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  #1  
Old May 4th, 2019, 06:59 PM
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Post your character here, with a link to your finished character sheet (FOUND HERE)

Just as a reminder, we are starting at Level 3, the standard 10 point buy, no starting equipment outside of whatever your class and theme would give you (like the Technomancer's Spell Cache or the Mechanic's Drone).

Last edited by MaximumUnicorn; May 10th, 2019 at 10:49 PM.
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Old May 10th, 2019, 10:27 PM
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If It Ain't Broke, Just WaitName: Roz as The Saboteur (and Marzipan as A Problem Solver)
Class and Theme: Mechanic Outlaw (and Marzipan as A Drone)
Race: Human (...and Marzipan as a drone?)

Description:
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For someone whose job description includes the phrase "going unnoticed by others," Roz is surprisingly noticeable. Of course, some may point out that this is exactly why her current career status is "suddenly and unwillingly self-employed and on the run," but clearly those people are just jealous of her impressive stature, sick hairstyle and bold fashion sense.

Because clearly, a 6'2" woman with half-magenta-half-shaved hair, wearing a patch-covered mechanic's jumpsuit and hot-pink combat boots being followed by a custom drone isn't at all conspicuous. Especially since the jumpsuit has her name written in big red loopy cursive letters right on the front.

...she really should've grabbed a better wardrobe selection before she left her homeworld. In her defense, though, the corporate hit-men Vladof sent to her apartment didn't really leave her much time to pack.

...OK, LOOK, FINE, she'll admit it: She's REALLY GOOD at breaking things and fixing things, but until fairly recently was not that great at fitting in with a crowd. But necessity is the mother of invention, or something like that, and so far Pandora is so messed-up and filled with weirdos that Roz isn't having too much trouble blending in. So that's cool, she guesses.

Background:Roz has always considered herself an expert at opening doors. Locked doors. Hidden doors. Starship doors. Firewalls-that-aren't-necessarily-doors-but-can-become-doorlike-real-easily-with-the-right-kind-of-coaxing. The cool thing about doors, in Roz's humble opinion, is that A) anything can be considered an openable door if you try hard enough and B) once you figure out how to make something into an openable door, you have a whole world of options available to you. Sometimes doors have cool stuff hidden behind them, which can then potentially become yours. Sometimes doors are digital things that are just begging you to open them, chuck the electronic equivalent of an angry beehive through them, and then slam them shut again.

This fascination started as an occasional hobby: While employed as a mechanical technician at a Tediore digistruct facility (a very boring job about 85% of the time and a complete waste of her college degree), she would fritter away downtime by building devices that helped her poke around in places she probably shouldn't be. When her supervisor caught her remotely activating the sprinkler system of the coffee shop across the street after the 8th day in a row of getting her order wrong (seriously, a decaf mocha with a shot of hazelnut. How hard is that?! And why can they never spell "ROZ" right?! It's THREE LETTERS! Her name isn't Ross, Rose, Rawes, or Rhys!!!), she was taken aside and offered a far more interesting job.

Suddenly Roz had her own office and was getting paid to mess with Tediore's competitors. A little bit of information gathering here, a little bit of convenient manufacturing equipment malfunctions just before a product release there, and a plethora of resources to design and improve her own equipment. Everything was great.

Until it wasn't.

After nearly a year, Roz started to get cocky. She was at the top of her game, convinced that nobody could track her. So she left a digital calling-card in one of her jobs simply because she was so confident it would never be found.

Yeah. It was found.

Turns out, Tediore-funded corporate espionage is a pretty sweet gig up until the point where somebody at Dahl gets wise and finds evidence they've been hacked, and when they start whining about it somebody from Vladof notices their manufacturing facility malfunctions look a lot like Dahl's manufacturing facility malfunctions, and suddenly Tediore gets real uncomfortable and claims they've totally never seen or hired you for anything in their lives so please clean out your office RIGHT NOW and yes that includes taking all your garbage out of the company fridge before you go, and then Vladof starts sending "warning messages" to your apartment and your landlord gets real tired of seeing dead bodies and vandalism around your place all the time so he raises your rent, like, crazy high, and then as icing on the bad-news cake your boyfriend dumps you but-it's-not-you-or-the-Dahl-blackmail, it's-him, and then the corporate-funded hitmen start getting a little too close for comfort and suddenly you have to leave the planet real quick and become your own boss.

