Current
Ma! The sex roleplayers are being weird in the advanced tab again, Ma!
4
likes
4 yrs ago
Stack sats, print gats, distill vats, feed cats
1
like
4 yrs ago
We here at Cyberdine Systems have heard your demands and we answer your cries with "BullyBot". With the push of a button you can now automate all of your cyberbullying. The future is here. Embrace it.
5
likes
4 yrs ago
>using the phrase "normie" unironically
3
likes
4 yrs ago
They always ask me, "What the fuck are you doing!?" but never, "How the fuck you doing?"
Dannie's voice dripped with malice and perverse glee as it came through the commlink. "I want the alarms on. I want them to know I'm here." Recompense moved into formation with the rest of the assembly, shock spear in hand. The hum of her mobile suit's Franken-reactor could be just barely heard by any suits directly adjacent to her as she rolled her shoulders.
All systems were optimal and she was more than ready to tear someone apart. She blew smoke from her nose as she worked the controls and double checked the harness keeping her locked into the seat. Everything was set, now she just needed something to break. She raised her shield in anticipation and brought her spear parallel with the ground. Her spear was a frightful thing, all cobbled together with a mess of electronics welded to the length of it, the last seven feet or so arcing with electricity as though the weapon itself were hungry for battle.
Dannie herself could hardly wait. There was nothing in existence that brought her more happiness than using her mobile suit. By herself, she was a crippled ex-pirate with no marketable skills that didn't involve violence. When she was strapped into the cockpit, she felt almost invincible. She might not have been a drug user, but she had an addiction of a different sort.
Art by Max Hugo _____________________________________ Ragna ___________________________________________________ 21 | Female | Southern ______________________________________
▼ B A S I C S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ► Height - 6'1" ► Weight - 190 lbs ► Build - Athletic ► Hair Colour - Blonde ► Eye Colour - Green ► Origin - Stronghold Hjalmarsson, Southern -
▼ S K I L L S E T ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ► War Master - Tactics And Weaponry ► Strength - Body and Mind as Steel ► Muscle Memory - Fighting Without Thinking ► Wilderness Survival - One With Nature -
D E T A I L E D A P P E A R A N C E
Even at a glance, Ragna is noticeably large for a woman being both tall and broad shouldered. Her musculature is well defined and her skin is marked with scars, especially along her arms, that stand out against her fair complexion. Through all this, she still holds a savage beauty with her fiery green eyes and long blonde hair. Her perfectly curved cheeks and soft lips would have made her an easy choice for marriage were they not so often obscured by a mask of bone and warpaint.
Beauty is of little concern to her, only the task she was born for. She decorates her mask and hair with dyes made from crushed berries and wildflower. Similar to her favorite mask, what little decoration she affords herself is taken from past victories. Around her neck she wears of necklace of teeth and fangs ripped from the mouths of beasts and monsters who were weaker than herself, but not by much. Her waist is adorned with bones of men and women alike who challenged the barbarian in a way many before had failed to. Her pauldrons are fitted with the horns of great and terrible monsters that threatened the very existence of her people; horrors too great for her to conquer alone.
The rest of her clothing is purely functional and everything has a purpose for why it is the way it is. Her scale mail armor is a compromise between the slashing protection of chain mail and the blunt force resistance of plate. She is prepared for everything. Her greaves give her just protection where it is needed most without slowing her down. The pelt across her shoulders is thick enough to provide some protection, but also makes adequate bedding should the need arise.
---P E R S O N A L I T Y
Pragmatic, decisive, relentless, and a bit frigid. Ragna has never known peace, only momentary rest as it is needed to keep her at peak lethality. While not outwardly paranoid, she is always visibly ready to throw herself into battle at a moment's notice. She is assertive without being combative, prepared without paranoia, fearless but not reckless. Ragna was meant to be the perfect soldier, a living weapon for someone else to use and direct as they saw fit. She is not a person, merely a complex weapon rack. A dog that protects the flock from afar without question or complaint. Perhaps as a symptom of her upbringing, she does not suffer weakness lightly and seethes at incompetence. Honest mistakes are one thing, but prolonged or repeated failure without improvement sets her blood on fire.
She lacks expressiveness, to put it mildly, and has great difficulty in social situations that aren't a direct prelude to some sort of directed or cooperative violence. In truth, she's not very social and being at such a standstill that one has time for casual conversation is extremely uncomfortable for her. She may work well with others but she's absolutely abysmal at doing anything besides work.
---O R I G I N
23 years ago, a young Blackwarden by the name of Cristopher lead a band of fellow wardens against a cult of necromancers that had been the scourge of Stronghold Hjalmarsson for the past year. Ásgeirr paid the full price of the wardens' services outright, but made a promise the day before the group departed his lands. He promised them one day he would send them a warrior like no other. A warrior the likes of which the Southern Marshes had not seen in a thousand years and would not see again for a thousand more. He swore on his own life that he would see to it that the Cristopher would receive this warrior as his very own apprentice. Merely wanting to be polite and not thinking anything would actually come of it, Cristopher accepted the offer, much to the delight of Ásgeirr. What the Jarl did not know, was his warden friend would die four short years after this arrangement by the fangs of a ravenous ghoul hidden in the dark of a cave.
