AriamisSorry for the delay, here is my submission:
P R O F I L E
Energetic and perky. That is what most people get from watching Trisha for any length of time. Even when silent, she is always shifting her weight from leg to leg, or drumming her fingers on her leg, or scanning every corner of the room to count the light-bulbs. This energy leaks into her speech, coming in machine-gun bursts to get across what she needs to in an economy of words.
That's not to say that she's impatient or unfriendly. She's no stranger to spending hours working on a device, and anyone that talks shop with her might have to take a step back as she makes broad gestures in excitement. That said she comes across as coarse without trying. Her fast speech can come across as terse, and her rough upbringing means she lacks the experience in social niceties that smooth over interactions in more 'refined' settings.
This extends to her personal appearance. While she takes the effort of making sure all her gear is well maintained, it's not unusual to find an oil spot on her clothing or flecks of dust in her hair. For her 'dressing up' is her cleanest sweater and jeans, and making sure her boots aren't tracking gunk on the floor. Her hands are calloused, and her arms bear a few small scars from childhood accidents, but she makes no efforts to hide them, thinking nothing of keeping her sleeves rolled up for comfort when among company
D A Y S - G O N E
Trisha was born among rust. Mars was long known for it's red soil, and after a century of human life rusting hulks already dot the planet. The Droplet Wars left countless military wrecks on the surface ripe for the picking. These came with their own dangers, from leaking fuel and coolant to radioactive power cores to even plain old unexploded munitions. These dangers were not enough to keep scrappers away, drawn by stories of treasure hauls that would set them up for life. A perfectly preserved hard drive from a crashed colony ship. An MCA General's fragment of the Liberty Bell. Some eccentric billionaire's gold stash. Even a crate of copper wiring was worth a month's lodging and food once stripped and cleaned. It was two such individuals that gave birth to Trisha, and showed her the ropes of working with the skeletons of the past.
However in the years growing up, Trisha's gaze soon turned from the ground beneath her to the sky above. Sunburners are frequent customers of scrappers, looking for various parts to keep their machines in working order. Ever since an old flyboy nicknamed Daedalus gave her a ride in his old cargo shuttle, she knew she wanted to devote her life to flight. And so she did, studying old records of flight she could get her hands on, helping Sunburners install new parts, and spent time cultivating her contacts with them.
When it came time for Trisha to strike out on her own, she did so with the purpose of finding that one haul that would get her into the Sunburner's good graces. She knew that without a set of wings of her own she'd always be a part of the ground crew, an outsider friendly to the group. Hell, the only flight experience she had was through the simulators in the handful of arcades she visited. The only way be offered a way in was to find That One Haul, the kind of haul that scrappers talk about only in hypotheticals.
So she hatched a plan. As an individual, there was little chance that she would luck into the sort of haul simply combing junkyards. It's simply too obvious and too much competition. So she needed contacts with feelers. She knew that the Everyman Equity often used scrappers like herself as sources for black market goods, or to occasionally render something 'off the truck' fresh. And so she made it known to her local EE broker that she was looking for work, to hopefully ingratiate herself to them. And after a few years the jobs she was asked to do became grander, more serious, and reputation building. She particularly became known for being able to
M E M O R I E S
None so far.
E Q U I P M E N T & L O Y A L T I E S
Protective Body Suit: Scavenging is a hazardous job. From simple scrapes and burns to more dangerous falls and rivals, it pays to dress for trouble. Consisting of a basic form fitting thermal body sleeve, a sturdy set of flame-retardant coveralls, padding, and a low profile respirator helmet, Trisha's outfit offers reasonable protection to hazards found while working in derelict environments.
KT-200 Machine Pistol: No scrapper goes completely unarmed. This lightweight weapon is controllable enough to be fired one handed, even without its worthless folding stock. While each shot lacks individual punch, the weapon's high capacity and low profile makes it a popular choice for those who work in tight quarters.
Hardened Datapad: Almost any machine more complicated than a toaster has some sort of microchip in them nowadays, and to properly repair them you need the ability to interface with them. From simple diagnostics to firmware flashing, this Datapad is designed for use in a workshop environment, and is suitably overbuilt to survive. While not the fastest silicon in town, its design lets it keep crunching numbers long after other machines have thrown in the towel.
Omnitool: A godsend to mechanics, this modular tool uses a variety of replaceable heads that let Trisha replace an entire toolbox worth of power tools from Air Compressors to Power Drills to Ultrasonic Cutters. Trisha keeps a supply of backup power cells in her tool belt, alongside a modest set of sundry items such as a headlamp, some hand tools, and an old knife.
Loyalties:
Sunburners: She wants to be them. She practically idolizes them and their free spirited ways. Too bad that she is really just a supplier of parts for them, at best. Hopefully this new job will put her on their radar.
Everyman Equity: Good reliable work. As a scrapper, they were one of her most reliable buyers, if not favorite to deal with on a personal level. Having spent the last few years doing more direct jobs for them has at least given a level of respect for the organization.
