[@Aeonumbra]

My characters tend to be unapologetically vibrant.

Feel free to nail me for not matching the theme of gritty and brown.

[hider=Schatz]
[h3][center][color=mediumseagreen]Basics[/color][/center][/h3]
[hider=more like 'hider the rest of your body'][img]http://pre05.deviantart.net/cf6f/th/pre/f/2015/136/f/1/the_pipes_make_it_go_faster_by_axel_valholm-d8tndgw.jpg[/img][/hider]
[hider=Alternate perspective, older image]
[img]http://pre06.deviantart.net/55ca/th/pre/f/2015/010/e/5/schatz_fired__by_axel_valholm-d8db8t0.jpg[/img][/hider]
[color=palevioletred][b]Name:[/b][/color] Renata 'Schatz' Monsigny
[color=palevioletred][b]Age:[/b][/color] 24
[color=palevioletred][b]Appeared Age:[/b][/color] 18-23, depending on who you ask
[color=palevioletred][b]Height:[/b][/color] 5'8''
[color=palevioletred][b]Weight:[/b][/color] 132 lbs.
[color=palevioletred][b]Eye Color:[/b][/color] A series of radial markings mar her pupil, ranging from deep green to violent, glowing neon. Her irises radiate light of a similar color.
[color=palevioletred][b]Hair Color:[/b][/color] Excessively salmon. It's dyed. Natural brunette.
[color=palevioletred][b]Physical Disabilities:[/b][/color] She and clothes don't get along too well, thanks to her powers. No sensation in the majority of her left arm and slightly weaker motor skills.
[color=palevioletred][b]Physical Identifiers:[/b][/color][list]
[*] Dragon tattoo reaches all the way across her shoulderblades and wraps around to the base of her spine.
[*] Big old burn on her arm. 
[/list]
[color=palevioletred][b]Appearance:[/b][/color] Schatz is, by her own terms, a 'pretty lady.' Curvy-though-a-bit-thin, she takes extreme pride in her appearance. Her hair sits in such a way that it hides a particularly nasty scratch running from her jaw to the base of her ear, and the way it's styled is entirely intentional. Her taste in clothing is more due to necessity than it is personal taste, but Schatz still takes the time to make sure she at least looks unique. Her taste in violent color is an extension of her personality, and the racing checkers an insight into her passion. 

That being said, Schatz could just as easily have opted for a skirt and actual shoes. Her clothing is as surprisingly easy to move in as it is astonishingly provocative, and it's more likely that her personal choices were more to reach the pedals of her gigantic heaps of rapidly moving metal than they were for being on one's feet all day. Even so, the care she puts into her wardrobe--white clashes hard with the wasteland day-to-day--is meticulous and entirely unnecessary, yet she still keeps to it. 

Currently working on building muscle definition after her run-in with certain doom, she's still recovering from her comatose foray, and it shows. She's still terribly slim, and her stomach has only really built up fat, leaving it smooth. Her arms have gotten strong, however, from practice swings with Chutney. 


[h3][center][color=mediumseagreen]Background[/color][/center][/h3]
[color=palevioletred][b]Residence:[/b][/color] Laguna
[color=palevioletred][b]Profession:[/b][/color] A sort of taxi—she'll ferry you all over the island if you don't mind the breakneck speeds she prefers and you pay bullets up front. 
[color=palevioletred][b]Aligned Faction:[/b][/color] Though not actually enlisted, she subscribes to the tenets—and the prosperity entailed—of the Motum Diversum.
[color=palevioletred][b]Relatives:[/b][/color][list]
[*]Albert Mosnigny: “Old fuck that smelled like cheese! And prejudice. I mean—he didn't smell like prejudice. He was an asshole. He [i]may[/i] have smelled like asshole, though.”
[*]Elaine Skaster: “She remarried, that old bitty! Bit of a slut, if by 'bit' I mean 'total' and 'slut' I mean 'gold digging bleach blonde garbage whore.'
Who the hell manages to have their hair bleached n--Fuck off!”
[*]Cailean Monsigny: “The son Bert wanted me to be. Instead, I was born first and Cailean continues to be useless. 
Bit of a shitcanoe.”
[/list]
[hider=Backstory]

Renata is a simple girl with simple pleasures: Namely, pleasuring herself, explosions, and the occasional hit of epinephrine. 

Usually mixtures of the three. An adrenaline junkie since she fell off a cliff at the age of six, saved only by a fox breaking her fall (and its spine), Renata's trademark was boundless amounts of enthusiasm. Her father, co-owner of Monsigny & Bodle, a popular scrapping and rigging establishment, made a tidy sum, dressed tidy, and led a tidy lifestyle. Renata was not. Prone to scavenging in her youth, she acquired the nickname Schatz from her mother—which was both a byword for 'sweetheart' and 'treasure.' It stuck, as it fell in line with her natural narcissistic tendencies. Schatz grew from scavenger to tinker, toying with motor parts and wheels she could pilfer from her dad's scrapyard. 