True to his word, the Jarl set about crafting a plan to create the perfect warrior for the Blackwardens to mold. He debated endlessly with his war council about the perfect set of skills a lone combatant would need before learning to fight monsters. They talked for hours about the sort of training and mentality such a warrior would need. It was two long years before they unanimously agreed on a plan. The first step, was creating a child born of strength with the heat of battle coursing through their veins. Ásgeirr was a fearsome warrior without equal in all the surrounding kingdoms so it made sense he would father the child, but who would be the mother? His wife, Ylva, while a wise and lovely woman was by no means fit for battle. In secret, the Jarl conspired to make a bastard who would rise to greatness.
He spent two days fasting and communing with his ancestors before they revealed to him the mother of his ultimate warrior: shield maiden by the name of Rúna. She readily agreed to the plan and to keep the affair secret. Only Ásgeirr, Rúna, and the Jarl's cousin and War Master, Hadvar knew of this part of the plan. The cover was the shield maiden's lover having died in a recent quarrel with a neighboring lord. What no one counted on was the startling resemblance to Ásgeirr within months of the child's birth. His hair, his stature, the fiery green of his eyes were all there and Ylva saw. She hated the child and how her husband's time was swallowed whole by his bastard. This had little effect on young Ragna, however as she rarely saw the woman.
As soon as she was able to walk and speak, Ragna was put through training both constant and brutal. Her days were spent strengthening her body and mind while her nights were spent learning learning the art of combat. Some days she was trekked miles out into the marsh and told she could not return until the next full moon. Other times she was awoken in the dead of night with a war cry and thrown a blunt sword to defend herself with. She learned tactics and how to survive on her own against impossible odds. Her trainers constantly reminded her that her purpose was to be the perfect solider, a warrior in service to a great and powerful man she would only meet when she was ready.
All of this training and preparation came to an end on the eve of her 20th birthday. She was congratulated by the man she still did not know as her father and he embraced her once before sending her on her way. It was the happiest day of her entire life, but she waited until she had left the stronghold to express it. A warrior must be calm and collected in all things after all. The journey took five long months but finally she arrived at the doors of Cristopher's stronghold of origin. At first, the Blackwardens didn't know what to make of this strange barbarian covered in bones and dye. It took some time but eventually they managed to figure out what was going on and informed Ragna of her "master's" death. Ragna's entire reason for existing is the fulfillment of a promise made before her birth to a now dead man and she has never fully processed that fact, even now.
Still, she managed to reason that her ultimate purpose was to serve the cause of the Blackwardens and they in turn decided it would be foolish to pass up a recruit such as herself. She had no guiding principals of her own save for "follow orders" and she had little to no knowledge of how to fight monsters other than "hit it 'til it dies". The former point was meant to be a positive, but has become her greatest weakness. She fights within her training and only within her training. Her technique is flawless and her will is unshakable, but if something happens outside the purview of what she already knows she quickly finds herself in trouble. In short, she lacks creativity. The greatest hurdle in training Ragna is teaching her to think for herself.
► Flint and Steel ► Knife ► Hide Cloak ► Water Skin ► Dried Provisions (7 days) ► Whetstone ► Small Hammer
► Tooth Necklace ► Mask ► Assorted Bone Adornments
---O T H E R
As many residents of the Southern Kingdoms are, Ragna is incredibly superstitious. She's superstitious to the point where she keeps a hammer with her at all times to "hinder the dead", as she puts it.
Gonna make an apprentice from the Southern Marsh like W A Y south so far south he thinks the first thing you do to a dead body is knock out its teeth so it can't bite anyone if it rises again. A young man with a powerful aura of boogaloo about him.
“I thought I could change the world, thought I could make a difference. Turns out the world doesn’t want to change, not really.”
NAME: Kaitlyn Davenport
ALIASES // TITLES: Kay to people she’s met in person, Citizen K to the Labyrinth
SEX: Female
AGE: 34
APPEARANCE: In a word, tired. Kay often attempts to hide the dark circles and bags under her eyes with various amounts of concealer and eyeliner with mixed results. She keeps her hair slicked back more often the not and the faint scent of cheap pomade hangs about her constantly. Her gaze is difficult to hold for too long before it bores holes straight through your skull. She seems to always look past your face and into your mind. The rest of her face is a bit worse for wear. Not that it came like that, she just has a few marks (mostly scars) here and there. That being said, it’s not surprising she constantly looks over her shoulder any time she doesn’t have her back to a solid wall. The most notable mark on her face is the tell tale line of a false skull plate going down the left side of her forehead. Such implants allow for ease access to the brain and imply extensive and or elaborate cranial cybernetics underneath. In the way of tattoos she only has one, a minimalist design on her right shoulder of a squid wrapping its tentacles around a computer.
Maybe one day doctors will invent a cure, but in the meantime Kay remains allergic to smiling despite being and avid fan of both dry and gallows humor. In the same vein, she usually speaks with a very matter of fact tone. She says what she says and you can take it or leave it.
Her clothes are often wrinkled or very baggy and completely hide her figure. Oversized T-shirts are the norm for her. She seems to have a symbiotic relationship with her collared jacket, only taking it off to shower and that's merely assumed. It's faded all over, has a crude patches over the right elbow, and there's a tear near the left pocket but dammit it all if it ain't hers.
PREVIOUS OCCUPATION(S): ► Gang Member ► Cybersecurity Specialist for APEX Industries ► Black-Hat Hacker ► Cyber Security Specialist for various low tier Pirate Party Candidates
CURRENT OCCUPATION: ► Cyber Security Specialist for Serena Petrukov's campaign
Psychological Profile
”Swear to God I'm gonna swing at the next person who asks me if I'm okay.”
