Warren was raised in a chaotic crèche of youngsters, nursed by several mothers, taught by many fathers, worked alongside many siblings, including Ellie, who would be one of his older sisters. Families, friends, kith and kin kinda all blended into each other, indistinguishable in meaning and relationship. They lived on the outskirts of the ever expanding city, and he was taught how to mine, how to scavenge, and how to build. With no more pods to make new housing, the city needed building materials. And he has spent much of his working life mining for rock and clay for bricks, ore for metal, digging up any magi scrap worth pawning, and just occasionally the corpse of any gribbly who wandered too far from the equatorial forests. He hauls his finds onto his makeshift sled, straps the adjoining harness over his shoulders, and drags the loads over the wastes towards home. All day long. Safe to say that's where a lot of his strength comes from.
Appearance: - At only 5ft dead, Warren is tiny. Well, all Dusters aren't exactly statuesque, but he is 5ft of densely packed granite none the less. Skin the colour of cinnamon, but it's up for debate how much of that is made up of the red earth he's so often caked in. Hair bleached platinum white from working outside, and despite being shorn close to his head, still manages to have the consistency of a tumbleweed. A hooded poncho goes over his usual thick garments, gloves, and armour bracing his knees, the small of his back and elbow joints. Thick, steel toed boots with climbing spikes on the soles, and a black rebreather mask constantly obscuring his face. He only removes it in Ellie's company.
Personality: - Warren is not really a people person. Long days spent alone on the wastes will do that. Man of action, not words. A simple life and simple pleasures that go along with it. He might be young by duster standards, but he prefers to be alone, an odd trait amongst colonists, but he will come out of his shell to be a wrangler to his wayward older sister.
Inventory: - Compass: The compass is vital for finding the way around caves, deserts and the dust storms that kick up regularly, and was handed down from Granpappy. Small, silvery, clicks shut with a clasp, hangs around his neck on a chain. Has a little peculiar symbol of the front, but not even Granpappy's granpappy could tell him what it means...
Pickaxe: His pickaxe is one he made himself. In truth it looks more like a warpick than anything made merely for labour, with the side not taken up by the 10 inch horn spike, being taken up not by a shovel, but a blunt square hammer face. People are always surprised by how heavy it is, and concerned if the permanent red hue it has is due to the iron ore, the red rock, or caked blood. No one's dared ask.
Rebreather: His rebreather doesn't leave his face. Even when inside. Large circular blue/green tinted lenses cover his eyes right to the hairline and the breathing apparatus to the jaw. His hood covers the rest. It's been a mystery how long he's worn it, but few can remember what he actually looks like apart from his sister.
Sled: Akin to a dogsled, but capable of carrying substantially more weight, it is a simple structure of metal and canvas. it has no engine of any kind, but can be fixed with sails to catch a headwind if permitted, or the reverse, to provide cover, come the storms or a makeshift tent/campbed for long hauls.
Napsack: A simple pouch carried on the small of his back. Contains a penknive, 30 foot of steel wire, a waterskin, a flare, flint/steel/tinderbox and a weeks worth of dried rations.
Name: Eliza "Ellie" Warren
Appearance: Like all Dusters, Ellie is relatively short, standing a little over five foot tall, with tan, almost reddish skin. A lifetime of tough, physical work has given her a strong build, complemented by her wide hips and broad shoulders. Her lightly tan, off-white hair is often tied up into a thick braid, her fringe brushed away from her bright green eyes.
She tends to wear hard wearing clothing, overlaid with a well kept poncho and long muffler. She often goes without her atmo-mask when out and about proper, to "enjoy the fresh air", leaving her with a semi permanent dirt smeared face.
Personality: Some would call Ellie idealistic. Others, would less kindly call her hopelessly naive. She waxes nostalgically of a past that may have never been, of glowing heroes doing battle against the dark hordes of the Other. Of righteousness and glory, of good triumphing over evil, of draw blades and fateful duels. Of that eternity of discovery just past and beyond the horizon. She tries to reconstruct ideas of this history with whatever fragments she can find amongst the relics on Kelijak, all the while dreaming of adventure.
Trying to live up to these standards, she attempts to be the best person she can be, to see the best in people, to help the weak and helpless, to give selflessly where she can. Of course, this singleminded devotion to an imaginary ideal, as well as her hereditary obstinance has made Ellie what she likes to call "stoic". To everyone else, it's willful and stubborn. The surest way to get her to do something is to tell her not to do it, especially if it's something that dangles the forbidden fruit of "peril". As a youth, childish dares more than once led her into situations that earned a hearty scolding, ranging from releasing the Thaumhounds to "be free", to getting a closer look at the gennie in Oldtown.
History:What's there to say about me? Eliza Warren, your standard Watcher girl. Got good folks, got good siblings. Everyone cares for each other.
If you're asking about how I grew up, well... still, not much to say. I was always the little chancer, the one who'd explore just 'cause I could, sneakin' away from the creche-dams day in and day out. I suppose Da's tales from his Marshall days didn't help with that. That isn't to say I was a bold child, I wasn't. I stood up, good and proper for the others when somebody tried to lay into them, or argued with the grown ups when I thought they were being unfair to us. I got a tanned hide more than once for actin' up like that, but I stand by, I'd do the same again if given the chance.
Eventually, I knew every nook and cranny of Oldtown, where things could be found or hidden. And... it wasn't enough I guess. I got bored. Started going out onto the plains first chance I was able. It was breathtaking. That huge sky, filled with so many stars. The clouds out on the horizon, passing overhead with flashes and those bone shaking clatters of thunder. The taste of that cold, dry air. I was hooked. Became a scav after that. Found bits and bobs the other Watchers needed, odd things the Magi left behind, all sorts of stuff.
