH-T4LD4RKH4ND50ME

There are people who are tall and people like Gray. Standing just over seven feet tall, Gray's bulky frame stands him slightly taller than your average door, let alone your average tough. In spite of this his thick and billowing coats, smooth, faceless helmets, and extensive exo-skeleton shield almost the entirety of his body from sight at any given time. There's a running question as to whether or not he's even a person under all that gear or some kind of AI run amok--it would certainly explain a lot.

<<--Traits//..Listing::

!<<5UUP3R_G3NN1US//Decrypting::

Gray is smart. Gray is really smart. Gray is so smart that it is almost certainly illegal, entirely likely gained by some form of genetic engineering, chemical stimulation, or cybernetic enhancement. When it comes to knowing things about things, Gray does. Though of course nobody is sure that he's not just pulling up its Omnipedia page on the inside of his helmet and pretending.

!<<D44T_4$$H0LE//Decrypting::

It's a good thing that Gray is so goddamn smart, because he makes up for it by being so goddamn annoying. 'Childish' is a good word to describe Gray, as he's almost constantly cracking wise, making some kind of idiotic pop-culture reference, or otherwise trolling some poor soul. It's almost compulsive, really, his inability to provide a straight answer or not make a smart ass comment, and it's gotten him in trouble on more than one occasion. Some things just aren't funny, but like a true extranet troll Gray has a really hard time telling where that line is and has an unfortunate habit of sulking when people get butthurt. The irony is lost on him.

!<<B3H0LD_D4_W1Z44D//Decrypting::

Speaking of idiocy, Gray is superstitious to the point of being just plain weird about it. For a technofreak he sure doesn't seem to put a lot of faith in logic, or at least not entirely in logic. It's hard to tell whether or not Gray actually believes in all the little things that he does or if they're some manifestation of on-the-spectrum stress release--there had to be at least some quirks to let him pull the kind of shit he pulls. A believer in everything from Martian Tengen-jutsu to Venutian Spiral Readings, Grays fascination with the occult borders on actual mysticism. He's a particular believer in numerology, and at any given time numbers and patterns are being corrolated for not only the most efficient but the most auspicious course of actions. Most people are willing to just give it to him, but it doesn't make it any less...well. Let's just say the ship used to have a cat.

!<<H1ST0RY_R3PE4TSR3PE4TSR3PE4TS_H1ST0RY_R3PE4TSR3PE4TSR3PE4TS_H1S//Error{Cyclical//Decrypting::

Gray likes history. A lot. Enough that he's willingly chosen ancient pieces of art over people's lives and safety, including his own, on numerous occasions. While the arts--sculptures in particular--are by far his favorite he has a fondness for all sorts of relics, including cultural and especially religious ones. One of the few ways to get him to talk about something serious, Gray views the past (and even the distant past) as all part of a grand equation that ultimately allows the prediction of the future, and will continue at length on the subject with increasing incoherence until it eventually devolves into memes like everything else he does.

<--Strengths//Listing::

!<I_4M_HE4VY_W34P0NS_6UY!!1//Decrypting::

Gray doesn't really like to fight--it's certainly not his strong suit. He much prefers to screw with his enemies in all manner of awkward life-hack nonsense, but there are occasions when you've just got to get stuck in with it. On those occasions, Gray goes with the time honored tradition of taking the biggest goddamn gun he can find and making as much noise and explosions with it as possible. While rarely useful in a one-on-one fight, Gray's exoskeleton and AI aim-assists helps him load up the caliber of weapon commonly seen mounted on military vehicles. He's not above--and in fact greatly enjoys--demolitions, and while this can do wonders against a Venutian mercenary group it isn't always the best answer for some of the more casual fighting that occurs in the course of a bounty hunter's work. This has not seemed to 'click' with Gray, whose typical response is something along the lines of 'M0RE_D44K4!!1'.

