[OOC/SIGNUP] Perfidy

Copied from my old message, will tweak later


Name: Hardhat PER-03604 “John Henry”

Age: Approximately 250 years since first assembled

Gender: N/A; referred to as male

Race: Original Generation IndusTech “Hardhat” Construction Robot (B-107 Demolitions Variant)

Appearance:


Role: The B-107 Variant of the Hardhat robot is designed for heavy demolitions, equipped to handle large quantities of dynamite and cutting machinery for architectural foundation work, digging mine shafts, removing large obstructions, and other jobs that require high-risk application of explosive force.

Strengths:

Built to Last – The original generation of Hardhats that greeted the first colonists earned a new reputation after outperforming the newer colonial androids in the face of Perfidy’s many dangers. Hardhats have been resilient against the conditions of Perfidy long before modern manufacturers started catching up, and still have a strong lead on other industrial androids in this regard.

Industrious – Once a Hardhat sets its sights on a task there is little that can be done to stop it from its task. Many Hardhats show evidence that they were attacked by g’ard or caught in dust storms and simply kept on with their tasks, ignoring the distractions and carrying on with their precise workmanship.

Flaws:

Obsolete – Having been deployed nearly 150 years before the arrival of the colonists, there is only so much that software upgrades can do. While Hardhats have survived remarkably well on Perfidy they are still extremely outdated models, and are not compatible with state-of-the-art interfaces.

Artificial Stupidity – Hardhats were some of mankind’s earliest forays into the realms of androids and artificial intelligence, and while they are fairly effective at doing their jobs and can adapt to simple tasks, they are not truly sentient and are difficult to communicate with.

Personality: John Henry is something of a one-track mind; while he has learned to carry on simple conversations and can avoid danger he is still a very old machine and tends to focus all of his attentions on his work.

Bio: Old and steady, it’s believed by most locals that John Henry has seen and done more in his expansive lifetime than almost anyone else walking the surface of Perfidy. It’s a shame that most of these stories are locked away behind the dull, cracked eye of an obsolete hunk of construction equipment.

One of the original generation Hardhats that laid the foundations for the Union colonists, John Henry was designed for demolitions, blasting away at the barren landscape to make stable foundations for buildings that would later prove unsafe and impractical for the ever-mobile lifestyle adapted by the settlers. In these years before the first colonists, John Henry and the other Hardhats dealt with harsh conditions, dust storms, violent encounters with the g’ard, and every single item on Perfidy’s long list of catastrophic conditions long before human beings ever laid eyes on it.

After the arrival of the settlers John Henry and the other Hardhats found service among the settlers who needed all the help they could get. When the ‘flying rock’ approach to settlements arose John Henry found himself and other B-107s in extremely high demand for their demolition expertise that was important for installing thrusters and treads into solid rock formations.

As with all Hardhats surviving as long as he has, John Henry has a long history on Perfidy as a jack-of-all-trades, typically doing construction work, transportation, and bodyguard jobs. Lately however, more durable military, architectural, and diplomatic androids have started putting Hardhats out of work; their extreme durability no longer the massive advantage it once was in the face of newer artificial intelligence.

Gear: The B-107 Variant is outfitted with a heavily reinforced chamber designed for the storage of dynamite, and its elongated forearms function as powerful jackhammers. The hands, as with all Hardhats, are too claw-like and bulky to allow for use of human firearms without heavy modification to the trigger mechanisms, but can manipulate or throw objects.

John Henry has attached a backpack to his chassis for additional carrying capacity; while he has little needs in the wilderness the water, food, and medicine sentient companions often have need of can be heavy, so he uses this added storage to ease their burdens.

Name:
Countess Bovine
Age:
32
Gender:
Snobby wench, a rare subspecies of female. 
Race:
The Moosians: The Moosians seemed doomed from the start to be the laughing stock of the galaxy. Not only did they resemble the cattle mankind was familiar with finding and slaughtering on Earth, but their chosen name of Moosian only added to the comparison by including the phrase "moo" in their title. As such, the Moosians are typically very adamant about the fact that they are not cows and will most likely hit you if they refer to them as such (and it should be noted that they hit quite hard). The Moosians typically stand taller than a human, with the average Moosian standing almost seven feet tall, with horns on their heads. Without the aid of weapons, a Moosian will typically rely on their strong legs and horns in combat, and they have thick enough skulls to make headbutting a very effective form of attack. Most humans are not welcome into Moosian society, but there are a few of their kind who like to mingle with the galaxy's other races. Moosian society is very maternal, with the majority of power resting in the women. And before you ask, yes, Moosians have udders just like the cows on Earth, but they would never show them off in public. 
Appearance:



Unlike the majority of her kind who have been blessed with the bounties of motherhood, the Countess is fairly thin and short, standing at a mere 6 feet and 6 inches tall. Still much taller than the average human, but most members of her kind look down on her both physically and metaphorically. The Countess puts great effort into maintaining her appearance, including keeping her hair in perfect condition at all times. The Countess's appearance frequently changes as she uses a plethora of very poor disguises when out in the field. 