PERSONAL GOAL:“Right now? Get enough money in a pile so I can throw it at someone and they’ll take me somewhere else; someplace far, far away. Where? Hell if I know. I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it. Why do you wanna know so damn bad?”
CAMPAIGN GOAL:"Been running small time gigs for a bunch of paranoid wackos thinking they have what it takes to be the next Pirate Party President. None of them could do it but a lot of them are willing to pay me for the honor of having firewalls installed on their servers that any hacker with a potato hooked up to a router and a free afternoon could break through. I guess if I had a goal it would be to get hired by as many asshats with delusions of grandeur before the end of the election cycle. Serena is just the latest in the series."
PERSONAL PHILOSOPHY:”Most everyone is out for themselves and those who aren’t are either lying or stupid. Other than that, take what you want before someone takes it from you, but watch who you take it from.”
POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY:”Everything’s fucked and the only solution is to burn it all down and start from scratch. Not that anything like that would ever happen. Too many people are content with the shitpile they’re stuck in.”
SECRETS:”Fuck. Off.”
She’s not nearly as heartless as she likes to pretend she is. She cares what happens to the people around her no matter how much she denies it and tries to play the ice queen.
In addition to the heart she keeps locked away, she also keeps her damaged liver a secret. She had a jaunt with alcoholism that spiraled out of control and it was only a year ago that she managed to really put herself back together. Even still, she relapses from time to time and isn’t keen on sharing her struggle with addiction.
FEARS: Her greatest fear is dying in the Reclaim Zone or before she has the chance to achieve real freedom, to leave the mega regions behind and find somewhere to start over. Other than that, gunshots make her panic to the point of a total fight or flight response. Even loud, sharp noises easily startle her if she doesn't expect them.
REPUTATION: She has a reputation for being colder than ice and smart as a whip. She’s efficient and does exactly what you ask, no questions asked, even if she's rough around the edges.
LIKES: ► Coffee (Her blood is at least 5% java) ► Improving (The world of cyber security changes daily and she makes sure to stay updated) ► Hawaiian Pizza (Yes, she’s that kind of degenerate) ► Playing the Guitar (Idle hands reach for booze) ► Rain and Thunder (It’s soothing) ► Cooking (Girl's gotta eat)
DISLIKES: ► “Tainted” Coffee (Cream and sugar are for the weak) ► Passive Aggressiveness (Never halfass an insult) ► Picking on something weaker than yourself (Smaller animals and children are off limits)
QUIRKS: ► Restless Leg Syndrome She took a knock to the noggin a long while ago and ever since then her right leg jitters whenever she sits or lays down for too long. It often makes it hard to sleep so she drinks coffee to stay awake after restless nights but caffeine makes the jitters worse and makes it even harder to fall asleep so she drinks more coffee and around and around it goes.
► Look Don’t Touch Kay doesn’t like being touched at all. She will always go out of her way to avoid touching people in crowded places if she can help it and won’t even shake someone’s hand unless they offer first.
► Animal Lover Yes, she absolutely must pet that dog if she can.
► Fidgety She keeps small bits and bobs she fidgets with when she has nothing to do.
Background Information
”Just keep going. One foot in front of the other and maybe, just maybe, I’ll make it someday.”
"Same story you’ve heard from every other sap. Grew up poor, dad left, mom drank and snorted like the world was ending. When she was drinking she was swinging at me and if she was snorting she got handsy. Took a bottle to the face and decided enough was enough. I got involved with street gangs who told me to deliver shit for them and I could sleep in the corner of their little shack. I still had to beg and steal for enough to eat so it wasn’t that much different from living at home but at least everyone kept their hands to themselves.
Moved around a lot and eventually wound up with one of the more tech savvy groups. Called themselves “The Kraken’s Fist”. It was a stupid name but they weren’t quite the dumb fucks you’d expect. They had me running errands at first, but one guy, Darren, taught me how to work a computer and the difference between operand and open source long as I got his rocks off. They even let me help with their corporate espionage gigs and account raids. Got pretty damn good at it too. One day a bunch of tatted up dipshits shot my tatted up dipshits and I was out of a job and a house.
Eventually, I managed to catch a break when a hiring manager took pity on me. Still pisses me off when I remember the look he gave me as I walked in. Anyhow, I managed to keep my mouth shut and showed what a know. He passed his notes off to the higher ups and I landed a job as a cybersecurity specialist for an APEX Industries subsidiary, "Obsidian Tech" they called themselves. Did that for a while until I crossed paths with the worst decision of my life at the bar. The rest is none of your fucking business and yeah, it’s why I’ve got a big hunk of head bone missing. But, again, that’s none of your fucking business."
That “worst decision of her life” was a hacktivist by the name of Olivia Cook who approached her after Kay had continually made the life of her hacker group a living hell for a solid month. Olivia got to her when she was still bright eyed and optimistic; when she still believed things could change. It took some work, but eventually she managed to convince her to join up with their ragtag band of misfits and make a positive difference in the world.
