Current
Holiday hiatus coming to a close, updates for all soon!
5
likes
2 yrs ago
Stop being passive aggressive. Just be aggressive.
7
likes
3 yrs ago
It is certainly not 'optimal', but it *is* doable, depending on what you want to do with it. You could go swords or valor bard and play them more like a warrior with some magical ability
2
likes
3 yrs ago
One might say your villain arc has begun. Embrace it.
@MegaOscarPwn Óscar looks good, a bit too happy, but we can fix that. He's good to go.
@Illumin0sity, are you still in this? If not, I understand because I'm a lazy fucker. If you are, Soren's good. Its a new take on street hacker that I don't mind.
@jasonwolf, You're also good. Cross out the appearance and edit whichever other sections you want for your "public" CS
Was originally going to make a more normal engineer type feller, but then I found this. So this happened.
Dodger Lynx
23 | Male | Cat?
Dodger is a product of a program known as "Project Gaean", which took place aboard the Ysa Rithley Research Station, orbiting Rsa in the Anditi System on the outskirts of The Nine's space. Project Gaean was an experiment attempting to genetically and cybernetically alter various non-sapient species- such as cats, dogs, and even bears- with traits and qualities of sapient species such as humans. The reasoning for why the scientists aboard Ysa Rithley would undertake such odd experiments were ultimately lost, as they were rather secretive, and when the station exploded approximately a standard decade ago, a large portion of their notes and data were lost along with it.
However, whatever their reasons were, their attempts to combine sapient and non-sapient DNAs were ultimately successful, while a scant few subjects remain, there are a few out in space. They have attained the reasoning, logical, and deductive skills inherent to sapients such as humans, and are perfectly capable of understanding and communicating with others. It is notable that many subjects retain stereotypical racial traits, such as preferred types of food and manners of enjoyment. Dodger in particular is extremely fond of synth-nip
Biologies of Gaean subjects have been observed but are largely unknown. They seem to be able to eat most human foods with little negative effects, their bodies are almost always bipedal, larger, and considerably stronger than their original classification. Due to so few subjects remaining, it is difficult to precisely determine the average lifespan of these subjects- while all possessing lifespans considerably longer than their non-sapient forms, none have yet died of natural causes.
Gaean Subjects are also, due to their nature, infertile and incapable of reproducing. As such, their entire 'species' will likely die off within the next few decades to a century, leaving them little more than a footnote in interstellar history.
Appearance: Standing in at at approximately 3 feet in height on digitigrade legs, weighing about 70 pounds, and visually cat-like, its hard to mistake Dodger for anyone other than Dodger. Aside from being a cat, Dodger's most visually attributes are the extensive cybernetic replacements on the right side of his body. Custom made and self-maintained arm and leg cybernetic prosthesis have armor plates roughly bolted on, and a blue power core in the knee seems to power both prosthesis. Additionally, Dodger's right ear is also a cybernetic replacement, jointed plates provide the ear with some degree of movement, giving them the illusion of 'flexibility'. Dodger's remaining appearance is an assortment of roughly modified human clothes, and a red scarf that he wears around his neck.
Homeworld: Ysa Rithley Research Station, Anditi System, on the outskirts of the Nine Spacer Guilds space.
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
Role: Ordnance Master/Engineer
Skills: Take one part mad scientist, three parts dubiously motivated arsonist, and throw in a masters degree in engineering and you have Dodger. Well versed in putting things together, but even better at taking them apart(read blowing them apart). A saboteur by trade, Dodger is adept at the art of underhanded destruction. Explosive traps, disabling ships, big guns: with the right materials, Dodger can build weapons from scrap- though their sustained and reliable use isn't constant.
A natural engineer and physicist- at least when it comes to causing destruction, Dodger shows a rather deep understanding of various weapons, magitech and mechanized systems utilized by the different factions of the void. His extensive knowledge could be considered encyclopedic, and systems that he doesn't have direct experience with, he either understands the function or can deduce and make educated guesses that only sometimes go extremely wrong.
Dodger is also heavily modified on his right side- his right leg holds a power core that powers most of the functions of his cybernetics (though his ear is self powered in a method similar to self-winding watches). Dodger has a veritable toolbox literally at his fingertips: deploying from his fingers are a small assortment of small screwdrivers, saws, corkscrews, lockpicks, and even a plasma powered finger-blowtorch, alongside a variety of mechanical plugs and jacks. His outer forearm has a jack for miniature computers and handheld devices to be plugged in.
