Post by Marina Kseniya Sebastien on Oct 31, 2015 0:17:01 GMT -5
First Name: Marina
Last Name: Sebastien
Age: 29 (in 2518)
Height: 5' – 0"
Weight: 120
Appearance: Caucasian, Brunette with brown eyes, trim and muscular
Persuasion: Neutral, but it's complicated!
Military Service: Yes. One side. The other side. Her side. Again, it's complicated.
General Skills:
Tech Engineering:Create/Alter Technical Devices, Technical Repair, Technical Security Systems, Communications systems, Computer Programming, Hacking, Demolitions, Electronics
Mechanical Engineering: (she's seriously off the charts) Create Mechanical Devices, Mechanical Repairs, Mechanical/Machinery Maintenance, Fix Mechanical Security Systems, Mechanical & Technical Improvisation; Plumbing; HVAC
Craft: Metalwork & Finishing, Drawing, MacGyvering
Firearms: Pistol, Rifle
Heavy Weapons: Ship's cannons
Vehicular Operation: Ground (Automatic and Stick), Hovercar, Forklift,
Athletics: She can run a mile, has very good physical endurance, is dexterous and nimble
Survival: Vacuum survival/EVA suit; Land survival/Woodscraft
Melee Weapon: Knives; Improvised Weapons
Unarmed Combat: Brawling, Krav Maga
Discipline: Concentration, Mental Resistance
Covert: Disable Devices, Electronic Forgery, Stealth
Perception: Acute Hearing, Tactics, Situational Awareness
Knowledge: Avid reader, hard knocks experience
Talents
Broken/Genius:
On the genius side of the equation, Rina is (mechanically and technically) intensely creative, inventive, and imaginative. If it's mechanical or technical, as simple as a lever to as complex as a spaceship or computer, chances are good she can make it, break it, and put it back together again—sometimes even better than before, even very differently than before. She knows how everything works. She knows how everything breaks. She can create it once she knows how it works and breaks. What she doesn't know, she can research, study, and figure out or she flat-out intuits what she needs. She can fabricate things to a high degree given the proper tools, and to a not-so-high degree when given improper tools.
Her head is always working on things, practical or theoretical. Her hands are nearly as busy as her head. She's always looking at things with the eye to understanding how they work, how they can be made to work better. It's a constant mental activity that keeps her head and her hands occupied and her mind off trouble. When she's not doing that, she stays occupied with reading everything. She doesn't take enforced inactivity at all well.
On the broken side of the equation, her wartime experience has left her extremely paranoid and twitchy, amplifying her innate drive to take apart and tinker with things so that everything she sees can be a potential offensive or defensive weapon; everywhere she goes is a potential ambush site. Despite this or perhaps because of it, Rina drives herself with a concentration and dedication to the task that is sometimes frightening, refusing surrender or defeat, adamantly confident in her ability to win through whatever adversity she's embroiled in.
Assets:
Athletics: She toned and fit, but not a track star or gym rat, has good endurance
Tough as Nails: She can take some punishment …
Mean Left Hook: … AND dish it out
Mechanical Empathy: She can feel and hear what mech/tech is feeling and saying.
Flaws:
Things Don't Go Smooth: She's a SNAFU magnet but because she's Russian, she's used to it
Straight Shooter: She hates to lie but can shave the truth
Branded: She has an anti-fan club, apparently
Twitchy: Because her past is always present
Personality Traits:
When dealing with machines and ships systems, she's incredibly patient and thorough. When dealing with people, however, she's pretty much the opposite. Her people skills could use some work. She's blunt and abrasive, careless of their feelings, and brutally honest. She also doesn't suffer fools gladly. Her patience with people is whisker thin. She doesn't trust easily. However, once you've earned her trust, it's pretty much for life. It goes without saying that betrayal cuts her deeply and she has the scars to prove it.
Rina's not unaware of her shortcomings and though she'd rather wait and become familiar with others before throwing herself into conversations and debates, her curiosity and temperament rarely afford her that luxury. Rina spends a fair amount of time in her social interactions suppressing her natural inclinations and her success is usually mixed, with more favorable outcomes occurring with those she knows best.
She works hard and prefers quiet and privacy instead of mingling with large crowds or rowdy parties when she's off the clock. She practices a personal PT regimen and Krav Maga to remain in fighting trim. She's rather twitchy about ambushes and close quarters, always preferring to go armed and staying situationally aware as much as possible.