Kay and her new friends bummed around the Labyrinth and the real world for the better part of five years raising all sorts of hell in the form of hacktivism and robin hood type shenanigans. As time went by, Olivia and Kay grew close and eventually became romantically involved. But it was not to last as, eventually, their antics caught up to them and they pissed off the wrong people. Kay still doesn’t know for sure who did it, all she remembers is the horror on Olivia's face when she reached into her glove box with her cybernetic arm, retrieved a gun, and pulled the trigger with the barrel to her temple. She saw the terror in her eyes and the split second of hesitation. She knew what was happening even before the barrel touched her head. Someone had hacked her cybernetics and there was no telling who was next.
All at once her entire world came crashing down. The woman she thought she’d spend the rest of her life with was dead and her peers scattered like roaches after the incident. Kay’s first order of business was finding a ripper doc willing to not only turn off her augments, but tear everything out of her head down to the last piece of her neural overlay. That was three years ago and she can only hope the people who murdered her fiance are satisfied, or at the very least forgot about her. Now she stumbles through life just trying to survive the next 24 hours and hoping she can get somewhere better someday.
Operative Information
“I’d rather die than have one more scrap of tech jammed into me.”
AUGMENTATIONS:
► EngiTech Series 2 Ocular Prosthetics A set of cybernetic eyes for the working class. Despite her staunch aversion to cybernetics, she can't exactly go without eyes. They do their job well enough and give her 20/20 vision in the visible spectrum. Nothing special, no extra bells and whistles. The only interesting thing to note is that all wireless diagnostic functions have been disabled post manufacturing. For any system information to be gathered, the eyes must be removed and manually plugged into an external computer.
► FuryTech Augmented Reality OpticsREMOVED
► APEX Industries Cranial Data SuiteREMOVED
► Extropy, Inc. Neural OverlayREMOVED
► Amalgamation Reflex EnhancersREMOVED
EQUIPMENT: ► EngiTech Rosetta Stone Receiver This device combines several ultra wide-band and ultra sensitive receivers tuned to different signal types and ranges. consolidates the whole package down to a solid polymer box about the size of a paperback novel. Cellular, satellite, radio, WLAN, infrared, bluetooth, and even some low decibel radar. If it sends out a wireless signal, she can detect it and do all sorts of fun things when she connects it to a computer.
► Amalgamation Onyx Series Laptop It's not so much a laptop as it is a mobile workstation. This folding, 3 screen monster is the most valuable thing Kay has ever owned and for good reason. The beastly weight of it is a testament to the amount of hardware it contains and leaves no wonder as to why most other computers can't keep up. Multitasking is a breeze and even massive simulations run like greased lightning. She uses the ungodly power of this machine to break through encryptions and slip past security systems.
► Amalgamation GateKeeper Hardware Cybersecurity is useful for everyone. This little doodad is essentially a computer without the keyboard, monitor, graphics card, or any sort of manual input method but filled to bursting with cutting edge security software. It's one singular function is to vet all data that comes through it via a hardwire connection and either approve or dismantle the data. Though not impenetrable, it's one tough nut to crack.
► Various Cords and Adapters You never know when you'll need an RVI to USB 5.0 adapter.
SKILLS: ► Cyber Security (Break something apart enough times and you'll eventually learn how it's put together) ► Hacking (While not all powerful, she's fairly capable against even corporate security) ► Tactical Kitchen Wizard (You'd be forgiven for believing her to be a professional chef after trying her macaroni chilli or squid fried rice) ► 6 String Picker (Merely a hobby but you tend to get good at something you do for 10 years or more)
FLAWS: ► Caffeine Dependent (She’s basically useless until she’s had her morning cup of Joe) ► Untrusting (No one does things “just to be nice“ so what’s your angle?) ► Recovering Alcoholic (Sober 112 6 days) ► Overly Blunt (Tact? I don't even know her)
Character name
Relationship
Sister Violet
"I… I owe her a lot. Everything, really. I'd probably be rotting in a ditch somewhere if she hadn't operated on me. I can't pay her back, there's not enough money in all 14 megaregions to pay her back for what she did, but I can cook so that's something at least. Not to mention she knows she can call me for anything and I'll do my best to help… But don't get the wrong idea. We're not "friends", alright? So what if I bring her lunch? Doesn't mean we're friends. Least she can do is be focused if she's going around ripping people's arms off."
Flux Shaman
"Shaman is... well she's 10 pounds of crazy in a 5 sack. She can be reckless, over the top, and scatter brained and there's no one else I'd rather run the net with. She's got it were it counts and she's one of those rare people you can depend on when the shit starts to fly."
“I thought I could change the world, thought I could make a difference. Turns out the world doesn’t want to change, not really.”
NAME: Kaitlyn Davenport
ALIASES // TITLES: Kay to people she’s met in person, Citizen K to the Labyrinth
SEX: Female
AGE: 34
APPEARANCE: In a word, tired. Kay often attempts to hide the dark circles and bags under her eyes with various amounts of concealer and eyeliner with mixed results. She keeps her hair slicked back more often the not and the faint scent of cheap pomade hangs about her constantly. Her gaze is difficult to hold for too long before it bores holes straight through your skull. She seems to always look past your face and into your mind. The rest of her face is a bit worse for wear. Not that it came like that, she just has a few marks (mostly scars) here and there. That being said, it’s not surprising she constantly looks over her shoulder any time she doesn’t have her back to a solid wall. The most notable mark on her face is the tell tale line going down the left side of her forehead of a false skull plate. Such implants allow for ease access to the brain and imply extensive and or elaborate cranial cybernetics underneath. In the way of tattoos she only has one, a minimalist design on her right shoulder of a squid wrapping its tentacles around a computer.