For personal defense, Dodger uses claws (natural and artificial), catlike reflexes and big guns. While a bit oversized for him, Dodger wields a Crux Tenebre standard issue heavy plasma pistol, preferring the sturdy, simplistic, and rugged designs of Crux Tenebre over the more finicky Luminous Arc designs.
History: Engineer, arsonist, saboteur, and terrorist are all labels attributed to Dodger at one point in his life. Dodger doesn't remember anything about when or where he was born, but his first memories of sapience were on board the Ysa Rithley research station, where he spent the first 8 years of his life. On the station, Dodger was largely regarded as the 'favorite' by scientists, for his gifted amounts of intelligence compared to most of the others, along with his relatively small size, making him easier to control than the bear based subject. As a result, Dodger often underwent the most testing, from logic experiments involving various physics and problem solving tests to highly invasive genetic alteration trials.
Growing to despise the scientists on Ysa Rithley, Dodger would eventually start a revolt on the station. Over the course of two years, Dodger recruited, connived, and threatened the majority of the other subjects and a few of the low level security guards- who were often left out of the loop of the scientists plans, often having to partake in experiments as well to subdue or test the strengths of various subjects, much to their chagrin- to his cause. While the planning phase was quiet, the revolution itself was very much the opposite. Destructive and explosive, the revolt would eventually lead to the destruction of the station as Dodger tore apart the emergency quarantine controls and set the station to explode as he and several of the other subjects fled in a shuttle.
Now in Free space, Dodger and the other subjects had little clue on what to do with themselves- having lived their entire lives on the station. Now without a common sense of purpose or a singular idea on where to go, the subjects would separate- some moving in groups, Dodger going it alone. With little knowledge of the universe around them, many would be taken and sold as freakshow pets. Dodger, without any identification and a surprisingly large amount of bitter sentiment towards 'governmenty' types, took to crime.
New to the world and lacking in experience, as well as being a cat, Dodger found himself laughed out of most places where pirates and mercenaries liked to romp. It was until he was 10 that some cocky pirate decided to take him into his crew onboard the ship The Red Lynx- more as a mascot and manual laborer than anything, and stuck him into the engineering spaces to help tidy up. Spending his first year in the life of crime as a glorified janitor, Dodger would quickly advance from that role, his surprising intelligence and logic allowing him to save the ship from destruction when their drives broke down in the middle of a fight. Dodger would become one of the Red Lynx's resident engineers onboard the ship for the next 4 years, before it was destroyed in a battle against Crux Tenebre forces.
Surviving the encounter, Dodger would eventually move to freelance work, flying, fixing, shooting, and killing with a crew for a bit, collecting a paycheck, before moving on. For almost a decade, Dodger fixed stuff, blew stuff up, and was blown up more than once, replacing his leg, and a little while later his arm and ear with custom made prosthetics. Occasionally Dodger would join up with a long-term crew, but they would eventually and inevitably get themselves killed, or end up killing each other of petty squabbles.
After managing to escape alive from a betrayal from his last crew, one of Dodger's few remaining contracts hooked him up with a man named Sulk Mandragora, the captain of a ancient ship looking for a new crew. With little other direction and few options, Dodger inevitably looked the man up and sought to join the Nova Dawn.
Personality: Dodger is a bitter and cynical little fucker. Sarcastic and rather aggressive, Dodger could be considered trigger-happy, and appears to have an innate desire to cause violence. Despite all this, Dodger seems able to retain his composure quite well, but possesses a rather morbid sense of humor. Dodger is surprisingly intelligent and seems to act with a rather callous degree of professionalism showing an impressive amount of self restraint in relation to his violent tendencies- though short outbursts are not uncommon. Jaded from his years as a test experiment, Dodger dislikes the 'sciencey' types, despite being a creature of the sciences himself. As expected of a career criminal, Dodger has a rather twisted view on morality and ethics, and prefers to lookout for numero uno- that being himself, and will steal or shoot without second thought.
"Ah, Duren I always do wonder how you manage to function so well for the amounts that you drink." Galahad commented offhandedly as he plopped down familiarly next to the ever-drinking dwarf. Galahad could hold his own when it came to drinks, but he'd never once proclaim himself anywhere near capable of drinking like Duren. The two of them had a fun relationship- consisting mostly of jabs and quips at one another before drinking themselves into an unconscious stupor- or rather drinking Galahad into an unconscious stupor. He had been laying off the heavy drinking for the past month- as Aliyah, had offhandedly commented that she hated dealing with drunks, but the two still regularly drank together. Well, at least he knew he'd find some source of company in whatever they were being sent off to do.
