Post by Deleted on Aug 6, 2018 6:28:51 GMT
Player Alias:
BurdenKing
Character Name:
Jury-Rig (Rig for short)
Allegiance:
Neutral (Tradesbot)
Appearance Description:
On average, Rig stands from 15 to 17 feet tall, her chosen limbs lending to a variable height and weight. She is a mainly brown and celadon colored Femme whose body appears slapped together as parts of dissimilar design form her frame. Her head, neck, shoulder, and left torso appear to all share a design as they are from her original frame, but even still her face sports a different colored and shaped optic on its right side.
Her face sports soft features, marred by her sharp odd optic and an often wicked looking smile. From the back of her head, reaching to the small of her back, are several tendril like mechandrites that are like hair that can move independently and manipulate the environment and whatever project she happens to be working on. She is lightly armored for the most part, save for when she slaps armor from her inventory onto her body. Usually, she’ll use arms that were scavenged from one of deception foot soldiers, while he legs will be from an unknown large femme, making her appear bottom heavy at times which like any oddity to her appearance at the time she’ll play off with confidence.
When alone, and not outside her ship, she commonly rests with as little writhed to her as possible, decreasing her size to around 7 feet as she forgoes limbs for comfort.
Personality:
Vulture, scrap hound, con artist, all this and more are the names Rig’s been called, and each time she’s said “Yeah that’s fair,” shrugged, and proceeded to make her sale. She long ago came to accept how her profession and actions will paint her in the eyes of other Cybertronians, and just as long ago embraced it. A Femme’s gotta eat, and she’s gotta keep herself in one piece, so she’ll do what she needs to to get that extra meal or part she needs.
Lie, scavenge, sweet talk, or even sell bad merchandise, she’ll do it all and more in order to get what she wants. At the end of the day, the most important Thing is that she gets to see the next cycle with a smile on her face.
She personally doesn’t care about either side of the war, seeing the merits in either side but decided she shouldn’t have to risk her life in a war she never wanted for either side. While she may have lost access to the best medics and the infrastructure to produce Energon, she maintains her freedom and also her ‘not getting shot at’ status for a majority of her life. The fact that it gets a little quiet in her ship sometimes is something she tries to spin as a positive, even if it messes with her sleep.
Strengths:
-Versatile: Rig’s got a part for every occasion. A hot date, meeting with the parents, speaking in front of a crowd, glassing a good chunk of earth, she’s got it all, her only limits being how much Energon she can ration out for anything but basic subsistence.
-Charmer: Rig’s spent mega cycles refining her silver tongue to be just as deadly as whatever blaster she decides to equip, a Necessity when your life depends on making that next sale.
-CQC expert: Cause of how tight her energon supplies are, Rig likes to keep her melee skills refined and practice. She is an effective combatant, having trained not only during her brief time as a deception but also in her free time as a trader, using spacing and positioning to keep her enemies damaged and far enough away so her frail body can’t be struck.
-Back Alley Surgeon: over the years Rig has picked up something’s. She was trained back when she was a combat medic, and over the years despite being average in everything else, she had become an expert in part removal and installation. She likes to think of herself as the master of mods.
Weaknesses: [/b]
-Limited inventory: Despite her versatility, she still needs parts to use, and her ship isn’t big enough to hold all the answers. (Staff can decide what she has, or I can just make a list and stick with it.)
-Frail: Because of the ease with how she can switch limbs and armor, they provide versatility but are easier to remove. A strong enough impact can knock off armor and even limbs, their connectors sending them flying from Rig’s body. She favors keeping as much distance as she can, but her energon requirements necessitates melee combat.
-Running on fumes: At least at the start, she’ll have very little energon rations. She has to budget her expenditure, and has to barter and deal to get more or else starve. Her weapons, ship, and repairs all eat up her supplies, so she had to be cautious and sure whatever she spends she’ll make a profit.
Abilities:
Has access to multiple parts she can switch between between missions.
Has a small ship big enough for her and her inventory
Weaponry:
Main weaponry:
A spear with a chainsaw at the end. Chain can detach and become a chain whip.
A Small blaster, more of a side arm than anything.
Secondary weaponry: Anything available to her from her inventory.
History:
Born well into the war, Rig grew up amongst the decepticon forces before Cybertron began to die. As she grew and was trained, she not only saw the death of Cybertron unfold, but also the death of her parents in one of the final battles of Cybertron. In the scramble to evacuate, and upon hearing plans to continue the war despite the destruction it had caused to the planet they had called home, Jury-Rig deserted the decepticon military and set off on her own, stealing a small ship and disappearing into the void.