Maybe one day doctors will invent a cure, but in the meantime Kay remains allergic to smiling despite being and avid fan of both dry and gallows humor. In the same vein, she usually speaks with a very matter of fact tone. She says what she says and you can take it or leave it.
Her clothes are often wrinkled or very baggy and completely hide her figure. Oversized T-shirts are the norm for her. She seems to have a symbiotic relationship with her collared jacket, only taking it off to shower and that's merely assumed. It's faded all over, has a crude patches over the right elbow, and there's a tear near the left pocket but dammit it all if it ain't hers.
PREVIOUS OCCUPATION(S): ► Gang Member ► Cybersecurity Specialist for APEX Industries
CURRENT OCCUPATION: Black-Hat Hacker ”If it has software I can fuck with it. Maybe if you kick a few extra stacks my way I’ll make sure no one fucks with your systems.”
Psychological Profile
”Swear to God I'm gonna swing at the next person who asks me if I'm okay.”
PERSONAL GOAL:“Right now? Get enough money in a pile so I can throw it at someone and they’ll take me somewhere else; someplace far, far away. Where? Hell if I know. I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it. Why do you wanna know so damn bad?”
CAMPAIGN GOAL:"Been running small time gigs for a bunch of paranoid wackos thinking they have what it takes to be the next Pirate Party President. None of them could do it but a lot of them are willing to pay me for the honor of having firewalls installed on their servers that any hacker with a potato hooked up to a router and a free afternoon could break through. I guess if I had a goal it would be to get hired by as many asshats with delusions of grandeur before the end of the election cycle."
PERSONAL PHILOSOPHY:”Most everyone is out for themselves and those who aren’t are either lying or stupid. Other than that, take what you want before someone takes it from you, but watch who you take it from.”
POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY:”Everything’s fucked and the only solution is to burn it all down and start from scratch. Not that anything like that would ever happen. Too many people are content with the shitpile they’re stuck in.”
SECRETS:”Fuck. Off.”
She’s not nearly as heartless as she likes to pretend she is. She cares what happens to the people around her no matter how much she denies it and tries to play the ice queen.
In addition to the heart she keeps locked away, she also keeps her damaged liver a secret. She had a jaunt with alcoholism that spiraled out of control and it was only a year ago that she managed to really put herself back together. Even still, she relapses from time to time and isn’t keen on sharing her struggle with addiction.
FEARS: Her greatest fear is dying in the Reclaim Zone or before she has the chance to achieve real freedom, to leave the mega regions behind and find somewhere to start over. Other than that, gunshots make her panic to the point of a total fight or flight response. Even loud, sharp noises easily startle her if she doesn't expect them.
REPUTATION: She has a reputation for being colder than ice and smart as a whip. She’s efficient and does exactly what you ask, no questions asked, even if she's rough around the edges.
LIKES: ► Coffee (Her blood is at least 5% java) ► Improving (The world of cyber security changes daily and she makes sure to stay updated) ► Hawaiian Pizza (Yes, she’s that kind of degenerate) ► Playing the Guitar (Idle hands reach for booze) ► Rain and Thunder (It’s soothing) ► Cooking (Girl's gotta eat)
DISLIKES: ► “Tainted” Coffee (Cream and sugar are for the weak) ► Passive Aggressiveness (Never halfass an insult) ► Picking on something weaker than yourself (Smaller animals and children are off limits)
QUIRKS: ► Restless Leg Syndrome She took a knock to the noggin a long while ago and ever since then her right leg jitters whenever she sits or lays down for too long. It often makes it hard to sleep so she drinks coffee to stay awake after restless nights but caffeine makes the jitters worse and makes it even harder to fall asleep so she drinks more coffee and around and around it goes.
► Look Don’t Touch Kay doesn’t like being touched at all. She will always go out of her way to avoid touching people in crowded places if she can help it and won’t even shake someone’s hand unless they offer first.
► Animal Lover Yes, she absolutely must pet that dog if she can.
► Fidgety She keeps small bits and bobs she fidgets with when she has nothing to do.
Background Information
”Just keep going. One foot in front of the other and maybe, just maybe, I’ll make it someday.”
"Same story you’ve heard from every other sap. Grew up poor, dad left, mom drank and snorted like the world was ending. When she was drinking she was swinging at me and if she was snorting she got handsy. Took a bottle to the face and decided enough was enough. I got involved with street gangs who told me to deliver shit for them and I could sleep in the corner of their little shack. I still had to beg and steal for enough to eat so it wasn’t that much different from living at home but at least everyone kept their hands to themselves.
Moved around a lot and eventually wound up with one of the more tech savvy groups. Called themselves “The Kraken’s Fist”. It was a stupid name but they weren’t quite the dumb fucks you’d expect. They had me running errands at first, but one guy, Darren, taught me how to work a computer and the difference between operand and open source long as I got his rocks off. They even let me help with their corporate espionage gigs and account raids. Got pretty damn good at it too. One day a bunch of tatted up dipshits shot my tatted up dipshits and I was out of a job and a house.
Eventually, I managed to catch a break when a hiring manager took pity on me. Still pisses me off when I remember the look he gave me as I walked in. Anyhow, I managed to keep my mouth shut and showed what a know. He passed his notes off to the higher ups and I landed a job as a cybersecurity specialist for an APEX Industries subsidiary, "Obsidian Tech" they called themselves. Did that for a while until I crossed paths with the worst decision of my life at the bar. The rest is none of your fucking business and yeah, it’s why I’ve got a big hunk of head bone missing. But, again, that’s none of your fucking business."
