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[Chevaleresse]

Spoiler: here goes nothing (click to show/hide)

Name: Scarlet "Yes, just Scarlet."
Nickname: "Call me whatever you want. Just don't get too cute with it."
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Age: 87
Profession: Iron Weaver Soldier/Medic (in a pinch)
Description: Scarlet is fairly short at just barely five feet tall and appears deceptively young overall, only looking to be in her mid teens - though she doesn't exactly possess the demeanor of a sixteen-year-old girl. She does, however, have long, mostly straight white hair that flows down to her back if it's not stuffed into a jacket. She's slim but not skinny, with a runner's physique. If she's not wearing a hooded jacket or generally doing anything that doesn't require headgear, she'll tie ribbons into her hair, whether it's a larger one at the back of her head or smaller ones near the ends. She tends toward darker clothing overall with a preference toward reds - insinuating that this is somehow because she's named after a shade of it is a good way to get threatened with wrist-mounted flamethrowers (a threat that she has, on occasion, followed through on to the particularly irritating.) She's almost always found smoking a cigarette, and isn't afraid to share.

Scarlet's really not much of a talker. Not for shyness or any sort of social anxiety; she just prefers to keep her thoughts to herself, though she'll contentedly listen to you if you do speak with her. If she does take issue with something, however, she isn't afraid to make this fact known; this habit of only speaking out when she's upset by something leaves varying impressions on people, to say the least. She doesn't seem to take much interest in, well, anything, though she does have somewhat of an altruistic streak.

Her nanites are of the newer variety, integrated into her body very closely - her biology has actually been modified to both support and be supported by the system much more easily. Unlike many Iron Weaver systems, the feats that she can perform outside her body are a secondary function - a bonus, if you will. Their primary purpose is to augment the body's natural defenses and regenerative capabilities, and effectively halt the aging of the user. The system was originally designed as something for the super-rich on apex worlds, keeping them eternally (well, ideally, anyway) healthy.
Background: "Fine, you want to hear a story? I'll tell you a story.

There once was a girl that lived on a planet. It wasn't a very special planet, but it was her home. There were some people that owned the planet, and everyone on it worked for them. It wasn't bad living there, most of the time, unless you upset the people that owned the planet. Most of the people were farmers or miners or mechanics.

The girl's father was one of these miners. He was in charge of all the other miners, so life was good for him and the girl, until one day, they couldn't find enough ore in the mines any more. The people that owned the planet weren't happy, and so they yelled at the man and told him to work harder, that obviously there had to be more; their computers said so. So the man tried harder to find ore. He tried too hard, though, and got into an accident, so he couldn't work any more. The people that owned the planet just shrugged and said that kind of thing happened sometimes, and that he would just have to deal with not being able to work any more.

This made the girl upset. She made a plan to get back at the mean people that owned the planet. So she snuck aboard their ship. She had heard that the people owned a one-of-a-kind miracle medicine that made you live forever, and she wanted to steal it. And so she did, but not very easily. She almost died when she got caught in one of the security systems, but one of the guards felt sad for her and helped her find the medicine. He agreed to help her get the medicine out of the ship.

However, when they were almost ready to leave the ship, she panicked. She decided she wanted to live forever, so she killed the guard, and took the medicine for herself, and then snuck onto another ship and left the planet.

Yeah, I thought it was a shitty story too."

Scarlet has worked for a very long time as a mercenary, not that you'd be able to guess by looking at her. Before this, however, she found her way to pirate groups, joining up with them for the sole purpose of taking revenge on the people that had shattered her life. She ran with various crews for decades, her unnatural durability initially making up for her lack of any real ability to use a weapon, as well as the other uses of her Iron Weaver system being a valuable asset to the outlaws. Eventually, she got sick of piracy, sick of questing for revenge against a faceless entity by taking out the real people that happened to work for it, and so she "retired" insofar as she decided to sign on with mercenary crews, which at least had a shard of legitimacy about them. She picked up a decent amount of medical knowledge, partially out of simple curiosity and partially out of the necessity of learning how to keep her crew members at least functional - though much of her proficiency as a medic comes from the fact that her nanites are already set up primarily for restoring and maintaining the integrity of the human body, and the leap to another mammalian or even avian species isn't so drastic that the knowledge is totally inapplicable.

Being able to reconstruct your body much more easily than most people makes it easier to play about with certain kinds of weapons - one of the crews Scarlet ran with in her early days had picked up a set of wrist mounted flamethrowers. They were more of a novelty than anything else for most people; they were fairly difficult to actually use without crisping one's own hands unless you had a lot of practice. Most people also do not have the ability to return said crisped skin to normal in moments. Thus, they passed to Scarlet, who made them into a signature weapon of sorts, supplementing her developing marksmanship as well as being used for great psychological effect. . . plus they're actually pretty handy for cooking.
Notable Quotes:

"Yeah, I know it hurts like a motherfucker, but it's better than being dead." - Habitual, if anyone expresses displeasure at her medical attentions

"Look, I did a lot of bad shit before. At least I've got a decent excuse for doing it now, so stop with the moral questions. I've heard them all."

"No, seriously, do that again and I'm going to shoot flames up your ass so far it'll burn your tongue." - Habitual

"Yeah, they're not actually all that practical. They sure do scare the shit out of people though. Funny how people would rather get shot than lit on fire."

"You don't really need or want to know where I came from. I'm here now, that's all that matters."

Traits: Heavy Smoker, Criminal Past, Blunt, Repentant, Quiet, High Pain Tolerance, Opinionated, Ageless, Special Weapon (Flamethrower)

[spümpkin]

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Name: Tsekia Nauto [Se-kee-ah N-awu-two]
Nickname: Whiteblood
Gender: Female
Race: Neo-Crow
Age: 34
Profession: Primarily a Tech-Scholar, although she spends a sufficient amount of time in the field, acting as a Scout.