At first she simply tried to live as a civilian, away from the war, and try to scratch out an existence as the two sides eventually either destroyed each other or one finally won. But the war continued, and would always find her. Colonies would be attacked, or would go to war with their neighbors, or bend over to supply the side they wished to win the war. No matter where she went, the war was everywhere, and thus she could only retreat from the war crazed people she shared a race with, and became a wanderer.
With this lifestyle, she was without the support of others, and without the security groups provided. She came close to death many times, from starvation to detonation, kept alive by her own skills and a determination not to fade away. She became a trader and worked on her skills of bartering, finding ways to get what she needed with just words and deals. It was only a matter of time until she would enter the lucrative yet frowned upon part market, with her own need for repairs and replacements being her introduction to the underworld of scavenging. She would become accustomed to scavenging the recanting killed, the battlefields of the most recent confrontations, and hovering over those doomed to go offline just to get the parts she needed to survive. Now she heads towards earth, hearing about the two head honchos during it out with everything they’ve got on some primitive world. She could already smell the profits as she makes her way.
Roleplay/Writing Sample:
“Gah, by the bleakest pit!” Cried the decepticon warrior, a small femme with a cutter in her hand ducking below the wild swing of her patient.
“I said sit still!” A resounding clang was heard, followed by the lager male slumping onto the operating mat and ceasing all movement. Without a second to waste, the Femme began to cut away the damaged armor so she could get to the damaged components within. She worked fast and silently, trying not to add to the sound of laser fire and explosions that seemed to surround the little tent made from rubble. She needed to focus, else she’s lose her patient. He was too valuable to lose, a great shot, an accomplished sergeant, a terror to the enemy... and he had promised to bring her to visit the grave after the battle.
A blue light shone on the femme, the patients crack spark chamber letting free the energies that sustained the patients very essence. The femme paused only for a second, long enough to appreciate the severity of the situation, before charging out from her bunker into the raging battle outside.
A quick dive to the ground saved the girl from losing her head, the laser fire from the sniper striking the lifeless frame of an autobot she had been running towards. Pulling her face from the grime and muck, she looked to the body and felt her spark drop, a whole in the corpses chest making it useless to her needs. An image of her patient hoisting a young king into the air after a good days worth of training flashed into her mind, before she got up and ran again, staying low as she searched for an adequately intact body.
Her frame rattled with each explosion that slammed around her position, tripping and falling back into the grime that pooled in the trench carved through the rubble, before clawing her way back up to her feet and pushing onwards. Body after body she passed, each evaluated and found useless in her eyes as they darted from chest to chest. Finally, she slid to a stop and fell to her knees before the limp corpse of a rather large decepticon Femme. Her features were sharp, and even offline she sent a chill down the smaller cybertronian’s spine. Another image flashed, one of a beautiful Femme being cradled in her patients arms, energon leaking everywhere. A cutter slammed into the corpse’s frame, and the small figure that resides in the torn hellscape got to work.
Clutching the extracted spark chamber to her frame, the Femme sprinted back towards her sanctuary and patient, memories of her first deployment and her patient waving at her as he went on his own mission. She ducked under rubble, dove to avoid shrapnel, and laid her eyes on the rubble made bunker. Then her eyes became just an eye, and the world went dark as the sound of sniper fire rang out.
Jury-Rig’s eyes flew open, and she leaned forward in a panic as her system came online. She fell forward and barely managed to catch herself with her tendril hair before she would have careened into the hard floor. Her breath was quick and rapid, her senses firing as she pulled herself back and began to register her surroundings. As the thumping in her auditory sensors faded, she closed her eyes and let out a shaking sigh, before sending a tendril out to press a button.
In a practice performance of button pushing and took use, Rig stood from her recharge station and stretched her new limbs out, getting the joints used to the feel of new parts. With a small squeak as something clicked in her back, she relaxed and walked forward. Her fingers went up to her face as she looked over the ship’s console, and she tried to think of something else besides that day.
“Hmm,” She hummed, noticing how close she was to the fabled earth she had been hearing about through the Autobot and Decepticon grapevines. Prime real estate you could say, she thought and chuckled as she turned away towards the ships controls. As she settled into command chair, her head went and brushed against a still image of a large male decepticon and a beautiful femme, a young king between them as they all stood on a destroyed building. Her fingers fell, and Rig punched in the final coordinates into the ship, before settling in to stare at the void and nothing else, not even the image as it flickered and was blocked the ships read outs.
