Supermaxx

Sticks And Stones [Post-Apoc/High Fantasy Hybrid]

---

Praetor City, Dall
Winter - 941 F.M (Finis Mortem)
[ ♫ ]

---

The call for a free round never failed to garner the attention the guardsman sought. His worn visage was upturned in a light smile as several people were quick to bound forward. The veritable charge was led by the mountain of a man that the veteran guard had spotted earlier. He had a feeling someone of his demeanor was here on business of this sort. The leather-clad stranger carried himself like a warrior- it was a walk the old soldier was well acquainted with. It was one he had once walked as well in his younger years, before his body and temperament were weathered by too many winters.

"Ahh, don't you worry- the man'll get what's coming to him soon enough." He scornfully replied, knowing full well that the steward's punishment would be a light slap on the wrist compared to the hell any man of lesser status would be put through for such a short coming. "Pleasure to meet you, Blackwall. I'm Sergeant Howle of the Royal Guard." Howle held out one hand toward Blackwall, offering a shake, while the other reached behind to take the first of the whiskey brought up by the barkeep. Howle passed it right on to the warrior in exchange for his summons.

The two younger guards accompanying the sergeant were quick to snatch up drinks of their own. The darker haired and fairer skinned of the two lifted the harsh liquid up to his lips, only to pause before he could drink at the sight of the next to approach them. He launched a sharp elbow into the side of the companion with him, wordlessly bringing the other man's gaze to follow his own. The next to come forward was easily ousted as a wizard, given her attire and the company she'd kept. Their was suspicion in the first man's eyes- though it was not mirrored by his fellow. On the contrary, his second's gaze was filled with a captivated fascination. Magic, and those that wielded it, was an incredibly rare thing to behold. Praetor City was one of a handful of hubs of activity that saw wizards pass through at all. Many cities would consider the presence of one magic user an omen, and a moment to be recorded in the history books. For most in Dall, however, magicians just meant one thing:

Trouble.

Neither of the two flankers spoke up as Tegan introduced herself, though for entirely different reasons. They took a step away and allowed Howle the floor, letting him take a step forward to offer yet another handshake to yet another adventurer. "His highness King Astius-" The sergeant emphasized- "Surely appreciates your answering his call." Howle silently figured the exorbitant pay offered to types like these ones was thanks enough, but it wasn't his place to comment; especially not when he was meant to be convincing these people to take the job for his lordship. One summons in hand, he looked to the other magician accompanying Tegan. "I'm not made of coin, but if your friend has his summons, I'll see what I can do." Howle's smile faltered just a little, wincing as he totaled up the costs in his head. The Steward was going to have to reimburse the sergeant for all of this, or there'd be hell to pay. For Howle, more than likely- but he'd be very upset about it.

"You all have my apologies, but I'm afraid you'll need to drink and walk. We're pressed for time as it is." Howle nodded. He silently tore the drinks away from his two guardsmen, sliding them back across the bar. A protest nearly started from both guards and the barkeeper, but a single glare was enough to choke down any words they might have for him. He didn't doubt the bastard across the counter owed the king anyway, and the two with him knew the captain would whip them both on sight if he caught them drinking on duty. With that, the group had to be off, returning to the keep in due haste. Any questions could be answered along the way, or deferred to the steward upon arrival.

---

"I'll have a cup brewed for you immediately, then." He insisted with a slight forward nod of his head. The gray haired captain turned heel, leading the way for the single adventurer back toward the castle keep. His smile, already characteristically thin, drooped into a frown when he heard the calls for a 'drink at the tavern' from the guard stationed at the front. His nose was further stuck up when the woman he was escorting mentioned that she was married. The captain made a mental note to take the man aside later and explain in no small detail the etiquette expected of the king's own.

He had always been a strict man of chivalry and code, and he expected his men to follow in his stead. Those that did not rarely remained in his guard for very long.

A slight turn of his head to look back at the oddly dressed treasure hunter, the royal guardsman answered the questioned offered him with a wiggle of his thick, gray mustache. "The nearest inn is the Lame Mule. It's a short walk from the keep up the main road." He explained, his voice echoing in the pit of his gut like a drum of war. It was a short, factual explanation- his own ill-feelings about the lowly establishment kept to himself.

"I'd personally recommend an establishment in the eastern district. The Flightless Pegasus, it's called. The best drinks you can get in Praetor. More expensive and out of the way, but the woman that owns it is wonderful." The captain added after a moment of hesitation.

Before them the great wooden doors of the keep were thrown open, the freezing cold air plowing into the warm exterior. It's halls of grand marble and sapphire curtains weaved from the finest linens and silks were a sight to behold indeed. No place on earth could match it's splendor- according to the men of Dall, at least, who were known for being totally objective and not at all self-absorbed.

Inside the castle hall, a handful of unfamiliar faces could be found. An odd, weasel-looking man stood near an equally shifty-eyed woman bearing heavy iron shackles. And then there was the robed man with a distant look on his face that they'd seen outside before. The captain judged them all quite harshly, though the only sign of his disapproval was the creasing of his wrinkled visage.