Description: Tsekia has the distinctly bright white feathers of an albino Crow, with piercing red eyes, which are softened by a caring face, which is usually frowning about something. The forehead juts out slightly, but not enough to be noticeable. She is somewhat short, standing at 3'5", which makes most others doubt her age, although she has the scars and creases to show her experience. She has vibrant green and blue dyed feathers on her shoulders and waist, poking out like jagged edges. Her tech harness covers most of her torso, and she wears it most of the time. It possesses four arms, which branch out from the corners. One on each shoulder, and two placed vertically opposite. She often uses this when reading and exploring alike. When in the field, she carries a small pistol, and a journal strapped to her waist. One of her feet is supported by a metal brace.

Tsekia is very sociable, especially for a Crow, and enjoys meeting new people. She cares a lot for others, which makes her somewhat naively trusting, and bad at letting go of people. However, she can talk for a good while. She generally will butt in to conversations uninvited, and will talk to anyone she can, even an enemy. She is quite inquisitive, but not as much as a fin. She is strongly opinionated, and has a stubbornness that nearly matches a Hound.

Background: Tsekia was odd. That was certain from the day she was birthed. While being albino didn't make her receive large amounts of judgment, her tendency to fail did. She was born with a deformed leg, which her parents refused to treat until they were certain it was not just a 'part of growth'. They seemed to be awfully stupid, for Crows. She used this to her advantage, however, and exceeded in academic fields by way of crafting a variety of failed leg-braces. While it wasn't the leg-brace-making skill that got her into a high level of academia, She spent a lot of time studying mechanics and physics, and how they coincided with biology. She eventually also made a fitting metal brace, which compensates for her leg joints not working. Another abnormality that Tsekia possessed was empathy. While crows were usually focused on technological advancements, and their own paths and tasks, Tsekia seemed to have empathy. Her brain had been mutated so that it was slightly more... human, in it's ability to process feelings and emotions. It made her somewhat less akin to an autistic, and she possessed the ability to act in social situations. She hid this for most of her childhood, but it became both an asset and a hindrance later in life. She can interact with other species casually, unlike other crows, but she also cannot understand taboo. She doesn't seem to possess the ability to not say something that is on her mind. This has resulted in a lot of awkward situations, but most ignore it. She eventually, after leaving home, decided to become a tech scholar. She studied for years, and finally became qualified. Although, working as a crow tech scholar was awfully boring, when you crave social interaction. So, she left her home planet entirely, boarding a mercenary ship. The crew there consisted of two Hounds, a Felid, and a Human. She didn't fit in at all, but she was determined to break the mold and join the fight. She provided insight, and eventually got into fieldwork. The crew were surprised with her resilience, as she could withstand a fair bit of fighting before going down. She's been scarred and charred a few times. She's been shot at, and she's been shot. She almost died, once.

They were on a magma planet when it happened. Olio and Rali, the Hound brothers, stood at the front of the group, leading through the ragged rocks and heat that littered the earth. Tsekia flew above, scouting the land ahead for dangers, and calling out whenever a ravine was ahead. Paul, the human, and Reizkt the felid hung back from the Hounds, following behind and making sure they weren't being attacked. It was a sniper. They shot at Tsekia, and hit her wing, causing her to crash down to earth, sliding upon the rocky ground. Bruised and battered, she was unable to walk, let alone fly. The crew had to halt the mission, and slowly carried her back to the ship.

On the way back, the sniper fired again. Olio, sensing danger, leaped to protect Tsekia, at a dear cost. Tsekia blacked out then, so she couldn't remember a thing. All that she knew when she awoke, was that she was in their ship, Rali was crying, and Olio was dead.

Rali was sent into a deep mourning, and he eventually left the crew. Afterwards, nothing was the same, and the crew eventually disbanded. She carries the memory of that event with her permanently, and carries a distinct fondness to Canes in general. She also mimics Canes slightly, being bound to a code of morals more than others. After disbanding, she didn't really know what else to do, so she looked for another crew.

Notable Quotes:

"Oh. I don't really like you. Neither does she." (Habitual, she can't keep secrets)

"But we can't just leave him here! Even if he is going to die either way!"

"I'll remember this. I'll remember you. I'm not happy about it, but I'd rather do this than die a coward."

"Ha, ha, ha. That was a 'comedic' 'joke'. 'Funny'." (Habitual, she doesn't understand humor)

"I don't kill because I want to. I don't kill because I have to either. I kill, because there are people out there who would kill me without reason. And that is my reason to kill them."

Traits:Battle Hardened, Honor-bound, Deformed Leg (braced), Lucky Shot, Keen Eyes, Avid Explorer, Kind Soul.

Edited sheet a bit, added some things.

[Pencil_Art]

Spoiler: WIP (click to show/hide)

Name: Feral Hops
Nickname: Slapstick
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Age: 42
Profession: Soldier/Infiltrator - Bore Jumper
Description: Feral Hops is a fairly tall man, standing at around 6'9" with a head of jet-black hair tied in a short ponytail. While not broad-shouldered, he certainly isn't thin either, and is built rather steadily, certainly steadily enough for his line of work. He typically dresses in drab fatigues, which contrasts starkly with his generally bright and rather witty persona and his rather boyish facial features, which he manages to use to great effect in conversation and small talk. Some people can find his jabs to be rather grating. Though people look down on him for his young age, behind the mask of smiles and bad jokes, he conceals a rather unusual ability to pinpoint what people really want when they say something but mean something else, perhaps a side-effect of having star-merchants for parents.

If there was some weakness of Feral's personality that you could point out, and quite possibly take advantage of, it is his tendency to hold grudges against people who he feels has wronged him in some way. Things like bad trading deals or people who have hurt those who holds dear get the worst of him. In battle Feral becomes something of an enigma, laughing crazily while teleporting unpredictably, adding to the appearance of that-is-one-crazy-guy-holy-hell-is-that-a-bomb-run-away. The thing that tends to stick for most people he meets (for some it is the last thing they see) is his suit. It is something like a mechanical exoskeleton, but far more heavily armored than what a typical civilian might see, and contains the power supply for creating bores, and otherwise allows him to take bullets and not slow down. While it slows him down overall due to the bulkiness of the battery, he uses the bore drive to mitigate this somewhat (plus it allows him to prime a flashbang, teleport into the middle of the enemy, and watch it blow in his hands without suffering ill effects).