Renata has something of a history with fractures. Her first 'car'--basically an engine with three wheels and a seat—crashed into a tree at 15 miles an hour and snapped her knee backwards. She broke her arm in two places in the subsequent runs with the half-destroyed 'vehicle.' Schatz's happy place was away from her family and among danger. She spent more time in the scrapyard in her youth than in her own home; climbing things, breaking bones, making things blow up—her solace was disaster. It was in Schatz's teenage years that she found her love of adrenaline was something more than just a passion; it bordered on fetishistic. She didn't so much [i]want[/i] the high as she did [i]lust[/i] for it, and her taste for danger turned into a full-blown addiction. 

Much to the chagrin of her pursuers, this meant that most makeout sessions took place at 60 miles an hour.

Her affection for speed became something entirely more lucrative when she realized her juryrigged contraptions could easily ferry people across the landscape. At the age of 19, she opened up her own business, a taxi service meant for the wanderers of the wasteland. 

Schatz's first voyage ended in tragedy. The vehicle's fuel tank burst, engulfing her passenger and nearly reducing Schatz herself to ash. Her left arm was burned terribly, though the rest of her bailed clear of the carnage. Worse yet, she was in the middle of the desert, two days from Harlem and she [i]certainly[/i] wasn't making the trek up the Big Empty. With a useless arm and no means of rapid travel, Schatz's optimism turned fatalistic in a heartbeat. If it wasn't for a dishonored Aqueous wandering the badlands, she was sure to have died. Covered in rags and carrying a pack mule's share of survival gear, the man must have gone mad from the heat. His attire was strange; in respect for his sacrifice, Schatz took his hat, which helped keep the sand out of her nose.  

His corpse facilitated her survival. She not only made it to Harlem, but took it upon herself to finish the hike all the way to Laguna. On the thoroughfare, though, she came upon more impediments than Schatz would care to admit; she had the body of an outdoorsy mechanic and no weapon to defend herself with. By the time she'd made it back home, Schatz was down to the clothes on her back and her stomach was screaming for sustenance. It was then that she came up with the idea for Chutney. Given her slim-but-solid frame, she was used to [i]carrying[/i] weights, not slinging them around. In order to protect herself, she enlisted the help of a few close friends and scoured her father's scrapyard. In the process, she found an old yellow poncho stashed into a car's chassis and a couple of magnets. With the help of a particularly resourceful tailor, the newsboy cap and now-scarf became something of Schatz's trademark, if only as a neat party trick.

In the process of protecting herself against her own dumb mistakes, she took it upon herself to get a tattoo—a reminder that just because something is [i]fun[/i] does not make it any less ill-fated. Schatz worked on making her machines more passenger-friendly, perusing the scrapyard's new acquisitions for viable, [i]functional[/i] parts. Neither hammer nor reminder could save Schatz from herself, though. After three years' worth of refining, she'd finally created a vehicle capable of making it from Sinoma to Serenity with great ease. Of course, being the girl she was, she decided to run it over the tallest dune she could find as a final test. She'd been ill for the past few days, but she thought nothing of it and pushed on with the test run. 

She sneezed, her fingers slipped and the wheel spun underneath her.

Her rib cage turned to splinters. Her breath stuck like a molten iron in her throat. Death approached, shrouding the edge of her vision with its cape fashioned of the void. A Spark of life, however, came to her in her dying moments.

It was then that her powers arose. She felt her bones [i]move.[/i] She felt every splinter mesh and crack and force itself together, an eternity of utter agony, and then... Black.

Schatz was in a coma for a month. When she woke, a wisp of her former self, the bedsheets were on fire. Or—they weren't. Something was burning underneath. She could feel it. It was like her skin was being barbequed. Her atrophied, bony arms threw the sheet to the side with great effort, and she realized the source of the fire was [i]herself[/i]. By the time the nurse had arrived, Schatz was spreadeagled on the cool tile floor, her patient's gown thrown haphazardly over the bedside.

By the time her next birthday came around, Schatz had grown into the powers bestowed upon her. Though she lamented not being able to carry around backpacks or stand too close to magnets, her indomitable optimism pushed her ever onward. Finally living with a mote of trepidation before diving headlong into disaster, the Schatz today takes the ramifications of her actions into account—but she'll still probably do terminally stupid things anyway. 

She's like to take it upon herself to 'help the world,' somehow. 
[/hider]
[h3][center][color=mediumseagreen]Gear[/color][/center][/h3]
[color=palevioletred][b]Weapons:[/b][/color][list]
[*] [b][color=palevioletred]Chutney[/color][/b]: As in, will turn you into chutney. A big, dumb rocket hammer made out of a wheel, road spikes, a motor, a bunch of rockets, a fuel tank, a car battery attached to an extension cord and a chainsaw's ignition pull. The wheel serves as a sort of chainsaw, with the road spikes welded to the rubber--this is the electrical aspect of the hammer. The rockets on the other end, however, require fuel and allow Schatz to swing far beyond her capacity. The road spikes are highly magnetic, but the rocket exhausts on the back are not. It's big. It's dumb. Beyond all rational probability, it works. 
It will fuck you to pieces. 
Somehow, it's amazingly stable and can even be ridden for short distances. Clocks an uneven 20mph.
(It also has a sixteen hour charge time for four hours of use.)
[/list]
[color=palevioletred][b]Armor:[/b][/color]  

[b]Hat:[/b] It's awfully important to note that the hat comes down. The yellow band is actually a nylon sack attached to the brim, and the goggles are part of the hat itself. Schatz can pull it down as a shield against dirt and wind.

