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Character Sheet:
Name: Averand Rusk
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Occupation: Scavenger
Appearance: Averand looks very average, even less than average. He's thin and lithe, on the edge between a healthy diet and starving. An almost average 5'7 at height and looking even younger than his actual age, he might actually draw attention as to how average he is. A thin beard and mustache grow around his face, as though he shaves only when he gets his hands on a razor(which is probably true). His hair is a dark brown, scraggly going back but kept relatively clean and tidy up near the front, short and somewhat uneven. Keeping in with the averageness, his eyes are a woody brown.
Some details give him some outside character. Matching scars, one on his right cheek and the other on his right wrist, thin and straight as though from a knife. His hands are never still, always fidgeting or digging through the pockets of his vest looking for a metal twine or a piece of string that he can weave around his fingers and then unwind. Averand wears lots of black, to better blend in with the shadows cast by the bright lights of the cities. His usual garb for going out is dark pants and shirt, a black vest with lots of pockets in which he can store scrap and handheld devices, and tough work shoes.
Augmentation: Night-vision Overlay
Perks: The War Economy + Forged in Shadow
Location (Floris or Izuru): Floris
Biography (optional): Growing up without parents was hard. Before he was born, Averand's father was murdered by one of the local gangs and his mother moved far away, close to the Wall of Lights. When Averand was five, another gang invaded their small apartment and killed everyone. He hid, watching helplessly as his mother was taken, abused, and then her throat was slit. After they left, he had to flee the building. On his own, he had nowhere to go, so he ended up going back to the apartment and living their with the rotting bodies for days, avoiding the police and investigators who came to look over the damage and tally the body count, and the people who came to clean house of the squatters that had moved in. Averand was still small enough to hide and avoid their detection, and once again was the only survivor. This place wasn't safe, and still young, he moved out to look for something else.
Apparently, he found care somewhere, with someone who taught him the streets, or maybe he just watched overs and learned where to go for food, where to find clean(ish) water, and so on. Either way, he joined the ranks of poor miscreants who were caught between the brutal life of the gangs and the iron fist of the police. No place to go, nobody to care for them, and no money to get help with, they were all on their own. Averand was able to escape this through one solution: Escape from the city to the desolate battlefields from before the Wall of Lights was constructed. There he can scavenge what he needs and sell anything that still works to any company that will take it. Sometimes scrap recycling, sometimes transporters who take stuff and distribute it to collectors who want a piece of the old war. Sometimes, even, when he finds a working piece he can sell it to an arms company for a tidy profit. All of this is enough to keep him going, if barely. Good finds are few and far between.
Other: As a scavenger, Averand's job will be dangerous, either because the only sites with anything other than useless scrap are those guarded by rogue war machines, which have to be evaded or destroyed, or because some of his dealings, especially for useful technology that other companies might not want or pay as much for, is with underworld gangs who would kill him for any reason whatsoever.
I did almost all of this yesterday, but was too lazy to finish and post it until today. I probably could have put more work in, but no ideas spring to mind and I'm tired from lack of sleep.
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It's getting quite late. 3:27 AM, according to the HUD, which shivers slightly as it adjusts to allow you to look at the clock. It shivers because it has to move to maintain it's position relative to your gaze. That way, when you look towards the corner to view the clock, it doesn't remain in the corner of your eye, always out of perspective, but move to appear as though it were displayed on a visor, not connected to your eyes.
You think about this phenomena a lot, for some reason. You're quite proud of your ability to accurately describe it.
The rain is coming down much harder than predicted. Probably flash flood warning near your home, but that was some ways away. Here, the Orange Zone was being churned into a mire. Infertile dirt is reduced to sluggish, clinging mud around your boots as you trudge through a long abandoned trenchline. Raindrops patter off your helmet, sliding down over the horizontal slats that allow you to see through the metal mask, that covers the front of your face. More drops roll down the hard plates on the back half of your head, forming a sort of moat between your neck and the large protective collar. Small rectangluar holes at the base of the collar allow the water to drainout down the back of your vest, and over your shoulders. Quite miserable.
You've already got a haul of sorts, mostly old electrical components. You've stashed it into a crate underneath a small bridge, crossing a drainage canal for part of the trenches. However, the large structure ahead of you, at the end of the trench, was yet unsearched, and sunrise wouldn't be for a few hours. |
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LNG257Join Date: 2012-06-13
Post Count: 11767 |
Plenty of time left, Averand thinks. Trudging through this mud was hard work, and this trenchline doesn't have much left. Just scrap metal as far as I can see, practically worthless unless I found a way to deliver it to one of the big recycling centers in bulk. I reach up and give my collar a good tug, trying to get the water to drain out faster, without much success. And at the end of it I'll have to go back to my apartment and check the whole place for water damage, which'll cost me the entire day's savings just to fix it if there is any.