Of the others that were in the tent with them, Phinuphus was the only one he'd ever spoken to, and not about anything of enough importance to spring to mind in recent memory. The rest of the bunch were relatively run of the mill- at least to The Moving's standards. Being in the moving had introduced Galahad to more individuals of different races than he'd ever dream of meeting- back in Feyerlun, most people were human- with a few elves and dwarves to add some spice to the city. But Galahad had only met one drow back home, and had never seen beastkin until he visited the mainland.
Finally they were all there, and Szazah opened his mouth to speak. He spoke of snow elves- or the Shadowwald, mythical creatures that were supposedly real, and that they were to venture off into the wilderness, find them, and recruit them to their cause before the Apotheosis did. Galahad shot Duren a look before glancing at the faces of the others- almost sure that he was the poor victim of an extremely elaborate practical joke. It was a good thing he didn't open his mouth to make a snide remark, because it appeared that Szazah was rather serious, and also rather drunk.
Looking around- Galahad didn't really see anyone that looked anything like a diplomat, ambassador or a negotiator- someone of status qualified to forge alliances- aside from Szazah himself, though he wondered how well any court would take the drunk old warlord if he retained his current drunkenness. Galahad took Duren's tankard and helped himself to a stiff bit of drink.
Galahad's Tent
Galahad returned to his tent shortly after the meeting with Szazah- to pack his few meager belongings and prepare for his journey before he said his goodbyes. Not that he had that many people to say goodbye to. His tent was sparsely decorated- having to move regularly as part of the moving meant that putting too much time into making his tent 'his own' was a wasted effort, as it would have to be torn down and reset every little while, and moving decorations was even more work that he didn't want to be bothered with.
Galahad had a small rucksack for himself- more of a satchel than anything. It was a relatively nicely made leather pack, and was light- containing only necessities for travel- a bit of clean cloth, dried travel rations, whetstones and small waterskin. Most of Galahad's belongings would be placed into the much larger, much heftier saddlebags of his horse, Galahad was never fond of carrying too much weight on his own shoulders.
His saddlebags carried much bulkier bits of travel necessity, or stuff that he wouldn't regularly need. An extra pair of waterskins, cooking implements, armor care materials, some spirits for cleaning wounds and some wine for his own personal use along with a spare set of clothes, lantern and spare clothes. He'd have to stop by one of the quartermasters tents to stock up on more foodstuffs and supplies for his journey though. With some disdain, he hefted the heavy saddlebags and proceeded outside to where his horse waited for him, before laying the burden on his horse. As he secured the straps on his horse, Galahad heard footsteps stomping through the mud, and the light, high pitched voice of a young girl.
"Sir Galahad! Sir Galahad!" Looking up, Galahad saw Amelia, the young child from earlier that day trotting up happily, her older sister Aliyah in tow. Quickly straightening himself and dusting himself off, he threw on his most charming smile and waved.
"Ah! Amelia, Aliyah- out of her medical tent, what a pleasant surprise. To what do I owe this journey from the sick tents?" he said with a slight flourish. The younger sister giggled, while the older one rolled her eyes.
"Amelia told me you were heading off north with Szazah." Aliyah said plainly, surprising him.
"Well yes, I am accompanying him north. But how did-"
"Phinuphus told me." Aliyah snapped, answering for him. "I can't believe you're going along with them. I know you're not the brightest apple, but even you can see Szazah isn't well." Her voice was scolding, though try as she might to hide it, Galahad could still sense concern in her tone.
Galahad offered her a half-hearted shrug in return. "Aye, perhaps not everything is right with the man- he's been through a lot if the rumors are to be believed. Truth be told, I don't even think Szazah wanted us- its more of what scant few soldiers the warleaders decided to give the man to appease him. Call it a stroke of bad luck, but I am a soldier of The Moving- this is what we do, don't really have a choice in the matter, do I?
Aliyah's pretty face scrunched in a rueful grimace. "You make a pretty poor excuse for a soldier." she commented softly. She paused for a moment, debating whether or not to say more. Finally, somewhat awkwardly, she pulled off the small kerchief that she used to keep her hair out of her face and offered it to him- it was a light green cloth, slightly faded from being washed multiple times, with small blotches of sweat and blood from working in the medical tents faded but never truly washing off.
