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Wanted Posters
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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Pseupercallafragelisticexpialladocious. Last edited by Pseudonymous; May 16th, 2019 at 01:05 AM. |
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I have taken the Oath! Last edited by Touketsu; May 15th, 2019 at 11:17 PM. |
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Last edited by Runetide; May 27th, 2019 at 10:53 PM. |
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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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The Kaiser Dragon's Sosarian sig - be there or be... somewhere else, I suppose. 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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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?
Last edited by AximusLokar; May 14th, 2019 at 11:11 AM. |
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