She does not accept the no-win scenario. Because she's already been hurt multiple times in multiple ways, she's not afraid of being hurt and it doesn't hold her back from her course of action once she's decided what she's going to do. As a result, she can focus to the exclusion of everything else, driving herself to her limits, using her intelligence, her inventiveness, and her iron will to get the job done, whatever it happens to be. In her experience, these are enough to get her through anything the Universe can throw at her.
History:
She came up from the wrong side of the tracks through military service. There was a war on, she tested off the charts, and the military wanted her talent and skills. She was assigned to a patrol ship and despite the danger and the combat the ship regularly saw, Rina thrived in the military environment and rose through the enlisted ranks quickly. Three years into the war saw her recommended for a wartime commission to Warrant Officer, but the battle intervened and her ship was shot down. It crashed, she survived, and she dropped off the military's radar. Court martialed in absentia, she was declared AWOL and charged with treason. Evidence against her was sketchy but there was a war on and political pressure was applied. She resurfaced after the War, without the benefit of Amnesty, and took on an assumed name. She perfected the job of itinerant engineer, working and staying with a ship only until the next port or remaining aboard for months. She called one ship home for nearly 3 years before leaving again. When asked about her past, Rina generally evades the question, preferring to keep her past private.
RP Sample:
I'd touched down on Bernadette and after a bath, a bed and a restock of my supplies, I found myself running low on cash. I would have to find another job and soon, or I'd be reduced to begging. I packed my duffel, paid my hostel bill, and hit the streets to find gainful employment. I hadn't gone two blocks before a job offer found me.
"I got twenty credits if you got twenty minutes."
I kept on walking. There was no way I'd earn my living on my back.
"I'll make it worth your time, honey."
He grabbed my arm, hard. I buried my fist in his stomach and put him on the sidewalk. I ignored the language he threw at me but kept my eye on the street. In my experience, roaches like him rarely worked alone and sure enough, two of his friends raised a ruckus and started in my direction. I looked behind me and saw another closing in from the rear. It was three-to-one odds and I had barely gotten any honest dirt on my boots. From the looks of it, they were about to get filthy.
"Hey!" Rear Guard hollered. "Whadja do to Bernie, you ruttin' bitch—."
He had a wicked-looking pipe and he swung it at my head. I ducked and lashed out with my heel, taking out his knee.
Grab the pipe.
I snatched it from the pavement and got out of his reach. That left the other two. They approached more cautiously now that I was armed, which meant one of them rushed me while the other held back. I snatched my duffel off my shoulder and threw it at him. That gave me the opening I needed to close the distance between us and hit him with the pipe. He slapped the bag out of the way and blocked the blow. He threw a punch, I saw it coming and tightened my gut. It doubled me over and he called out as I sucked air.
"Get her, Jimmy!"
Jimmy pinned my arms from behind and lifted me off the ground. Idiot. That left my legs free to kick Gut Puncher on the chin. His head snapped back and he fell like an ox. I went limp, making myself heavy, and felt Jimmy shift for balance. I head butted him. His nose gave way with a wet crunch.
Sonuvabitch.
Jimmy dropped me to grab his nose and I kicked him where it counted. It was a dirty move, but dammit I was angry. I left the bastards groaning where they lay, tossed the pipe and grabbed my duffel off the sidewalk.
That's when I noticed the crowd.
And the local police.
Shit.
"Stand down, Miss."
I dropped my duffel and raised my hands.
"Malinka tigr'," said someone from the rear of the crowd. People parted and a short, impeccably dressed older man stepped forward, his dark hair slicked back in a modest ponytail. "You've grown, my dear."
"And you're late," I replied as if I knew him. Stranger he might be, but he'd addressed me in Russian—Little tiger. It was an unexpected show of solidarity and I grabbed the opening he gave me. "I landed hours ago, Uncle. Didn't you get my message?"
"Excuse me, sir. Is Malinka Tieger a relative of yours?" the senior cop asked, pointing at me.
"Of course," I spoke up. "He's my mother's sister's husband's brother." Dumbass, I didn't say. My tone said it for me.
"I told you hundred times, tigrusha moya, don't trust the messengers," my ersatz Uncle chided me. "They will only steal your money. Call."
He turned to the cop.