!<Open::Salinger.J.D.--<"I thought what I'd do was, I'd pretend I was one of those deaf-mutes.">//Decrypting::

When it comes to flat network hacking, to say that Gray is legendary is to give him too little credit--after all, 'legendary' would mean that people know about him. Responsible for four out of six most carefully covered up corporate hacks of the last decade, most people assume that Username:6R4Y_H44T is actually a collective of extranet cybertrolls. The intelligence community know better, and commonly believe him to be the computer equivalent of the Tooth Fairy. When your computer turns itself inside out and starts vomiting your details to anyone in broadcast range, Gray Hat did it. While it takes concentration, Gray can crack, hack, and put back together just about anything that broadcasts before most people can realize that their helmet's videofeed is missing the seven foot exoskeletal giant in the corner.

!<3L3M3NT4RY,MY_D34R_W4TS0N...//Decrypting::

Surprisingly to most, Gray is actually impressively intuitive when it comes to people. Something of a voyeur, he spends a disproportionate amount of his time watching them through security feeds, Trojan vid-viruses, and social media hacks, and while many would say he does it so that he can get a better grasp of these odd, fleshy things called 'Homo Sapiens' he seems to spend so much time around the truth is that Gray just likes people. He tends to understand them much better than they tend to understand themselves, and it is this as much as anything that helps him act as something of a sleuth on more occasions than not. If you're looking for someone to run the head game on your local bounty, you might as well ask Gray. That's kinda his turf.

<!N0TUR4V3R4GE-LYF3--H4CK//Decrypting:

Perhaps even more surprising to most, Gray is actually quite an accomplished physician. Though almost all of his knowledge is hacked from extranet articles, med-school holographies, recorded surgeries, and trauma videos, when it comes time to get that bullet out you can count on Gray to do it without taking off the arm. By no means a doctor in any sense of the word, he takes the phrase 'life-hack' more literally than most and treats the body as yet another system to troll. It isn't recommended to bring him anything but trauma and needlessly complicated medical issues, however--anything else is 'boring' and likely to result in aggressive and incessant teasing.

!Bedroom_Skills::Open_xxxFistula.img/:Open_Cht.Cam.milfaholic334/:Exec_"Spank Me Daddy"/Run_MayFlowersNeedsGolden--//REDACT:ser_History&Recycling&Folder/Downloads

<--Weaknesses//Listing::

<!Open_6R4Y.doc.med//Decrypting:://ERROR{File Not Found//

Gray is not well, and not in the 'haha, he's crazy' kind of way. Well, also in that kind of way, but not only. Whatever it is that Gray or someone else has done to his body, it had some significant side-effects; at the very least he's dependent upon a cocktail of something that includes a restricted pain medication. The reason Gray is quite so up on his medical knowledge is so that he can figure out how to fix himself, though he carefully guards quite what it is he's attempting to fix about himself. Asking without having earned enough 'Approval', as he refers to it, is just begging to be deflected and abused.

<!ERROR{Maintenance_Required::LServo2A//ERROR{Maintenance_Required::LServo2B//Decrypting::

All that hardware Gray packs around with doesn't come cheap, and it doesn't exactly hold up under the rigors of mercenary life as well as it ought to. Everything from his exoskeleton to his face masks to his extranet broadcaster is either something he picked up along the way and rigged to work or a dying piece of cutting-edge equipment that he ripped off from somewhere else. Gray is always looking for odd bits and ends to help shore up his collection, but parts can be scarce and a long time between jobs can make for a very unhappy Gray.

<!Open_25thCentury-Digital-Boy//Decrypting::

Worse, Gray is largely dependent on his hardware. Not all of it, of course, but on the rare occasions Gray is without his exoskeleton he is demonstrably crippled, physically extremely weak and mentally struggling. While the suit itself is hardened against EMP attacks and environmental failures as best it can be--it has backup systems, redundant operational structures, and really isn't about to just go out on its own--that doesn't mean that without it he's essentially helpless. It also doesn't mean that a good number of fine systems can be damaged both by electromagnetic interference or a sufficiently advanced technological attack, which is only theoretically possible thanks to some hilariously overdeveloped firewalls and security protocols but still something Gray is understandably paranoid about. If the power goes out, Gray's in trouble.

