RE: Sublime Showdown (Signups Open until 6/28!)
06-23-2013, 04:31 AM
(This post was last modified: 06-23-2013, 09:02 AM by Brom.)
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SpoilerName: Dahlia Belstrap.
Text color: Aftershock green.
Gender: Female.
Race: Human, with severe augmentations. Age 20.
Weapons/Abilities: Strap is a Courier for Dangerous People. She has to know how to take care of herself. Her primary weapon is the solar powered Ventcore Shoulder-fired recoilless rifle usually slung across her back.
The Ventcore projects a hard-light explosive flechette capable of punching through most body armor and potentially walls, depending on how charged it is. By turning it round the other way and gunning the exhaust port, Strap can do what people in her profession call “frog blasting the Ventcore” with the aid of a clunky pair of frictionless skates (spraypainted a cheerful green). It allows her to boost forward at phenomenal speeds, even up into the air for brief instances. Years of practice have let her control her boosting.
Sort of.
A good third of her by now has had to be replaced due to work-related injury. She has the average augs of a courier: reticule, mental uplink with eyecams, reinforced joints with shock absorption, and, of course, the tiny bomb on the back of her neck, ready to swiftly decapitate her if she stops playing by the Triad's rules. Of special note is her synthetic right arm she got to replace the one an enforcer from the Fantoma Vengadores took for a debt unpaid. It has a hollow forearm and cycles in for a combat knife or a narrow, metalcarving laser on command.
Her aim is good with most weapons, but anything low-tech enough to have much of a kick to it messes with her spread. She regularly carries a wicked little snub-nose automatic she keeps in her arm.
All of these augmentations are paid for and technically owned by the Triad and have sunk her further into debt. Her body is no longer entirely her own, and with every injury sustained in her duties the Triad replaces more of it and puts her further into debt.
Description: A high school dropout with a chip on the shoulder that isn't carrying her laser-powered rocket launcher, Strap lives fast, but not fast enough to outrun her regrets and the people she's consistently managed to get on the wrong side of. She's as quick, sharp, and (at 5'1”) compact as the knife she's got hidden in her elbow. Her black bomber jacket's got ceramic plates stitched on the inside and various badges of the trade, vulgar slogans, and maybe a skimpy-dressed devil or two stitched on the outside.
Most girls her age would wear the goggles to piss their suburban parents off, but that's what her nose ring and her green dreadlocks are for. The goggles are to keep from blinding herself off her Ventcore blasts and to protect herself at the blatantly unsafe speed she operates.
She's working off her debt for the Qing triad, desperately avoiding the debt collectors of the Fantomas Vengadores, keeping her head down around the Pureline Brotherhood, and holding the corners of her spiraling life down as much as humanly possible.
Errata:
-Dahlia Belstrap's life thus far has been an unfortunate subversion of the cyberpunk ideal. She made a few mistakes early and let things slide entirely out of hand. Most of her time is spent working for people she is desperately and rightfully afraid of, pretending to her friends she retains any sort of control in her life, staring blankly at the peeled wallpaper of her Hab-Block, and battling her mounting insomnia. She hasn't talked to her family in four years. She is rocketing down a path with one possible destination, and it is a grisly and unfortunate one, and she knows it. Her removal to the grand battle severs the complex plexus of criminal debts and responsibilities she has been laboring under, resulting in a degree of freedom she hasn't experienced for half a decade.
Text color: Aftershock green.
Gender: Female.
Race: Human, with severe augmentations. Age 20.
Weapons/Abilities: Strap is a Courier for Dangerous People. She has to know how to take care of herself. Her primary weapon is the solar powered Ventcore Shoulder-fired recoilless rifle usually slung across her back.
The Ventcore projects a hard-light explosive flechette capable of punching through most body armor and potentially walls, depending on how charged it is. By turning it round the other way and gunning the exhaust port, Strap can do what people in her profession call “frog blasting the Ventcore” with the aid of a clunky pair of frictionless skates (spraypainted a cheerful green). It allows her to boost forward at phenomenal speeds, even up into the air for brief instances. Years of practice have let her control her boosting.
Sort of.
A good third of her by now has had to be replaced due to work-related injury. She has the average augs of a courier: reticule, mental uplink with eyecams, reinforced joints with shock absorption, and, of course, the tiny bomb on the back of her neck, ready to swiftly decapitate her if she stops playing by the Triad's rules. Of special note is her synthetic right arm she got to replace the one an enforcer from the Fantoma Vengadores took for a debt unpaid. It has a hollow forearm and cycles in for a combat knife or a narrow, metalcarving laser on command.
Her aim is good with most weapons, but anything low-tech enough to have much of a kick to it messes with her spread. She regularly carries a wicked little snub-nose automatic she keeps in her arm.
All of these augmentations are paid for and technically owned by the Triad and have sunk her further into debt. Her body is no longer entirely her own, and with every injury sustained in her duties the Triad replaces more of it and puts her further into debt.
Description: A high school dropout with a chip on the shoulder that isn't carrying her laser-powered rocket launcher, Strap lives fast, but not fast enough to outrun her regrets and the people she's consistently managed to get on the wrong side of. She's as quick, sharp, and (at 5'1”) compact as the knife she's got hidden in her elbow. Her black bomber jacket's got ceramic plates stitched on the inside and various badges of the trade, vulgar slogans, and maybe a skimpy-dressed devil or two stitched on the outside.
Most girls her age would wear the goggles to piss their suburban parents off, but that's what her nose ring and her green dreadlocks are for. The goggles are to keep from blinding herself off her Ventcore blasts and to protect herself at the blatantly unsafe speed she operates.
She's working off her debt for the Qing triad, desperately avoiding the debt collectors of the Fantomas Vengadores, keeping her head down around the Pureline Brotherhood, and holding the corners of her spiraling life down as much as humanly possible.
Errata:
-Dahlia Belstrap's life thus far has been an unfortunate subversion of the cyberpunk ideal. She made a few mistakes early and let things slide entirely out of hand. Most of her time is spent working for people she is desperately and rightfully afraid of, pretending to her friends she retains any sort of control in her life, staring blankly at the peeled wallpaper of her Hab-Block, and battling her mounting insomnia. She hasn't talked to her family in four years. She is rocketing down a path with one possible destination, and it is a grisly and unfortunate one, and she knows it. Her removal to the grand battle severs the complex plexus of criminal debts and responsibilities she has been laboring under, resulting in a degree of freedom she hasn't experienced for half a decade.
let's post righteously & having good times /// check out The Book of the Courtier /// ensure proper vegetable consumption /// also check out The Blade and the Cycle /// post it up!!