[hider] [center][Color=a0410d][H2]Bucket[/H2][/color][/center] [center][Img]https://i0.wp.com/www.sweetsouthernsavings.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/09/Blood-Divider-Transparent-e1536267225618-700x114.png?resize=700%2C114&ssl=1[/img][/center] [center] [img]https://i.pinimg.com/originals/ba/bc/20/babc207fded3c3471bbe12dca296a940.jpg[/img][/center] [Color=a0410d]¤ Age, approximately.[/color] 20s. Ish. [Color=a0410d]¤ What Are You?[/color] The Scrap Surgeon [Color=a0410d]¤ What defines you?[/Color] SHARP - you're a clever one. You might even know how to read. You probably build shit and solve problems with your wits and quick thinking. But brawn is useful... [center][Img]https://i0.wp.com/www.sweetsouthernsavings.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/09/Blood-Divider-Transparent-e1536267225618-700x114.png?resize=700%2C114&ssl=1[/img][/center] [Color=a0410d]¤ Who are you?[/Color] I have never known my parents, my only family was the slaves who I served with. There is a place, to the far south, deep within the jungle, where I was raised. It was a place of violence and of pain, of fire pressed against skin, but it was the only home I have ever known. I was put to work there from the moment I was old enough to sift through rubble or carry food for the Owners, but it became apparent quickly that I was smarter than most. I started to read words before I was taught to, and when I did that the Owners gave me a new job to do, one which involved a lot of reading. An older slave, a Greybeard from the Before, taught me about machines from the Before, and how they were supposed to work. He taught me how to take them apart, and which pieces were useful for which things, and by my 8th(?) year I was working on re-purposing and repairing junk from Before, for the Owners to use. It was hard work, and mistakes were punished harshly. Beatings, lashings, starvation and worse were gifted by the Owners to slaves who failed their tasks. Not long after I grew hair in strange places, I was trained by a different Greybeard, a Doctor, who was tasked with finding a replacement healer before the dirt claimed him. He trained me in the use of medicines, scalpels, bandages and painkillers, and I spent the next few years acting as surgeon for the Owners who were wounded while searching the Jungles for new slaves. One day, an Owner of importance, the son of Chief Owner, died on my table. I knew a slow, painful death would be my only punishment for this failure, and so I fled. A chance at freedom had never been worth the punishment for failure before, but there would be no worse punishment I could be given, so I fled. I killed 2 more Owners as I fled, and know they will send searchers after me, so I was relieved when I found a masked corpse in the jungle while I wandered north. I took his mask for myself, to hide the brands of slavery on my face, and haven't taken it off since. [Color=a0410d]¤ What do you want?[/Color] I will never be a slave again. Freedom is all to me now. Having it feels strange, and I often forget that I'm no longer waiting for instructions, but I never felt more alive than the moment I killed those Owners. It turns out I like killing Owners. [Color=a0410d]¤ What do you believe?[/Color] What do you think is the truth about the world? What great insight guides your actions? The Before was not peaceful. In my dreams I often see the Before, I see creators building machines, not unlike myself. And I see the chaos and the bloodshed these machines wrought. I believe something wants me to rebuild them, and I fear what will happen if I refuse or fail. [Color=a0410d]¤ What do you follow?[/Color] My Feet. Now that I am free, I will go wherever they take me. [Color=a0410d]¤ A scarcity embodied:[/Color] You embody one of the many scarcities in this world of entropy. I embody the scarcity of safety. I will never be secure in the knowledge that I am no longer being hunted, and will always live in fear of the Owners. Deep down I know that if I am to die, the greatest hell would be to die in their cages. I will always be looking over my shoulder, flinching at every unexpected noise or unfamiliar face. The only time I feel safe is when they are lying dead at my feet, but even that lasts less than a moment before it is gone and I am prey once more. [Color=a0410d]¤ Basic Instincts:[/Color] Tell us what you do on instinct. Make a list. The good, the bad, the ugly. I as a GM will always assume your instincts hold true. If you're always keeping a knife hidden on you, that's ALWAYS true. For good or bad. If you don't indicate otherwise, of course. Choose NO MORE THAN 3 INSTINCTS. I always hide my face beneath the mask. I never start a fight without a plan. I will take any book I can find, and will believe most of what is written to be true of the Before. [center][Color=a0410d][h3]¤ Spill Your Guts[/h3][/Color][/center] [color=a0410d]¤ What is the worst thing you've ever done to stay alive?