While his formal clothing (which is to say his most formal; not necessarily actually formal) consists of loose clothes dyed in hues of grays and browns, tied at the waist, wrists, and ankles with some dark-colored material he has on hand, in the privacy of his room and in whatever ship he;s currently serving on he prefers to wear close fitting pieces of clothing, some of which are covered in delicate patterns of brightly colored but thread-like lines, concealing the thin web of augments stretched across his skin that cover up the physical scars which he got from soldiering. Additionally, on special occasions, he sometimes wears a rather beautiful red scarf with gold fringes at either end that he seems to have a rather peculiar attachment to. It doesn't really match the rest of his outfit.

Background:
Feral was born the son of star-merchants, small men and women with ships who chugged across the vast expanse of space in search of goods both mundane and exotic, perhaps carrying people too, in search of a profit. Growing up, he saw his father very little. In fact, his father seemed to care more about his work and driving the ship than caring about him, delegating the work of being a parent largely to Feral's mother, and also partially to the mechanic on the ship, the only other person there full-time. Despite this, he loved his father very much, and his father loved him in turn.

Feral's first memory is of his father showing him the bore drive in the ship, showing him the mechanisms, and when asked how it worked, being confused and admitting to not knowing it. The drooling 5-year old fell in love with it immediately. Soon after his family settled down from the merchant business for the sake of Feral's education, he expressed a keen interest in studying physics, to which his father simply said "Go you." A couple of years saw Feral in one of the most revered universities in the cosmos, studying to complete his degree in Bore physics. However, his personality did not make it easy for him, the pressures of exams and studying naturally at odds with his typically easy-going, carefree attitude. He persisted in the scientific field for a good while longer, but eventually ended up flunking out. As he looked at the phenomenal student loan he had accumulated, he realized he wasn't so happy about his original ideas for future, and with a rather heavy load on his heart lifted, he found leaving his studies not so much of a struggle he thought it would be. At a loss for what to do, he kind of just wandered, taking jobs on ships to travel and leaving when he got where he wanted.

Naturally, when he heard that the military was in need of Bore Jumpers, he signed up straight away, quickly abandoning his old job and getting a state-of-the-art bore drive installed by a military surgeon. The backbreaking training woke him up to what he had signed up for, but he was too stubborn to stop, and simply persisted. In fact, his stubborn behavior was what got him through in the end, barely passing examination into the army proper. For the next few years he worked alongside all kinds of people; he even had somebody from every species in his squad. Being a bore jumper had become a reality for Feral, and his name was most appropriate. His mother gave him her scarf on the first of many occasions he ended up in the infirmary, with a note saying "Do be careful. I'm not sure even teleporters can survive being shot." It was here where he got his nickname, Slapstick, for his feeble attempts at comedy that somehow still made people laugh.

However, being shot at on a regular basis proved to be bad for Feral's health, and though he somehow never was killed in action, he accumulated an impressive number of scars over the course of his career. Feral quit the military at 35, but seeing as he still had a miniaturized bore drive embedded into his body and there were no other jobs requiring somebody who could teleport, he started working on mercenary crews who needed somebody who could teleport in, blow stuff up, and generally cause havoc, or simply stay in the back as a reserve and teleport in to scare people if things got too bad. He loves his line of work, and is not afraid to show it, laughing euphorically in the heat of battle or simply exaggerating his feats at the table. Perhaps he was always the fighting kind of guy. Or at least that's what he says when people ask him how he failed his bore physics degree.

Notable Quotes:
"Seriously, who even needs a gun when you can teleport."

"Asshole." Habitual, after he's knocked someone out in the pub or something.

FERAL: "Hey, did I ever tell you about that time when-"
NEO-CROW: "Yes."
FERAL: "You didn't even hear what I was going to-"
NEO-CROW: "Shut up."
FERAL: "Come on, you can't deny I'm roguishly-"
NEO-CROW: "Would you shut up? I'm trying to fix this bore drive, I've still got the set your broken leg, and I have no time for advances by annoying humans."

"Well, look at you. Half-dead, in a smoking wreck of a mech and with no help for miles. Dang. I missed out on all the fun."

"Lady, I've been doing this since I was a baby - okay, maybe not quite that long - but siddown and let me do what you paid me to do."

Traits:
- Obsessed with bore drives
- Kind of annoying
- Bad cook
- Loves fighting
- Stubborn
- Failed physicist
- Boisterous
- Berserk fighter

[Harry Baldman]

It's clear enough from the character and traits that I can see him, and I trust the rest will come naturally as play progresses. I'm curious how he'll turn out if I choose to integrate him into the crew. He doesn't fit well in many positions other than 'leader', and thus picking him has... implications.

I'd imagine he's somewhere between a soldier and a dealer in terms of overall capabilities, so he'd be just as good as a first mate type of guy.

Of course, if he does turn out to be captain, that would be rather fun I'd imagine.

[hops]

I don't see anyone else running for Captain, anyways.

[Draignean]

Spoiler: here goes nothing (click to show/hide)

Name: Scarlet "Yes, just Scarlet."
Nickname: "Call me whatever you want. Just don't get too cute with it."
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Age: 87
Profession: Iron Weaver Soldier/Medic (in a pinch)
Description: Scarlet is fairly short at just barely five feet tall and appears deceptively young overall, only looking to be in her mid teens - though she doesn't exactly possess the demeanor of a sixteen-year-old girl. She does, however, have long, mostly straight white hair that flows down to her back if it's not stuffed into a jacket. She's slim but not skinny, with a runner's physique. If she's not wearing a hooded jacket or generally doing anything that doesn't require headgear, she'll tie ribbons into her hair, whether it's a larger one at the back of her head or smaller ones near the ends. She tends toward darker clothing overall with a preference toward reds - insinuating that this is somehow because she's named after a shade of it is a good way to get threatened with wrist-mounted flamethrowers (a threat that she has, on occasion, followed through on to the particularly irritating.) She's almost always found smoking a cigarette, and isn't afraid to share.

