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  Zivilyn Dariox Elven Biochemist (Druid) PDF Music Born in the shining heart of Plisea itself most folks would think a young man might spend the rest of his life there, enjoying the finest a metaphorical capstone had to offer. Drawing from three great cultures in the Alliance the opportunities for trade, entertainment and capital were beyond any in the galaxy. An Elven boy named Zivilyn was born to a neat little day trading couple who had every element of their life planned out, a path mapped along the road to success for their son. Growing up and never wanting for anything, Ziv could only come to one inevitable conclusion as he shirked his perfect upbringing every step of the way: He had to get off this planet. Mathematics led to science instead of business. Extracurricular activities led to a love of music instead of talent as a virtuoso. Training for sports led to avid hiking and a bit of incidental discipline. Being introduced to "the right people" was just necessary training to become the off-color social butterfly he is today. And well, Ziv couldn't avoid learning a thing or two about supply and demand. That's why the brooding boy with a "listening problem" became a man who could make things happen. He always knew someone or something that could be useful, always had access to the hottest new mind-altering substance, always knew how to change hands and get people to meet other like-minded people. Now Ziv himself is a bit of a push-over at times and tends to leave the talking to others but he still has a certain talent for empathy. He could hear anyone out and provide a bit of colorful insight. Funny enough that the aspiring businessman would "suddenly" switch to a double major in Biology and Chemistry. Demonstrating drive that must have been stored away all his life, he finally knew the way off Plisea. Sure enough the weekend after graduation he left a card on his bed with only two sentences: "Joining the Army. Here's my Number: <********>." All that build up to a place in Plisean society was one appointment with the gallows he could surely pass on. Sliding towards a different form of living death he had one thought at the top of his mind every day: "At least I chose this." So it goes that Zivilyn has spent the last six years serving the Plisean Alliance, accepting appointments at the furthest locations offered, a lifetime of wanderlust overwhelming nagging doubts about danger. Feeling the first true freedom he ever had in a cold, rain-soaked camp on some Gods-forsaken jungle world was a heart-felt epiphany that made it all worthwhile. Sure, there were some rules and regulations that couldn't be avoided but they were necessary collateral damage en route to his next deployment. Kiss a few asses, dot a few Is, cross every T and the next expeditionary research crew needed an egghead to record every exciting little flora and fauna they discovered. Frequent travel and maintaining a few connections made him a popular man all over again, always bringing welcome supply drops for the barracks. Being a fine upstanding member of the Alliance is exactly how Ziv ended up on Teris. Stationed in an undersea facility off the cost Tremont, the Alliance wanted some updates to their infrastructure to warn against possible enemy scouting efforts. There was also a great deal of research to be put into a local ecosystem full of creatures with interesting defense mechanisms where-in chemical reactions induced hallucinations in creatures up to five times the original critter's size. Even the bigger ones were prone to bioluminescent projections that could paralyze entire schools of prey in the permanent dark of the ocean floor. It was in this isolation that Ziv and a crew of sixteen others monitored signals, conducted tests and got to know one another over bouts of cabin fever. Going out was trickier than normal with only the two exploratory submarine vessels between the entire base but hey, not every post was a winner. Surely they should have received another supply drop and some word from the outside by now. Communications blackout wasn't too unusual, usually a sign that somebody had to put on a suit and go do a little hardware work on the domes, but soon they knew this was real. Even emergency lines were cut until suddenly they weren't. Teris was under siege and worse, already lost. A missed drop-off turned into many and soon the lab was isolated. Abandoned. Forgotten. Things started to get tense as arguments started to get out there and fight. To see what was going on. To ready for the inevitable arrival of enemy soldiers to gun down the lot of them. When supplies started to run thin it seemed unlikely that this would end well. Breach the surface and they might announce their presence to who knows what. Wait and they might starve or even have a good old fashioned dramatic breakdown of psyches, just off each other and save everybody the trouble. Luckily, they had a man with a passing familiarity with the plan. Ziv always felt that he worked better as a second fiddle; he helped the captain in charge maintain order, rationed the food to last a bit longer and maintain fairness, and kept spirits up by acting as a pseudo-psychologist for the troubled crew. He wasn't trained but he had a pretty good understanding of animal mentalities and even better, a great listening ear. All of this was done to keep discipline as the group prepared for a return to the surface. They were hilariously undergeared and could claim a good six rifles to their unit. Why, they even