Role:
The countess is a horrible actress with absolutely no training or natural ability enhancing her, for lack of a better term, "skills." That being said, being a self-proclaimed actress is better than not being an actress at all, and as such the Countess does have her uses on a mission. She may utilize one of her disguises to fool a guard into thinking she is somebody else, or trick an hostile alien race that she is actually one of them. If there is one real talent the countess possesses, it is that she is a natural when it comes to various languages, meaning that she is often used as a translator for the group. Furthermore, while the Countess is far from a skilled combatant, her sheer size and strength allows her to overpower most humans with ease. This quality of hers is only made stronger by her very short temper. 

Bio:
Most Moosian woman are destined solely to be mother, which is something that the Countess wanted nothing to do with. That is not to say that there is any shame in being a mother; far from it, as mothers are revered throughout Moosian society and are treated like goddesses by their people. However, try as she might, the Countess could never picture herself staying at home and watching over a bunch of snot-nosed brats while the men got to go out and explore. Instead, the Countess found herself fascinated by the stage and wanted nothing less than to be an actress! As such, with nothing in her possession but a few crappy romance films on tape, the Countess left her family and her people behind to try and become a star! 

Unfortunately, as you probably could have guessed from the fact that she accepted work that had to do with investigating a derailed train, her career path was not successful. In fact, most people would describe it as a miserable failure. There were many reasons for this of course. Since the majority of Perfidy was ruled over by humans, most of her potential audience members had no interest in a Moosian taking to the stage. Furthermore, without any formal training, the Countess was, in polite terms, a horrid actress. The only necessary quality she was not lacking was passion, as the Countess would take literally any acting opportunity that came her way, but she failed at every one. Now, before you start feeling too bad for her, it should be noted that much of the Countess's failure was self-imposed. There were many acting troupes in the area interested in training a female Moosian, a rarity on the stage, to be an actress, but the Countess was so confident in her abilities that she refused every single one of their offers. She even began calling herself the Countess purely because she liked how fancy it sounded. The Countess was, and always shall be, a solo act. 

And so here she was. While nobody was willing to hire her as an actress, they were those willing to hire a Moosian purely for their brute strength. The Countess views this demeaning work as merely a setback and is convinced that her big break is right around the corner. Besides, she would most likely get to do a lot of traveling on this job. Perhaps she will finally find an audience intelligent enough to enjoy her craft? At the very least, the other people she'd be traveling with would serve well as a captive audience. 

Strengths:


Gift of Gab: The Countess can't read a single line on stage without practically devouring the scenery, but off stage she is actually a very skilled talker. Having traveled the world, there are few languages that the Countess is not at least somewhat familiar with, meaning that she is a great translator for the group. In addition, years of watching whatever crappy soap operas she can get her hands on has made the Countess a natural at reading body language and social cues. In other words, she can often guess what others are thinking just by one look at their face. Finally, while the Countess is a horrid actress, she does have a host of disguises she can use to pretend to be someone else on a mission. 

Bull-zerker Rage: You mess with the bovine, you get the horns. The Countess has little patience and has enough strength to do some serious damage to anyone who pushes her buttons. Typically, the Countess will claim that she is above fighting, but if anyone rubs her the wrong way she will headbutt them so hard that they might be driven underground. 

Flaws:


Narcissystem: The only way that the Countess has been able to disregard her failure as an actress is by creating the false idea that she is actually so good that nobody can appreciate her brilliance. In other words, she thinks that she is better than everyone else and will rarely heed their advice. And lord help you if you try to explain to her that now would be a bad time to break into song. All the world's a stage in her mind, meaning that there is never a bad time for a spontaneous song and dance number!

Useless: The Countess has devoted so much of her time honing her craft (a.k.a., watching bad romances) that she has never taken the time to learn how to take care of herself. She had no idea how to cook. She can't keep her butt in a saddle. She jumps in fright every time a gun goes off (even her own). By all accounts, the Countess would be dead by now were it not for sheer dumb luck. 