Scarlet's really not much of a talker. Not for shyness or any sort of social anxiety; she just prefers to keep her thoughts to herself, though she'll contentedly listen to you if you do speak with her. If she does take issue with something, however, she isn't afraid to make this fact known; this habit of only speaking out when she's upset by something leaves varying impressions on people, to say the least. She doesn't seem to take much interest in, well, anything, though she does have somewhat of an altruistic streak.

Her nanites are of the newer variety, integrated into her body very closely - her biology has actually been modified to both support and be supported by the system much more easily. Unlike many Iron Weaver systems, the feats that she can perform outside her body are a secondary function - a bonus, if you will. Their primary purpose is to augment the body's natural defenses and regenerative capabilities, and effectively halt the aging of the user. The system was originally designed as something for the super-rich on apex worlds, keeping them eternally (well, ideally, anyway) healthy.
Background: "Fine, you want to hear a story? I'll tell you a story.

There once was a girl that lived on a planet. It wasn't a very special planet, but it was her home. There were some people that owned the planet, and everyone on it worked for them. It wasn't bad living there, most of the time, unless you upset the people that owned the planet. Most of the people were farmers or miners or mechanics.

The girl's father was one of these miners. He was in charge of all the other miners, so life was good for him and the girl, until one day, they couldn't find enough ore in the mines any more. The people that owned the planet weren't happy, and so they yelled at the man and told him to work harder, that obviously there had to be more; their computers said so. So the man tried harder to find ore. He tried too hard, though, and got into an accident, so he couldn't work any more. The people that owned the planet just shrugged and said that kind of thing happened sometimes, and that he would just have to deal with not being able to work any more.

This made the girl upset. She made a plan to get back at the mean people that owned the planet. So she snuck aboard their ship. She had heard that the people owned a one-of-a-kind miracle medicine that made you live forever, and she wanted to steal it. And so she did, but not very easily. She almost died when she got caught in one of the security systems, but one of the guards felt sad for her and helped her find the medicine. He agreed to help her get the medicine out of the ship.

However, when they were almost ready to leave the ship, she panicked. She decided she wanted to live forever, so she killed the guard, and took the medicine for herself, and then snuck onto another ship and left the planet.

Yeah, I thought it was a shitty story too."

Scarlet has worked for a very long time as a mercenary, not that you'd be able to guess by looking at her. Before this, however, she found her way to pirate groups, joining up with them for the sole purpose of taking revenge on the people that had shattered her life. She ran with various crews for decades, her unnatural durability initially making up for her lack of any real ability to use a weapon, as well as the other uses of her Iron Weaver system being a valuable asset to the outlaws. Eventually, she got sick of piracy, sick of questing for revenge against a faceless entity by taking out the real people that happened to work for it, and so she "retired" insofar as she decided to sign on with mercenary crews, which at least had a shard of legitimacy about them. She picked up a decent amount of medical knowledge, partially out of simple curiosity and partially out of the necessity of learning how to keep her crew members at least functional - though much of her proficiency as a medic comes from the fact that her nanites are already set up primarily for restoring and maintaining the integrity of the human body, and the leap to another mammalian or even avian species isn't so drastic that the knowledge is totally inapplicable.

Being able to reconstruct your body much more easily than most people makes it easier to play about with certain kinds of weapons - one of the crews Scarlet ran with in her early days had picked up a set of wrist mounted flamethrowers. They were more of a novelty than anything else for most people; they were fairly difficult to actually use without crisping one's own hands unless you had a lot of practice. Most people also do not have the ability to return said crisped skin to normal in moments. Thus, they passed to Scarlet, who made them into a signature weapon of sorts, supplementing her developing marksmanship as well as being used for great psychological effect. . . plus they're actually pretty handy for cooking.
Notable Quotes:

"Yeah, I know it hurts like a motherfucker, but it's better than being dead." - Habitual, if anyone expresses displeasure at her medical attentions

"Look, I did a lot of bad shit before. At least I've got a decent excuse for doing it now, so stop with the moral questions. I've heard them all."

"No, seriously, do that again and I'm going to shoot flames up your ass so far it'll burn your tongue." - Habitual

"Yeah, they're not actually all that practical. They sure do scare the shit out of people though. Funny how people would rather get shot than lit on fire."

"You don't really need or want to know where I came from. I'm here now, that's all that matters."

Traits: Heavy Smoker, Criminal Past, Blunt, Repentant, Quiet, High Pain Tolerance, Opinionated, Ageless, Special Weapon (Flamethrower)

I like, I like.... No major issues. Miners might have a different connotation between us, but I don't think that matters overmuch.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Name: Tsekia Nauto [Se-kee-ah N-awu-two]
Nickname: Whiteblood
Gender: Female
Race: Neo-Crow
Age: 34
Profession: Primarily a Tech-Scholar, although she spends a sufficient amount of time in the field, acting as a Scout.

Description: Tsekia has the distinctly bright white feathers of an albino Crow, with piercing red eyes, which are softened by a caring face, which is usually frowning about something. The forehead juts out slightly, but not enough to be noticeable. She is somewhat short, standing at 3'5", which makes most others doubt her age, although she has the scars and creases to show her experience. She has vibrant green and blue dyed feathers on her shoulders and waist, poking out like jagged edges. Her tech harness covers most of her torso, and she wears it most of the time. It possesses four arms, which branch out from the corners. One on each shoulder, and two placed vertically opposite. She often uses this when reading and exploring alike. When in the field, she carries a small pistol, and a journal strapped to her waist. One of her feet is supported by a metal brace.

Tsekia is very sociable, especially for a Crow, and enjoys meeting new people. She cares a lot for others, which makes her somewhat naively trusting, and bad at letting go of people. However, she can talk for a good while. She generally will butt in to conversations uninvited, and will talk to anyone she can, even an enemy. She is quite inquisitive, but not as much as a fin. She is strongly opinionated, and has a stubbornness that nearly matches a Hound.