The crate is pretty well hidden, I just hope that the rain doesn't flood out and carry it away. If it does, then this entire trip will have been for nothing, but I've gotta hope. There's still space left, and maybe there'll be something more valuable inside that building. Slowly, I trudge through the trench down there. |
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After a few more hooks in the trench, you find the place. A large metal twin door is faceted into the metal wall that cuts the trench off like, well, like a wall. On your right, towards the vast Wall of Lights, dirt has been piled up on that side of the buildings gently slanted roof. Were you in the opposing trench, to the East, the building would have appeared no more than a hill. Mud covered the bottom edge of the doors, but it looks as though it swings inward, so as long as nothing is blocking it from within, it should be fine. |
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LNG257Join Date: 2012-06-13
Post Count: 11767 |
This place looks like an old command bunker. I've only been in one of them before, but they always have the best stuff, if any is left working. Of course, the first time didn't go so well, because it had an active security system. I was very nearly killed for not having a security pass. If such a security pass exists, it's among the dead inside or somewhere locked up in Inner Floris. I push open the door, carefully, trying to make as little noise as possible, scanning around the room with my night-vision overlay for any signs that a security system is still active. |
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You push the door open, scanning the pitch black interior. Rain pours in through a large gash in the roof, that you hadn't been able to see from the trench. The ground is slightly off level, so the water flows towards the other end of the room, ending up few inches deep at the edge, the excess gushing out of the opposite doorway. The walls are empty, only mounts for communications equipment, which had likely once lined the walls, and a few busted machines of that ilk. The center is a mess of upturned tables and stools, many feature huge breaks, and numerous bullet holes..
Not finding anything awry, you push the door open further and step inside. A strange synthetic noise comes from your right.
...Wheeeet-dut-dut...
You turn, and on the East side, there's aa collosal gap in the ceiling, through which a landslide of mud has poured in and occupied much of that side of the room. A large metallic disk with three strangly jointed legs, like the legs of a dog, oriented two in the front right and left, and one in the middle back, is mired in the mudslide. It's clearly old, and irreparably rusted, clearly having been here for some time. From the front end of the disk, a squarish camera protrudes, staring you down with an eerie red light. Just below, panels of the shell have seperated, lowering a small cannon. The camera lense visibly focuses on you, and the machine makes another noise.
...Whurrrrr...Wahp-Wahp... |
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LNG257Join Date: 2012-06-13
Post Count: 11767 |
Well frick. I tense and still myself, getting ready to jump out of the way if necessary. With any luck, that rust has damaged the camera or the cannon, but I can't take any chances. Slowly, I draw my weapon and aim it at the camera. I'll only get one shot at this, and I had better make it count. Honestly, I don't know if this is a security thing or just a random war machine that fell in, but it doesn't matter. It actually works, and as long as I don't damage it more than necessary I could pull some valuable stuff out. |
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As you begin to draw the Slug Pistol from it's holster, the machine whines.
WHEEEEET.
The cannon starts clattering loudly as the bolt slams to and fro. |
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LNG257Join Date: 2012-06-13
Post Count: 11767 |
I'm going to take a wild guess and say that either the cannon is warming up, or it's broken and/or out of ammunition. Yeah, let's get out of the way. Find some sort of cover, and get behind it! |
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You bolts for the cluster of tables, huddling behind a thicker point where a few tables are layered between you and the machine. You don't hear the telltale sounds of your body being shredded by gunfire, so you hazard a peak around the side of the table.
You can see the side of the cannon at an angle as the thing scans back and forth for you. The bolt is still clattering back and forth, and you notice it seems to stop in the middle, rather than what looks like the full length of the bolt. |
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LNG257Join Date: 2012-06-13
Post Count: 11767 |
It lost track of me in my rush? Well, there's old and semi-broken tech for you. But now's my opportunity to score big. The engine, and possibly the weapon on that thing will fetch a huge price, broken as they may be. Once again, from concealment, I raise my Slug Pistol, aiming for the camera with as steady a hand as possible in such a tense situation, with even the slightest tinge of a giddy feeling running through. And pull the trigger. |
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The Camera hones in on you as you aim, and the cannon swivels around. with a sharp -chuck-, a bent shell casing comes flying from the side of the cannon, and the bolt locks into place.
You shoot, and the camera shatters, sparks and bits of metal being tossed in backwards by the force of the metal slug. The cannon stutters, jumping around as it begins to fire, ripping holes in the tables and walls. Gear whir inside the main body of the machine, and it strains against the mud that's holding it in place. |
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rapunzealJoin Date: 2012-08-24
Post Count: 10893 |
*grabs popcorn* |
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LNG257Join Date: 2012-06-13
Post Count: 11767 |
Welp, that did the trick at least. Now it's either going to shoot until it runs out of ammunition, or it will eventually calm down when it doesn't detect any further threat. Hopefully. I duck behind cover, wait, and hope that I don't die from the thing's random shooting. |
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The wild firing steadies as emergency routines set in, and the machine begins to sweep it's cannon back and forth, tracing a horizontal line of fire across the 90 degree slice directly in front of it. Eventually, the cannon clatters a few times, and the fire ceases. |
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LNG257Join Date: 2012-06-13
Post Count: 11767 |
Well here's my chance. Maybe it's out of ammo, maybe it just "calmed down". Whatever happened, I dash in to try to find some kind of control mechanism that I can shut this thing down fully with. It might be, even probably is, covered by armored plating, but I'll bet that there will be some kind of sign of where it is, such as screws or a small fissure around the area where the control mechanism will be. |
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You creep up to the Machine, and clamber up the mudslide it's stuck on, finding yourself once again pelted by the rain. That alleviates some what once you get underneath the machines disk-like body. Muddy water still flows beneath you, and you avoid getting anny to run down your collar.
You locate a handled panel, with a message predominantly in Izuru, and slightly below that, Florian.
PRIMARY FUSEBOARD |
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