Personality:
The Countess is a woman of many faces and voices, and none of them you want to hear. Despite her lack of talent, the Countess is convinced that she is god's gift to acting, when in reality she may very well be Satan's curse upon the theater. She is the worst kind of arrogant; the kind that has literally nothing to back up her boasting. She also has a quick temper and can snap if someone so much as looks at her the wrong way (she got her job because she nearly snapped the recruiter's neck after he failed to compliment her hair). Typically, the Countess is an extrovert, and her mere presence is typically so obnoxious that everyone around her becomes more introverted as a result. 


Gear:
A plethora of ill-fitting and poorly sewn disguises are her main traveling gear. Sure, she could use her considerable strength to help the group by carrying weapons and other supplies, but her costume collection is far more important. "Oh darling, I'm sure it would be great if I helped you carry that bag, but that is not my role." She also has a collection of some of the galaxy's worst films that she was able to obtain for cheap because most of mankind regards them as trash. 

Weapons:
Her personality. Oh yeah, and some shotgun thing she keeps in her backpack. At first she thought it was a prop and was shocked when it actually fired off into the crowd when she was using it on stage! She rarely uses it though, because it is way too loud (as guns tend to be) and it feels too cold against her hands. And don't you dare suggest that the Countess covers her wondrous fingers in something as garish as gloves. 

Other Equipment:
The Countess has made plenty of money selling a strange "Elixir" that she claims can cure any disease in the world. Heck, it can even cause them if you give it to someone you hate! In reality, the elixer is just milk that the Countess occasionally produces, but its taste is so foreign to humans that it is rarely identified as such by her customers. 

Someone needs to carry all the loot and it may as well be an industrial robot!



Reynolds looks like he'll have his work cut out for him dealing with this lot of vagabonds. All looks good 



I'm sure a thespian like the Countess will be right at home in the desert. Hopefully nobody is lactose intolerant...



Cool Burg! I'll shoot you some extra g'ard-related info regarding the planet once the RP's closer to launch 

Sign up is now complete.



Name: Savannah Georgia
Age: 26
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Appearance:
(Source)

Bio: Savannah was born and raised on Perfidy. She grew up in the small town of Dustbowl, a haven to outlaws and bandits who roam the dusty surface of the world. Her father was a notorious bandit around Perfidy, keeping her family afloat through constant robberies, ransoms, and bounties as opposed to the more honest work of the world. Despite her father's less than legal means of making a living, Savannah always looked up to the man who brought in the money to support herself and her mother. 

Growing up, Savannah never had any problem getting what she wanted. Even from a young age she knew how to manipulate people, especially her mother, to getting what she always wanted. Whether it was a new hat, a pistol, or a new speeder bike, she always found a way to convince her mother to go to the city and buy it for her. Savannah nearly bankrupted her family several times through her abuse of this power, but she always came out the other side with a shiny new toy to play with and rarely cared. She had become very spoiled, as even when her family was struggling to survive, they never made her give up the things that she had or sell them to help support the family. She hadn't known what a good day's work had looked like, and her father had to start taking bigger risks and attempting bigger heists to keep his wife and daughter going. 

When Savannah was a teenager, her father was found by the local authorities, and taken into custody. With all of the crimes he had committed, her father was sentenced to death. Realizing that not only was the man she looked up to in trouble, she was also about to be cut-off and no longer able to get the things she wanted, she took matters into her own hands. She seduced the sheriff in charge of her father's case in order to try and convince him to release her father. It had worked, and as soon as the sheriff had made the phone call to release her father, Savannah grabbed the man's service weapon and shot him. However, it didn't take long for the local authorities to find her, and cornered her. Trapped, disadvantaged, and unsure of how to get herself out of this, Savannah found herself at the mercy of the officers before her. It was only when her recently-released father found her that she would be able to get out of it. Thanks to her father's intervention, Savannah would escape, but it would cost the life of her father. Unwilling to also risk the life of her mother, Savannah fled Dustbowl, and never went back.

For the first time in her life, Savannah found herself alone and unsure of what to do with herself. However, that all changed when she ran into a travelling merchant, who she was easily able to convince to give her some supplies and a speeder. Realizing that her skill set could get her far across the deserts of Perfidy, Savannah had found herself a way to survive. By using people. After luring the poor merchant into the middle of the desert, she shot him with one of the pulse revolvers she had just taken from him, took everything she could carry from the merchant's crawler, and sped off into the sunset on her new speeder bike. 