<!Exec_Cry.Some.More.kll//Decrypting::

Say what you want about Gray, there's a solid case to be made that he's still quite young somewhere beneath all that equipment. It's hard to say for sure, but just looking at the way he acts sometimes definitely places him on an immature spectrum, juxtaposed by occasional moments of true brilliance or wisdom. He hates losing, he holds a grudge, he often responds with overkill, and in spite of his constant dickery he takes most things very personally. A cool cucumber or smooth operator Gray is not.

<<--Past//Open_PRec.GrayHat//Decrypting:ERROR{Exec_3y3Prov2.5.1//Decrptying:ERROR{Receiving::

I can see you there.
Don't think that I can't.
You're reading up on me. You've done a good job, or paid for it. Strengths, weaknesses. Personality files. Someone's been squealing, but I'll see to that soon enough. What's important is that there's nothing here for you. I could let you pull it up and see, but all it would tell you is what they want you to know. Or what I want you to know. Which wouldn't make it any more true, would it?

We all have a past. We all have a history, and it repeats itself. Do yourself a favor and erase it. Input new starting parameters, recalculate. If equal changes are made to both sides of an equation it remains the same: Don't be equal. I'm not. But you got this far on me, so before I frag every drive on your network I'll give you this little tidbit for posterity:

Rosebud.

<--Exec_H4H4H4.exe//ERROR{File Not Found--ERROR{File Not Found--ERROR{File Not Found--
<--ERROR{Sys_Settings.sys cannot be opened. Unknown Error.
<--ERROR{Sys_Mem.sys cannot be opened. Unknown Error.
<--A problem has been detected and your interface has been shut down to prevent damage to your terminal.
The problem seems to be have been caused by the following file: 4NGR4_M41NYU.Sys
If this is the first time you have experienced this problem, please restart your terminal.
If the problem continues, follow these steps:
ERROR{H4H4H4

Muskets & Magic - Dark Fantasy RP

Well. That happened.

So my finals are pretty much over. Apologies on taking quite so long with it--I should be recovered by Monday, at which point I might be able to get something up. Is this still alive, or should I be letting it die in peace?

𝐀𝐁𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐔𝐓𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐄

Let's see if this works for what you have in mind.

Meet Gray

<!Open_6R4Y_H44T.pers//Decrypting::
<<--Username//6R4Y_H44T
<<--Age//--4_44--
<<--Appearance//D45H11N6-R06ISH-T4LD4RKH4ND50ME

There are people who are tall and people like Gray. Standing just over seven feet tall, Gray's bulky frame stands him slightly taller than your average door, let alone your average tough. In spite of this his thick and billowing coats, smooth, faceless helmets, and extensive exo-skeleton shield almost the entirety of his body from sight at any given time. There's a running question as to whether or not he's even a person under all that gear or some kind of AI run amok--it would certainly explain a lot.

<<--Traits//..Listing::

!<<5UUP3R_G3NN1US//Decrypting::

Gray is smart. Gray is really smart. Gray is so smart that it is almost certainly illegal, entirely likely gained by some form of genetic engineering, chemical stimulation, or cybernetic enhancement. When it comes to knowing things about things, Gray does. Though of course nobody is sure that he's not just pulling up its Omnipedia page on the inside of his helmet and pretending.

!<<D44T_4$$H0LE//Decrypting::

It's a good thing that Gray is so goddamn smart, because he makes up for it by being so goddamn annoying. 'Childish' is a good word to describe Gray, as he's almost constantly cracking wise, making some kind of idiotic pop-culture reference, or otherwise trolling some poor soul. It's almost compulsive, really, his inability to provide a straight answer or not make a smart ass comment, and it's gotten him in trouble on more than one occasion. Some things just aren't funny, but like a true extranet troll Gray has a really hard time telling where that line is and has an unfortunate habit of sulking when people get butthurt. The irony is lost on him.