[/color] Once, as a child, I broke an important machine that belonged to my Owner. I framed one of the other mechanics, and he was flayed alive. I can still hear the screams. [color=a0410d]¤ Who owns you? Literally or figuratively.[/color] A particular Owner, named Deodorant. I was profitable for him, he used to call me his favourite. I wonder if he would want me back in his service or want me dead. I don't know which would be worse. [color=a0410d]¤ Who did you fail to save? What did it cost?[/color] All of the slaves who were my brethren. Every day I wish to go back and liberate them, but without the power, that would cost me my own life and liberty. [color=a0410d]¤ Who makes you feel ([s]angry[/s]/sad[s]/murderous/lustful[/s])the moment you lay eyes on them? Why?[/color] My unmasked reflection. My brands are a constant reminder of the pain I've endured in the service of evil bastards, and of the fear that they may find me one day. [color=a0410d]¤ Who's intentions do you question?[/color] Whatever god of the Before is sending me these visions in my sleep. I do not know if they are warnings, requests, demands or something else entirely. But they are terrifying and fascinating. [center][Img]https://i0.wp.com/www.sweetsouthernsavings.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/09/Blood-Divider-Transparent-e1536267225618-700x114.png?resize=700%2C114&ssl=1[/img][/center] [h3]Hear the Whispers...[/h3] When you open your brain-case to the whispers and visions of the Psychic Maelstrom, what is it like for you? Every night before I fall asleep, I read a book from the Before. It talks of war, and of terrible suffering, of powerful machinery and unnatural devastation. It always makes me sad, but I find myself unable to sleep without it. When I dream after I read it, I see the men who created these machines. They have many names; spitfires, the Bismark, Panzers and Destroyers, though the one which never fails to wake me in a cold sweat is The Atom Bomb. Some nights, I see machines which were made after this war, all of them dangerous, though some simply practical. Whatever being sends these dreams to me, it has ensured that I know the most intimate details of their creation, and deployment. On rare occasions, I am shown a device which did not work. A mechanical arm to replace lost flesh, or a giant explosive-covered wheel which propels itself towards a foe, a shotgun which would fire any scrap metal or junk you placed into it, to tear through a foe like shrapnel. In the visions, the creations reveal their secrets to me, and if I try to build them myself, they usually work in ways that the Before creators could never get them to. [center][Img]https://i0.wp.com/www.sweetsouthernsavings.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/09/Blood-Divider-Transparent-e1536267225618-700x114.png?resize=700%2C114&ssl=1[/img][/center] [h3]Own What You've Become[/h3] When you've decided What You Are, PM me with what title you chose and a brief description of what you mean by it (doubly so if you made one up.) Based on what you describe to me, I will give you 3 more questions. These are non-negotiable. You will answer ALL of them. "Scrap-surgeon, huh? Something tells me your clients are really desperate." [color=a0410d]¤ Someone has been sending weird packages to your workshop. What's in them?[/color] Used needles, mostly. I haven't used any of them on my patients yet, it seems very shady, but I can't help but be curious. [color=a0410d]¤ Where is your workshop, anyway? Who's trying to get rid of it?[/color] I set up shop in the cargo container of one of the larger planes. I'm not the only one in there though, and some of the other residents haven't taken kindly to competition. There's one merchant in particular, a woman named Rosary, that seems to hate me and my creations, claims them an affront to her god. I fear she is an Owner in disguise, hoping to oust me from Steelbird and capture me when I am vulnerable, but it's equally likely that she just wants to kill me in my sleep. [color=a0410d]¤ What supply do you have the hardest time finding? Who's charging you out the nose for it?[/color] What supplies do I [i]not[/i] have a hard time finding? Wood and rusty metal are just about the only things in plentiful supply. Glass is easy enough to come by, but it's rarely in one piece. Copper wire has been especially difficult lately, though. A young girl named Twix has made it her business to gather up all the copper in the area, and is using it to decorate her hovel. Twix is charging extortionate fees for any of it, but without that wire all the batteries I gathered last month are useless to me. [center][Img]https://i0.wp.com/www.sweetsouthernsavings.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/09/Blood-Divider-Transparent-e1536267225618-700x114.png?resize=700%2C114&ssl=1[/img][/center] [color=a0410d]¤Theme Song: [url]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GrdD82ZFsAo[/url].[/color] So I stand tall And face the scorn It's not the place but the time I was born The road ahead, may be filled with hate But I know my path, and I walk it straight [/hider] All done