For the last 10 or so years, Savannah has managed to carve out a living on this dusthole by manipulating people to her will and getting the things she wants from them, much like she used to do with her parents as a child. The only way she's ever known how.

Role: Savannah is good at using her... "assets" to get what she wants. She uses her charm, good looks, and overly seductive mannerisms to manipulate people (of all genders, she doesn't discriminate) to her will. She has learned over time that sex appeal kills, in her case quite literally, as once she gets what she wants from the person she is manipulating, she often has no problem putting a energy blast through their skull. 
Strengths:

She's a Maneater: Savannah is an attractive girl, and she knows it. She is excellent at using her attractiveness to her advantage, and manipulating people to her will. She can string people along for as long as she needs to get what she wants, and has no problem letting other people do the dirty work for her.

That Don't Impress Me Much: Not only is Savannah good at manipulating people, she's also good at reading situations and knowing when someone is trying to turn the game against her. She doesn't easily fall for tricks others use on her, and she isn't easily impressed by other people. 
Flaws:

Bitch: Savannah's line of work doesn't leave her with many friends, and that makes her come across as a kind of a bitch. She's more likely to make potential allies into enemies than the other way around, and she is a very hard person to trust, given how she manipulates people.

Damsel In Distress: Savannah might be good at manipulating people, but she isn't very strong. If she's ever in a situation where she's outnumbered or cornered, she doesn't have many ways out of it. She often finds herself needing rescue if things don't go as planned, and she isn't very good at getting out of sticky situations without help, which, with her lack of friends, doesn't always come.
Personality:

On the surface, Savannah is a bubbly, flirty, and seemingly friendly person. She has a confidence about her that draws people in, and she knows how to use that confidence to get what she wants. She has no problem flaunting what she has, which in turn attracts many people to her. She appears to be a very genuine and friendly person to most who interact with her. 

However, underneath, she is cold, cunning, and manipulative. She knows how to use people to get what she wants and doesn't have much regard for who she hurts doing it. This has left her very alone for most of her life, which has at times gotten her into trouble, especially since she isn't the strongest person in the world. She doesn't know how to handle situations when she isn't the one in control, and she often finds herself unsure of what to do when things don't go as planned. 

Gear:
Weapons: Savannah much prefers others do her bidding rather than get in the muck herself, but she's smart enough to know that it never hurts to have something in case things go wrong. She carries a pair of pulse revolvers in case gunslinging becomes necessary, but she's not the greatest shot in the world. She more often than not uses them to dispose of loose ends rather than in an actual fight.
Other Equipment: Savannah doesn't carry much with her, other than some food and water, as well as some beauty aids. She does, however, roam Perfidy on her speeder bike to get from Point A to Point B faster. 

Name: Zarine al-Zawahi
Age: 44
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Appearance:



Source

Role: Zair sells out her services as a survival expert, someone well-accustomed to the harshness of Perfidy who can keep newbies alive as they first step into the unforgiving expanse. After a decade on this rock, she’s adapted quite well from life as a soldier to that of a drifter; she jokes occasionally about being a Mercenary Survivalist, selling her services as part guide, part local expert, and part bodyguard to the scant new arrivals who set out from Canyon into the wild plains..

Bio: Once upon a time on the far-off planet Kelwona, at the edge of what could be considered human civilization, there used to be a little girl named Zarine, living in her pleasant little hometown with a family that eked out a rough but decent existence. They weren’t rich, they weren’t poor, they didn’t have much luxury, but they didn’t starve or shiver in the cold at night. An okay life, all-around, turned on its head when a pirate raid in her 17th year alive turned the town into the site of a massacre. The little girl who’d never really faced tremendous struggle got to watch as her home was burned to the ground, her family slaughtered before her very eyes.

But when it was the little girl’s turn to meet her maker, she was spared such an ignoble end. For from the skies above, fire rained, and the bandit raiders who had ravaged her home were themselves ravaged by the arrival of the Kelwonan Militia. Men and women trained in combat and wielding great weapons of war annihilated the marauders in mere minutes. Out of the steel and flames that seared down from below, the knife held to Zarine’s neck was pulled away by the most beautiful thing she’d ever witnessed: a fair-skinned young woman with hair as red as the fires raging around them descended from the sky in her mighty powered armor, destroying all those who threatened the teenager cowering in sheer awe. In the worst moment of her life, that Knight in Power Armor kept her safe, and soon whisked an enchanted young lady away in her arms, bringing her to safety away from the ruins of her home.