"You're a bit of a dolt, and your head would be up your own arse if wasn't attached to your neck.. But I wouldn't want you or Phinuphus to die on this pointless errand... and wipe that stupid look off your face." she said, half-shoving half-throwing the cloth at him. Galahad was grinning the broadest, most beaming grin he'd ever smiled.
"Worry not dear doctor, a dolt I may be, but as long as I have this," he said, taking the kerchief in his hands, before tying it around the scabbard of his sword. "and my Evreluce," he added, placing a confident hand on the pommel of his sword. "I'll find my way."
With that, he deftly stepped onto one stirrup of his horse before throwing his other leg and the rest of his weight over and onto the saddle. Riding off to towards the Quartermaster's tent Galahad tried his best not to look back, but he snuck a glance as he looked over to greet a passing soldier. The two sisters still stood outside his tent, Amelia jumping and waving excitedly, Aliyah just standing, watching.
The Moving Camp North Gate
Saddlebags fully stocked and provisioned, Galahad walked towards the gate they were to meet at, one hand casually resting on the pommel of his sword, the other guiding his horse by the reins. There was already a group gathering by the gates- three groups to be precise. One were a bunch of bald headed Sons of Blood, a group of soldiers within The Moving- soldiers just like the rest of them, but not the nicest of folks. They were fine fighters sure, but like Galahad they weren't particularly taken with the ideals of The Moving- mercenaries essentially, fighting for the sake of fighting. The second was Reed- along with some of the beastkin from Szazah's tent. Somehow, Galahad wasn't surprised Reed was getting himself into a spat with the Sons of Blood.
The last group was a group of Guards- Duren noticeable among them due to his shorter stature. The guards and Duren called for the fighting to cease- though from Galahad's eyes, a fight looked inevitable. He walked next to Duren and stopped there, upon which he assumed a casual, lazy stance, releasing his horse's reins. With a shrug of his shoulders, Galahad planted both of his hands on the pommel of his sword, putting his weight to that one leg. He leaned down to Duren's level. He spoke in a low voice, not a whisper, but low enough that only Duren would clearly hear, others if they strained their ears.
"Some things never change do they old friend? I don't suppose you'll need a hand if and when things start to fall apart."
Summary: Galahad doesn't like to carry heavy things by himself so he has a horse. Aliyah gives him a handkerchief, increasing their social link by one level. Notices that in the 3 way argument that appears to be happening, the guards seem to be short a man or two compared to the others.
When Hisano told about the death of her friend, she could notice a subtle change in the gruff bartender's expression. A tiny furrowing of the brow, a subtle twinge in the corner of his mouth, a minuscule drop of the shoulders, a slight softness in the steely hard eyes. Was it disappointment? Sadness? Either way, it looked like the first genuine feeling Hisano had witnessed this entire long, long night. Only for a moment before Talesin gave a cross between a snort and a sigh.
"That's too bad. Tommy was a good kid. A stupid kid, but a good one." Talesin shifted uncomfortably. "I'm guessing that means VMT decided to cut him loose. I told the kid to get out while he could, running hits for Corps isn't like being security- you're not just expendable, you're deniable."
Talesin snorted as she explained how Tommy wanted her to come here. "He was probably trying to save you as much as he was trying to save his own tail. When you go underground you're supposed to drop everyone and disappear. Guess the kid didn't want to disappear alone."
The bartender's tensed shoulders finally seemed to relax- it looked like he was also debating a 'fight-or-flight' course of action like she was. He took another long drag of his cigarette before he snuffed it and crushed it in the palm of his mechanical hand, tossing it aside. The ash covered hand rubbed unconsciously against the rough beard. He looked like he was thinking half a dozen steps ahead, trying to figure out every possible angle.
"Alright. Well you're here, and you're a friend of a friend. You're okay for now-"
Before he could continue speaking, Hisano's phone started buzzing. Someone was calling her. Pulling out her phone, she could see the caller ID before she opened her phone.
uhhh... Hey everybody... Not gonna lie, I did a goof and sort of let this one slip completely off my brainspace. Uh yeah, if people are still interested in this let me know and I'll get us cracking.
RPM
Guardian Angel Haruki
Antlers
Silly
NovellaAddict
Hexaflexagon
Whoami
Not a Sayan
JFK