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[filiusenox]

Sawbones

Next---------->

<--------First

You sit back on the thin padding of your bunk, breathing in deeply as you revel in privacy. The sweet taste of freedom is in the stale, recirculated air of the cabin you share with your temporary roommate. After eleven years in that hellhole, you’re finally motherfucking free. Your stint in the high-security prison on the second moon certainly left a quite few marks, physical and mental, but taught you a very valuable lesson: always rely on your own body, not the one on the slab.


And what a body it is, you think with a slightly crazed grin as you look down at your hale and hearty form...
1M) ...stout and hard as chiseled rock, with thick, steely muscle where once you were all skin and bone.
2M) ...tall and thin as a beanpole, yet lined with whipcord muscles hidden under sleek skin-- the perfect deception.
1F) ...all lithe dexterity and runner’s build, catlike in your flowing grace, agile movements, and smooth flexibility.
2F) ...strong and statuesque, your towering height and muscular athleticism giving off the impression of some Amazonian warrior.

((OOC:Please cast your vote using the numbers/letters beside each choice. More questions will follow, but this is to stop it from being a huge wall of text. Also, thank you Deep_Waters for editing.))

[kj1225]

2M

[GreatWyrmGold]

1F

[Xantalos]

2M

[Doomblade187]

2M

[filiusenox]

Sawbones

Next---------->

<--------First

While you might have been considered more of the intellectual bent in your early years, your time in that rusty, high-gravity hell has not just sharpened your already-impressive mind, it’s also strengthened your body-- as well as removed any trace of ethics you may have still had left in you when you first arrived. The experience fermented the mad genius that was already slowly rotting your mind, and distilled it into the brilliant elixir that now drives you.

As you wait for the ship to touch down so you can finally begin your new life, you begin to contemplate your old one, the one before the judge laid down her sentence and ended it all. Resting your chin on your hand and staring out the porthole window by your bunk and listening to the hum of the grim, desolate prison ship’s massive engines, your mind drifts toward your parents.


1). The Nobility. You recall your aristocratic family with all the affection and gratitude of the spoiled only child you are. Your childhood was a boring life of being coddled and pampered, made tolerable only by cruelty to your numerous pets and the tyrannical, near-impossible demands you made of your servants just to watch them squirm. Eventually you left that house to pursue your own future, but your noble heritage has served you well-- disgraced as you are, the government still hasn’t dared to touch the inheritance your parents left you all those years ago. [More starting money, no profitable starting skills.]
2). White-Collar Parents. You were born to the perfect model of a middle-class family, flawless lawn, white picket fence, and all. You and your younger sibling were sent off to a private school at a young age, where you spent most of your childhood under the watchful eye of strict and cynical teachers. Not too long after graduating, you renounced your distant, workaholic parents, even deciding to change your name. While you doubt your parents will even bother to come see you, that rebellious act of your youth probably means that your savings account in that name wasn’t seized by the government after your conviction. [Middling starting money, moderately profitable starting skills.]
3). Downtrodden Workers. Your parents were of the working class, scraping by on meager wages from whatever menial jobs would take them while their children spent most of their days begging in the streets and picking strangers’ pockets. Nevertheless, while it was hard for your parents to provide for all of you, they did love and care for you as much as they could. You doubt they’re still around to care for you, though, so you’ll just have to make the most of the pocketful of cash that you lifted from the guards’ pockets as you exited the gates. [Low starting money, high profitable starting skills.]
4). Unwanted Orphan. You don’t know if your parents died or if they simply left you on the mean streets of Polissa to fend for yourself, but honestly, if you really had to guess, you’d say the latter. Some part of you deep down likes to think you did them proud, but most of you knows better. Instead, you hope that they’re dead, just for the slim chance that they might be there to see the middle finger you flick at a distant star (Progeny, you think it’s called) outside the rusty porthole. [No starting dosh, greatly profitable starting skills.]


[2M wins]

[kj1225]

4

[Xantalos]

3

[Doomblade187]

3

[jaass]

4

[Doomblade187]

I change my vote to 4.

[My Name is Immaterial]

PTW

[filiusenox]

Sawbones

Next---------->

<--------Last

Thinking of your childhood brings to mind the next era of your life, when you began your training in the medical profession. You scratch at the rusted green copper that surrounds the porthole with a long fingernail, idly scraping out a crude drawing as you immerse yourself in the bittersweet memories.


A). Admitted to a prestigious university on scholarship due to your amazing intellect, you were admired as a medical prodigy among both student and staff. When you graduated, you were quickly promoted to a high ranking, putting you on the fast track for a promising career-- until, during a life-saving surgery on a high-ranking military official, you accidentally sliced through a major artery. Accused of being a spy who deliberately murdered her, you were stripped of your license and sent to jail, ostensibly for life. However, in light of new evidence that retroactively proved your innocence and having already served the term that likely would’ve been given for manslaughter, you’ve found yourself released, a public apology from the government in hand. Too little, too late, you think bitterly.
B).You learned medicine on the streets, apprenticing yourself to a “doctor” who operated an illegal clinic where you treated anyone who could pay the fee (no questions asked). You took over the clinic when the doctor disappeared in mysterious circumstances, and began dealing in the organ trade on the side-- opening people up (whether they knew it or not) and selling their organs to the noble elite. Eventually, you were able to gather enough cash to get the equipment to experiment with magitech cybernetics-- human organs with superhuman capabilities. Unfortunately, but inevitably, one of your products went bad, and it ended in the death of a very important customer. Somewhat ironically, however, you were convicted not of murder, but of practicing medicine without a license.
C).You signed up with the military and studied to become a field medic. After displaying a flair for intimidation and knowing just how far to go to make someone talk, you were “strongly encouraged” to join the interrogation squads instead. You decided to make the most of your unexpected change in career, and used your subjects to test the limits of human endurance-- physical, mental, and emotional. Your techniques, when you decided to stop experimenting and get down to business, were so brutally efficient that even your hardened colleagues tried to avoid sharing an interrogation room with you. However, after you ‘spoke’ with a valuable spy and prisoner of war, the higher-ups decided you knew too much. They court-martialed you for war crimes you didn’t commit (and maybe a few you did-- but only with their approval) and shipped you off, expecting you to die in prison. You wonder if they know you’re out now.
D). As a manipulative sociopath. You have held a lifelong fascination with living creatures and how they work, inside and out, it wasn’t surprising what you-- the child who liked to catch small animals and observe their responses to different stimuli, before cutting them open to study their entrails and compare the messy vivisections to the crisp, clean diagrams of various medical texts-- grew up to be. You were a serial killer who used your charm and good looks to lure unsuspecting victims onto your makeshift medical table, where you cut them apart with a genial smile. Unfortunately, you were caught, and while the evidence was too circumstantial for an execution, you were still sentenced twenty-five to life. You happened to get out early on a mix of legal technicalities... and “good behavior”. [Hard mode-- you have to report to a parole officer.]

[4 wins!]

[Xantalos]

D.

[Hubris Incalculable]

B