"She's come from her family to work for me. I told her to wait at spaceport, but you know how young people are. So impetuous." He pointed across the street. "I saw everything from my office. Three grown men against one little girl..."
Don't push it, I thought. The cops will drag out the violins if he kept this up.
"…self-defense," the man continued. The senior cop listened and I watched the other cops with him. By their body language, I could tell my uncle was a respected member of the community—such as it was—and the cops had dealt with him before. I caught the main points of the story he spun for the law: fifth daughter of poor relations on the Rim, middling grades in school, hard worker, he had a position in his offices waiting for me, this regrettable incident wouldn't happen again, so very sorry to take up their time…
All the while he was backing away through the crowd, taking me with him. By the time we'd gained free of the onlookers, our heels were against the steps leading up to his office.
"So, as you can see, gentleman, it was merely horrible misunderstanding."
"I'll have to write this up, you understand. However, we've had complaints about these mooks before and they've earned a night in the tank. If they bother you or yours again, give us a call."
"Thank you, I shall."
Goodness me, but we were being so civilized about it.
"Nothing to see, everybody. Move along."
The cops sent the crowd on their way and took up their interrupted beat.
"Spasiba," I said once they were out of earshot. "Thank you."
"Pazhahl'sta," he replied. "It was least I could do for my brother's wife's sister's daughter. Although I feel strange addressing niece without name."
"Marina Kseniya Sebastien, ships' engineer."
I stuck out my hand. He took it.
"Josef Potemkin, Potemkin Colonial Services."
He eyed me up and down shrewdly. I stood still and let him look.
"You are perhaps looking for job?" he asked me then.
"You are perhaps offering one?"
"I do not like discussing business in street. Perhaps we will go inside?"
I eyed his office building. It was brick and mortar where most others on the street were board and batten and converted cargo containers. Potemkin Colonial Services declared the painted sign mounted over the door and a quick scan through the windows showed it really was an office. I weighed the circumstances of our meeting against the state of my wallet and sized up the man in front of me. I had my gun, nestled under my left arm inside my coveralls, and he and I were of a size. If it came to a fight, I felt reasonably sure I would win. He still held my hand and I shook it.
"Da. I'd like that."
Do you accept the rules of this site? Yes
Last Name: Sebastien
Age: 29 (in 2518)
Height: 5' – 0"
Weight: 120
Appearance: Caucasian, Brunette with brown eyes, trim and muscular
Persuasion: Neutral, but it's complicated!
Military Service: Yes. One side. The other side. Her side. Again, it's complicated.
General Skills:
Tech Engineering:Create/Alter Technical Devices, Technical Repair, Technical Security Systems, Communications systems, Computer Programming, Hacking, Demolitions, Electronics
Mechanical Engineering: (she's seriously off the charts) Create Mechanical Devices, Mechanical Repairs, Mechanical/Machinery Maintenance, Fix Mechanical Security Systems, Mechanical & Technical Improvisation; Plumbing; HVAC
Craft: Metalwork & Finishing, Drawing, MacGyvering
Firearms: Pistol, Rifle
Heavy Weapons: Ship's cannons
Vehicular Operation: Ground (Automatic and Stick), Hovercar, Forklift,
Athletics: She can run a mile, has very good physical endurance, is dexterous and nimble
Survival: Vacuum survival/EVA suit; Land survival/Woodscraft
Melee Weapon: Knives; Improvised Weapons
Unarmed Combat: Brawling, Krav Maga
Discipline: Concentration, Mental Resistance
Covert: Disable Devices, Electronic Forgery, Stealth
Perception: Acute Hearing, Tactics, Situational Awareness
Knowledge: Avid reader, hard knocks experience
Talents
Broken/Genius:
On the genius side of the equation, Rina is (mechanically and technically) intensely creative, inventive, and imaginative. If it's mechanical or technical, as simple as a lever to as complex as a spaceship or computer, chances are good she can make it, break it, and put it back together again—sometimes even better than before, even very differently than before. She knows how everything works. She knows how everything breaks. She can create it once she knows how it works and breaks. What she doesn't know, she can research, study, and figure out or she flat-out intuits what she needs. She can fabricate things to a high degree given the proper tools, and to a not-so-high degree when given improper tools.