Sarah MacLeod was barely two years older than the girl she’d just saved from a certain demise, a passionate Scotswoman eager thundering with patriotism for their far-flung homeworld. In her first battle, her exemplary performance had only served to amplify her passion for protecting Kelwona from attack, the girl who she’d saved serving as a stark reminder of exactly why she had signed on to fight. The subsequent night, as the town’s survivors were cared for and the militia stayed on watch for further attacks, Sarah and Zarine talked on end, an immediate bond apparent from the circumstances of their first encounter. Sarah was full of excitement, hopelessly dedicated to being a paragon of virtue who would keep her new acquaintance safe, Zarine was so utterly lost with her family’s death that she latched onto her savior with a vise-like grip… and they were both so young and raging with hormones that the night they spent embracing each other under the stars seemed, in retrospect, like a foregone conclusion.

Bereft of a home or a purpose outside of the woman who had so suddenly stolen away with her heart, Zair enlisted in the militia, hoping to learn how to keep others safe from suffering the same fate whilst doing her best to stay with Sarah’s unit. What started as a fling between a failly noble soldier and the innocent girl she’d rescued soon grew into a bond between two warriors, of admittedly a different level of skill - though the gap soon closed as Zair, under the tutelage of a woman she was rapidly falling in love with, proved to be an excellent fighter, able to keep her head cool in battle and land most of her shots successfully. A mix of passion for her partner in battle, camaraderie with other soldiers who’d lost just as much, and the simple desire for revenge on those who had taken so much from her molded that little girl into one hell of a soldier.

And maybe that’s where it started to go downhill, isn’t it? Right there, in her early 20s, what seemed at first like the best time of her life. She thought she’d turned her trauma into something good, that the horrific circumstances at the start of her adult life had switched around into a job where she excelled, into a new family that sought to keep other families safe and sound. She’d become a bit of a Knight herself, charging into battle alongside the woman who soon took her name following a hasty wedding beautiful for how haphazard and passionate it was, something real and raw instead of a pompous and overwrought event. Zarine was telling herself before she went to bed every night with her fierce Valkyrie of a betrothed that she was living a good life.

Maybe she was. Maybe she wasn’t. It’s hard to tell looking back. All she can remember is the cracks that started to form. She wouldn’t tell anyone, not even herself, but as time dragged on, as her kill count ticked ever upward, as the occasional massacre happened despite their best efforts… she was falling apart. Everyone around Zair would remark that she held together so well, that she could stare death in the face without even blinking. Maybe she could, but when the staring contest was over and she was back in the comfort of her bed, the greatest fight was to not cry, to not break down into a thousand quivering pieces as a the images of a thousand corpses flashed across her mind. When she got out of the shower, Sarah saw a freshly-cleaned lover - Zair saw hands still soaked in blood no matter how hard she scrubbed them down.

She can’t pin down the exact moment when she decided to leave. It wasn’t some spur of the moment decision, made in a flurry of especially intense emotions. Just…. years, long years of looking over at her wife every night, ashamed at how this amazing woman came home to a spouse who could barely hold it together anymore. And one night, after over a decade of fermenting over the concept, she just…left. A quiet departure in the middle of night, slipping away from base with nobody the wiser. Not even a note left behind or even a final kiss on the cheek. Just vanishing off to who even know where.

She ran, and like most runners these days, she landed on Perfidy. Compared to the temperate forests of Kelowan, it was an absolute shithole, a miserable rock that never should have been colonized in the first place. And… that was good. That was where she needed to be. A harsh, unforgiving planet where you never stopped running, never stopped moving at any point lest you meet your end. She settled here, as much as one can ‘settle’ in a world such as this. She learned how to survive, how to keep yourself alive on a planet where existing was a challenge just on its own.

A decade later, she hasn’t changed much. She moves from rock to rock, supporting herself through whatever work comes across. It’s a dull existence punctuated by only the occasional firefight or horrific duster, moving constantly between dunes and plains that all blend together into a miasma of dust, sand, and broken dreams. At times, she’ll think about leaving again… and then look at the person whose love she betrayed, and decide that continuing to eke out this droll existence is exactly what a coward like her should be doing.