I was tempted to become a Marshal, just like Da, but... I don't know. I think I'd just be here all the time after that. No going off, no finding anything new. Protectin' the people, bein' the shield, all that. And... I can't see myself doin' it. I mean, I can see all the helpin' people, the protectin' all that, no problem. It's... it's the stayin' here bit that gets me. Sometimes, when the skies are clear, and the wind's died down, I like to lay on the mesa and look up at the stars. To imagine what it's like up there. To imagine what I'd be like up there. And I start thinkin'... not seriously mind, but just... idle thinkin', what if I actually left? Not just Tombwatch, but... Kelijak. Went off proper. Helped the folks out there. Stood up to anybody who'd look down on Dusters and the like. Fought to make us great again, you know?
Ah, but they're stupid thoughts. Not actually goin' to do them. Got too much family here. They need me. Ben needs me. But still...
Physical
Mental
Social
Strength:
3
Intellect:
2
Bearing:
2
Dexterity:
3
Intuition:
3
Guile:
2
Fitness:
3
Willpower:
4
Composure:
2
Physical
Mental
Social
Awareness:
3
Academics:
3
Bioweapon Handling
3
Athletics:
3
Administration:
-
Empathy:
3
Defence:
3
Applied Magical theory:
-
Language:
-
Melee:
3
Artisan:
-
Mingling:
-
Piloting:
-
Craft:
-
Perform:
-
Ranged:
3
Investigation:
3
Persuasion:
-
Stealth:
-
Lore:
3
Subterfuge:
-
Unarmed:
-
Medicine:
-
-
-
-
-
Navigation:
3
-
-
-
-
Survival:
3
-
-
Skill Focus
-
-
Familiarity: Tombwatcher
Having grown up in Tombwatch, everyone Eliie has ever known has been a Watcher. Goes without saying that she gets bonuses to Empathy, Persuasion, and Mingling with them.
Knowledge:Kelijak Scav
Ellie's been around these parts, and then some. She's used to looking around, finding what works and what won't. She's damn good at it too. Bonuses to Lore: Magitechnology, Survival: Kelijak, and Investigation: Ruins.
Training: Hard Worker
If Ellie decides she likes something, she throws herself into it. Whether that be practicing to shoot when she was thinking about being a Marshal, or looking up old vids on sword fighting when she found one out in the wastes, the girl gives it her all when practicing. Bonuses to Ranged: Slug Pistols, Melee: Two Handed Swords, Athletics: Endurance.
Health:
10
Condition:
20
Offence
Defence
Speed
Offence: Melee:
6
Defend Rating:
6
Speed:
6
Offence: Unarmed:
2
Soak
3
Combat Pool
9
Offence: Ranged :
6
Magic Resist
4
Ranged Pool
9
Thaumhound:Bentley
Ellie's pet thaumhound, Bentley. Relatively well trained, she takes him when she goes scavenging to help find secret caches of Scav goods. He's pretty smart, but Ellie loves his goofy self.
Sword:Lightning
A strange sword Ellie found while scavenging, finding it awkwardly hidden in an abandoned emergency Duster shelter with no idication fo how it got there or where it originally came from. Sleek and slightly curved, with a long guardless handle, it's not like any of the other Magi blades she's seen. Even showing it to other afficiandos of Magi relics gave her little information. Sometimes, if you hold it just right, you can see it glow, and if you listen very carefully, you can hear it hum.
Pistol:Revolver
A simple slug throwing revolver that Ellie brings for self defence while out scavving. It's simple and well maintained, to stave off the constant red sands of the outside.
Back Pack:Survival Gear
A backpack filled with all the gear one would need to traverse and survive the majority of Kelijak's surface. There's also a slate with some old stories and vids on it, as well as a cartog-transponder.
Jewelery:Locket
A simple locket with small picture of Ellie's family inside. It's kept hidden under her clothes, but she looks at it often when out scavving.
Appearance: Bea is a sturdy five foot two. Her cropped hair still has a flaxen tinge. What is visible of her dark red skin contrasts with lighter clothes. She bears a medic's insignia, as she staffs a hospital hab outside of Oldtown.
Personality: Despite growing up in healthy and supportive family network, Beathel is prone to worry, particularly when dealing with the unfamiliar. Luckily, making rounds in a med hab has granted her steady hands and the ability to present a steady demeanor. She's often addressed as Auntie Bea in her family unit, and regarded as the babysitter who can at least patch the roughhousers up if things go awry.
While she prefers sticking to protocol and routine, her sense of responsibility has led to her following her friends into some unusual situations.
Appearance: A taller Duster at 5' 4", Chalith is a great example of Marshall and martial fitness. Skin pale and pink from nearly all of her assigned work being indoors and within Engineering sections of the Tomb. Pock marks mar her complexion and a dark buzz cut competes the standard Marshall look.
Personality: Generally tired of her given career in the law enforcement branch of the Tomb, Chalith generally is a dry sort. By the book unless it becomes inconvenient, she knows the ins and outs of being a Marshall and knows when to project authority and when to pass on by.
Part of her has started desperately looking for any sort of outlet. Mental or emotional. Anything to pull her from the doldrums of routine. One more day of cafre, walk to work, run her patrol, sign out, make a single serve dinner, fall asleep with a bottle and do it all over again and she'd probably put a shock rod down her throat and burn the battery out.
Life has got to have more and going through something of a midlife crisis, Chalith has to do something to make all this life worth while.
-
Knowledge - Tomb of Law
Laws and regulations of the Duster Society
Training - Cease and Desist sir
Marshall training and proper law enforcement technique
Familiarity - Depths of the Tomb
The darkest parts of the city have had Chalith flash a light on them at one time or another