So anyway, that's how Roz's week has been going.


Now she finds herself on the run, with nothing but the clothes on her back and her custom drone, Marzipan. Pandora seems like a good place to get lost, considering it's so lawless and crazy no corporation in its right mind could do anything more permanent than run a vending machine here. Plus, there's rumors of another Vault floating around, and what is a Vault but a really big, really tough door just begging to be opened?
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Last edited by Pseudonymous; May 16th, 2019 at 01:05 AM.
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Old May 11th, 2019, 01:33 PM
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Race: Human
Class: Technomancer
Theme: Roboticist
Description:
 

Personality:
 

Background:
 

Character Sheet:
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Last edited by Touketsu; May 15th, 2019 at 11:17 PM.
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Old May 11th, 2019, 03:51 PM
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Harmon the Privateer
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Name: HARMON THE PRIVATEER

Class: Envoy

Theme: Space Pirate

Race: Human

Description: A charming man with handsome features and light blond hair. He dresses in a fine uniform that belongs to no military, instead, the uniform bears markings of the pirate crew "Exocorp". He dresses like a professional pirate and acts with dignity and a sense of humor and style. Harmon is surprisingly clean despite the environment, almost suspiciously so.

His left arm is cybernetic, one that is functional and combat-focused but has a style and design that says 'corp-tech' but doesn't follow any of the big corp's styles. Visually, there is no sign of any special tech built into it, but a True Space Pirate (tm) never gives away all their secrets, do they?

Background:Harmon is a pirate of a small but infamous pirate crew "Exocorp", that was rumored to have once been a small gun corporation that was both financially and physically annihilated by Atlas Corp. years ago. Through some legal loopholes, technically Exocorp still exists, and still maintains some patents and tech licenses, but has no real means of enforcing them among the other corporations (Currently they own the trademark 'True Space Pirate', much to many people's annoyance).

Most of his fellow pirates are on a different world hounding an Atlas facility. Left here on his own, he followed his nose for trouble, ending up on Pandora (of course).

Personality:He believes he is above the depraved raiders and sand pirates on Pandora and follows more of a romantic ideal of being a pirate than a gritty marauder. He wants to earn riches and do so glamorously. He knows how to charm and manipulate people, and can trick the pants off anyone... well... in pants. Or so he claims. Point is, he is a people person... and that's not a euphemism for cannibalism this time!

He (for the most part) spares the noncombatants because otherwise there would be no one to spread word of his exploits, and he is willing to take the fight to any corporation... provided the pay's high enough. He does prefer to stick it to Atlas if it comes down to a choice.