He cleared his throat, stepping forward to hopefully get their collective attention. "You have my sincerest apologies for the delay." The captain began. "And I would like to thank you for your patience. Steward Lethino will be overseeing your departure. If you'd all follow me, I'll lead you to him." The guardsman waved, beginning to move through the sparkling hall with the hope that they'd all fall in at his rear.

Superboy's Shitty Characters

---

Praetor City, Dall
Winter - 941 F.M (Finis Mortem)
[ ♫ ]

---

The call for a free round never failed to garner the attention the guardsman sought. His worn visage was upturned in a light smile as several people were quick to bound forward. The veritable charge was led by the mountain of a man that the veteran guard had spotted earlier. He had a feeling someone of his demeanor was here on business of this sort. The leather-clad stranger carried himself like a warrior- it was a walk the old soldier was well acquainted with. It was one he had once walked as well in his younger years, before his body and temperament were weathered by too many winters.

"Ahh, don't you worry- the man'll get what's coming to him soon enough." He scornfully replied, knowing full well that the steward's punishment would be a light slap on the wrist compared to the hell any man of lesser status would be put through for such a short coming. "Pleasure to meet you, Blackwall. I'm Sergeant Howle of the Royal Guard." Howle held out one hand toward Blackwall, offering a shake, while the other reached behind to take the first of the whiskey brought up by the barkeep. Howle passed it right on to the warrior in exchange for his summons.

The two younger guards accompanying the sergeant were quick to snatch up drinks of their own. The darker haired and fairer skinned of the two lifted the harsh liquid up to his lips, only to pause before he could drink at the sight of the next to approach them. He launched a sharp elbow into the side of the companion with him, wordlessly bringing the other man's gaze to follow his own. The next to come forward was easily ousted as a wizard, given her attire and the company she'd kept. Their was suspicion in the first man's eyes- though it was not mirrored by his fellow. On the contrary, his second's gaze was filled with a captivated fascination. Magic, and those that wielded it, was an incredibly rare thing to behold. Praetor City was one of a handful of hubs of activity that saw wizards pass through at all. Many cities would consider the presence of one magic user an omen, and a moment to be recorded in the history books. For most in Dall, however, magicians just meant one thing:

Trouble.

Neither of the two flankers spoke up as Tegan introduced herself, though for entirely different reasons. They took a step away and allowed Howle the floor, letting him take a step forward to offer yet another handshake to yet another adventurer. "His highness King Astius-" The sergeant emphasized- "Surely appreciates your answering his call." Howle silently figured the exorbitant pay offered to types like these ones was thanks enough, but it wasn't his place to comment; especially not when he was meant to be convincing these people to take the job for his lordship. One summons in hand, he looked to the other magician accompanying Tegan. "I'm not made of coin, but if your friend has his summons, I'll see what I can do." Howle's smile faltered just a little, wincing as he totaled up the costs in his head. The Steward was going to have to reimburse the sergeant for all of this, or there'd be hell to pay. For Howle, more than likely- but he'd be very upset about it.

"You all have my apologies, but I'm afraid you'll need to drink and walk. We're pressed for time as it is." Howle nodded. He silently tore the drinks away from his two guardsmen, sliding them back across the bar. A protest nearly started from both guards and the barkeeper, but a single glare was enough to choke down any words they might have for him. He didn't doubt the bastard across the counter owed the king anyway, and the two with him knew the captain would whip them both on sight if he caught them drinking on duty. With that, the group had to be off, returning to the keep in due haste. Any questions could be answered along the way, or deferred to the steward upon arrival.

---

"I'll have a cup brewed for you immediately, then." He insisted with a slight forward nod of his head. The gray haired captain turned heel, leading the way for the single adventurer back toward the castle keep. His smile, already characteristically thin, drooped into a frown when he heard the calls for a 'drink at the tavern' from the guard stationed at the front. His nose was further stuck up when the woman he was escorting mentioned that she was married. The captain made a mental note to take the man aside later and explain in no small detail the etiquette expected of the king's own.

He had always been a strict man of chivalry and code, and he expected his men to follow in his stead. Those that did not rarely remained in his guard for very long.

A slight turn of his head to look back at the oddly dressed treasure hunter, the royal guardsman answered the questioned offered him with a wiggle of his thick, gray mustache. "The nearest inn is the Lame Mule. It's a short walk from the keep up the main road." He explained, his voice echoing in the pit of his gut like a drum of war. It was a short, factual explanation- his own ill-feelings about the lowly establishment kept to himself.

"I'd personally recommend an establishment in the eastern district. The Flightless Pegasus, it's called. The best drinks you can get in Praetor. More expensive and out of the way, but the woman that owns it is wonderful." The captain added after a moment of hesitation.

Before them the great wooden doors of the keep were thrown open, the freezing cold air plowing into the warm exterior. It's halls of grand marble and sapphire curtains weaved from the finest linens and silks were a sight to behold indeed. No place on earth could match it's splendor- according to the men of Dall, at least, who were known for being totally objective and not at all self-absorbed.

