Keeping track without a reference is a bit confusing.
I am reinstituting an old half-rule: Everyone, please post your character's name (or what they are commonly called) and race at the top of your actions for a while, so everyone can get a feel for each other.I look down and shuffle my feet a little while I reply.
"Um, it's more complicated for me. My oil gets sticky and catches sand and dust in hot dusty places like this, so its best to wash it all out and replace it periodically, helps prevent jams. But, um, I can't really reach inside myself to get really clean and re-oiled right. So... I need someone else to help me.
I look up at him hopefully.
((note: normal gun oil has issues in extreme hot or cold environments, in hot environments it gets super sticky and collects particles, eventually causing jams, though it takes a while for that to occur, in extreme cold environments it gets really thick and gums up the weapon, no longer serving as a lubricant, again, causing jams. there are special lubricants used for each case, however they aren't quite as good as normal gun oil in temperate environments. still gets the job done just fine though.))
Her controller blinks at her rapidly for a moment.
"You know, it can be rather unsettling to hear such things from such a form. Ah well, whatever. Get the oil from the armorer and we'll get you into top working condition." And the n the guy below clunks in and asks how he can help.
Thank the gnomes for the thorough scrubbing, then find the nearest Omega officer and ask how I can help around here. If nobody can be found, just start reading some random stuff in the library, if we even have one.
Nearest Omega Officer eh? Alright, you walk in on the tableau above: a small human child asking an officer to reach up inside her and get her unjammed. He turns to you with a thoughtful expression.
"What do you know about the care and maintenance of high caliber projectile firearms and edged weaponry?"Approach her in as nonthreatening a manner as possible
"Hello miss...errr...what is your name? You can call me the Eater of Sorrows, or Vladen, what ever you want."
(5) She looks up at you slowly. After a moment, one side of her mouth quirks up slightly.
"My name? I lost that long ago, before I even joined Omega, I think. I am known as Sona these days. Probably from my screams. Ah ... Vladen, was it? I'm sorry, have we met?"((How I into new character sheet??))
Still using thrips?
hmm. here's a mock-up of your character as a more or less direct transfer
magic affinity: undetermined - probably mind - obscurity as a way do describe how he has the ability to sort of disappear from the mind's eye and be unnoticed)
body: weak
strength -2
stamina 0
con +2
movement: basic
speed: +2
Dex: 0
Agility: 0
Mind: basic
intelligentce: 0
memory: 0
intuition: o
Spirit: basic
Will: +2
charisma: -2
magic: -2
Melee: basic (natural 0, unnatural +2, magical -2)
Ranged: basic (natural 0, unnatural 0, magical 0)
Medical: basic (natural 0, unnatural 0, magical 0)
General Knowledge: apprentice
Specializations: basic (3 slots)
baking, hiding, stealth/sneaking
((Yeah, Thrips. I can't make heads or tails of that convoluted mess (especially the combat skills - what does "unnatural" mean? With a weapon? I was also pretty sure I'd dumped at least some points into my "mind" attributes, though I could be misremembering), but I'm sure it's close enough.
I don't want any dang "magic affinity", though. You tryna pull a Bethesda on me or what? ))
Where am I, and what's been going on?
You are standing absently in line at the Temporary Omega Census Station, waiting to be counted and acknowledged as "Omega Personnel, alive, present." Many things have been going on - the near total evacuation of Omega Base, the teleportaion of an Artifact Of Great Power, and an entire city, the Reshaping of Omega Base, and a few weird magical alterations that seem to have effected every Omega in some way, changing, clarifying ,confounding and in some cases practically rewriting their powers. Also, the food has been just atrocious lately - mostly hard tack and fatback, gruel, and something crunchy that probably wasn't supposed to be crunchy.
Welcome home.
Feet pitter-pattering on the hot sandy sandstone ground of Omega, a small squeak as they hear a hiss from a nearby rock, retracting their foot, angular inhuman legs pattering back. Ratty tail swaying back and forth as black eyes scan their surrounding's, a confidence of a sorts being placed over their surprise for a mere moment. Their stride strong and straightforward as they straighten up and begin to take a trek on over to somewhere.
Aqua Gambonson unpadded and worthless. A sheath missing a weapon and ten coins jingling in a small pouch. The creamy skinned doe allowing a smile to flicker. Tone surprisingly deep for one of their kind, but holding a squeakyness all the same.
Head to the Armory, Purchase Light Armor, Purchase basic melee weapon, preferably a sword or something that can be sheathed.
"Hay..."
Black eyes staring at the androgynous confusing armorer a small frustrated squeak leaving their lips, cream fur being ruffled by hands grooming for a quick moment of relief. Before continuing.
Mind fix-in this here, gambasan right up for this doe? Gatting me a sticker of sort'z to zl'ip into this here scheath?
THe armorer, a great block of a ...person, clomps over toward you, short, square arms unmoving at its sides as its several legs swivel in their sockets, propeling the thing forward. it peers at you via three square slots on the front of its carapace - you presume it is looking at you, and these are the only features you can discern. It's multihued translucent skin reflects and refracts light smoothly, giving it the appearance of being lit from inside. It tilts slightly as it scans you. Then speaks:
"Wait." It turns around - this takes about ten seconds) and then slowly disappears through a gate. The gate shuts as if on it's own accord. Minutes later, the geometric being returns and lays a package before you on the counter.
"One Armor. Sized to your stature. Thick. Padded. One sword. Sized to your stature. Well balanced. Keen edge. Ten coin."Light Armor and Short Sword acquired. When worn, the light armor grants a +1 to rolls on the constitution substat. Mark that in parenthesis beside your stat (armor, +1)
Take a detour and slowly clomp my way over to the good-smelling food.
the food is eventually set down on the floor of the arena. It takes you some effort and concentration to hobble down the tiered aisle, wings raised nearly vertical in an attempt to balance. You sniff the food a few times again, just to make sure. It drips fresh blood.
Say hi.
"Hi. Name's Bruford. Made of iron."
Dev responded to this, so I don't have to. By the by, it IS you and Tric here with Freddie. Spaz is off elsewhere chatting with your recent target.
Approach her in as nonthreatening a manner as possible
"Hello miss...errr...what is your name? You can call me the Eater of Sorrows, or Vladen, what ever you want."
"Haa.."
Sigh and shake my head at his antics.
You watch the Dragon clomp down the stairs, and sigh and shake your head at THE IRON GOLEM, Bruford's silly self-introduction, before pausing tothink about it a moment.
Can the dragon understand greetings and names and stuff?
if the kid dares come near me, try to entertain him
You kinda wander around Omega, looking at what plantlife there is, before an odd gnome accosts you.
"You there, come with me." He insists. Bored, you follow. "Do you have any herbs, old-timer?" You ask as you are led into an arena where Tric and Bruford are standing. "Oh, Hi Freddie. Nice to see you up and about. I thought you were dead." (1 )you attempt to dance for him, but Bruford kinda blocks his view of you so all Freddie sees is one arm awkwardly waving behind Bruford's leg. You suddenly remember that it IS Bruford, and take several hasty steps backward, judging his height verses your distance to him. You are nearly across the arena before you feel reasonably safe.