Stat BlockHarmon
Human space pirate envoy 3
CN Medium humanoid (human)
Init +2; Senses darkvision 60 ft.; Perception +6
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Defense
--------------------
SP 18 HP 22 RP 5
EAC 12; KAC 12
Fort +1; Ref +5; Will +3
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Offense
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Speed 30 ft.
Melee None!
Ranged Hunting Rifle Damage 1d8 P (20x2) 90 ft, Capacity 6, Analog
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Statistics
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Str 10 (+0); Dex 14 (+2); Con 11 (+0); Int 10 (+0); Wis 10 (+0); Cha 18 (+4)
Skills Acrobatics +7, Bluff +11, Computers +4 (1 ranks), Culture +6, Diplomacy +10, Engineering +2 (1 ranks), Intimidate +8, Perception +6, Piloting +8 (3 ranks), Sleight Of Hand +7, Stealth +7; (reduce the DC of Culture checks by 5 when recalling information about black market locations, known smugglers, and notorious space pirates)
Abilities: You are an expert at dealing with challenges that test your skills, be the challenges social or otherwise. At 1st level, when attempting a Sense Motive check, you can roll 1d6 (your expertise die) and add the result of the roll to your check as an insight bonus. You can use this and other expertise abilities as long as you have at least 1 Resolve Point remaining.Expertise, At 1st level and every 4 levels thereafter, you can use expertise with one additional class skill. You must have at least 1 rank in a skill to select it, and it must come from the following list: Bluff (Cha), Computers (Int), Culture (Int), Diplomacy (Cha), Disguise (Cha), Engineering (Int), Intimidate (Cha), and Medicine (Int).Skill Expertise (Bluff), When you attempt a Bluff check, you can choose not to roll your expertise die until later. After you determine what the check’s result would be, you can choose to either roll your expertise die and add the result to the total or forgo the expertise die and reroll the check (see page 243)Convincing Liar, As a standard action, you can fake out an enemy within 60 feet, making that enemy open to your attacks. Attempt a Bluff check with the same DC as a check to feint against that enemy (though this isn’t a standard check to feint, so Improved Feint and Greater Feint don’t apply). Even if you fail, that enemy is flat-footed against your attacks (see page 276) until the end of your next turn. If you succeed, the enemy is also flat-footed against your allies’ attacks until the end of your next turn. You can’t use clever feint against a creature that lacks an Intelligence score.Clever Feint, As a standard action, you can signal an ally within 30 feet who has taken damage from any attack made by a significant enemy (see page 242) at any point after your last turn ended. That ally regains a number of Stamina Points (up to his maximum) equal to twice your envoy level + your Charisma modifier; at 15th level, this increases to three times your envoy level + your Charisma modifier. Once an ally has benefited from your inspiring boost, that ally can’t gain the benefits of your inspiring boost again until he takes a 10-minute rest to recover Stamina Points.Inspiring Boost (10SP)
Feats: When running, you move six times your land speed. Whenever you jump, double the height and distance you can jump. While running, you don’t gain the flat-footed condition.Jet Dash, You know how to use longarmsLongarm Proficiency, You gain a +1 bonus to attack rolls with that weapon type. If your base attack bonus is at least 3 lower than your character level (or your mechanic’s class level, if you are a drone), you gain a +2 bonus instead.Weapon Focus (Longarms), You gain specialization in that weapon type, which means you add your character level to damage with the selected weapon type, or half your character level for small arms or operative melee weapons. You can never have specialization in grenades.Weapon Specialization (All Proficiencies)
Languages Abyssal, Common, Draconic, Eridani, Truxican
Other Gear: None! What the hell, Harmon?
Augmentations: Prosthetic arm (No Enhancements)

Last edited by Runetide; May 27th, 2019 at 10:53 PM.
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Old May 11th, 2019, 06:22 PM
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Name: LORENZO as THE PATSY THE GRIFTER

Theme and Class: Thief Operative, focusing on confidence schemes and burglaries of all stripes. Face/Skill Monkey, for the more crunchy types.

Race: When the authorities are after me, yes, I do.
Awkward pause
...Err, Truxican Human. Sorry - Just trying to lighten the mood.

Description: Lorenzo (almost certainly an alias, but no other name is forthcoming) certainly cuts an impressive figure on first impression. The first and most noticeable thing that marks Lorenzo is the literal marks - a heavy burn scar runs up Lorenzo's right cheek and ends just past his hairline, giving him an uneven hairline and partially melting the top of his ear in what is identifiable as a Maliwan inflicted injury. Despite this and the pair of beat-up cloth gloves he habitually wears, he still makes for a striking figure when he turns on the charm - with a toss of his mop of curly black hair and a flash of a truly winning smile, he is ready and willing to sell you the moon and the stars for a steal of a price. He finishes the look with an increasingly patchwork armoured suit sans tie that, while it has seen better days since landing on Pandora, is still miles ahead of the Dieselpunk scrap-chic the Psychos and bandits prefer out in the wastes. He stands taller than most on Pandora, though favours a slight stoop when in a crowd to avoid standing out. When at full height, he stands at 5' 10" (177 cm) and weighs a relatively toned 163 lbs. (73 Kg). Like most Truxicans, his eyes are brown and skin is deeply tanned (except for the burn on his face, which is still an angry reddish colour).