Inside the castle hall, a handful of unfamiliar faces could be found. An odd, weasel-looking man stood near an equally shifty-eyed woman bearing heavy iron shackles. And then there was the robed man with a distant look on his face that they'd seen outside before. The captain judged them all quite harshly, though the only sign of his disapproval was the creasing of his wrinkled visage.

He cleared his throat, stepping forward to hopefully get their collective attention. "You have my sincerest apologies for the delay." The captain began. "And I would like to thank you for your patience. Steward Lethino will be overseeing your departure. If you'd all follow me, I'll lead you to him." The guardsman waved, beginning to move through the sparkling hall with the hope that they'd all fall in at his rear.

- Squad 914: Beyond - Rebooted

@LetMeDoStuffMy submission for an alternate experimental gear for my combat engineer. There's some deviation from true history, obviously, but I'd hope that my explanation for that is adequate. Let me know what you think:

hider

Originally developed in secret by Louis Fieser and a team of skilled chemists at Harvard University and handed off to the British for use in Europe, 'napalm' saw it's first use by the Royal Air Force during the defense of England in 1942. Though it could not turn the tide of battle due to how little was produced at the time, the weapon, when deployed, was devastating. Water proved ineffective at dousing the gelling agent/petrol concoction.

When Operation Sealion proved successful, and the Wermacht overrun the English forces, stores of napalm were destroyed en masse to keep it from falling into enemy hands. It was only through a stroke of incredible luck that a Soviet spy embedded in the RAF was able to smuggle the material out. It was handed off to researchers in the Soviet Union and reverse engineered into what it is today.

Still in the experimental phase and freshly produced, Soviet leadership is searching for effective means of deploying the weapon. The Luftwaffe's ownership of the air makes copying the RAF's bombs less than ideal; instead, they turn to their infantrymen. The Napalm Grenade is a flexible, deceptively powerful device. Unlike other area denial incendiary weapons, napalm's unique makeup makes it useful even in wet or rainy environments, or when the enemy has access to wells or rivers for fire control duty.

Sticks And Stones [Post-Apoc/High Fantasy Hybrid]

I'll be moving us on when Friday hits- so two days from now. Just a heads up for anyone with a post in the works.

- Squad 914: Beyond - Rebooted

Yosef Kaganavich

---

---

Yosef Kaganavich

He let loose on them his burning anger, wrath, indignation, and distress, a company of destroying angels.

Psalm 78:49

---

---

Age:
21

Gender:
Male

Birth-date / Location:
June 4th, 1927 - Moscow, USSR

---

---

Appearance:
Yosef always stood out because of his height. He was a head taller than his father by the time he was sixteen, and he'd continue to grow until he was a good four inches over the average at five feet and nine inches.

Much to the chagrin of his brothers, their mother chose to feed Yosef an extra portion at every meal; "My boy's already the biggest, so he'll be the strongest, too!" she'd cry when his siblings inevitably protested. Being so well fed, in combination with his back-breaking work in Moscow's automotive factory, Kaganavich developed a strong frame to compliment his height.

Yosef possesses many of his people's identifying physical traits. His complexion is darker, though not quite matching the brown of his eyes and messy, impossible-to-manage hair. The aquiline nose that sits upon his face has oft been the target of jabs from both friend and foe alike. Once, such teasing had bothered him. Recent events have turned his worries toward other, more grim matters.

As a matter of faith, Kaganavich sports a sparse set of whiskers on his face. He'd never been quite as hairy as the rest of his family for reasons he couldn't explain. His sorely lacking facial hair was often mocked by his younger brothers, and even his father expressed his disappointment on more than one occasion.

Personality:
Kaganavich's upbringing was a traditional one. His father instilled in him values of integrity, honor and courage; his mother tempered him with gentleness, kindness and selflessness. Being the eldest son, Yosef was favored to become the next head of the family when his father passed on. This came with a great deal of responsibility, and he took to it excellently. From a young age, Yosef loved helping people. He helped deliver milk with his father. He helped his mother with the cooking and cleaning- often doing the tasks meant for his younger sister. Yosef expected little in return, save for a ruffle of his hair and a 'That's my boy' from the father and mother he idolized.

As he grew and came into his own, Yosef found his virtues tested. More than one delinquent neighbor or schoolhouse bully took advantage of Kaganavich's unwillingness to fight them. That was one thing Yosef had always detested: violence. In any form. Even when Yosef should've protected himself or even another, he wouldn't raise a hand to the attacker. More than once he'd come home with a black eye and a quiet smile on his face because he'd used his face to occupy someone long enough for the original intended victim to skitter away.

War doesn't care for values or idealism, however; when it came for the Kaganavich family, Yosef was forced to confront his feelings. He was forced to make a choice. Either he could hold fast to his beliefs and sit idly by as the Wermacht consumed his homeland and his people, or Yosef could turn aside from them and take up arms. It wasn't an easy thing, and he still wrestles with the brutality of it all constantly, but in the end Yosef made his decision. Yosef chose to fight.