Background: Tsekia was odd. That was certain from the day she was birthed. While being albino didn't make her receive large amounts of judgment, her tendency to fail did. She was born with a deformed leg, which her parents refused to treat until they were certain it was not just a 'part of growth'. They seemed to be awfully stupid, for Crows. She used this to her advantage, however, and exceeded in academic fields by way of crafting a variety of failed leg-braces. While it wasn't the leg-brace-making skill that got her into a high level of academia, She spent a lot of time studying mechanics and physics, and how they coincided with biology. She eventually also made a fitting metal brace, which compensates for her leg joints not working. Another abnormality that Tsekia possessed was empathy. While crows were usually focused on technological advancements, and their own paths and tasks, Tsekia seemed to have empathy. Her brain had been mutated so that it was slightly bigger, allowing room for an emotional sector. She hid this for most of her childhood, but it became both an asset and a hindrance later in life. She can interact with other species casually, unlike other crows, but she also cannot understand taboo. She doesn't seem to possess the ability to not say something that is on her mind. This has resulted in a lot of awkward situations, but most ignore it. She eventually, after leaving home, decided to become a tech scholar. She studied for years, and finally became qualified. Although, working as a crow tech scholar was awfully boring, when you crave social interaction. So, she left her home planet entirely, boarding a mercenary ship. The crew there consisted of two Hounds, a Felid, and a Human. She didn't fit in at all, but she was determined to break the mold and join the fight. She provided insight, and eventually got into fieldwork. The crew were surprised with her resilience, as she could withstand a fair bit of fighting before going down. She's been scarred and charred a few times. She's been shot at, and she's been shot. She almost died, once.

They were on a magma planet when it happened. Olio and Rali, the Hound brothers, stood at the front of the group, leading through the ragged rocks and heat that littered the earth. Tsekia flew above, scouting the land ahead for dangers, and calling out whenever a ravine was ahead. Paul, the human, and Reizkt the felid hung back from the Hounds, following behind and making sure they weren't being attacked. It was a sniper. They shot at Tsekia, and hit her wing, causing her to crash down to earth, sliding upon the rocky ground. Bruised and battered, she was unable to walk, let alone fly. The crew had to halt the mission, and slowly carried her back to the ship.

On the way back, the sniper fired again. Olio, sensing danger, leaped to protect Tsekia, at a dear cost. Tsekia blacked out then, so she couldn't remember a thing. All that she knew when she awoke, was that she was in their ship, Rali was crying, and Olio was dead.

Rali was sent into a deep mourning, and he eventually left the crew. Afterwards, nothing was the same, and the crew eventually disbanded. She carries the memory of that event with her permanently, and carries a distinct fondness to Canes in general. She also mimics Canes slightly, being bound to a code of morals more than others. After disbanding, she didn't really know what else to do, so she looked for another crew.

Notable Quotes:

"Oh. I don't really like you. Neither does she." (Habitual, she can't keep secrets)

"But we can't just leave him here! Even if he is going to die either way!"

"I'll remember this. I'll remember you. I'm not happy about it, but I'd rather do this than die a coward."

"Ha, ha, ha. That was a 'comedic' 'joke'. 'Funny'." (Habitual, she doesn't understand humor)

"I don't kill because I want to. I don't kill because I have to either. I kill, because there are people out there who would kill me without reason. And that is my reason to kill them."

Traits:Battle Hardened, Honor-bound, Deformed Leg (braced), Lucky Shot, Keen Eyes, Avid Explorer, Kind Soul.

Edited sheet a bit, added some things.

Improvements are improvements. Now, a detail that I missed otherwise. Crows lack all but the most rudimentary mirror neurons, which means their ability to intuit how someone else feels and empathize is greatly compromised, however, they still have a strong 'emotional sector' as you put it. It's just more like that of a high functioning individual with autism, frequently so strong and difficult to control that it's buried deeply- hidden, but hardly non-existent. I think you have the right idea, I'm just clarifying semantics.

Spoiler: WIP (click to show/hide)

Name: Feral Hops
Nickname: Android
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Age: 39
Profession: Soldier/Infiltrator
Description: Feral Hops is a fairly tall man, standing at around 6'9" with a head of jet-black hair tied in a short ponytail. While not broad-shouldered, he certainly isn't thin either, and is built rather steadily, certainly steadily enough for his line of work. He typically dresses in drab fatigues, which contrasts starkly with his generally bright and rather witty persona and his rather boyish facial features, which he manages to use to great effect in conversation and small talk. Despite this, it is not uncommon to find him unusually withdrawn and antisocial at times, typically sitting it out in his room and refusing to talk to most people, haunted by the trauma of times long past. Some people can find his jabs to be rather grating. Though people look down on him for his young age, behind the mask of smiles and bad jokes, he conceals a calculating mind, honed by years on the field of battle with the ability to mentally assess any situation and take the most efficient way out.

If there was some weakness of Feral's personality that you could point out, and quite possibly take advantage of, it is his tendency to hold grudges against people who he feels has wronged him in some way. Things like bad trading deals or people who have hurt those who holds there get the worst of him.

While his formal clothing (which is to say his most formal; not necessarily actually formal) consists of loose clothes dyed in hues of grays and browns, tied at the waist, wrists, and ankles with some dark-colored material he has on hand, in the privacy of his room and in his ship he prefers to wear close fitting pieces of clothing, some of which are covered in delicate patterns of brightly colored but thread-like lines, concealing the thin web of augments stretched across his skin that cover up the physical scars which he has had for his whole life, a consequence of the life he was born into

Background: (Who were they, how did they get here? What drove them to become a Mercy? Your background is the first and best determinant of your skills, and thus what I believe a character is capable of.)
Notable Quotes: (A couple different quotes that flesh out a character. These should be dialogue snips from the character's past. These Mercies are already fairly experienced, so you don't have to stick to greenhorn lines. If a particular quote is habitual, make a note by it. Try to keep it to five quotes or less.)

Traits: (Traits are features that flesh out a character, try to keep it to less than ten, and each should be kept to a few words only.)