That “worst decision of her life” was a hacktivist by the name of Olivia Cook who approached her after Kay had continually made the life of her hacker group a living hell for a solid month. Olivia got to her when she was still bright eyed and optimistic; when she still believed things could change. It took some work, but eventually she managed to convince her to join up with their ragtag band of misfits and make a positive difference in the world.
Kay and her new friends bummed around the Labyrinth and the real world for the better part of five years raising all sorts of hell in the form of hacktivism and robin hood type shenanigans. As time went by, Olivia and Kay grew close and eventually became romantically involved. But it was not to last as, eventually, their antics caught up to them and they pissed off the wrong people. Kay still doesn’t know for sure who did it, all she remembers is the horror on Olivia's face when she reached into her glove box with her cybernetic arm, retrieved a gun, and pulled the trigger with the barrel to her temple. She saw the terror in her eyes and the split second of hesitation. She knew what was happening even before the barrel touched her head. Someone had hacked her cybernetics and there was no telling who was next.
All at once her entire world came crashing down. The woman she thought she’d spend the rest of her life with was dead and her peers scattered like roaches after the incident. Kay’s first order of business was finding a ripper doc willing to not only turn off her augments, but tear everything out of her head down to the last piece of her neural overlay. That was three years ago and she can only hope the people who murdered her fiance are satisfied, or at the very least forgot about her. Now she stumbles through life just trying to survive the next 24 hours and hoping she can get somewhere better someday.
Operative Information
“I’d rather die than have one more scrap of tech jammed into me.”
AUGMENTATIONS:
► EngiTech Series 2 Ocular Prosthetics A set of cybernetic eyes for the working class. Despite her staunch aversion to cybernetics, she can't exactly go without eyes. They do their job well enough and give her 20/20 vision in the visible spectrum. Nothing special, no extra bells and whistles. The only interesting thing to note is that all wireless diagnostic functions have been disabled post manufacturing. For any system information to be gathered, the eyes must be removed and manually plugged into an external computer.
► FuryTech Augmented Reality OpticsREMOVED
► APEX Industries Cranial Data SuiteREMOVED
► Extropy, Inc. Neural OverlayREMOVED
► Amalgamation Reflex EnhancersREMOVED
EQUIPMENT: ► EngiTech Rosetta Stone Receiver This device combines several ultra wide-band and ultra sensitive receivers tuned to different signal types and ranges. consolidates the whole package down to a solid polymer box about the size of a paperback novel. Cellular, satellite, radio, WLAN, infrared, bluetooth, and even some low decibel radar. If it sends out a wireless signal, she can detect it and do all sorts of fun things when she connects it to a computer.
► Amalgamation Onyx Series Laptop It's not so much a laptop as it is a mobile workstation. This folding, 3 screen monster is the most valuable thing Kay has ever owned and for good reason. The beastly weight of it is a testament to the amount of hardware it contains and leaves no wonder as to why most other computers can't keep up. Multitasking is a breeze and even massive simulations run like greased lightning. She uses the ungodly power of this machine to break through encryptions and slip past security systems.
► Amalgamation GateKeeper Hardware Cybersecurity is useful for everyone. This little doodad is essentially a computer without the keyboard, monitor, graphics card, or any sort of manual input method but filled to bursting with cutting edge security software. It's one singular function is to vet all data that comes through it via a hardwire connection and either approve or dismantle the data. Though not impenetrable, it's one tough nut to crack.
► Various Cords and Adapters You never know when you'll need an RVI to USB 5.0 adapter.
SKILLS: ► Cyber Security (Break something apart enough times and you'll eventually learn how it's put together) ► Hacking (While not all powerful, she's fairly capable against even corporate security) ► Tactical Kitchen Wizard (You'd be forgiven for believing her to be a professional chef after trying her macaroni chilli or squid fried rice) ► 6 String Picker (Merely a hobby but you tend to get good at something you do for 10 years or more)
FLAWS: ► Caffeine Dependent (She’s basically useless until she’s had her morning cup of Joe) ► Untrusting (No one does things “just to be nice“ so what’s your angle?) ► Recovering Alcoholic (Sober 112 6 days) ► Overly Blunt (Tact? I don't even know her)
Character name
Relationship
ViK
"I… I owe her a lot. Everything, really. I'd probably be rotting in a ditch somewhere if she hadn't operated on me. I can't pay her back, there's not enough money in all 14 megaregions to pay her back for what she did, but I can cook so that's something at least. Not to mention she knows she can call me for anything and I'll do my best to help… But don't get the wrong idea. We're not "friends", alright? So what if I bring her lunch? Doesn't mean we're friends. Least she can do is be focused if she's going around ripping people's arms off."