Relationships:
TBD

---

---

Classification:
Combat Engineer, Standard Equipment

Experimental Gear:
With the advent of the technological revolution, the influx of increasingly intricate vehicles and equipment has increased the number of mechanical failings and problems dramatically. More experimental tech has a habit of breaking down, and in a unit full of such tech, the ability to bring it back online quickly is vital. Compounded on the fact that a good engineer is hard to come by, the invention of the Utility Assistance Unit (UAU) was inevitable.

The Utility Assistance Unit is a powered exoskeleton that increases the carrying strength of the wearer exponentially, with the suit alone possessing near one hundred pounds of lifting capability. This is necessary not only to compensate for the added weight of it's many attachments and tools, but also to allow the engineer to move construction material without aid.

Heavy power tools are attached to each arm, with a set of rotators in place to allow seamless switching between them. On the right limb it has: a welding torch, chainsaw and a jackhammer. Upon the left, it has: a nail/screw gun, automated entrenching tool, and a mine detector.

While construction and repair are both vital functions of any combat engineer, they aren't simply technicians; any engineer worth his salt is just as well-versed in demolitions. The UAU was designed as well with this other role in mind. TNT, anti-infantry and anti-armor mines, as well as- depending on the deployment- a Rocket Propelled Grenade launcher.

A number of design flaws and issues keep the Utility Assistance Unit firmly in the experimental category. The many tools it has to accomplish a wide breadth of tasks make the suit heavy and cumbersome to utilize. The wearer is slower on the battlefield, and weighed down during long marches and campaigns. It also relies on having a steady supply of diesel fuel for it's many powered tools; without something to power it's engine, the UAU is little more than a very large, very heavy paperweight.

These are just the expected drawbacks, however. The design also suffers from issues of overheating when used for an extended period of time. The UAU requires breaks to cool down; not exactly an issue in the cool Russian air, but less than ideal in the humidity of southern Asia. Overheating can lead to parts being damaged and needing either repair or maintenance, and the intricate design of each specific tool makes it difficult to put back together even for a skilled engineer or technician.

---

---

Background:
Born in the bustling capital of Russia to two bright-eyed Hebrew parents- Abram and Miriam- Yosef always felt he was meant for great things. Even when he was small, when he was still learning how to read and write, he would picture himself standing in the old times alongside the mythical heroes of the Torah. He wanted so desperately to be like them- like King David and Judah Maccabee. His father always insisted that Yosef could be, too; if he was a good man who feared God and did what was right, then greatness would find him. Kaganavich thrust himself into his studies of scripture the moment he was able, taking to heart the tales of the Judges and kings.

He wasn't the only boy running around the Kaganavich household for very long. His first brother, Jonah, came into the world when Yosef was only five, and another, Elisha, followed the year after that. Another two years passed when his sister, Dinah, joined them.

He loved his siblings, even if they were terribly loud and interrupted his reading much too often for his liking. His parents taught him that treating his family well was an important step in becoming a great man. So, as always, he did.

Yosef learned from his brothers something that would stick with him until he became an adult: he hated fighting. He'd watch those two wrestle and wail on each other constantly, and it left a sour taste in his mouth. Despite being bigger and stronger than both by a noticeable margin, Yosef would always lose when they inevitably roped him into their games- his reluctance to hurt them was easily taken advantage of.

Surprisingly, Yosef found himself getting along better with Dinah than either of his brothers. Though eight years his junior, Dinah held a similar fascination for books and stories. He couldn't count the number of nights he spent reading aloud to Dinah while she was curled up in his lap, trying desperately to stay awake until the end.

In 1942, when Yosef was just fifteen, the war a world away arrived at his doorstep in a military uniform and with a letter of conscription for Abram. A tearful Miriam held tight to Dinah as her child sobbed in her chest, crying that her father couldn't go. Yosef had to drag both Elisha and Jonah to the back room to keep them from tearing into the Russian officer. Abram embraced his family, promising to write to them as much as he could before he was whisked away.

They never saw him again.

Another letter came in the mail for Yosef only a few weeks later, informing him that he was to report to the nearby factory for work. It was an Armored Repair Facility, he'd come to learn. Where once they built cars, they now put tanks and armored cars back together. Kaganavich thrived there. Something about the way the machines worked just clicked in his head. His earlier hunger for learning came back with a vengeance. Yosef attached himself to the oldest and most skillful workers and engineers, pestering them with a constant barrage of questions and inquiries about the work they were doing.

That willingness to learn earned him the attention of the officers in charge of production. Yosef was taken aside at the age of seventeen and given additional training. He was soon leading teams of workers, directing them through the repair process. Yosef's technical skill was the only reason he wasn't drafted like many men his age. He served the Union better here- not that he would ever complain. Though he desperately missed Abram, Yosef never wanted to fight on the frontline, for he still desperately hated violence.

Some cosmic force decided that if Yosef refused to go to the frontline then the only option left was to bring the frontline to him. The Wermacht descended on Moscow like a steel legion from the pits of hell. Armored monstrosities and inhuman Nazi soldiers besieged that city Yosef held so dearly. He could hear the shells exploding even as he worked to salvage the many burned out husks of armor the Red Army was dropping in his factory line. He received a letter from Dinah telling him that both Jonah and Elisha had been conscripted to defend Moscow, despite their age.

