Turbowraith

DnD 5e - Beginner's Game

Fair enough! In case the two players don't show up, do know that me and @Oraculum could gladly fill them up.

DnD 5e - Beginner's Game

Hey people! I was informed by a friend who apparently lurked on this thread for a while that there may yet be a spot or two left. Is that the case or am I just being bothersome?

A Cosmic Disturbance (Oraculum et Turbowraith)

Heroes

Terrene

Josephine Krueger: Punky tomboy that can't be arsed. In serious need of cash.

Ultramundane

The God with Many Names: Supreme dimensional lord, you may recognize him from petroglyphs.

Check these new ideas out!

Since I'm a sucker for sword and sorcery, and have only recently discovered this thread, I gotta ask. Is option B still being considered?

Revenant: A Sci-Fi Adventure (Always Accepting!)

Oh wow. Joe's saved already and I didn't even have to say a word.

Busting Out of this Fresh Hell

Grog briefly recalled receiving a gift and a status report from Barkeep as he awoke in the kitchen floor. By the looks of it, he was somehow carried inside before the rest, and had passed out for no more than a minute, seeing as the remainder of the team had just entered and began settling. Crawling his way to the sink, bottle in hand, Grog's disorderly thoughts blotted out the distant chattering of his partners in crime, as he contemplated why on earth he'd be given a bottle of wine when he had the Pint. Maybe Barkeep wasn't aware of its' power or something. Whatever, Grog thought. May as well try it out. "Power Pint: West's Stride!", he commanded.

Nothing. That was odd. "Power Pint! Give me West's Stride!" he ordered once again, in a louder voice. "God dammit, pint. The hell's wrong with you?! You broke? Give me some booze dammit." he yelled, as the pint filled itself with beer, some of it spilling on the floor. Grog's eyes widened visibly, even behind his goggles. "What the shit?", he screamed, and, recalling what the driver had said about getting the interior dirty, let out an audible sigh before turning back to the elephant in the room. "What the hell are you, Stride?" he said in a comically suspicious tone, as he brought the bottle closer to his squinted eyes. Instantly returning to his usual self, he happily exclaimed "Ah, who gives a shit. One way to find out." and downed the bottle in a matter of seconds. He had started to become dangerously sober after all, with the Fucksville's effect having ended and whatnot.

Revenant: A Sci-Fi Adventure (Always Accepting!)

Joe Gore: Mechanic Extraordinaire

"God dammit Joe, you did it again." The man's voice echoed briefly across the holding cell. Not only had the rest of his, uh, potential allies suffered a case of hole through the skull, but he had found himself in a very familiar situation. Once again, some giant faceless conglomerate had managed to involve poor Joe in a mess that once again seemed inescapable. Smart bastards didn't even let him keep the toolbox. He could've gotten out in less than a jiffy if they hadn't taken the damn thing. Worst part, all of his gear was stored in a cargo unit no more than fifteen seconds away, probably in the very same corridor his impromptu cell was in. Pure torture.

Now, Joe had never seen a rig quite like this before, but by the looks of it, it had great similarities with the significally weaker FT-68 models. As for the guys that ran it? Well. They didn't like humans, judging from his dead co-slaves. And, being far enough from the command deck, he had no clue what to-

Combat sounds. Someone had broken into the cargo bay. Jack-fucking-pot. Without a second thought, not even to think about how obscenely lucky he got, Joe began to vigorously bang at the heavy steel door, and, sliding the small viewing slot open, screamed at the top of his lungs.

"Over here! Over here! The bastards have me locked up! Get me out goddamit!"

Revenant: A Sci-Fi Adventure (Always Accepting!)

A Pissed off Grease Monkey

Name: Joe Gore



Age/Race/Gender: 25/Human/Male

Appearance: Gore is a somewhat athletic, lean man with messy brown hair combed backwards. A constant bitter scowl is etched on his usually unshaven face, and his attire is nothing but fitting. He is commonly seen wearing simple jeans, engineer boots and a wife-beater shirt.

Occupation: Mechanic/Weapons Expert, Ex(?) Convict

Weapons:

Yolanda: The mother of all pump-action shotguns, this Siegebreaker model has been tuned, being able to fire the dreaded and highly illegal Hailburst shells, a type of short-range, high-spread buckshot with enough stopping power to blow holes through walls. It can still fire normal rounds, however, though due to being stockless, loading it with Hailburst makes it almost unusable without the G-85.

Sheila: A slightly modified Argus-5, it is a surprisingly reliable and accurate machine pistol, and gains in straight shooting and high caliber what it lacks in compact size. Joe primarily uses it for medium distances, and with the addition of an extended magazine, it is a great tool for urban combat.

Buster: A wrench of great size, too big to fit into Gore's toolbox. Good for unscrewing nuts, bolts, and the brains of whomever's dumb enough to come too close.

Armor: None at the moment, but Gore claims he's "Workin' on something big."

Items:

G-85 Exoskeleton: A customized model that has stood the test of time, this exoskeleton is a structure comprised of thin CarboSteel bars and miniature servos sharing a common Triforbium power cell located at the upper back, it stretches throughout the torso and limbs, even sporting intricate hand and foot parts to increase grip strength, stability and integrity, and allows about seven hours of continuous usage before needing to recharge. A wonderful piece of equipment for operating heavy machinery and similar tasks, not only does it significantly increase the full-body strength of its' user, but also dramatically improves endurance. It also features clip-on safeties for safely carrying equipment, and folds into the size of a backpack for easy transport, despite its' somewhat uncomfortable weight.

Randyne Toolbox: A sturdy box containing all of Gore's tools of the trade. Once opened, it unfolds for easy access. A simple nylex belt came free of charge, and it's surprisingly handy.

Welder's Joy mkII Sunglasses: A pair of bad-ass sunglasses mimicking century-old designs, their lenses are subtly curved in such a way that they protect the user's eyes from shrapnel due to fibermesh lenses and a titanite skeleton. This model was popularized in Joe's parts due to having a miniaturized, crude Powered field generator that deflected intense light. If you know what's good for you, don't remind that to him.

Skills: Before going haywire, Gore used to be an engineer and weaponsmith, and rather talented at that. He could re-route a Hypercharge Generator of a class B frigate and still make guns capable of blowing holes through a Kargul skull. The only catch? He's a bit, uh, traditional. He absolutely despises laser and Powered tech, preferring "good ol' steel and grease" over more elegant devices. That being said, provided he knows (and has tampered with) the inner workings of most pieces of tech, he can use them to quite satisfactory results. When dealing with gear that he himself has customized to his specifications, he can work wonders, weapons obviously included. His combat abilities are not to be underestimated either. Although untrained, living in the tough side of the galaxy has given him knowledge on how to hold his own in all sorts of fights, primarily relying on low blows and his quick reflexes.

Powers: N/A

Other: Constantly reeks of alcohol.

Revenant: A Sci-Fi Adventure (Always Accepting!)

@Crossfire Yay!

Well, the engine room seems like home to him, so if it's alright, I would station him there. I just hope there's no radiation.

And, eagerly awaiting for that!

Revenant: A Sci-Fi Adventure (Always Accepting!)

@Crossfire Ah, that "Sloan" thing is just a mistake. It used to be a different name for Joe before I picked his current one. Also, the weaponsmithing thing is just a byproduct of his general greaser talents, so it could just be a personal thing, though two bickering weapons experts could always prove fun too.