had four pairs of trained hands to wield most of them! So it was that Ziv began pulling the results of their research and rigging together the "more practical" discoveries of the undersea expedition. They were guaranteed to go down as at least a mildly interesting footnote when one of their scientists would be backing them up in a home-made "Tactical Reaction And Stealth HUD-Enabled Device." Yessiree, his last chance to get TRASHED. They broke water at dawn, passing from one murky darkness to the next. The passage of the deep sea elevator would be unmistakable, picked up by any tracking equipment worth a drat, including most fishermen's GPSes. Captain Grant and a Private would lead the way while everybody else held back, waiting to see how things played out. Funny how everyone became a pessimist when "warning" shots put Private Morrisson down. Communication equipment was working now and the Vular were too happy to provide the ultimatum: surrender or die. Grant suggested that there was probably a "then die" after that first option and he needed everybody to hold together, to keep things disciplined. Fleeing wouldn't go well. Ziv could only agree and help the others put on a brave face, made a bit easier in his case thanks to a full helmet masking his terror. There was nothing like a field test. The tense cat and mouse between the lab crew and the Vular unit lasted nearly an hour, Ziv and Grant managing to stay two steps ahead of off-worlders used to targets that couldn't fight back. It was immensely satisfying to end up overlooking their pursuers after a fake-out and a double back. They were close enough to know that it was victory or death: they might outfox the Vular in the woods but they wouldn't get far on foot or out of cover. Ziv volunteered to show off the military applications of Terisian fauna as Grant led the charge, one hardened soldier and five others mopping up the group of blinded, paralyzed, confused and hopelessly frustrated Vular in the midst of a field of bursting lights, sounds and breached chemicals. The crew separated back at Tremont, figuring that they could keep in loose contact but being too organized made for a risky target. And that's the story of how Zivilyn ended up in a nice port city, dressed up like he was almost a real badass mercenary man and subtly carrying enough experimental toxins and compounds to jumpstart a psi-ops research program. Ziv would end up trying to find a way off Teris or to get back in with the Plisean Brass but it seems all roads lead back to the rebellion. Well, it was just another connection. Not like he had much else to do. Not like he much fancied being locked down on this planet any more than Plisea. * Where are you from? That is, What planet are you from? What kind of world is it (climate, size) and what is its role (trade, military, mining, colony, something else)? How populated is it? What part of it are you from? Plisea itself, a huge gleaming temperate jewel that's more developed land than it is natural. As the heart of the Alliance it's responsible for all things military and sees more trade than you can imagine, tying together the interests of three massive cultures and then some. Population is said to be in the hundreds of billions, though it can be hard to keep track of the sheer volume of traffic passing through. Ziv hails from one of the nicer upper crust districts but as far as he's concerned they might as well all be the same mass produced city. Nice enough to live in if doing the same thing every day of your life is what you're after. * Name one thing that made you who you are today. "I'd reckon my parents, go figure. But all the efforts to turn me into some perfect heir or somethin' seems to have paid off, yeah? But like Dad'd say, sometimes the start-up goes in a new direction, a-heh heh." * Who is your best friend? Your worst enemy? "It ain't easy doing business when you're more of a materials and blueprints kinda guy instead a some sorta sweet talker. That's when I like to keep in touch with some of my pals, they handle the face time and get a nice cut of the work, I don't get some guy who's more scars than face going ape-poo poo on me because I didn't notice he's wearing the capo's golden codpiece or somethin'. When I pass by a nicer capital system I like to give a ring to my pal Dizzi Hannigan, a really bright jackass Dwarf who always knows which way the wind is blowing. He's funny as hell and doesn't get sour about losing at cards either, good company." "Awhile ago I was doing a port call and decided to try running some hook ups between one of those more stable Gnollish clans and some locals. You know how it is, when the beastier guys want to go hunting on some offworld comet with giant worms or something they need some really powerful uppers to get their bloodlust going, especially when they've got twice the usual body mass of the intended customer. Now here I am just providing a valuable cultural service to some upstanding gentlemen when this batshit crazy tries the old kick-in-the door approach. I've got a bit of a knack for ducking out early and finding the nearest alley instead of confronting attackers in a hyper-aggressive state so I learned about things after the fact with a flashbang or two at my back. Turns out this police woman Millicent Farbrook was hellbent on cleaning up the streets. Had a talent for getting reassigned, one of those really fearless badass Humie types who ruffles feathers when all the investigating turns up connections between the cops and the crooks. It's one of those names you look up