BurdenKing
Character Name:
Jury-Rig (Rig for short)
Allegiance:
Neutral (Tradesbot)
Appearance Description:
On average, Rig stands from 15 to 17 feet tall, her chosen limbs lending to a variable height and weight. She is a mainly brown and celadon colored Femme whose body appears slapped together as parts of dissimilar design form her frame. Her head, neck, shoulder, and left torso appear to all share a design as they are from her original frame, but even still her face sports a different colored and shaped optic on its right side.
Her face sports soft features, marred by her sharp odd optic and an often wicked looking smile. From the back of her head, reaching to the small of her back, are several tendril like mechandrites that are like hair that can move independently and manipulate the environment and whatever project she happens to be working on. She is lightly armored for the most part, save for when she slaps armor from her inventory onto her body. Usually, she’ll use arms that were scavenged from one of deception foot soldiers, while he legs will be from an unknown large femme, making her appear bottom heavy at times which like any oddity to her appearance at the time she’ll play off with confidence.
When alone, and not outside her ship, she commonly rests with as little writhed to her as possible, decreasing her size to around 7 feet as she forgoes limbs for comfort.
Personality:
Vulture, scrap hound, con artist, all this and more are the names Rig’s been called, and each time she’s said “Yeah that’s fair,” shrugged, and proceeded to make her sale. She long ago came to accept how her profession and actions will paint her in the eyes of other Cybertronians, and just as long ago embraced it. A Femme’s gotta eat, and she’s gotta keep herself in one piece, so she’ll do what she needs to to get that extra meal or part she needs.
Lie, scavenge, sweet talk, or even sell bad merchandise, she’ll do it all and more in order to get what she wants. At the end of the day, the most important Thing is that she gets to see the next cycle with a smile on her face.
She personally doesn’t care about either side of the war, seeing the merits in either side but decided she shouldn’t have to risk her life in a war she never wanted for either side. While she may have lost access to the best medics and the infrastructure to produce Energon, she maintains her freedom and also her ‘not getting shot at’ status for a majority of her life. The fact that it gets a little quiet in her ship sometimes is something she tries to spin as a positive, even if it messes with her sleep.
Strengths:
-Versatile: Rig’s got a part for every occasion. A hot date, meeting with the parents, speaking in front of a crowd, glassing a good chunk of earth, she’s got it all, her only limits being how much Energon she can ration out for anything but basic subsistence.
-Charmer: Rig’s spent mega cycles refining her silver tongue to be just as deadly as whatever blaster she decides to equip, a Necessity when your life depends on making that next sale.
-CQC expert: Cause of how tight her energon supplies are, Rig likes to keep her melee skills refined and practice. She is an effective combatant, having trained not only during her brief time as a deception but also in her free time as a trader, using spacing and positioning to keep her enemies damaged and far enough away so her frail body can’t be struck.
-Back Alley Surgeon: over the years Rig has picked up something’s. She was trained back when she was a combat medic, and over the years despite being average in everything else, she had become an expert in part removal and installation. She likes to think of herself as the master of mods.
Weaknesses: [/b]
-Limited inventory: Despite her versatility, she still needs parts to use, and her ship isn’t big enough to hold all the answers. (Staff can decide what she has, or I can just make a list and stick with it.)
-Frail: Because of the ease with how she can switch limbs and armor, they provide versatility but are easier to remove. A strong enough impact can knock off armor and even limbs, their connectors sending them flying from Rig’s body. She favors keeping as much distance as she can, but her energon requirements necessitates melee combat.
-Running on fumes: At least at the start, she’ll have very little energon rations. She has to budget her expenditure, and has to barter and deal to get more or else starve. Her weapons, ship, and repairs all eat up her supplies, so she had to be cautious and sure whatever she spends she’ll make a profit.
Abilities:
Has access to multiple parts she can switch between between missions.
Has a small ship big enough for her and her inventory
Weaponry:
Main weaponry:
A spear with a chainsaw at the end. Chain can detach and become a chain whip.
A Small blaster, more of a side arm than anything.
Secondary weaponry: Anything available to her from her inventory.
History:
Born well into the war, Rig grew up amongst the decepticon forces before Cybertron began to die. As she grew and was trained, she not only saw the death of Cybertron unfold, but also the death of her parents in one of the final battles of Cybertron. In the scramble to evacuate, and upon hearing plans to continue the war despite the destruction it had caused to the planet they had called home, Jury-Rig deserted the decepticon military and set off on her own, stealing a small ship and disappearing into the void.