When Moscow fell, Yosef and the other technical experts were evacuated. He made sure Dinah and his mother were safely out of the city, though he had no word on what happened to Elisha and Jonah...Miriam feared the worst, but Yosef never gave up hope; those two were the toughest boys he'd ever known. If anyone could survive that hell, it'd be them. Abram's letters stopped coming in, though Yosef was sure that was just due to the broken line between where his father was stationed and the refugee camps.

Before he could be transferred to another factory, Yosef received another letter from the Red Army. He was being drafted into a specialized unit he'd never heard of before. Reluctantly he left behind his mother and sister, taking what little belongings he had left and leaving with the conscription officer. Yosef was fearful, and apprehensive, but he still held strong to hope. He would not let this war break him as it did so many others.

Experience:
Standard Basic Training

Specialized Technical Training

Six years of vehicular and equipment repair

Family:
Abram Kaganavich - Unknown
Miriam Kaganavich - Alive
Jonah Kaganavich - Unknown
Elisha Kaganavich - Unknown
Dinah Kaganavich - Alive

Theme Song:
Through The Valley

---

---

- Squad 914: Beyond - Rebooted

@LetMeDoStuff Added a blurb about disadvantages/weaknesses. Lemme know if those are sufficient.

Pariah Online | Season One

The acceptance process can be a little long, if you didn't notice.

Pariah Online | Season One

Dun updated my CS too to make it all pretty n' shit.

- Squad 914: Beyond - Rebooted

Yosef Kaganavich

---

---

Yosef Kaganavich

He let loose on them his burning anger, wrath, indignation, and distress, a company of destroying angels.

Psalm 78:49

---

---

Age:
21

Gender:
Male

Birth-date / Location:
June 4th, 1927 - Moscow, USSR

---

---

Appearance:
Yosef always stood out because of his height. He was a head taller than his father by the time he was sixteen, and he'd continue to grow until he was a good four inches over the average at five feet and nine inches.

Much to the chagrin of his brothers, their mother chose to feed Yosef an extra portion at every meal; "My boy's already the biggest, so he'll be the strongest, too!" she'd cry when his siblings inevitably protested. Being so well fed, in combination with his back-breaking work in Moscow's automotive factory, Kaganavich developed a strong frame to compliment his height.

Yosef possesses many of his people's identifying physical traits. His complexion is darker, though not quite matching the brown of his eyes and messy, impossible-to-manage hair. The aquiline nose that sits upon his face has oft been the target of jabs from both friend and foe alike. Once, such teasing had bothered him. Recent events have turned his worries toward other, more grim matters.

As a matter of faith, Kaganavich sports a sparse set of whiskers on his face. He'd never been quite as hairy as the rest of his family for reasons he couldn't explain. His sorely lacking facial hair was often mocked by his younger brothers, and even his father expressed his disappointment on more than one occasion.

Personality:
Kaganavich's upbringing was a traditional one. His father instilled in him values of integrity, honor and courage; his mother tempered him with gentleness, kindness and selflessness. Being the eldest son, Yosef was favored to become the next head of the family when his father passed on. This came with a great deal of responsibility, and he took to it excellently. From a young age, Yosef loved helping people. He helped deliver milk with his father. He helped his mother with the cooking and cleaning- often doing the tasks meant for his younger sister. Yosef expected little in return, save for a ruffle of his hair and a 'That's my boy' from the father and mother he idolized.

As he grew and came into his own, Yosef found his virtues tested. More than one delinquent neighbor or schoolhouse bully took advantage of Kaganavich's unwillingness to fight them. That was one thing Yosef had always detested: violence. In any form. Even when Yosef should've protected himself or even another, he wouldn't raise a hand to the attacker. More than once he'd come home with a black eye and a quiet smile on his face because he'd used his face to occupy someone long enough for the original intended victim to skitter away.

War doesn't care for values or idealism, however; when it came for the Kaganavich family, Yosef was forced to confront his feelings. He was forced to make a choice. Either he could hold fast to his beliefs and sit idly by as the Wermacht consumed his homeland and his people, or Yosef could turn aside from them and take up arms. It wasn't an easy thing, and he still wrestles with the brutality of it all constantly, but in the end Yosef made his decision. Yosef chose to fight.

Relationships:
TBD

---

---

Classification:
Combat Engineer, Standard Equipment

Experimental Gear:
With the advent of the technological revolution, the influx of increasingly intricate vehicles and equipment has increased the number of mechanical failings and problems dramatically. More experimental tech has a habit of breaking down, and in a unit full of such tech, the ability to bring it back online quickly is vital. Compounded on the fact that a good engineer is hard to come by, the invention of the Utility Assistance Unit (UAU) was inevitable.