before traveling to certain locals. Not as many surprises in life, makes things a lil' easier." * Why were you on Teris when the Imperium took over? "The write-up sounded pretty interesting but I probably should've rethought things when my Reqs Officer gave me some kits for treating terminal rot foot. When the barracks started busting my rear end over it all I could say was "Just 6 months, boys. What could go wrong?" One of them famous last words, yeah?" * Why do you fight? What did the Imperium do to make you decide to risk your life to join the rebellion? What are you sacrificing to be here? "Attempted murder is always a personal touch. I'm not sure if I'm the guy to fight the uh, entire Imperium, but I reckon there ain't much of a path off this rock that don't involve it. I don't think I'm sacrificing much... sitting around being "that guy" in town is kinda sad. I like being "that guy" in every town, just the one is some pretty lovely profit margins. Besides... I almost oughta thank the Vular. Do you know how long it takes to get approval to apply biological agents to organic targets in practical use? Maybe we outsource to their bureaucrats or something because I've never met such joyless suits." ~~~~~ Reskins In lieu of a better name and a formal patent, TRASHED is an experimental suit that can generate and reflect light to provide minimal stealth interactions. It can also store and project bursts of light in patterns based on the bioluminescent properties of the Teris sea life using experimental generators that attempt to electrically simulate the effects. The suit has been lovingly hand-rigged with pieces of automated lab equipment condensed down to the point that it fits out of view in the sleeves, legs and torso. A deep-sea diving helmet has been reconfigured to provide protection against the user's own armaments and to make use of a sophisticated HUD and onboard computer. In short it is a masterpiece of scouting technology and one of a kind, born of the sort of insight one receives under mind-bending anxiety and doubts about their mortality. It also comes with an extendable and retractable hand-held tuning rod device originally designed for sonar experimentation. This device can receive and send wireless signals and serves as a common focal point for the projection of the suit's powers. It and the arms also make use of simple firing mechanisms to deliver chemical agents or mixed compounds in canisters. Wild Shape: Primary use of the suit's stealth applications. Passage of light over the surface of the suit and reflected grants an opportunity to evade enemy notice. Servos in the legs assist with mobility. Swarming Locusts: Administration of military grade chaff simulates grenade dispersion in a limited area. Disables enemy electronics and illuminates area, making follow up attacks more effective. Jolt of Lightning: Larger concentration of luminescence technology builds to weaponized laser state. Grasping Tide: Firing of military grade flashbang disorients groups of foes. Gust of Wind: Application of flashbang and chemical compounds produces violent and loud burst. Absence of shrapnel reduces damage output but keeps devices light weight and easily reusable while still delivering practical damage due to damage to sensitive organic systems, i.e. ears and eyes. Lightning Arc: Poison compounds taken from Teris fish are mixed with other chemical agents to explosively erupt on exposure to open air. Initial effect and heaviest application paralyzes initial target. Spread of gaseous substance that follows will induce immediate and violent illness in those nearby. Longbow: Rifle.   pre:Zivilyn Dariox HP: 25/25 AC: 15 Passive Insight: 20 Surges: 8/8 (V: 6) For: 12 Passive Perception: 22 Initiative: +12 Ref: 14 Action Points: 1 Speed: 8 Will: 17 Vision: Low-light Languages: Common, Elven At Will Encounter Daily Grasping Tide [ ] Second Wind [ ] Lightning Arc Jolt of Lightning [ ] Gust of Wind Swarming Locusts Wild Shape Rituals Animal Messenger Comprehend Language Implement: +6 Melee: +8, 1d8+2 Ranged: +4, 1d10+2 Passives: Staff Expertise: Implement Powers do not provoke OAs Agile Form: Always Shift 1 when entering or exiting Wild Shape Wild Step: Ignore Difficult Terrain when Shifting Primal Predator: +1 Speed Group Awareness: +1 Perception to Allies within 5 Squares Sense Threat: Use Perception for Initiative Grant +2 Initiative to Allies that roll lower within 10 Squares Doomykins fucked around with this message at 13:25 on Jul 23, 2016 |
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Jul 15, 2016 23:54
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Hoo-ray! Here ya go. pre:Zivilyn Dariox HP: 25/25 AC: 15 Passive Insight: 20 Surges: 8/8 (V: 6) For: 12 Passive Perception: 22 Initiative: +12 Ref: 14 Action Points: 1 Speed: 8 Will: 17 Vision: Low-light Languages: Common, Elven At Will Encounter Daily Grasping Tide [ ] Second Wind [ ] Lightning Arc Jolt of Lightning [ ] Gust of Wind Swarming Locusts Wild Shape Rituals Animal Messenger Comprehend Language Implement: +6 Melee: +8, 1d8+2 Ranged: +4, 1d10+2 Passives: Staff Expertise: Implement Powers do not provoke OAs Agile Form: Always Shift 1 when entering or exiting Wild Shape Wild Step: Ignore Difficult Terrain when Shifting Primal Predator: +1 Speed Group Awareness: +1 Perception to Allies within 5 Squares Sense Threat: Use Perception for Initiative Grant +2 Initiative to Allies that roll lower within 10 Squares
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Jul 23, 2016 13:04
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