[b]Scarf:[/b] Is not actually a scarf. The two long bits are actually tassels and are attached to the 'scarf' from underneath. A makeshift seal made out of magnetic rocks in a rubber tube congruent to Schatz's hat protect her against any unwanted foreign matter, and the scarf can be pulled out and away from its tucked position to turn into a poncho. 
Obviously, Schatz prefers to use neither of these if she doesn't have to. Often, she'll only do so if she really doesn't want her clothes to get dirty or she is driving absurdly, disgustingly fast.

[color=palevioletred][b]Ammunition:[/b][/color][list]
[*][color=palevioletred][b]Dirty Rounds:[/b][/color] None. She and guns don't get along too well.
[*][color=palevioletred][b]High Grade Rounds:[/b][/color] 37 .454 rounds for the sake of trade.
[*][color=palevioletred][b]Heavy Ammunition:[/b][/color] If she had any, they'd be fireworks within the hour. [/list]
[color=palevioletred][b]Messenger Bag[/b][/color] (It lies on her hip, which isn't terribly offensive to her skin.)[list]
[*][color=palevioletred]Items Within:[/color][/list] Two canteens, a couple small metal pipes, a sheet, and some kindling--Schatz makes her own fires, but there's not always wood around.
[h3][center][color=mediumseagreen]Immortalis Information[/color][/center][/h3]
[color=palevioletred][b]Manifested Phenomena:[/b][/color] [color=slategray]Magnetism[/color]
[color=palevioletred][b]Unique Abilities:[/b][/color] 


[color=slategray][b]Great Attractor:[/b][/color] If a sufficient amount of sufficiently magnetic material is in the air, Schatz could hot-freeze a cloud solid. That being said, she'd need a [i]lot[/i] of metal shavings to do so. Essentially, magnetic objects create a field of applied magnetism, for Schatz: this tiny field, less than a millimeter per 10 grams of magnetic material, allows her to attract even non-magnetic objects towards the material.  

[color=slategray][b]Ohmosexual:[/b][/color] Her body is magnetic. Wounds will immediately close and cauterize due to the rapid frictional force. If the ground is sufficiently magnetic, she can even repel herself off of it and send herself flying forward. Her body, also, is its own stable magnet-- it carries a magnetic field that can be suppressed, and will automatically revert to a 'stable' state--her bones will move back into position if cracked and lacerations will close until it becomes 'Schatz' once again.
 
[color=palevioletred][b]Strengths:[/b][/color] 

[color=dodgerblue][b]But It Was Worth It!:[/b][/color] There's just something about a lady who's willing to break her arm just to have her foot get a meeting with your jaw. She's not intimidating so much as she is so [i]impossibly[/i] over the top with everything she does. Her optimism is seconded only by her incorrigibility. 

[color=dodgerblue][b]It Works! Somehow:[/b][/color] If any of the 'working' parts have to rotate really, [i]really[/i] fast, it's gonna do it. Schatz'll do it. She'll show everyone. 
Subsequently, Schatz'll break all her bones trying to ride it. This hypothetical was worth it.
Don't drive, kids.

[color=dodgerblue][b]You Are Not... [i]Were[/i] Not Prepared:[/b][/color] By the very nature of her abilities, Schatz prefers her fights short. Her taste for spontaneity extends to her scuffles—don't monologue in front of her or you will [i]assuredly[/i] be losing limbs during your soliloquy. She thinks on her feet and would rather you didn't have any.

[color=palevioletred][b]Weaknesses:[/b][/color]

[color=coral][b]Ohm...y God:[/b][/color] Her body is [i]magnetic[/i] and [i]unstable.[/i] At all times, Schatz is overheating from her skin trying to tear itself apart in every direction and rapidly settling in an infinite cycle. While this feeling isn't painful in itself, it bars her from wearing too much clothing for fear of heat exhaustion. This heat is less prominent in the extremities and a raging fire in Schatz's core.

[color=coral][b]Doc, Everything Burns:[/b][/color] Just because her wounds close immediately does not mean that she doesn't feel pain; in fact, she's more likely to pass out due to shock than most people. Also, her skin is so frictional with itself that it [i]cauterizes[/i]--that alone should suggest the level of pain Schatz deals with.

[color=coral][b]Need for Speed:[/b][/color] Schatz derives an obscene amount of pleasure from adrenaline. She will, more often than not, do [i]very stupid and dangerous things[/i] for the sake of the high.

[color=coral][b]Fucking Magnets:[/b][/color] Schatz can't use guns. Because of her magnetic nature, flimsily made firearms tend to come apart in her hands and the better-made guns never seem to fire right. In fact, she has trouble using most things without simple moving parts; even her automobiles are dumbed down terribly for the sake of her abilities.
[/hider]

Keep in mind that this is all pretty off-the-cuff, so feel free to pick out things you don't think'll fly.