That moment when you're reading through, interested, and then it simply ends without the good grace to have a period. Thanks, I have whiplash now.

I don't see anyone else running for Captain, anyways.

Now, it's possible that the crew will function more like an anarcho-syndicalist commune with different members taking turns to act as a sort of executive-officer-for-the-week, though that's admittedly more of a Fin thing to do.

Still, in a traditional command structure, the two most logical picks for big boss are the Slaver and the Rust King. At least, for the moment. Both of them would have their... eccentricities.

[spümpkin]

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Name: Tsekia Nauto [Se-kee-ah N-awu-two]
Nickname: Whiteblood
Gender: Female
Race: Neo-Crow
Age: 34
Profession: Primarily a Tech-Scholar, although she spends a sufficient amount of time in the field, acting as a Scout.

Description: Tsekia has the distinctly bright white feathers of an albino Crow, with piercing red eyes, which are softened by a caring face, which is usually frowning about something. The forehead juts out slightly, but not enough to be noticeable. She is somewhat short, standing at 3'5", which makes most others doubt her age, although she has the scars and creases to show her experience. She has vibrant green and blue dyed feathers on her shoulders and waist, poking out like jagged edges. Her tech harness covers most of her torso, and she wears it most of the time. It possesses four arms, which branch out from the corners. One on each shoulder, and two placed vertically opposite. She often uses this when reading and exploring alike. When in the field, she carries a small pistol, and a journal strapped to her waist. One of her feet is supported by a metal brace.

Tsekia is very sociable, especially for a Crow, and enjoys meeting new people. She cares a lot for others, which makes her somewhat naively trusting, and bad at letting go of people. However, she can talk for a good while. She generally will butt in to conversations uninvited, and will talk to anyone she can, even an enemy. She is quite inquisitive, but not as much as a fin. She is strongly opinionated, and has a stubbornness that nearly matches a Hound.

Background: Tsekia was odd. That was certain from the day she was birthed. While being albino didn't make her receive large amounts of judgment, her tendency to fail did. She was born with a deformed leg, which her parents refused to treat until they were certain it was not just a 'part of growth'. They seemed to be awfully stupid, for Crows. She used this to her advantage, however, and exceeded in academic fields by way of crafting a variety of failed leg-braces. While it wasn't the leg-brace-making skill that got her into a high level of academia, She spent a lot of time studying mechanics and physics, and how they coincided with biology. She eventually also made a fitting metal brace, which compensates for her leg joints not working. Another abnormality that Tsekia possessed was empathy. While crows were usually focused on technological advancements, and their own paths and tasks, Tsekia seemed to have empathy. Her brain had been mutated so that it was slightly bigger, allowing room for an emotional sector. She hid this for most of her childhood, but it became both an asset and a hindrance later in life. She can interact with other species casually, unlike other crows, but she also cannot understand taboo. She doesn't seem to possess the ability to not say something that is on her mind. This has resulted in a lot of awkward situations, but most ignore it. She eventually, after leaving home, decided to become a tech scholar. She studied for years, and finally became qualified. Although, working as a crow tech scholar was awfully boring, when you crave social interaction. So, she left her home planet entirely, boarding a mercenary ship. The crew there consisted of two Hounds, a Felid, and a Human. She didn't fit in at all, but she was determined to break the mold and join the fight. She provided insight, and eventually got into fieldwork. The crew were surprised with her resilience, as she could withstand a fair bit of fighting before going down. She's been scarred and charred a few times. She's been shot at, and she's been shot. She almost died, once.

They were on a magma planet when it happened. Olio and Rali, the Hound brothers, stood at the front of the group, leading through the ragged rocks and heat that littered the earth. Tsekia flew above, scouting the land ahead for dangers, and calling out whenever a ravine was ahead. Paul, the human, and Reizkt the felid hung back from the Hounds, following behind and making sure they weren't being attacked. It was a sniper. They shot at Tsekia, and hit her wing, causing her to crash down to earth, sliding upon the rocky ground. Bruised and battered, she was unable to walk, let alone fly. The crew had to halt the mission, and slowly carried her back to the ship.

On the way back, the sniper fired again. Olio, sensing danger, leaped to protect Tsekia, at a dear cost. Tsekia blacked out then, so she couldn't remember a thing. All that she knew when she awoke, was that she was in their ship, Rali was crying, and Olio was dead.

Rali was sent into a deep mourning, and he eventually left the crew. Afterwards, nothing was the same, and the crew eventually disbanded. She carries the memory of that event with her permanently, and carries a distinct fondness to Canes in general. She also mimics Canes slightly, being bound to a code of morals more than others. After disbanding, she didn't really know what else to do, so she looked for another crew.

Notable Quotes:

"Oh. I don't really like you. Neither does she." (Habitual, she can't keep secrets)

"But we can't just leave him here! Even if he is going to die either way!"

"I'll remember this. I'll remember you. I'm not happy about it, but I'd rather do this than die a coward."

"Ha, ha, ha. That was a 'comedic' 'joke'. 'Funny'." (Habitual, she doesn't understand humor)

"I don't kill because I want to. I don't kill because I have to either. I kill, because there are people out there who would kill me without reason. And that is my reason to kill them."

Traits:Battle Hardened, Honor-bound, Deformed Leg (braced), Lucky Shot, Keen Eyes, Avid Explorer, Kind Soul.

Edited sheet a bit, added some things.

Improvements are improvements. Now, a detail that I missed otherwise. Crows lack all but the most rudimentary mirror neurons, which means their ability to intuit how someone else feels and empathize is greatly compromised, however, they still have a strong 'emotional sector' as you put it. It's just more like that of a high functioning individual with autism, frequently so strong and difficult to control that it's buried deeply- hidden, but hardly non-existent. I think you have the right idea, I'm just clarifying semantics.

Ah, alright. I'll clarify that then.

[Tiruin]

[...]
I think that's fine... Your writing style always makes me think of a series of minute curves, and I'm going to have to read that several more times. Height at the shoulder is the typical measure for neo-dogs and neo-cats, not height standing on hind legs, but that's the only thing that jumps out at the for the moment.