Her head is always working on things, practical or theoretical. Her hands are nearly as busy as her head. She's always looking at things with the eye to understanding how they work, how they can be made to work better. It's a constant mental activity that keeps her head and her hands occupied and her mind off trouble. When she's not doing that, she stays occupied with reading everything. She doesn't take enforced inactivity at all well.
On the broken side of the equation, her wartime experience has left her extremely paranoid and twitchy, amplifying her innate drive to take apart and tinker with things so that everything she sees can be a potential offensive or defensive weapon; everywhere she goes is a potential ambush site. Despite this or perhaps because of it, Rina drives herself with a concentration and dedication to the task that is sometimes frightening, refusing surrender or defeat, adamantly confident in her ability to win through whatever adversity she's embroiled in.
Assets:
Athletics: She toned and fit, but not a track star or gym rat, has good endurance
Tough as Nails: She can take some punishment …
Mean Left Hook: … AND dish it out
Mechanical Empathy: She can feel and hear what mech/tech is feeling and saying.
Flaws:
Things Don't Go Smooth: She's a SNAFU magnet but because she's Russian, she's used to it
Straight Shooter: She hates to lie but can shave the truth
Branded: She has an anti-fan club, apparently
Twitchy: Because her past is always present
Personality Traits:
When dealing with machines and ships systems, she's incredibly patient and thorough. When dealing with people, however, she's pretty much the opposite. Her people skills could use some work. She's blunt and abrasive, careless of their feelings, and brutally honest. She also doesn't suffer fools gladly. Her patience with people is whisker thin. She doesn't trust easily. However, once you've earned her trust, it's pretty much for life. It goes without saying that betrayal cuts her deeply and she has the scars to prove it.
Rina's not unaware of her shortcomings and though she'd rather wait and become familiar with others before throwing herself into conversations and debates, her curiosity and temperament rarely afford her that luxury. Rina spends a fair amount of time in her social interactions suppressing her natural inclinations and her success is usually mixed, with more favorable outcomes occurring with those she knows best.
She works hard and prefers quiet and privacy instead of mingling with large crowds or rowdy parties when she's off the clock. She practices a personal PT regimen and Krav Maga to remain in fighting trim. She's rather twitchy about ambushes and close quarters, always preferring to go armed and staying situationally aware as much as possible.
She does not accept the no-win scenario. Because she's already been hurt multiple times in multiple ways, she's not afraid of being hurt and it doesn't hold her back from her course of action once she's decided what she's going to do. As a result, she can focus to the exclusion of everything else, driving herself to her limits, using her intelligence, her inventiveness, and her iron will to get the job done, whatever it happens to be. In her experience, these are enough to get her through anything the Universe can throw at her.
History:
She came up from the wrong side of the tracks through military service. There was a war on, she tested off the charts, and the military wanted her talent and skills. She was assigned to a patrol ship and despite the danger and the combat the ship regularly saw, Rina thrived in the military environment and rose through the enlisted ranks quickly. Three years into the war saw her recommended for a wartime commission to Warrant Officer, but the battle intervened and her ship was shot down. It crashed, she survived, and she dropped off the military's radar. Court martialed in absentia, she was declared AWOL and charged with treason. Evidence against her was sketchy but there was a war on and political pressure was applied. She resurfaced after the War, without the benefit of Amnesty, and took on an assumed name. She perfected the job of itinerant engineer, working and staying with a ship only until the next port or remaining aboard for months. She called one ship home for nearly 3 years before leaving again. When asked about her past, Rina generally evades the question, preferring to keep her past private.
RP Sample:
I'd touched down on Bernadette and after a bath, a bed and a restock of my supplies, I found myself running low on cash. I would have to find another job and soon, or I'd be reduced to begging. I packed my duffel, paid my hostel bill, and hit the streets to find gainful employment. I hadn't gone two blocks before a job offer found me.
"I got twenty credits if you got twenty minutes."
I kept on walking. There was no way I'd earn my living on my back.
"I'll make it worth your time, honey."
He grabbed my arm, hard. I buried my fist in his stomach and put him on the sidewalk. I ignored the language he threw at me but kept my eye on the street. In my experience, roaches like him rarely worked alone and sure enough, two of his friends raised a ruckus and started in my direction. I looked behind me and saw another closing in from the rear. It was three-to-one odds and I had barely gotten any honest dirt on my boots. From the looks of it, they were about to get filthy.
