(M)The Black Star Privateers: Blood and Blasters

[Soulio]

Also, how big is the armor exactly? I can picture him getting stuck in smaller doorways, lol

[SikstaSlathalin]

I was thinking kinda like T-60 power Armor myself.

[IronQuill]

You hit the nail on the head, Siks. Sorry for not quite clarifying the downsides of the armor. The Visorhound Exo-Armor is about as subtle as Robocop on a Sunday stroll on a boardwalk pier. It's large, heavy, and not at all suited for the sneaky sneaky action. I suppose its fair to compare it to T-60 Power Armor as well, tho in my head its closer to the Hellfire armor. I can dial back the exo-armor if you wish.

[Cicada]

I wanted to go a slightly different direction with this character as opposed to the others. If you think he might be a little "too weak" and such and wouldn't belong aboard the Black Star, let me know and I'll just make a new one.

Name: Scab

Age: 19

Gender: Male

Appearance(pic and description):

Spoiler: Appearance 

Scab is a skinny, scraggly, lanky and practically malnourished kid. If he bothered to clean the grime off his face, shave his patchy stubble and actually groom his hair, he might approach some semblance of being attractive. Stands roughly at 5’8, usually in ill-fitting scavenged armor with a pair of goggles resting around his neck if not on his head.

Race: Human

Job: Applying for Gunner / Only qualified for Cook. Barely.

Racial Skills and Abilities (limit of 4):

Blending in: Plenty of humans everywhere means it’s easy to get lost in the crowd.
Small Frame: Due to Scab’s physicality – or lack thereof – Scab can crawl, fit into and hide in many places one wouldn’t think is accessible.

Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5):

Creativity: Due to Scab’s life as an urchin, he’s cultivated a mindset that allows him to see things as usable in ways unexpected.
Survival Experience: Also due to Scab’s past, Scab is imbued with a natural sense of survivability in harsh conditions.
Cockroach Culinary: Scab's life as a poor, homeless fleck of nobody meant that he's been forced to eat some pretty disgusting things in order to get by. Inadvertently this necessity to survive also taught him some valuable lessons as a slum-style chef that translate well into providing nourishing meals that don't taste like shit - just, no more cockroaches for Scab.
Slumland Sawbones: Well, he's never actually sawed through any bones, but Scab has a vague idea of how to patch somebody up if he really has to.

Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons):

• Model F “Pea Popper” Crowd Cutter – Standard Civilian model of laser projectile pistol available for public use, and also popular sidearm amongst smalltime security forces. Iron sights shaved off. Voided Warranty.
• A Spoon – Common household utensil used for eating liquid-based foods such as soups.

Armor(one sensible suit of armor): Scab wears a jury-rigged armor set, an amalgamation of riot armor and scavenged materials. It fits well enough, but not by a lot.

Augs(Limit of 3):
None.

Personality: Scab is enthusiastic, well mannered, and tougher than he may appear. His eagerness to prove himself can sometimes propel him to throw caution to the wind and improvise regardless of the risk.

Likes: Outwitting others. Approval. Mayhem.

Dislikes: The taste of rats. Being Poor.

Background: Scab was born on a Relocation Outpost – a Slum Space Station – overseen by the now defunct Roche Hegemony. Having to scavenge and fight every simulated day just to starve made Scab an easy target for the local Slumlord to take in. After being sold into the Slumlord’s service by his parents, Scab outperformed the other urchins in the children network responsible for hiding stolen goods and passing information.

As is custom to this particular slum-gang, once Scab became the oldest (the previous died in a gunfight) it was up to him to fend for and feed the kids under him. Having to provide for them gave Scab hands-on experience with cooking meals, sewing kids up, and keeping the rowdy ones in line.

When Scab was nearly 18 and growing too old for small work, but too small for big work – he was quickly becoming a mouth not worthy of feeding. When tasked with scouting for a raid on an Outpost Security supply delivery, Scab made his move. Watching the delivery being off-loaded ahead of the ambush forces, an idea emerged and was acted upon without hesitation. Scab charged a guard and shanked him to death, relieved him of his side arm and fired a couple shots into the air. With the alarm sounded and the transport spooling up its engines for emergency takeoff, Scab had just enough time to slip into the cargo bay and stowaway away from the only home he had ever known.