The Utility Assistance Unit is a powered exoskeleton that increases the carrying strength of the wearer exponentially, with the suit alone possessing near one hundred pounds of lifting capability. This is necessary not only to compensate for the added weight of it's many attachments and tools, but also to allow the engineer to move construction material without aid.

Heavy power tools are attached to each arm, with a set of rotators in place to allow seamless switching between them. On the right limb it has: a welding torch, chainsaw and a jackhammer. Upon the left, it has: a nail/screw gun, automated entrenching tool, and a mine detector.

While construction and repair are both vital functions of any combat engineer, they aren't simply technicians; any engineer worth his salt is just as well-versed in demolitions. The UAU was designed as well with this other role in mind. TNT, anti-infantry and anti-armor mines, as well as- depending on the deployment- a Rocket Propelled Grenade launcher.

A number of design flaws and issues keep the Utility Assistance Unit firmly in the experimental category. The many tools it has to accomplish a wide breadth of tasks make the suit heavy and cumbersome to utilize. The wearer is slower on the battlefield, and weighed down during long marches and campaigns. It also relies on having a steady supply of diesel fuel for it's many powered tools; without something to power it's engine, the UAU is little more than a very large, very heavy paperweight.

These are just the expected drawbacks, however. The design also suffers from issues of overheating when used for an extended period of time. The UAU requires breaks to cool down; not exactly an issue in the cool Russian air, but less than ideal in the humidity of southern Asia. Overheating can lead to parts being damaged and needing either repair or maintenance, and the intricate design of each specific tool makes it difficult to put back together even for a skilled engineer or technician.

---

---

Background:
Born in the bustling capital of Russia to two bright-eyed Hebrew parents- Abram and Miriam- Yosef always felt he was meant for great things. Even when he was small, when he was still learning how to read and write, he would picture himself standing in the old times alongside the mythical heroes of the Torah. He wanted so desperately to be like them- like King David and Judah Maccabee. His father always insisted that Yosef could be, too; if he was a good man who feared God and did what was right, then greatness would find him. Kaganavich thrust himself into his studies of scripture the moment he was able, taking to heart the tales of the Judges and kings.

He wasn't the only boy running around the Kaganavich household for very long. His first brother, Jonah, came into the world when Yosef was only five, and another, Elisha, followed the year after that. Another two years passed when his sister, Dinah, joined them.

He loved his siblings, even if they were terribly loud and interrupted his reading much too often for his liking. His parents taught him that treating his family well was an important step in becoming a great man. So, as always, he did.

Yosef learned from his brothers something that would stick with him until he became an adult: he hated fighting. He'd watch those two wrestle and wail on each other constantly, and it left a sour taste in his mouth. Despite being bigger and stronger than both by a noticeable margin, Yosef would always lose when they inevitably roped him into their games- his reluctance to hurt them was easily taken advantage of.

Surprisingly, Yosef found himself getting along better with Dinah than either of his brothers. Though eight years his junior, Dinah held a similar fascination for books and stories. He couldn't count the number of nights he spent reading aloud to Dinah while she was curled up in his lap, trying desperately to stay awake until the end.

In 1942, when Yosef was just fifteen, the war a world away arrived at his doorstep in a military uniform and with a letter of conscription for Abram. A tearful Miriam held tight to Dinah as her child sobbed in her chest, crying that her father couldn't go. Yosef had to drag both Elisha and Jonah to the back room to keep them from tearing into the Russian officer. Abram embraced his family, promising to write to them as much as he could before he was whisked away.

They never saw him again.

Another letter came in the mail for Yosef only a few weeks later, informing him that he was to report to the nearby factory for work. It was an Armored Repair Facility, he'd come to learn. Where once they built cars, they now put tanks and armored cars back together. Kaganavich thrived there. Something about the way the machines worked just clicked in his head. His earlier hunger for learning came back with a vengeance. Yosef attached himself to the oldest and most skillful workers and engineers, pestering them with a constant barrage of questions and inquiries about the work they were doing.

That willingness to learn earned him the attention of the officers in charge of production. Yosef was taken aside at the age of seventeen and given additional training. He was soon leading teams of workers, directing them through the repair process. Yosef's technical skill was the only reason he wasn't drafted like many men his age. He served the Union better here- not that he would ever complain. Though he desperately missed Abram, Yosef never wanted to fight on the frontline, for he still desperately hated violence.

Some cosmic force decided that if Yosef refused to go to the frontline then the only option left was to bring the frontline to him. The Wermacht descended on Moscow like a steel legion from the pits of hell. Armored monstrosities and inhuman Nazi soldiers besieged that city Yosef held so dearly. He could hear the shells exploding even as he worked to salvage the many burned out husks of armor the Red Army was dropping in his factory line. He received a letter from Dinah telling him that both Jonah and Elisha had been conscripted to defend Moscow, despite their age.

When Moscow fell, Yosef and the other technical experts were evacuated. He made sure Dinah and his mother were safely out of the city, though he had no word on what happened to Elisha and Jonah...Miriam feared the worst, but Yosef never gave up hope; those two were the toughest boys he'd ever known. If anyone could survive that hell, it'd be them. Abram's letters stopped coming in, though Yosef was sure that was just due to the broken line between where his father was stationed and the refugee camps.