Lorenzo speaks with a heavy, deliberate Truxican accent and speaks with the knowledge that most find it exotic and therefore more compelling. To those not part of his inner circles, he exudes charm and is all too willing to talk about vapid nothings, letting those around him feed him the intel he needs and giving back whatever the crowd around him expects. To those in his confidence, though, his true colours show - a calculating and careful man who embodies the principle of "once bitten, twice shy". Trust comes slowly, but once given only a true betrayal will shake his loyalty. He is well aware of his own limitations and recognizes that one man is skilled, but a diverse and coherent group can truly achieve anything. His brain is constantly devising plans and contingencies, looking for escape routes or secured goods in case he needs them later for whatever may occur.

Background: Since this is a Borderlands based game, I feel the best way to answer this is through the traditional personal Echo-Log. So, without further ado:

LAWYER: "...S-sir, there is no record of a Lorenzo de Medici in the Galactic Census. I-I understand that being- that being accused-"
LORENZO: "Lorenzo Emmanuel Rouco de la Cavallería de Medici, then. Truxican, age 26, orphan, works as a security consultant for Acquisition Intelligence Solutions. Surely that's enough to find me?"

Typing sounds...
LAWYER: "...No, sir. I'm s-sorry, but that name doesn't- there's no... Lorenzo de... Emmanuel..."
LORENZO: "That's impossible. That name should be in your databases. What about Niccolo Machiavelli?"
LAWYER: "...S-sir?"
LORENZO: "*Sigh* Niccolo Machiavelli, Fidel Castro and Hannibal Barcino. Are those names in the Census databases?"
LAWYER: "S-sir, those are the- those are the witnesses for Maliwan, sir. They gave- I have their statements here."

Sound of a computer sliding across a metal table.
LORENZO: "...Was approached by the accused... Offered a significant sum to... Never our intent to break the law? Was threatened and coerced into illegal acts?! PLEAD INNOCENCE TO ALL COUNTS?!?"
Sound of chains rattling and the sound of a computer snapping shut.
LAWYER: "Sir... Sir, the case- the case for corp- corporate espionage is very open and shut. Unless you have s-some way to refute their c-case-"
LORENZO: "No. I need some time to think - to calm my nerves. Can I have the rest of the day to collect my thoughts?"
LAWYER: "Certainly, sir. I'll fetch- I'll get the guard."

Sound of a door opening and shutting. Soft rattling of chains.
LORENZO: "...So you went and sold me out, did you? Couldn't split the pay four ways, or was it just that you felt that you needed a fall man? Hmph... I suppose it doesn't matter now. You're out there with the prototypes, and I'm in here with a throbbing head and a cheap lawyer with the Shivers. Still..."
Metallic scratching sounds, then a clattering of chains.
LORENZO: "At least he doesn't have a grasp on how useful a pen can be in prison. Now... If you three skaglicks think I can't make it to the next shuttle off of this hell-hole, you are going to regret it. Anywhere would be better than here, and from there to you - and to my share - is just a matter of time."
Sound of door opening, then of a body hitting the floor.

Starting Equipment: Somewhere off in the Six Galaxies, probably being used by some no-name thug to extort pennies from mom-and-pop stores in a backwater district of Promethia.
...Did I mention how much Lorenzo hates his former "friends"? 'Cause he hates them. A lot. His driving motivation right now is to gather together enough cash to buy his way out of Pandora, into a new identity and on to the path to finding the sons-of-skags that left him to rot in the third-worst planet in the known universe, only for him to escape to the second-worst.

CHARACTER SHEET LINK: https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1906343
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Apologies for any odd posting delays or times - purchasing a house has knocked me around a little, I'm afraid. Regular posting schedules should resume shortly!

