Scrove

[Feend's Scrapyard] Hay in a Needlestack

Leif gave a shrug at finding the elf woman gone. "Well, I don't really like hearing that. It seems it might be a cult then, and one with bad intentions. Killing innocents and randoms is not something that should be done. I mean, the world agrees and assigns the titles as punishment."

When asked about the afterlife, Leif gave a brief pause, trying to remember the right word before answering, "Yes, I'm sure there is some kind of afterlife. Whether it is a paradise, hell, or just a new life that we live is up in the air. As for one for your kind, Burner2137? I don't see why there wouldn't be one. You're a sophont just like me, so why wouldn't there be one? Y'all deserve one just as much as I and others do, and I'm sure the universe isn't that cruel in the end." He spoke with finality; after all, the universe had taken him and given him such a great gift as his mobility and a second chance—why would it be needlessly cruel to other forms of life?

Leif watched the rust remove itself from Burner2137 with a bit of wonder. The mist seemed to be beneficial for his robot companion. "How does that feel, Burner2137? It looks like it is renewing you a bit from my end," he inquired before turning his attention to the Goblin that he had found once again, this time speaking to a pudgy man and two others. The three were approaching, making fun of the Goblin and the other man. Leif threw an appraisal at them, wondering what he would get back from the one with a mohawk, sporting a look that could have come straight out of Shadowrun, the pudgy man that was speaking with the goblin and the bald man that mirrored him with the speaking construct head.

[Feend's Scrapyard] Hay in a Needlestack

The fact that they just shredded those that disagree meant he would want to stay away from them if possible—if nothing else, to run if encountered with them.

Leif gave her a nod at the explanation, or the best that she could give; it was far more than what he had been able to figure out anyway. "Well, if it's yours then you likely should try and trade if explaining it doesn't help. No need for violence or anything like that." When she donned the mask and spoke again, he frowned. He'd heard stories of people who change with a mask or wearing glasses or such, but he hadn't ever expected to actually see one; it was just stories after all. "I've got a few things to do still, unfortunately. I need to return the disk to the person who dropped it and bring Burner2137 to speak to Feendz, so I'll be sticking around for a while yet." The fact that she may very well have been the person who dropped the disk from what she had said—or possibly her master was—didn't escape Leif; he just didn't mention it. What good would that do after all? Leif set off towards the direction that the Goblin had went, the direction that Burner suggested he not go, and that likely the masked woman would be heading towards as well.

[Feend's Scrapyard] Hay in a Needlestack

Leif listened to the body-less Burner2137. The sermon interested him, especially as it would be what could decide if he was going to return the memory disk or take it and try to give it to the 'thief'. He still wasn't sure if there was a thief or if he should trust Feendz, but Burner2137 didn't really have a reason to lie to him, whereas Feendz might. Still, it was something to decide after he found the disc. "Feral as in, lost their ability to reason, or just as in they attacked Feendz and his group? If they can be reasoned with, then that would be fine; I'm not exactly a hostile entity, myself."

Leif hemmed and hawed over the poster, wishing that Burner2137 had eyes so he could ask him about it. Turning his gaze on the masked elf, he gave his attention, "Why is his find yours? If you really need it, just find something nice and trade with him." Turning the poster over again, looking it over one more time before looking to the elf, "Don't suppose you can read this?" He held the poster up so that she could see it.

[Feend's Scrapyard] Hay in a Needlestack

"Nice to meet you, Burner2137," Leif said before giving a shrug that the robot couldn't see. "I'm Leif the Swift, totally new to Widersia. I heard of a decent paying job for those without a skilled trade and took it—didn't know it was a shady one until later." Leif followed Burner2137's instructions, ensuring he was facing forward as they continued on their way. When he saw the others already digging in the heap, he frowned, and that frown only deepened as his body-less companion continued speaking. Now he had to decide if he trusted Burner2137 or Feendz more, and he deeply disliked that choice. One obviously had a grudge against the other; however, Feendz wasn't exactly a likeable person. "How do you know the memory disk was stolen, and who was it stolen from? Honestly, I don't want to be involved in stolen or smuggled goods; it's not my style—too much trouble." As he spoke, he eyed the goblin being approached by a figure that looked suspiciously like the elf who had bolted away earlier—at least he assumed so based on the mask and clothing. He doubted many others here would be wearing such a distinctive mask, as he hadn't seen any others.

"I'm going to be moving quickly, Burner2137," Leif spoke a bit quieter to the head. He then moved as quickly as he could to stand beside the figure wearing the beak-shaped gas mask. This figure had their hands open in a demanding manner toward the goblin, while the goblin seemed only interested in random goodies he could find and wear. Leif wasn't going to do anything to the woman; he merely thought it would be amusing to startle her again. What he was truly after was the memory disc in the pile before him. He began to dig into the pile after setting Burner2137 down to the side. "Setting you down so I can dig through the pile, Burner2137. Others are around, so please be mindful of what you say."

[Feend's Scrapyard] Hay in a Needlestack

Leif gave a grunt in reply to the robot head telling him it couldn't sense his direction; he had hoped it could, but wasn't expecting much—it was just a head, after all. "Feend as in Feendz, the owner of the scrap yard?" he asked. "I think I can do that for you. What should I call you?" Leif replied. He had hoped to work with the gnome in the future, making him a regular contact, but he wouldn't be opposed to letting a still-sentient construct have its say instead. He doubted that bringing both the memory disc and the conscious head—especially with the head's information—would make him welcome back at the gnome's shop. He gave a shudder; it seemed not just the head but nearly every piece of scrap was still alive and aware in some manner. What a way to go: rotting in a yard like this. He gingerly reached down to pick the head up and head off in the direction it indicated as they went, careful to keep it away from his bow string and anything it might catch on, carrying it more like a football tucked into his arm then anything else.