Eep! I'll be editing it in a couple hours from posting this message.
Also when you say height--you mean 'at the shoulder' pertaining to 'from all-fours, until the shoulder area'? ... Does that mean neo-dogs/cats are more quadripedal than bipedal? (And how does that tech harness work then .-.

Sorry for the messy sheet Draig!

[Draignean]

[...]
I think that's fine... Your writing style always makes me think of a series of minute curves, and I'm going to have to read that several more times. Height at the shoulder is the typical measure for neo-dogs and neo-cats, not height standing on hind legs, but that's the only thing that jumps out at the for the moment.

Eep! I'll be editing it in a couple hours from posting this message.
Also when you say height--you mean 'at the shoulder' pertaining to 'from all-fours, until the shoulder area'? ... Does that mean neo-dogs/cats are more quadripedal than bipedal? (And how does that tech harness work then .-.

Sorry for the messy sheet Draig!

Okay, as I mentioned earlier, the neo-races are NOT (except in the shape of the palette and small changes to the skull) anthropomorphic.

So, if you were to think of a neo-Dog, think something like the heavily built cross-breed of a german shepherd and an irish wolfhound. In all respects, it resembles a very large dog with a peculiarly shaped head. 

The tech harness is what allows the neo-races that don't have thumbs (I.e, literally everyone but Humans) to manipulate objects easily. A tech harness can take a variety of forms, from bio-integrated variants to simple strap on harnesses with attached prosthetics not much more advanced than current technology. For a neodog, the harness is usually looped about the chest and anchored solidly around the forelimbs. The harness will crest around the shoulders to preserve freedom of motion, and typically of between 1 and 4 utility arms of various strengths attached in various places.

Image example for neo-dolphin.

Think this:

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Not this: (FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, NOT THIS)

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

[Dwarmin]

Not this: (FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, NOT THIS)

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

[Tiruin]

Not this: (FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, NOT THIS)

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

D:

~SADIE~

I remember that one

The tech harness is what allows the neo-races that don't have thumbs (I.e, literally everyone but Humans) to manipulate objects easily. A tech harness can take a variety of forms, from bio-integrated variants to simple strap on harnesses with attached prosthetics not much more advanced than current technology. For a neodog, the harness is usually looped about the chest and anchored solidly around the forelimbs. The harness will crest around the shoulders to preserve freedom of motion, and typically of between 1 and 4 utility arms of various strengths attached in various places.

._.
This goes perfect with another idea drifting in my mind of a scout neo-dog.
...But I'll shift to human unless that other idea is feasible.

[Draignean]

Not this: (FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, NOT THIS)

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

D:

~SADIE~

I remember that one

The tech harness is what allows the neo-races that don't have thumbs (I.e, literally everyone but Humans) to manipulate objects easily. A tech harness can take a variety of forms, from bio-integrated variants to simple strap on harnesses with attached prosthetics not much more advanced than current technology. For a neodog, the harness is usually looped about the chest and anchored solidly around the forelimbs. The harness will crest around the shoulders to preserve freedom of motion, and typically of between 1 and 4 utility arms of various strengths attached in various places.

._.
This goes perfect with another idea drifting in my mind of a scout neo-dog.
...But I'll shift to human unless that other idea is feasible.

I don't know what the other idea is, so I can't tell you. Humans are certainly easier to think of from a human perspective, something I am mercifully unburdened by which occasionally gets me too.

[Tiruin]

I don't know what the other idea is, so I can't tell you. Humans are certainly easier to think of from a human perspective, something I am mercifully unburdened by which occasionally gets me too.

OK LET'S GO NEO-DOG INFILTRATOR.

Silly tip: The surname comes from mismashed naming and meaning, going around the idea of 'striving defender'.
I was silly with latin.

Spoiler: It's mostly the same sheet actually. (click to show/hide)

Name: Kesari Alessaei
Nickname: Kes / Kari
Gender: Female
Race: Wolf (Neo-Dog)
Age: 22
Profession: Scout-Surveyor (Infiltrator) // Physicist

Kes has brown to cream colored fur all over her body--lithe and toned in body structure for a person her size, with a general height of four feet exact, from paw to shoulder.

In her professional attire despite her fur, she is dressed from neck to toe covered in a dark-hued enviro-suit modified for her features, integrative with her outer fur; this clothing is more for formally addressing the commonly known hazardous external environment, focused on temperature and pressure control, inclusive with an internal temperature 'inner skin' allowing this garb to be worn despite her fur. The suit sports a thin, triangular-esque mantle curving around the clavicle region encircling the frontal arms, with miniature connecting ducts at the neck: these ducts act as ionizing ports directed upwards akin to the curvature of a hood, projecting a field not existing on the visible light spectrum controlled by a worn circlet; rather than utilize a helmet, this circlet is modified with miniature collapsible parts to fit the wearer's head, providing the same benefits as a protective helmet towards miniscule weather effects when activated along with the mantle, completely sealing the wearer from outside climate. The suit itself has built-in power systems, relying on kinetic power, with its micro-fibrous weave designed around the common anatomical joints and muscle bundles--Kesari's tail being a major point of power generation: Given this nature, the suit was built to be form-fitting, not limiting the wearer from any further outfitting such as external armor or radiation-protective devices. Technically, Kes' professional attire was meant to act as a multi-purpose surveying apparatus which would perform readibly with a prolonged durability in hazardous weather or against impacts from terrain (from particle to blunt force trauma), whether the air be mildly to moderately toxic, arid, humid, or gaseous, with reinforcements taken against abrupt kinetic forces and impact--it is no replacement for long-term work within a vacuum despite its limited ability to provide an internal air source. She has customized her suit outwardly to act as her casual garb if need be--decorated with line patterns and stylistic details to appease the eye rather than leave her suit in monotonous shades, despite its dark tone and mechanical texture. She wears a satchel bag as an aside, compartmentalized to hold her needs in the field, ranging from omni-oculars for distance scouting, to packed rations, to the mundane and respectable pencil and integrated datapad. Her suit also provides a 'sticky-select' pattern along and around the region of the paws, able to cling to surfaces either by the microscopic weave or by static-kinetic interference, enabling Kesari to vault and run along inclined surfaces, and at high speeds able to run parallel to walls, taking up a considerable amount of force and muscle power to continue traction. The suit itself and its related components are noted to be able to still be modified by a skilled technician--with Kesari only knowledgeable in extensive repair and maintenance of its own fabrication.