Last edited by kaiser6012; May 22nd, 2019 at 11:18 PM.
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Old May 14th, 2019, 11:11 AM
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Name: Paetra Leukai as 'The Fury'
Theme and Class: Ace Pilot Solarian
Race: Pseudo-Siren (Lashuntas)

Physical Description: Paetra stands at a not-at-all-self-conscious-about-it-thank-you 5'6", leaning more towards the side of lanky than toned. Between his fair skin, bright green hair, and omnipresent smirk Paetra is the quintisential 'pretty boy' that is, in order, the subject of ridicule to men, desire to women, and then just plain ire to those same men. Most distinctive are what appear to be brilliant red tattoos that almost seem to flow like blood along their path, crawling up the entire right side of his body and terminating in a barbed vine that encircles his right cheek.

Paetra's style of dress in public is comfortable dark slacks and a fur-trimmed heavy jacket, concealing all but his cheek markings. Beneath the jacket is a side-slit sleeveless silk shirt and v-neck vest, prominently displaying those same markings. "Hey, most situations where the jacket's coming off these babies pay dividends!"

Mental Description: Why can't we all just get along, eh? Paetra's not one to start a fight if he can talk, flirt, or sneak his way past it. However he rarely considers the consequences of his actions and fights find their way to him with an alarming frequency. Sticky fingers and wandering eyes, hands, and other assorted parts keep his dance card full and his instinct for self-preservation well practiced. When cornered into a fight he doesn't hesitate to carve out an exit strategy for himself and any plus ones he may have, though it's with more of a sense of resignation than anything else. "I did try to do this the nice way, y'know..."

But seriously, don't call him a 'Guyrin'. It's a bit of a trigger word.

Background: What do the common folk know about Sirens? Well they're lovely ladies, of course, beautiful and dangerous. Their markings are often imitated but never duplicated, in terms of both complexity and the subtle underlying glow. Legends say there are only ever six of them in the universe, and a new one can't be born until the old one dies.

But what do the common folk know of the extraordinary? What do legends care for the everyday? Can either touch the sublimely mundane experience that is falling in love? And what happens when a living legend chooses to live the dream taken for granted, an Ordinary Life?

Paetra Leukai, born to Captain Droga Leukai of the transport vessel Galleon's Galactic and his wife Jineal, grew up happy and loved. Doted on by his mother he could be a bit self-obsorbed at times, though never with any malice or ill-intent. It was merely the fact that with the empty months between trading ports he rarely had to think of anyone besides himself and his parents, and planet-fall was practically a holiday every time as his mother took him to see exotic sights while his father handled business and arranged for the next leg of the journey.

He learned to pilot and shoot from his father as a matter of course, essential skills on the frontier. As he got older he looked forward to planetfall more and more, his extensive travels and intriguing markings making him the exotic experience for the locals and he rather enjoyed this popularity. His 'tattoos' were a popular conversation starter and when asked he'd name some planet or other as their origin, with meanings as deep or whimsical as he felt his audience would respond to. In truth the markings were just a part of his natural skin color, one he'd often been curious about but never received an answer to from his parents. At least in so many words. He did find pictures of his parents when they were younger. Most showed similar markings, just as vibrantly blue as his own, on his mother up to and including their wedding photos. The next photo showed his mother exceedingly pregnant with only the barest hint of blue on her skin, and the one after that of his birth with the new mother's skin unblemished and a noticeable blue crescent on the newborn's cheek.

As Paetra neared adulthood his mother took ill. Despite their best efforts her illness, a congenital heart disorder, could not be cured. They could only ensure she felt no pain. Despite her relatively short life Jineal remained happy through her final days with her husband and son at her bedside. Her final words to Paetra, possibly unintentional as she began to drift away, were 'A new siren can sing now'.