Before he could be transferred to another factory, Yosef received another letter from the Red Army. He was being drafted into a specialized unit he'd never heard of before. Reluctantly he left behind his mother and sister, taking what little belongings he had left and leaving with the conscription officer. Yosef was fearful, and apprehensive, but he still held strong to hope. He would not let this war break him as it did so many others.

Experience:
Standard Basic Training

Specialized Technical Training

Six years of vehicular and equipment repair

Family:
Abram Kaganavich - Unknown
Miriam Kaganavich - Alive
Jonah Kaganavich - Unknown
Elisha Kaganavich - Unknown
Dinah Kaganavich - Alive

Theme Song:
Through The Valley

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Superboy's Shitty Characters

A N D R E W /// G R A V E S

Personal Dossier

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_Name

Andrew Matthews Gray

_Avatar

Graves

_Age

23

_Gender

Male

_Visage

Andrew's defining trait is his height. Measuring in at six feet and four inches tall, he naturally draws in the eye with his towering height. His appearance is made all the more striking by just how thin his frame is. Gray can't count the number of times he's heard the 'how's the weather up there?' line, though he knows he gets it almost as much as the 'do you play basketball?' question. He finds his height to be obnoxious, more than anything- but the same can't be said for his weight. Lacking any muscle at all, Andrew's incredibly self conscious about just how thin he is. No one wants to appear weak.

That's where he and his avatar in Pariah differ.

While Graves and Andrew share equal height, his in-game persona possesses a far larger frame. A chest as broad as an ox and muscle like coiled iron, Graves is a force to be reckoned with. The imagined character was designed to compensate for it's designer's perceived flaws, granting Gray the physical strength he's only ever dreamed of wielding.

Other differences are more aesthetic in their reasoning. Andrew abandoned his painfully average dark hair in favor of a brighter, sleeker silver. It's equally as long, and often kept up in the same messy ponytail that Andrew has grown so accustomed to both in and out of game. His eyes remain the same shade of blue, though they're a great deal sharper and more confident when he's Graves, the legendary bounty hunter rather than Andrew, the gas station clerk.

_Personality

Graves is everything that Andrew is not. Where Andrew is meek and quiet, Graves is confident and boisterous.

He is without inhibitions; unconstrained by societal norms or fear of reprisal from others. Graves does whatever he wishes and anyone that doesn't follow him can either get the hell out of his way or be ran over. Many consider this behavior to be destructive and backwards. His abrasive bluntness catches many off guard, and has on more than one occasion gotten Graves into a fight with someone who didn't wish to deal with his arrogance.

In his actual life, Andrew despises confrontation. In game, he thrives on it. Combat is visceral, and it allows him to live out every power fantasy he's ever craved. To be strong, to be confident, to have a place in the world. All of the pent up aggression and hostility that Gray has internalized for so long can be released in an act of savage violence.

He has little time to service others, caring for himself above all else. Graves doesn't waste time helping those who cannot offer him something in return. With an endless world of possibilities at his fingertips, there's far too much to do in Pariah to lose even an hour on something he cares little for. Someone else will come along to help; they always do.

One trait that Andrew shares with his counterpart is his love of solitude. Though Pariah is meant to be a shared experience, Graves spends much of it wandering the expansive environments alone. Companions slow him down. Party members falter and fail whenever Graves counts on them. When he's going solo, Graves doesn't have to worry about watching someone's back, and the blame for his failings can fall on his shoulders alone.

_Background

Andrew was born in a little town in Ohio to two loving parents and eight siblings. He was unlucky enough to be one of the middle children, so it was no surprise when he was overshadowed by his more talented and capable siblings.

His town was small, and his high school even smaller- which meant finding friends and penetrating the normal clichés was quite difficult for someone that had gotten used to quietly observing. Gray wasn’t exactly an introvert. He could be loud, excitable and social- but he just…never got the chance to. He didn’t have many friends at all.

That is, until he had scrounged up enough cash for his first MMO. He used his low grade laptop to play the game at its lowest settings; it was choppy, constantly lagged and rather ugly…but he loved it. He loved everything about the game. Gray retreated from his less than stellar normal life into the world of a generic role playing game. He ignored his tanking grades, few acquaintances and boisterous family to play for hours on end.

He started off grinding on his own, as most do. But he chanced upon a party of likeminded individuals that needed a secondary tank. Andrew melded seamlessly into their company. They were all chill people, for the most part, and willing to help teach him how to play the game properly.

They continued to play together for months, the size of the group ever expanding as they built up a sizable guild of their own. Andrew became near addicted to raiding. Fighting bosses was the most visceral and exciting experience he’d ever had in a game.

Eventually Andrew was (somehow) able to graduate high school and purchase a real computer. All was well for him. His family only occasionally harassed him for being a bum. He had a steady job at a backwater gas station, making minimum wage for very little work. He had made a decent circle of friends for himself within the guild. Life was simple; it was good.

Things didn't stay that way forever.