Name | ”Father Damascus to you. Never speak a name you do not want stolen. Hungry ears prey on the tender soul, fleshling.” Gender | Male Origin | Jamestown, Virginia, U.S.A. Age | 343 Date of Birth | June 18th, 1676
Relationships
• Sexuality | "The limits and needs of a third perpendicular are of no concern to this one." • Relationship Status | Single • Predetermined friends | None • Siblings' Status | Unknown • Parents' Status | If they're lucky? Unexisted. • Openness to Friends | 7 • Openness to Romance | 0
Interests
• Likes ✦ Quiet ✦ Communion with what was, what is, and that which doesn't belong “The doors of Pandemonium swing wide for the starlight seeker. Knock thrice and be cast into a blackest embrace." Ỳou͏r ̸m͏índ͡ ̸is a pl͠ayt́h̵̢̀ḭ͔ͅn̴̛͝g͓̣͟ ̙̟o̸̵͟f̸̨̡ ̨͍͖t͓̩͡h̠̠̟ę̪͘ ̴̝̜È̵̛t̸̨͈h̝͘̕e̪͢͡r̵̷̢.̙̖͓ ̫͞Y̸̴̜o̲̲͞u͍͘ ̳̞̀n̸̡̦e̤͖͖êͤ̿҉̘dͯͮ̚ ̑͒̏ǒ͐̾n̄̑͆҉̮̳̜l̏̊̀y͂̐ͩ l͆͐͑ô͆ͪo̍͂ͣk̈̂͗ ̅ͫ̚Ů̎̈҉̮͔͓P͑̀̎" ✦ His Garden • Dislikes ✦ Trespassers ✦ Moral absolutes ✦ The dreams that come in the dark • Hobbies ✦ Gardening ✦ Hen Farming ✦ Research ✦ Experimentation ✦ Hiking • Skills ✦ Dark Magic ✦ Bargaining ✦ Horticulture
I prayed to Him I begged for deliverance But He would not listen
They clawed at my ears so I would listen They plucked out my eyes so I might see They flayed me alive so I could feel They tore open my mind and I understood
Appearance This unhinged warlock is less than pleasing to look at, unnerving even. With his ashen skin and sunken gray eyes, he looks more like a corpse than most vampires. Those same eyes are always wide, rarely blinking as they flicker back and forth constantly. His gaze rarely settles but can pierce the most stoic front without a thought. Long, greasy hair clumps together in salt and pepper locks that fall well past his shoulders with an equally overgrown and matted beard to match.
Even such unruly facial hair does little to hide his gaunt features made worse by the contrast of his beak-like nose. His nails are more akin to claws as long and thick as they are so it’s almost fitting that they are permanently tinged red with blood. His teeth are startlingly white for someone who likely hasn’t brushed them since before light bulbs were invented. This same mouth is almost constantly in motion; muttering dark secrets and maddening truths to the air when not speaking directly to someone.
His posture is slumped and crooked as though the weight of his forbidden knowledge has a physical, crushing weight to it. Even still, he is rather tall and would be about 6'4 if he were to stand up straight. He wears tattered cotton pants, ratty leather boots, and a cloak made from the hide of a wolf. The faint smell of blood hangs about him regardless of the visible presence of it. More prominent than his sanguine stench, however, is the aura of wrongness that emanates from his very being. The sight of him, the smell, the sound of his guttural and cryptic muttering, even the very air around him tastes wrong as though he were touched by something that should not, could not be, yet is.
Personality Father Damascus is erratic and sometimes outright self contradictory but not unfriendly. If he didn't induce an instinctual feeling that he shouldn't exist in everyone around him, he'd be pretty popular around town. He's polite, if more than a tad strange, and slow to anger. For someone of his appearance, he's surprisingly honest usually and never cheats any of his customers in more conventional dealings.
History No one knew what to make of the priest when he first rolled into town. Even two years later, the only things anyone knows about him beyond what he says his name is, that he lives in the woods a few miles up Road 70, and that he sells all manner of magical ingredients both high of quality and low in price. Other than that the only thing to note is you should never, ever, EVER under any circumstances agree to see his book
✦ ”This is the last true servant, I fear. We failed. Oh, how short we came. As the last anointed vessel, I bear the shame of a ruined clan. But do not pity these old bones for They saw purpose for this one yet.”
Skill Level
✦ Advanced Level
Spell Specialization
✦ The Unseen Gates Swing Wide: Any magic slinger worth their salt circle can summon a familiar, but this man’s centuries of study and practice have yielded powerful results. The Madman of Geller Creek can reach into realities both perpendicular and parallel to ours and pull out unspeakable, incomprehensible horrors to do his bidding with the ease of tearing a page from a book. This does not come without consequence, though. The things he summons are feral and unpredictable. They often turn on their “master” the moment they have nothing else to slaughter and must be banished quickly.
✦ Speak the Old Tongue: Father Damascus has spent more than three life times perfecting magicks most foul and, given time, can weave curses that shatter the strongest wills and hexes that curdle blood.
✦ Heretical Conduit: Whether his proficiency with dark energies is a gift or a trait of a long dead bloodline is both unknown and irrelevant. What's important is that he wields dark energy with the ease of a child using a cap gun.