A tech-harness has been modified to suit her needs, thought of as a gauntlet-pattern in the making, positioned right before all four paws and surrounding the backside and lateral portions, allowing fine manipulation akin to humanoid dexterity, however requiring direct personal visual observation to adjust and position--the lack of "muscle memory" in precise positioning being made up for by optical guidance: The circlet as mentioned earlier is as much as important as the suit itself, acting as a 'command center' to various functions of Kes' abilities.

Kes is introverted by nature--her personality showing in her grace, posture, and demeanor, having a relaxed yet open body language, unlikely at all to appear intimidating at first glance and generally giving off the lacking reputation her kin are so well-known for, which usually worked to her disadvantage given her height.

It would feel a lifetime ago when Kesari completed her degree in Physics, becoming an eminent teacher within those who charted and progressed through the stars on their voidships of ancient and monumental lore -- Kesari was adopted at birth, not knowing her biological parents--but treated without any difference from those who had chosen to raise her, from childhood to an educated start amongst the humble origins of a trade station linked alongside an observation station revolving around an arid planet, tasked with both monitoring the parallax of several stars, planets, and systems around the known edges of space, and provisioning colonists and traveling groups. It felt like a lifetime ago when Kesari didn't have to think of survival and threat on her plate of daily living, when mathematical conundrums intertwined with philosophical adages occupied her 'most life-threatening' list.

It was a lifetime ago when she was raised among humans, with the population density of the society around her and the technology aside giving her quite an open-minded eye to the small patch of the galaxy she lived in. She was treated like a human, with her thoughts recognized, albeit communication in a non-verbal way being the preferred norm.

She had never envisioned being a mercenary when she trained as part of the station militia--as she thought the protection of those she cared about would be her humble gift back onto them. She had never thought she could apply her analytical mind to the projectile motion of a supporting sniper team, or arranging and organizing logistics for distribution of labor and goods to the masses the station serviced in the planets that created its web of trade. She had not expected that in time, lucrative word would entail pirating raids and capture of the living. She had expected to die in honor and in service to those she spent her life with--she hadn't expected to be taken as a slave to be sold off, humiliated further just by living when the rest of her command and most of her colleagues did not.

Granted, she didn't expect being bought at a 'fairly cheap price' (their words, not the seller) by a military tech-designer either, escaping the clutches of black market dealings with only physical and superficial scars of captivity. She had not expected further, that the designer was one of her first human students who had grown into a small-time producer of prototypical goods along the frontier. Needless to say, they had spent most of their initial capital in finding test subjects which required subsets of skills focusing on one's physical and mental prowess, and Kes was the first subject they had come across--the only thing asked of her in return was dedication to utilizing what is given to her for the benefit of those around her--performing a myriad number of tasks she knew she could perform under the guise of working for (instead of mutually with) an employer who sought to go against the corruption seeding and rooting itself in the advance of frontier planning. Her height was also a big factor in downplaying her age; little would come by the looks of someone like her when cast in full body armor or any obscuring livery. Her 'contract' was 'terminated' and she was granted 'freedom' after testing the "environmental protection"-suit she wears now, as continuous contact would endanger their professional relationship given the delicate nature of stability and wantonness of a long-term service plan and her blackmarket origin (their words, not hers). Dropped off at one of the central areas of commerce, trade, and otherwise, after a long talk about how returning to her previous life or where she lived was 'a non-zero chance due primarily to external factors', she spent the last few days with her friend before they parted ways, with them reminiscing about her values and drive which inspired others, and with her now working as an independent mercenary.

"Death ends a life, nothing else does; never give up if you can help it."
"I wonder if those others can see how beautiful life is; the wonder of thought, and every minutiae. It's something to ponder."
"All the galaxy can be full of suffering. It is also full of overcoming."
"Anything can adapt given the time, necessity, and effort."
"I could live a thousand lifetimes, but I will only remember what will go on now in this one."

Perceptive
Tireless
Inventive
Energetic
Persevering
Agile
Mathematician
Disciplined
Altruistic

I don't know what the other idea is, so I can't tell you. [...]

Why I mentioned my character in the background of Physics is utilization of sonar amplification/pressure in their work--either to disrupt or cause 'ventriloquism' at a far distance (ie 100m or so) and aid to 'silence' her movements, with the initial idea being a kind of long-range communication without reliance on radio waves (as it also amplifies her voice or bark doubling as a weapon). Probably dropping in SASER technology and the like. Or utilizing phonons in this advanced age of technology for a myriad number of utilitarian purposes. :x I imagined her originally utilizing a weapon until that large note of your post back there, however ballistics and such are difficult to imagine without opposable thumbs, however seemingly possible. So the physics of sound waves from a device that picks up the vibrations of her vocal chords resulting in sound amplification, modification, and even utilization of such to translation into mechanized languages to coordinate with receiving machines seemed like a good idea, even in the context of all those other sentences written up there. But I've no idea if I should insert that in due to describing a character limits...which are unknown to me.

Or I could just go as a human scout-sniper. >_>

So yeah. My Neo-dog is limited in physical manipulation and relies heavily on tech. I would expound more on vocalization but by that point I already feel it's an augmentation :<
How do neo-species speak anyway?

[hops]

It's really hard trying to think up a nickname for an Aesthete. They probably won't appreciate something intimidating.

[Harry Baldman]

It's really hard trying to think up a nickname for an Aesthete. They probably won't appreciate something intimidating.

Think of a cheesy nickname you'd give a yuppie. That's the kind of nickname an aesthete should have.

Well, either that or something insufferably artsy.