Trisha Riley
Trisha Riley
β 20 β FEMALE β 5' 2" βΊ
β 20 β FEMALE β 5' 2" βΊ
P R O F I L E
Energetic and perky. That is what most people get from watching Trisha for any length of time. Even when silent, she is always shifting her weight from leg to leg, or drumming her fingers on her leg, or scanning every corner of the room to count the light-bulbs. This energy leaks into her speech, coming in machine-gun bursts to get across what she needs to in an economy of words.
That's not to say that she's impatient or unfriendly. She's no stranger to spending hours working on a device, and anyone that talks shop with her might have to take a step back as she makes broad gestures in excitement. That said she comes across as coarse without trying. Her fast speech can come across as terse, and her rough upbringing means she lacks the experience in social niceties that smooth over interactions in more 'refined' settings.
This extends to her personal appearance. While she takes the effort of making sure all her gear is well maintained, it's not unusual to find an oil spot on her clothing or flecks of dust in her hair. For her 'dressing up' is her cleanest sweater and jeans, and making sure her boots aren't tracking gunk on the floor. Her hands are calloused, and her arms bear a few small scars from childhood accidents, but she makes no efforts to hide them, thinking nothing of keeping her sleeves rolled up for comfort when among company
D A Y S - G O N E
Trisha was born among rust. Mars was long known for it's red soil, and after a century of human life rusting hulks already dot the planet. The Droplet Wars left countless military wrecks on the surface ripe for the picking. These came with their own dangers, from leaking fuel and coolant to radioactive power cores to even plain old unexploded munitions. These dangers were not enough to keep scrappers away, drawn by stories of treasure hauls that would set them up for life. A perfectly preserved hard drive from a crashed colony ship. An MCA General's fragment of the Liberty Bell. Some eccentric billionaire's gold stash. Even a crate of copper wiring was worth a month's lodging and food once stripped and cleaned. It was two such individuals that gave birth to Trisha, and showed her the ropes of working with the skeletons of the past.
However in the years growing up, Trisha's gaze soon turned from the ground beneath her to the sky above. Sunburners are frequent customers of scrappers, looking for various parts to keep their machines in working order. Ever since an old flyboy nicknamed Daedalus gave her a ride in his old cargo shuttle, she knew she wanted to devote her life to flight. And so she did, studying old records of flight she could get her hands on, helping Sunburners install new parts, and spent time cultivating her contacts with them.
When it came time for Trisha to strike out on her own, she did so with the purpose of finding that one haul that would get her into the Sunburner's good graces. She knew that without a set of wings of her own she'd always be a part of the ground crew, an outsider friendly to the group. Hell, the only flight experience she had was through the simulators in the handful of arcades she visited. The only way be offered a way in was to find That One Haul, the kind of haul that scrappers talk about only in hypotheticals.
So she hatched a plan. As an individual, there was little chance that she would luck into the sort of haul simply combing junkyards. It's simply too obvious and too much competition. So she needed contacts with feelers. She knew that the Everyman Equity often used scrappers like herself as sources for black market goods, or to occasionally render something 'off the truck' fresh. And so she made it known to her local EE broker that she was looking for work, to hopefully ingratiate herself to them. And after a few years the jobs she was asked to do became grander, more serious, and reputation building. She particularly became known for being able to
M E M O R I E S
None so far.
E Q U I P M E N T & L O Y A L T I E S
Protective Body Suit: Scavenging is a hazardous job. From simple scrapes and burns to more dangerous falls and rivals, it pays to dress for trouble. Consisting of a basic form fitting thermal body sleeve, a sturdy set of flame-retardant coveralls, padding, and a low profile respirator helmet, Trisha's outfit offers reasonable protection to hazards found while working in derelict environments.
KT-200 Machine Pistol: No scrapper goes completely unarmed. This lightweight weapon is controllable enough to be fired one handed, even without its worthless folding stock. While each shot lacks individual punch, the weapon's high capacity and low profile makes it a popular choice for those who work in tight quarters.
Hardened Datapad: Almost any machine more complicated than a toaster has some sort of microchip in them nowadays, and to properly repair them you need the ability to interface with them. From simple diagnostics to firmware flashing, this Datapad is designed for use in a workshop environment, and is suitably overbuilt to survive. While not the fastest silicon in town, its design lets it keep crunching numbers long after other machines have thrown in the towel.
Omnitool: A godsend to mechanics, this modular tool uses a variety of replaceable heads that let Trisha replace an entire toolbox worth of power tools from Air Compressors to Power Drills to Ultrasonic Cutters. Trisha keeps a supply of backup power cells in her tool belt, alongside a modest set of sundry items such as a headlamp, some hand tools, and an old knife.
Loyalties:
Sunburners: She wants to be them. She practically idolizes them and their free spirited ways. Too bad that she is really just a supplier of parts for them, at best. Hopefully this new job will put her on their radar.
Everyman Equity: Good reliable work. As a scrapper, they were one of her most reliable buyers, if not favorite to deal with on a personal level. Having spent the last few years doing more direct jobs for them has at least given a level of respect for the organization.