Name | ”Father Damascus to you. Never speak a name you do not want stolen. Hungry ears prey on the tender soul, fleshling.” Gender | Male Origin | Jamestown, Virginia, U.S.A. Age | 343 Date of Birth | June 18th, 1676
Relationships
• Sexuality | "The limits and needs of a third perpendicular are of no concern to this one." • Relationship Status | Single • Predetermined friends | None • Siblings' Status | Unknown • Parents' Status | If they're lucky? Unexisted. • Openness to Friends | 7 • Openness to Romance | 0
Interests
• Likes ✦ Quiet ✦ Communion with what was, what is, and that which doesn't belong “The doors of Pandemonium swing wide for the starlight seeker. Knock thrice and be cast into a blackest embrace." Ỳou͏r ̸m͏índ͡ ̸is a pl͠ayt́h̵̢̀ḭ͔ͅn̴̛͝g͓̣͟ ̙̟o̸̵͟f̸̨̡ ̨͍͖t͓̩͡h̠̠̟ę̪͘ ̴̝̜È̵̛t̸̨͈h̝͘̕e̪͢͡r̵̷̢.̙̖͓ ̫͞Y̸̴̜o̲̲͞u͍͘ ̳̞̀n̸̡̦e̤͖͖êͤ̿҉̘dͯͮ̚ ̑͒̏ǒ͐̾n̄̑͆҉̮̳̜l̏̊̀y͂̐ͩ l͆͐͑ô͆ͪo̍͂ͣk̈̂͗ ̅ͫ̚Ů̎̈҉̮͔͓P͑̀̎" ✦ His Garden • Dislikes ✦ Trespassers ✦ Moral absolutes ✦ The dreams that come in the dark • Hobbies ✦ Gardening ✦ Hen Farming ✦ Research ✦ Experimentation ✦ Hiking • Skills ✦ Dark Magic ✦ Bargaining ✦ Horticulture
I prayed to Him I begged for deliverance But He would not listen
They clawed at my ears so I would listen They plucked out my eyes so I might see They flayed me alive so I could feel They tore open my mind and I understood
Appearance This unhinged warlock is less than pleasing to look at, unnerving even. With his ashen skin and sunken gray eyes, he looks more like a corpse than most vampires. Those same eyes are always wide, rarely blinking as they flicker back and forth constantly. His gaze rarely settles but can pierce the most stoic front without a thought. Long, greasy hair clumps together in salt and pepper locks that fall well past his shoulders with an equally overgrown and matted beard to match.
Even such unruly facial hair does little to hide his gaunt features made worse by the contrast of his beak-like nose. His nails are more akin to claws as long and thick as they are so it’s almost fitting that they are permanently tinged red with blood. His teeth are startlingly white for someone who likely hasn’t brushed them since before light bulbs were invented. This same mouth is almost constantly in motion; muttering dark secrets and maddening truths to the air when not speaking directly to someone.
His posture is slumped and crooked as though the weight of his forbidden knowledge has a physical, crushing weight to it. Even still, he is rather tall and would be about 6'4 if he were to stand up straight. He wears tattered cotton pants, ratty leather boots, and a cloak made from the hide of a wolf. The faint smell of blood hangs about him regardless of the visible presence of it. More prominent than his sanguine stench, however, is the aura of wrongness that emanates from his very being. The sight of him, the smell, the sound of his guttural and cryptic muttering, even the very air around him tastes wrong as though he were touched by something that should not, could not be, yet is.
Personality Father Damascus is erratic and sometimes outright self contradictory but not unfriendly. If he didn't induce an instinctual feeling that he shouldn't exist in everyone around him, he'd be pretty popular around town. He's polite, if more than a tad strange, and slow to anger. For someone of his appearance, he's surprisingly honest usually and never cheats any of his customers in more conventional dealings.
History No one knew what to make of the priest when he first rolled into town. Even two years later, the only things anyone knows about him beyond what he says his name is, that he lives in the woods a few miles up Road 70, and that he sells all manner of magical ingredients both high of quality and low in price. Other than that the only thing to note is you should never, ever, EVER under any circumstances agree to see his book
✦ ”This is the last true servant, I fear. We failed. Oh, how short we came. As the last anointed vessel, I bear the shame of a ruined clan. But do not pity these old bones for They saw purpose for this one yet.”
Skill Level
✦ Advanced Level
Spell Specialization
✦ The Unseen Gates Swing Wide: Any magic slinger worth their salt circle can summon a familiar, but this man’s centuries of study and practice have yielded powerful results. The Madman of Geller Creek can reach into realities both perpendicular and parallel to ours and pull out unspeakable, incomprehensible horrors to do his bidding with the ease of tearing a page from a book. This does not come without consequence, though. The things he summons are feral and unpredictable. They often turn on their “master” the moment they have nothing else to slaughter and must be banished quickly.
✦ Speak the Old Tongue: Father Damascus has spent more than three life times perfecting magicks most foul and, given time, can weave curses that shatter the strongest wills and hexes that curdle blood.
✦ Heretical Conduit: Whether his proficiency with dark energies is a gift or a trait of a long dead bloodline is both unknown and irrelevant. What's important is that he wields dark energy with the ease of a child using a cap gun.
Annabella stepped calmly forward with her hands lifted in full view of everyone present. She made sure to move smoothly and stop well out of reach of the captain more to reassure him than for her own safety. She knew it was likely she would be able to escape unharmed, but she would rather avoid armed conflict if at all possible.The thought occured to the orc that perhaps using the native language would help ease tension. Familiarity brings comfort to most. "For the record, Captain," she began in fluent, albeit heavily accented Caracan, "I did only arrived a few moments ago, but I can assure you that nothing of the sort has occured. The man you dragged away is the only one guilty of anything you described."
As much as the monk detested lying, it was far better than bloodshed. She gestured toward Karlus and continued, hands still raised. "My friend performed no magic. He merely informed the man you arrested that he would have to report his treason if he continued There was a pause as she turned her head and locked eyes with the bartender. Hopefully he would hear her unspoken plea. With that, she turned her attention back to the captain. "The bartender saw the whole thing and can verify everything I have said."