With the passing of his wife Droga Leukai opted to retire, settling down on the planet he'd been born on. Paetra, now eighteen, opted to continue travelling. He hired on as pilot for smaller transport frigates when he could, or purchased passage when he couldn't, going where the whim of the universe took him. It wasn't long before things began to change. His markings increasingly itched and he started getting terrible headaches when he stayed on a single planet too long. Sometimes his vision would distort as though looking through the bottom of a bottle and more than once when he tried to ignore it he wound up blacking out for hours at a time. More and more he found himself hopping from one planet to another, only completely comfortable while in space or for the first week or two of a new location.

During a particularly long leg of space travel Paetra first noticed his markings change. The first time he thought it was his vision distorting again despite being off-planet, and the thought that his condition was worsening concerned him greatly. Then it happened again, his blue markings turning increasingly red. Not just any red. Vibrant red. Flowing red. Blood red. If he looked closely he could even see it moving, the blood visible through the transparent layer of skin and moving faster and faster as his heart began to pound in a panic. It didn't improve the situation when his bunkmate walked in and saw him blink out of sight, or when the two steps he tried to take towards him somehow resulted in him overshooting and colliding with the wall.

Of course everyone's heard the legends, of strange and unstable powers. They dumped him on the nearest port and never spoke of it again. Paetra, for his own part, found himself remarkably calm once the initial shock had worn off. Siren, eh? Well it certainly explained a few things, and with a little practice he found he could subtly warp the distance and direction between things. Cut down on the distance between him and the dartboard and he never had to pay for drinks again, bend the light around himself and he could walk right past the bouncer, and when the inevitable fight broke out the flying debris always seems to part around him like a stone in the stream. He'd been playing with these little abilities for the better part of a year before he heard The Word for the first time.

"Heard them stories about some kinda 'Guy-rin'?"

It quickly became his most hated word. He tried fighting back by spreading his own title but 'The Fury' met with blank stares.

"Oh come on, it's perfect! Sirens are the daughters of the earth, and furies are born of the air and the earth. Don't you people know your Geareek myths!?"

They did not. One who did, though, was Zofia. Paetra found out only later that she'd come to the same planet he was on seeking out the rumored 'Fury', and entirely on accident he ended up trying to pick her up at the bar. Not yet wearing his now-trademark jacket his red markings were prominently displayed and the moment after she'd seen them he'd disappeared and was running for the port, clearly recognizing the familiar look in her eyes as 'You have taken something that does not belong to you, and I am going to hurt you now'. Through a few dozen run-ins on various planets he learned a few more details, mostly screamed at him as he ran and dodged the literal explosions she could hurl at him alongside obscenities. The relevant bits? Siren(obvi?) that thought his existence was stopping her deceased twin sister(also a Siren) from being reborn. So...crazy(also obvi).

Paetra was not up to a throw down with this insane woman who could blow him up with her mind and opted for the better part of valor, running away. His flight path eventually brought him to Pandora where, for the first time in six years, the headaches do not seem to be forming. Is there something about this planet? What would happen to him if he tried to leave now? And more importantly how long did he have to find out before that madwoman found him?

And then he heard about the Vault Key. There were as many rumors about those as the Sirens, more even. And a few said the two were related. Is the presence of that artifact why the headaches haven't chased him off-world? Or were the headaches chasing him towards it?

ExplanationAppearances can be deceiving, and timing is key. Given the problems of fitting not one, not two, but three new 'sirens' (and a fury) into the timeline, while I would normally leave these bits as a mystery for the GM to mold into their story, I feel I should explain how I see these events.

27 years prior to the start of the game Paetra's mother, a true siren, gave birth to Paetra. Her siren powers dissipated, part of them going to Paetra. For whatever reason this triggered whatever universal law causes the next Siren to be born. This was Zofia's sister, Zanja.

Zanja was 'weak' for a siren, likely because some portion of the power was stuck in Paetra. Because of this, and the simultaneous birth of twins with one being a siren, the sisters were experimented on. They were exposed to eridium. They hoped to fully awaken Zanja and to see if Zofia could become a 'seventh siren' due to the shared genetics she had with a confirmed siren. This worked...kinda. Much like how you get mutated skags, Zofia became capable of causing explosions. It did her mental stability no favors though. Likewise Zanja's powers were enhanced (effectively refilling the tank that Paetra's existance had slightly tapped) but she became dependant on regular small eridium doses.