At first she simply tried to live as a civilian, away from the war, and try to scratch out an existence as the two sides eventually either destroyed each other or one finally won. But the war continued, and would always find her. Colonies would be attacked, or would go to war with their neighbors, or bend over to supply the side they wished to win the war. No matter where she went, the war was everywhere, and thus she could only retreat from the war crazed people she shared a race with, and became a wanderer.
With this lifestyle, she was without the support of others, and without the security groups provided. She came close to death many times, from starvation to detonation, kept alive by her own skills and a determination not to fade away. She became a trader and worked on her skills of bartering, finding ways to get what she needed with just words and deals. It was only a matter of time until she would enter the lucrative yet frowned upon part market, with her own need for repairs and replacements being her introduction to the underworld of scavenging. She would become accustomed to scavenging the recanting killed, the battlefields of the most recent confrontations, and hovering over those doomed to go offline just to get the parts she needed to survive. Now she heads towards earth, hearing about the two head honchos during it out with everything they’ve got on some primitive world. She could already smell the profits as she makes her way.
Roleplay/Writing Sample:
“Gah, by the bleakest pit!” Cried the decepticon warrior, a small femme with a cutter in her hand ducking below the wild swing of her patient.
“I said sit still!” A resounding clang was heard, followed by the lager male slumping onto the operating mat and ceasing all movement. Without a second to waste, the Femme began to cut away the damaged armor so she could get to the damaged components within. She worked fast and silently, trying not to add to the sound of laser fire and explosions that seemed to surround the little tent made from rubble. She needed to focus, else she’s lose her patient. He was too valuable to lose, a great shot, an accomplished sergeant, a terror to the enemy... and he had promised to bring her to visit the grave after the battle.
A blue light shone on the femme, the patients crack spark chamber letting free the energies that sustained the patients very essence. The femme paused only for a second, long enough to appreciate the severity of the situation, before charging out from her bunker into the raging battle outside.
A quick dive to the ground saved the girl from losing her head, the laser fire from the sniper striking the lifeless frame of an autobot she had been running towards. Pulling her face from the grime and muck, she looked to the body and felt her spark drop, a whole in the corpses chest making it useless to her needs. An image of her patient hoisting a young king into the air after a good days worth of training flashed into her mind, before she got up and ran again, staying low as she searched for an adequately intact body.
Her frame rattled with each explosion that slammed around her position, tripping and falling back into the grime that pooled in the trench carved through the rubble, before clawing her way back up to her feet and pushing onwards. Body after body she passed, each evaluated and found useless in her eyes as they darted from chest to chest. Finally, she slid to a stop and fell to her knees before the limp corpse of a rather large decepticon Femme. Her features were sharp, and even offline she sent a chill down the smaller cybertronian’s spine. Another image flashed, one of a beautiful Femme being cradled in her patients arms, energon leaking everywhere. A cutter slammed into the corpse’s frame, and the small figure that resides in the torn hellscape got to work.
Clutching the extracted spark chamber to her frame, the Femme sprinted back towards her sanctuary and patient, memories of her first deployment and her patient waving at her as he went on his own mission. She ducked under rubble, dove to avoid shrapnel, and laid her eyes on the rubble made bunker. Then her eyes became just an eye, and the world went dark as the sound of sniper fire rang out.
Jury-Rig’s eyes flew open, and she leaned forward in a panic as her system came online. She fell forward and barely managed to catch herself with her tendril hair before she would have careened into the hard floor. Her breath was quick and rapid, her senses firing as she pulled herself back and began to register her surroundings. As the thumping in her auditory sensors faded, she closed her eyes and let out a shaking sigh, before sending a tendril out to press a button.
In a practice performance of button pushing and took use, Rig stood from her recharge station and stretched her new limbs out, getting the joints used to the feel of new parts. With a small squeak as something clicked in her back, she relaxed and walked forward. Her fingers went up to her face as she looked over the ship’s console, and she tried to think of something else besides that day.
“Hmm,” She hummed, noticing how close she was to the fabled earth she had been hearing about through the Autobot and Decepticon grapevines. Prime real estate you could say, she thought and chuckled as she turned away towards the ships controls. As she settled into command chair, her head went and brushed against a still image of a large male decepticon and a beautiful femme, a young king between them as they all stood on a destroyed building. Her fingers fell, and Rig punched in the final coordinates into the ship, before settling in to stare at the void and nothing else, not even the image as it flickered and was blocked the ships read outs.