!<<B3H0LD_D4_W1Z44D//Decrypting::

Speaking of idiocy, Gray is superstitious to the point of being just plain weird about it. For a technofreak he sure doesn't seem to put a lot of faith in logic, or at least not entirely in logic. It's hard to tell whether or not Gray actually believes in all the little things that he does or if they're some manifestation of on-the-spectrum stress release--there had to be at least some quirks to let him pull the kind of shit he pulls. A believer in everything from Martian Tengen-jutsu to Venutian Spiral Readings, Grays fascination with the occult borders on actual mysticism. He's a particular believer in numerology, and at any given time numbers and patterns are being corrolated for not only the most efficient but the most auspicious course of actions. Most people are willing to just give it to him, but it doesn't make it any less...well. Let's just say the ship used to have a cat.

!<<H1ST0RY_R3PE4TSR3PE4TSR3PE4TS_H1ST0RY_R3PE4TSR3PE4TSR3PE4TS_H1S//Error{Cyclical//Decrypting::

Gray likes history. A lot. Enough that he's willingly chosen ancient pieces of art over people's lives and safety, including his own, on numerous occasions. While the arts--sculptures in particular--are by far his favorite he has a fondness for all sorts of relics, including cultural and especially religious ones. One of the few ways to get him to talk about something serious, Gray views the past (and even the distant past) as all part of a grand equation that ultimately allows the prediction of the future, and will continue at length on the subject with increasing incoherence until it eventually devolves into memes like everything else he does.

<--Strengths//Listing::

!<I_4M_HE4VY_W34P0NS_6UY!!1//Decrypting::

Gray doesn't really like to fight--it's certainly not his strong suit. He much prefers to screw with his enemies in all manner of awkward life-hack nonsense, but there are occasions when you've just got to get stuck in with it. On those occasions, Gray goes with the time honored tradition of taking the biggest goddamn gun he can find and making as much noise and explosions with it as possible. While rarely useful in a one-on-one fight, Gray's exoskeleton and AI aim-assists helps him load up the caliber of weapon commonly seen mounted on military vehicles. He's not above--and in fact greatly enjoys--demolitions, and while this can do wonders against a Venutian mercenary group it isn't always the best answer for some of the more casual fighting that occurs in the course of a bounty hunter's work. This has not seemed to 'click' with Gray, whose typical response is something along the lines of 'M0RE_D44K4!!1'.

!<Open::Salinger.J.D.--<"I thought what I'd do was, I'd pretend I was one of those deaf-mutes.">//Decrypting::

When it comes to flat network hacking, to say that Gray is legendary is to give him too little credit--after all, 'legendary' would mean that people know about him. Responsible for four out of six most carefully covered up corporate hacks of the last decade, most people assume that Username:6R4Y_H44T is actually a collective of extranet cybertrolls. The intelligence community know better, and commonly believe him to be the computer equivalent of the Tooth Fairy. When your computer turns itself inside out and starts vomiting your details to anyone in broadcast range, Gray Hat did it. While it takes concentration, Gray can crack, hack, and put back together just about anything that broadcasts before most people can realize that their helmet's videofeed is missing the seven foot exoskeletal giant in the corner.

!<3L3M3NT4RY,MY_D34R_W4TS0N...//Decrypting::

Surprisingly to most, Gray is actually impressively intuitive when it comes to people. Something of a voyeur, he spends a disproportionate amount of his time watching them through security feeds, Trojan vid-viruses, and social media hacks, and while many would say he does it so that he can get a better grasp of these odd, fleshy things called 'Homo Sapiens' he seems to spend so much time around the truth is that Gray just likes people. He tends to understand them much better than they tend to understand themselves, and it is this as much as anything that helps him act as something of a sleuth on more occasions than not. If you're looking for someone to run the head game on your local bounty, you might as well ask Gray. That's kinda his turf.

<!N0TUR4V3R4GE-LYF3--H4CK//Decrypting:

Perhaps even more surprising to most, Gray is actually quite an accomplished physician. Though almost all of his knowledge is hacked from extranet articles, med-school holographies, recorded surgeries, and trauma videos, when it comes time to get that bullet out you can count on Gray to do it without taking off the arm. By no means a doctor in any sense of the word, he takes the phrase 'life-hack' more literally than most and treats the body as yet another system to troll. It isn't recommended to bring him anything but trauma and needlessly complicated medical issues, however--anything else is 'boring' and likely to result in aggressive and incessant teasing.