"Hey!" Rear Guard hollered. "Whadja do to Bernie, you ruttin' bitch—."
He had a wicked-looking pipe and he swung it at my head. I ducked and lashed out with my heel, taking out his knee.
Grab the pipe.
I snatched it from the pavement and got out of his reach. That left the other two. They approached more cautiously now that I was armed, which meant one of them rushed me while the other held back. I snatched my duffel off my shoulder and threw it at him. That gave me the opening I needed to close the distance between us and hit him with the pipe. He slapped the bag out of the way and blocked the blow. He threw a punch, I saw it coming and tightened my gut. It doubled me over and he called out as I sucked air.
"Get her, Jimmy!"
Jimmy pinned my arms from behind and lifted me off the ground. Idiot. That left my legs free to kick Gut Puncher on the chin. His head snapped back and he fell like an ox. I went limp, making myself heavy, and felt Jimmy shift for balance. I head butted him. His nose gave way with a wet crunch.
Sonuvabitch.
Jimmy dropped me to grab his nose and I kicked him where it counted. It was a dirty move, but dammit I was angry. I left the bastards groaning where they lay, tossed the pipe and grabbed my duffel off the sidewalk.
That's when I noticed the crowd.
And the local police.
Shit.
"Stand down, Miss."
I dropped my duffel and raised my hands.
"Malinka tigr'," said someone from the rear of the crowd. People parted and a short, impeccably dressed older man stepped forward, his dark hair slicked back in a modest ponytail. "You've grown, my dear."
"And you're late," I replied as if I knew him. Stranger he might be, but he'd addressed me in Russian—Little tiger. It was an unexpected show of solidarity and I grabbed the opening he gave me. "I landed hours ago, Uncle. Didn't you get my message?"
"Excuse me, sir. Is Malinka Tieger a relative of yours?" the senior cop asked, pointing at me.
"Of course," I spoke up. "He's my mother's sister's husband's brother." Dumbass, I didn't say. My tone said it for me.
"I told you hundred times, tigrusha moya, don't trust the messengers," my ersatz Uncle chided me. "They will only steal your money. Call."
He turned to the cop.
"She's come from her family to work for me. I told her to wait at spaceport, but you know how young people are. So impetuous." He pointed across the street. "I saw everything from my office. Three grown men against one little girl..."
Don't push it, I thought. The cops will drag out the violins if he kept this up.
"…self-defense," the man continued. The senior cop listened and I watched the other cops with him. By their body language, I could tell my uncle was a respected member of the community—such as it was—and the cops had dealt with him before. I caught the main points of the story he spun for the law: fifth daughter of poor relations on the Rim, middling grades in school, hard worker, he had a position in his offices waiting for me, this regrettable incident wouldn't happen again, so very sorry to take up their time…
All the while he was backing away through the crowd, taking me with him. By the time we'd gained free of the onlookers, our heels were against the steps leading up to his office.
"So, as you can see, gentleman, it was merely horrible misunderstanding."
"I'll have to write this up, you understand. However, we've had complaints about these mooks before and they've earned a night in the tank. If they bother you or yours again, give us a call."
"Thank you, I shall."
Goodness me, but we were being so civilized about it.
"Nothing to see, everybody. Move along."
The cops sent the crowd on their way and took up their interrupted beat.
"Spasiba," I said once they were out of earshot. "Thank you."
"Pazhahl'sta," he replied. "It was least I could do for my brother's wife's sister's daughter. Although I feel strange addressing niece without name."
"Marina Kseniya Sebastien, ships' engineer."
I stuck out my hand. He took it.
"Josef Potemkin, Potemkin Colonial Services."
He eyed me up and down shrewdly. I stood still and let him look.
"You are perhaps looking for job?" he asked me then.
"You are perhaps offering one?"
"I do not like discussing business in street. Perhaps we will go inside?"
I eyed his office building. It was brick and mortar where most others on the street were board and batten and converted cargo containers. Potemkin Colonial Services declared the painted sign mounted over the door and a quick scan through the windows showed it really was an office. I weighed the circumstances of our meeting against the state of my wallet and sized up the man in front of me. I had my gun, nestled under my left arm inside my coveralls, and he and I were of a size. If it came to a fight, I felt reasonably sure I would win. He still held my hand and I shook it.
"Da. I'd like that."
Do you accept the rules of this site? Yes