[Feend's Scrapyard] Hay in a Needlestack

Leif frowned as he dug through the scrap; he hadn't expected to find it so easily, but that didn't mean he enjoyed sifting through components that were still moving despite being dismembered. It was morbid and unpleasant. The fact that one of them started talking to him bothered him more than it probably should. They were constructs, not people, yet a detached head was speaking to him, conscious as it slowly rotted away. There wasn't much he could do about it; his expertise lay with wood, plants, and forestry, not this kind of metal and magic.

"I'm a bit bad with directions, would it be this direction?" he asked, stepping a bit away in one direction, before moving to another. "Or this direction?" He quickly moved to a third spot. "Or this one?" He moved swiftly, so as not to waste too much time. When an answer came, he would give the head a nod before speaking once more. "Thank you. Is there anything I can do for you with my meager abilities?"

[Feend's Scrapyard] Hay in a Needlestack

Leif was entirely unbothered by the gnome's seemingly lackadaisical attitude, and was in the process of nodding along with what the gnome was saying when the elf suddenly squealed and bolted away. He was left blinking at the interruption before turning his attention back to the gnome. He continued nodding as the gnome finished his explanation about how rare it was for elves to be in this area—something the gnome, as the proprietor, would certainly know.

"Yes, thank you. I will go and begin the search for your disk now."

He gave a small bow to the gnome before turning and heading towards the scrapyard himself. "'SVR' carved into the side and new-looking. That should make it stand out easily enough." he thought to himself as he went along. His focus would be on anything matching that description, and he planned to stop and dig around immediately upon finding one. He wasn't interested in the rest of the salvage, primarily because he had no knowledge of its function or value, so he focused entirely on the task at hand: finding the disc and earning his bonus.

Actions:
1) Search for memory disk and new looking objects
2) Dig around in the waste to get to said objects

[Feend's Scrapyard] Hay in a Needlestack

Leif the Swift



Height: 6’0”
Weight: 206 Lbs

Backstory
Leif the Swift wasn’t always Leif the Swift; he had lived another life, one where he was confined to a wheelchair, unable to use or feel his legs. He relied completely on others for care, barely able to live his own life. His paralysis had resulted from a senseless, random act—a tragic high school incident where he was pushed off the top bleachers as nothing more than an unfortunate bystander to a growing fight. The fall didn't just break his body; it stole his autonomy, leaving him permanently tethered to the spot where he fell.
The frustration he carried was a dull, constant ache—not just physical, but existential. His mind was sharp, his spirit willing, but his body was a cage. He existed in a quiet despair, grieving the person he was supposed to be. That all changed the moment the choice was offered. It wasn't a flashing light or a cinematic portal, but a clear, resonant voice in the deepest part of his mind, offering a transfer to a new world with a body that functioned fully. He didn't hesitate. The word "figuratively" barely applied; he mentally slammed his fist down in acceptance.

He’d loved the stories of similar rebirths, the popular isekai genre, and knew the typical tropes: overpowered protagonists that faced no real adversity. But the voice had made it clear to him that this wasn’t his fate. The world he would go to was harsh, his power would merely be adequate, not like those in the stories. But this didn’t deter him in the slightest. The mere promise of being able to move under his own power, to take care of himself again would have been enough. And yet, he was given a choice of baseline abilities to shape his new existence. He immediately became fixated on mobility, choosing skills that amplified his speed and quick movement, ensuring that whatever the new world had in store for him, he would never be trapped again. He complemented this choice with a proficiency in archery to allow him to fight from a distance, protecting his new found mobility that he cherished, and a skillset focused on cultivation of resources so that he could make a living.

The name, Leif the Swift, came not after some heroic battle, but from the simple and pure joy of his first run in the new world. In his new body, complete with red hair as wild as the mountains, he felt the wind tear past him, faster than he ever thought possible in the old world. That moment of exhilarating, absolute freedom solidified his new identity. With his only mandate from the voice that had given him his choices, to effect some kind of change in the world. Not conquest, no salvation, but simple influence–a disruption of the established order, a gentle push toward some kind of new destiny. With the bow on his back, the cool air surrounding him, he felt a profound sense of purpose. Leif the Swift has been given not just a second chance, but a new lease on life itself, and he intended to move fast enough to make every single second count.

[Feend's Scrapyard] Hay in a Needlestack

Leif the Swift had accepted the job in Widersia because he needed extra funds for his travels. While he was exceptionally quick—far quicker than most—he still needed to eat, and sleeping under a roof was always preferable to lying on the ground in a tent, especially when it rained. To that end, he found himself about to enter a vast junkyard, filled with the corpses of various constructs. He was looking for a specific memory disc, a disc that was also be sought by the many other scavengers he saw around him.

"Sir, I'm sure there is more than one memory disc in the area. How would I recognize the right one? I don't want to waste your time bringing you random memory discs."

He posed this question because he felt it was crucial information; otherwise, he would likely have rushed off with the others, scrambling through the rusty and oily mess. His timing in asking the question, after others had already dashed off, was also a benefit: it meant fewer people had the information that would help them locate the correct one.