It started off as something infinitesimally small. A couple of arguments over petty issues. Andrew tried not to get involved, most of the time; he just wanted to focus on playing the game and enjoying himself. But as time passed, the arguments grew in number. They got more serious. Issues between his friends grew; problems from a past that Andrew wasn't around for reared their ugly heads. All of it was stupid and inane, in his eyes. He did his best to act as a mediator when he could, but it rarely worked.

Things came to a head when a shouting match over voice comms ended with the guild's leader- and Andrew's closest personal friend- leaving the guild in the hand's of his second. Things fell apart from there as him stepping down only furthered the divides between the others. One by one, the original group Andrew had joined left. Contact became sparse, and then they all went radio silent. This thing that had consumed Andrew's life for the better part of a few years was now gone, and there was...a void.

Andrew hadn't felt this alone in a long time. He quietly retreated further into himself. Months passed with his life being little more than keeping to himself and working a dead end job with no future in sight. It wasn't until the local game store announced that they'd received a shipment of VR headsets and were planning to hold a giveaway to celebrate that things changed for him. Andrew entered the giveaway, and he won! A copy of one of the most hyped MMOs in history came with an equally desired piece of hardware worth obscene amounts of money. Andrew didn't waste any time throwing himself into the game.

_Reputation

Attribues & Additional Information

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_Role

Tank

_Affiliation

Sikth

_Profession

Bounty Hunter

_{Weapon of Choice}

A halberd he affectionately refers to as his 'pike'

_Domain(s)

Water
Drain

_{Benchmarks (Physical)}

Tough Skin: Graves is naturally more durable than other non-tank characters. He doesn't wear particularly heavy armor; however, his naturally high health pool allows him to take incredible amounts of damage for a character with relatively low defense gear. The trade of for this is he's weighs a hell of a lot more than other classes, and is thus slower and can be kited by ranged or agile enemies. He gained this trait through hundreds of hours of getting the shit kicked out of him without armor on, which has led to increased durability without the need for heavy armors.

Potion Addict: Graves has been relying on potions for his tanking abilities since he started playing Pariah. After chugging down countless elixirs, his physiology has an easier time adapting to the ingested liquids. Potions last longer and are more potent on Graves than others. A small side effect being that Graves can’t function very well without them in his system. He usually carries potions for lifesteal, iron skin and healing- to make him even harder to kill.

Blood In The Water: Much like a shark, Graves gets a sort of sixth 'sense' whenever a target is bleeding. It allows him to track them within twenty five meters (doubles if he was the one that made them bleed); it's less like echo location and more like a compass that points him in their general direction. It won't reveal the exact position of a hiding enemy, nor does it tell Graves if they are above or below him- simply where they would be on a two dimensional field. Dozens of hours of trying to hunt down that last monster for his bounty hunting quest has made the tank a decent enough tracker.

Enhanced Strength: The weapons and armor used by a tank are heavy. Graves is required to have above average physical strength if he wants to use them effectively. This also means he's able to carry more (when not impeded by his regular gear) and hits slightly harder with unarmed attacks.

Executioner: Graves tends to fight harder when his enemy his on the back foot. He pushes his advantage and attempts to go for killing blows as often as possible. A slew of decapitated and mutilated foes behind him, Graves has learned how to more effectively hurt enemies that are already wounded. Enemies very close to death's door take more damage from Graves' attacks, although he also heals less off of them and takes more damage from them- so he has to be careful with certain monster types or enemies with 'deathrattles.'

_{Benchmarks (Mental)}

Monster Bestiary: Graves has studied the average field and dungeons mobs extensively. He has a fairly good grasp on what most common enemies are capable of, what their weaknesses are, ect. More rare beasts, especially those he isn't high enough level to be fighting anyway, wouldn't apply.

Boss Bestiary: Graves is a raider at heart. He loves MMOs for the massive, titanic battles between huge parties and giant bosses. It's his favorite part of Pariah. Thus, he's invested quite a bit of time into learning some of the boss enemies in the game. The tougher, higher end leviathans that require teamwork, determination and raw power to defeat. Knowledge is power in these sort of encounters, and Graves has made sure he knows about the general workings of the bosses he's likely to face.

Meditative Healing: Since Graves' combat stance is entirely based on healing, he figured he could use an out of combat healing ability too. Essentially, Graves can sit down and focus his magic on repairing his wounds. How long it takes depends on the severity of his injuries. The stance is extremely taxing, takes awhile to start and takes forever to finish if he's hurt- and it can't heal things like broken bones or eviscerated organs. He'll need a real healer for that.

Metalworking: Required field to get to Weapons' Repair. He uses this as a source of income, creating very basic items and selling them either on the market or to NPCs. He would much rather get money from killing mobs all day and pawning off legendary raid items, but sadly working the marketplace is the only real way to get a stable source of income.

Weapons' Repair: Graves likes his Pike. It's his favorite weapon. He isn't very good with much else, and doesn't have a backup for when it breaks. So, instead of constantly paying vendors and other players to fix it for him, he decided to spec into Weapons' Repair and do the damn thing himself.