Other: The metal croaked and squealed as Scab crawled through the duct. The flashlight in his mouth tasted funny, metallic. Realizing it was blood he was tasting, probably from the dead guy he took it from, he kept his tongue as far away from the handle as possible while he kept it firmly between his teeth. If he dropped it, he might break it.

Finally arriving at the proper hatch, he curls his fingers around the latch and brings his gun up to bear. One of the big guys told him to do that. It opens with the biggest groan of metal that Scab heard in his entire life, and he was thankful that nobody was on the other side waiting to blow his head off. He spits out the flashlight and it clangs on the floor.

A dozen little monitors everywhere, tendrils of cables cluttering up the floor and climbing up the walls like they're eating the place, one rusty layer at a time. A small keypad-locked door to the right and a large control panel directly in front. Scab walked towards it, gun in hand and held at his hip.

Retrieving the disk in his jumpsuit, Scab slaps it onto the console while looking around for the correct port.

"Fuck. Fuck. There's so many of them! Red one, Blue one, Yellow one, Blue and Yellow one - THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH THIS?"

Scab starts chewing on his lip, looking over the various ports when the door wooshes open and a large, metal-clad slug awaits on the other side. It leaves a slimy trail of sludge as it enters, it's face appearing equal parts confused and angry. Scab nonchalantly turns and holds his pistol behind his back.

"There you are! I've been tryin' to get one of you down here for ages now! Can you tell m-"

The metal armor of the slug pops into two little pieces, two thin pylons extending outwards. The little pylons hiss and Scab realizes that they have joints, and effectively form little arms. Before Scab can utter another sound, the slug reaches out with his arm and pins Scab against the console with a force that knocks the air out of his lungs.

Scab scurries and presses his feet against the slug's torso, holding him at bay. He squirms and pulls his laser "Pea Popper" pistol out from behind his back, scraping it against the metal of the console. He pulls it up and fires a shot at the slug's head, and two in the torso. All the shots just seem to fizz right out against the slug's helmet and armor. The slug forms what Scab thinks is a smile.

Looking past the slug to the walls behind him, he pops a shot at the tangled vines of wires and they crackle with an electric hiss. Free from its own weight, the vine swings over and catches the slug right in the back, electrifying him and Scab both. The slug and Scab both scream and shriek together, twitching at the voltage. The slug's eyes bulge and then explode along with the rest of his gelatinous body, coating Scab in a disgusting lime-green goo and freeing him from the electric current. The hanging vine of wires crackle menacingly while Scab slips down to the floor and catches his breath, smoldering.

He gets to his feet and picks up the disk. He turns it over and this side has a smear of yellow paint on it. He sticks it in the yellow port and hears a chipper electric "ding" from the console. He fumbles with the small COMset on his jumpsuit lapel.

"You...you guys should be set now. I'm..." he exhales deeply. "...I'm gonna go back to the ship and like...pass out or whatever."

[Soulio]

0/10, is not a Clown.

In all honesty though, the sheet made me laugh.

[Enigma]

Enigma: As long as it's a legit sheet for an open spot, I can handle some nuttiness.

You could always use another scout. this one is just shorter than most.

[Alanoth]

Man im sorry for not fixing it sooner ive been dealing with rampant headaches and having to help family. If i still have time to fix my sheet then im willing to do it

[redgar]

Any chance I can grab the communications spot?

[Ayros]

So, first, I'd like to apologise for taking so long. Family just got hit with all sorts of illnesses and I've been trying to take care of them (and myself). So again, sorry!

Second: Would the mechanic be able to sorta just lay in his bunk and control fighting bots from there? Otherwise I can change it up kind of easily.

[.Karma.]

Hey Siksta, I think I've made too many commitments for things and since this isn't off the ground yet, I think I'm gonna go ahead and step out, if you're still open later on... I may try to join when I get things under control. Thanks!