Twenty-ish years prior to the start of the game Zanja died. Maybe the research center decided the eridium investment wasn't worth it, maybe her condition just worsened. Either way, Zanja dies and the new siren is born (possibly Angel, who I think is the youngest siren when she was alive, although that might be Tyreen now).

Zofia does not take this well. The research center is replaced with a crater. She is convinced that her sister is going to be reborn based on the 'six sirens' legend, and becomes a tiny terrifying raider to gain access to a ship to start scouring the universe for her sister tracking down any references to sirens.

By the time they come across each other Zofia and Paetra are in their early twenties. Paetra has a youngish look to him, plus the markings and stories. She makes a logical leap that this 'fury' aberation is holding up her sisters rebirth. Neither know about Tyreen.

By the way, if the pseudo-siren Zofia is a bit too much of a stretch I have a slightly altered version of the last bit where she's just crazy and has access to too much military hardware.
 








Intro- A Random Bar, Some Time Ago -

"So I say to the guy 'Listen, I understand your concerns and hope we can come to a mutually beneficial understanding here. Now, if you would just hand me my pants...'. Weeeelll it kinda went downhill from there."

Paetra burst out laughing, the tall blonde seated at the bar next to him giggling with a slight blush. "Really, I had no idea she wa-"

"I said get out of my way, Bargain Bandit!"
"Or what, Lanceling, gonna call in a dozen buddies and a tank-suit to 'put me down'? This ain't Pandora, chum, you ain't got the numbers to throw your weight around here."
"Oh I got weight enough for the likes of you..."


Paetra sighed, getting up from his stool and bowing cheekily towards his lady friend. "Excuse me for a moment, I've seen this before. If these guys go off this entire place is gonna go south. And I cannot for the life of me find another bar with these delightful vodka-mixers."

As he approached the pair of off-duty soldiers he could see things were coming to a head. The younger guy with the shaved head and red-black outfit, Paetra marked him as a Crimson Lancer, had a half-dozen similarly-attired and similarly-huge and similarly-armed buddies at his back. Squared off against him was an older guy with wild hair held up by a bandana and wearing frayed but servicable badlands survival-suit. He recognized him as one of the mercs that had come in on the same transport as him, and he vaguely remembered him saying something about a pending contract with Dahl, and several onlookers had the look of career merc that'd throw down with a Lance any day just to say they had. Hoo boy. There was some bad blood here. "Fellas, fellas, come on now. We're all here for the same reason. Good drinks, bad girls, and sharing stories more embellished than the prices. Personally I'm on a roll today and I was enjoying all three a moment ago and I'm hoping we can set aside all this animosity and bond over the common goal of speeding a brother-in-arms' journey back to his lady-in-waiting?"

The pair of men seemed almost confused by the smaller man that had interposed himself in the center of imminent violence and for a moment silence reigned. Then a voice from behind the merc spoke up questioningly. "Hey, lookit them tattoos. Ain't that that guyrin Bobby were talkin' bout?"

A hard click preceded the shot, which preceded the thump.


Paetra looked at his hand as though surprised to find his gun there. Taking a couple of steps back he raised his hand slightly and grinned uneasily. "Huh. Would you look at that. Would it help at all if I were to assure you that I understand your concerns and hope we can come to a mutually beneficial understand-" A dozen shots rang out as Paetra turned to present a narrower profile, waiting patiently while bullets zipped by either side of him. As suddenly as they'd begun the gunshots stopped and the confused mercenaries looked at the unharmed man and the illuminated outline of his profile that had been made in the bar wall.

Looking over towards the bar he noticed the empty stool and sighed. "There go my plans for this planet..." A moment later he vanished into thin air. The only other signs of his passing were a patron yelping as his shot disappeared from in front him and a crash as the door on the other side of the bar slammed open and shut again.

Last edited by AximusLokar; May 14th, 2019 at 11:11 AM.
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