!Bedroom_Skills::Open_xxxFistula.img/:Open_Cht.Cam.milfaholic334/:Exec_"Spank Me Daddy"/Run_MayFlowersNeedsGolden--//REDACT:ser_History&Recycling&Folder/Downloads

<--Weaknesses//Listing::

<!Open_6R4Y.doc.med//Decrypting:://ERROR{File Not Found//

Gray is not well, and not in the 'haha, he's crazy' kind of way. Well, also in that kind of way, but not only. Whatever it is that Gray or someone else has done to his body, it had some significant side-effects; at the very least he's dependent upon a cocktail of something that includes a restricted pain medication. The reason Gray is quite so up on his medical knowledge is so that he can figure out how to fix himself, though he carefully guards quite what it is he's attempting to fix about himself. Asking without having earned enough 'Approval', as he refers to it, is just begging to be deflected and abused.

<!ERROR{Maintenance_Required::LServo2A//ERROR{Maintenance_Required::LServo2B//Decrypting::

All that hardware Gray packs around with doesn't come cheap, and it doesn't exactly hold up under the rigors of mercenary life as well as it ought to. Everything from his exoskeleton to his face masks to his extranet broadcaster is either something he picked up along the way and rigged to work or a dying piece of cutting-edge equipment that he ripped off from somewhere else. Gray is always looking for odd bits and ends to help shore up his collection, but parts can be scarce and a long time between jobs can make for a very unhappy Gray.

<!Open_25thCentury-Digital-Boy//Decrypting::

Worse, Gray is largely dependent on his hardware. Not all of it, of course, but on the rare occasions Gray is without his exoskeleton he is demonstrably crippled, physically extremely weak and mentally struggling. While the suit itself is hardened against EMP attacks and environmental failures as best it can be--it has backup systems, redundant operational structures, and really isn't about to just go out on its own--that doesn't mean that without it he's essentially helpless. It also doesn't mean that a good number of fine systems can be damaged both by electromagnetic interference or a sufficiently advanced technological attack, which is only theoretically possible thanks to some hilariously overdeveloped firewalls and security protocols but still something Gray is understandably paranoid about. If the power goes out, Gray's in trouble.

<!Exec_Cry.Some.More.kll//Decrypting::

Say what you want about Gray, there's a solid case to be made that he's still quite young somewhere beneath all that equipment. It's hard to say for sure, but just looking at the way he acts sometimes definitely places him on an immature spectrum, juxtaposed by occasional moments of true brilliance or wisdom. He hates losing, he holds a grudge, he often responds with overkill, and in spite of his constant dickery he takes most things very personally. A cool cucumber or smooth operator Gray is not.

<<--Past//Open_PRec.GrayHat//Decrypting:ERROR{Exec_3y3Prov2.5.1//Decrptying:ERROR{Receiving::

I can see you there.
Don't think that I can't.
You're reading up on me. You've done a good job, or paid for it. Strengths, weaknesses. Personality files. Someone's been squealing, but I'll see to that soon enough. What's important is that there's nothing here for you. I could let you pull it up and see, but all it would tell you is what they want you to know. Or what I want you to know. Which wouldn't make it any more true, would it?

We all have a past. We all have a history, and it repeats itself. Do yourself a favor and erase it. Input new starting parameters, recalculate. If equal changes are made to both sides of an equation it remains the same: Don't be equal. I'm not. But you got this far on me, so before I frag every drive on your network I'll give you this little tidbit for posterity:

Rosebud.

<--Exec_H4H4H4.exe//ERROR{File Not Found--ERROR{File Not Found--ERROR{File Not Found--
<--ERROR{Sys_Settings.sys cannot be opened. Unknown Error.
<--ERROR{Sys_Mem.sys cannot be opened. Unknown Error.
<--A problem has been detected and your interface has been shut down to prevent damage to your terminal.
The problem seems to be have been caused by the following file: 4NGR4_M41NYU.Sys
If this is the first time you have experienced this problem, please restart your terminal.
If the problem continues, follow these steps:
ERROR{H4H4H4

𝐀𝐁𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐔𝐓𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐄

Interested as well.