Strengths:

A mile wide...: Proving to be a perfectly capable woman both physically and mentally, Zair is put together in all the right ways to be able to get by on Perfidy. Some lasting commitment to maintaining exercise has kept her lean, fit, and even rather muscular in her time on this rock, and she’s learned to both keep herself fed off the land and perform maintenance on rickety machinery, subsisting herself and ensuring her equipment survives the harshness of this planet. She’s flexible enough to be a reliable asset in most situations.

Looks can be deceiving...: Underneath the roughshod exterior, Zarine is still a good person. She won’t tell you that, and you may not pick up on it for quite a while, but the girl who joined up with a militia to defend her home, that drive to keep others safe just as her own Knight in Powered Armor kept her alive so long ago, still burns underneath that increasingly scarred exterior. If it didn’t, she wouldn’t be out here, trying to keep pioneer safe and sound.

Flaws:

...and an inch deep: Proving to have few specializations either physically or mentally, Zair is a woman who’s become a Jack of All Trades, but a Master of None. A last commitment to maintaining exercise has turned an unfocused mess of dedication to her old diet routine that keeps her in decent overall shape without the kind of exceptional endurance, strength, or toughness that becomes necessary in extraordinary times, and her meager skills in farming, scavenging, and repairing old equipment are only enough for her current work, far too undeveloped to be relied upon when specialization is needed. When push comes to shove and you need an individual of exceptional skill, she’ll let you down every time.

...and not in a good way: Underneath the roughshod exterior, Zarine is still a coward. She won’t tell you that, and you may not pick up on it for quite a while, but the girl who couldn’t face the ghosts of those whose lives she ended, that drive to flee from her Knight in Powered Armor for fear that her beloved would be ashamed of the mess she was becoming, still burns underneath that rude, isolated, utterly mannerless exterior. If it didn’t, she wouldn’t be out here, wasting away her life on this miserable rock.

Personality: Zair is such a contradiction that she barely knows how to describe herself anymore. For all the good she’s tried to do, in spite of all the times she put her life on the line to protect the innocent or risked everything she cared about for what seemed like the right thing, she’s demonstrated total fear and cowardice, running away from her old life and abandoning her military service in favor of a less-than-ideal existence eked out in the wilderness of Perfidy. She talks fondly to rare friends of the wife she never technically divorced, describing a boundless love and respect, yet she won’t even entertain the thought of returning home and apologizing to her spouse for so suddenly deserting their allegedly unbreakable marriage. She’s stood fast so many times in the face of bandits or G’ard raiders, yet she’s spent a solid decade running away from every single problem or shred of guilt.

Press her on these inconsistencies, and she’ll cast blame on some past trauma, shrugging it off as her head simply being fucked six ways to sunday from all the death she’s doled out and witnessed first-hand. It’s an attempt to deflect responsibility for all her actions, but not without an unreasonable foundation - you don’t escape from 314 confirmed kills, three massacres, and the utter rape and pillaging of your hometown with a healthy mind. How much that excuses the way she constantly flees from the problems her actions might create, or how demonstrates curt, cynical rudeness to everyone around her, is an assessment you have to make on an individual level. This, of course, assumes that you even get the chance to discover how much of a nightmare her life has been in the past; most people never get past the behavior every bit as rough as her dark, dried-out skin, assuming that all the regular sarcasm and irritability is the mark of yet another Perfidian asshole, unworth of special consideration.

Gear:

Weapons: She’s not a soldier anymore, but Zair remains quite well-armed. A semi-automatic pulse rifle from her military days is enough to ward off most threats; when heading into small towns, she keeps a pulse pistol of similar design strapped to her her hip. Near the base of her spine, a machete is kept strapped in at all times as well, ensuring she can defend herself even if her technology fails.

Other Equipment: Several day’s worth of food and water rations are always stuffed into Zair’s backpack, along with some basic tools for performing mechanical repairs and a maintenance kit for her firearms, and several spare pulse packs for both guns. A hermetically sealed case contains a few photographs of a certain power-armored redhead, and a single picture of both women taken on the day that they supposedly swore themselves to each other for the rest of their lives - reminder of just how much of a liar Zair can prove to be.

Doubleposting cos I can I plan to start this up tomorrow so if anyone else is watching and waiting, feel free to throw a character up or shoot me a message and we can work something out. Get ready to yeehaw!

I'll be moving this along tomorrow, guys, so if you've got replies you'd like to get in before the scene shift now's the time! The only one who I'm really waiting on for a reply is Hawk, but Sir Solitaire and assassinfred are having a good interacktion I don't want to break up prematurely (although it could easily carry on into the next bit if that suits).