Difference between revisions of "Firefly: Leaf On The Wind - Mechanic"
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==Signature Assets== | ==Signature Assets== | ||
| − | + | * '''Right tool at the right time''': [d8] ''Somehow always just exactly the right gizmo needed to fix whatever just managed to break'' | |
| − | + | * '''In tune with machinery''': [d6] ''Can hear/feel/sense what's going wrong with a piece of machinery - the larger, the easier to sense'' | |
| − | '''Right tool at the right time''': [d8] ''Somehow always just exactly the right gizmo needed to fix whatever just managed to break'' | ||
| − | '''In tune with machinery''': [d6] ''Can hear/feel/sense what's going wrong with a piece of machinery - the larger, the easier to sense'' | ||
==Background/Bio== | ==Background/Bio== | ||
Revision as of 07:30, 2 October 2018
Contents
Rebecca Becca Quinn :: Role
Attributes
- Physical [8]
- Mental [8]
- Social [8]
Trained Skills
- Skill [ ] | Specialty [d6]
Untrained Skills [d4]
- Skill, Skill, Skill
Distinctions/Triggers
Bolded Triggers are active.
Distinction [d8] - Description
- Step Back - Roll d4 Instead of d8 for 1 PP
- Trigger - Description
- Trigger - Description
Distinction [d8] - Description
- Step Back - Roll d4 Instead of d8 for 1 PP
- Trigger - Description
- Trigger - Description
Distinction [d8] - Description
- Step Back - Roll d4 Instead of d8 for 1 PP
- Trigger - Description
- Trigger - Description
Signature Assets
- Right tool at the right time: [d8] Somehow always just exactly the right gizmo needed to fix whatever just managed to break
- In tune with machinery: [d6] Can hear/feel/sense what's going wrong with a piece of machinery - the larger, the easier to sense
Background/Bio
She ran. Rebecca Quinn, nothing more than a skinny slight bit of brown-eyed girl, a child just barely touching her thirteenth birthday, ran as though the devil himself were after him, her blonde hair flying like a flag behind her.
And perhaps...perhaps that devil was behind her, steaming fire and brimstone, as the Alliance troops stormed groundward, shooting, slaughtering, killing as they went, following a scorched-earth policy in the attempt to end the war with as much finality as could be had. It was War, it had come finally come her home, to the smoldering remains of her family's front door.
Her parents had told her to just run and she did. She wasn't sure what direction, panic had set in, but...she followed a small crowed. The fires were everywhere, missiles hitting and exploding and she just threw herself into the first open door: it was any old port in a storm at this point.
It was the Liúlàng Zhe, and...she was the last one on board, hands pulled her through the closing hatch. She panted and puffed and curled into a ball on the deck as, somewhere above and beyond, someone tried to start the motors and they were..unresponsive. She could hear...she could feel...the ship, it could live, it could breath, and she...KNEW what the problem was. Everyone else was busy, running here, running there, trying their own best to do what they could, and the ship, she just wasn't starting, and she called to her. Adults wouldn't have been able to do it, it took her small, skinny hands and arms to reach into that tight, cramped space back into the engine compartment and...they were gone. Skyward. Safe-ward.
And she was crew. And they became her family.
Fast-forward four years and skinny lines of girl became the curves of a pretty young woman, and she was still tending her motors and being part of the family. That still didn't prevent the nightmares, but now, she was able to stay back in her own quarters, a hammock hung back nestled in the motors. At least when the nightmares came, she wasn't curling up with another person and crying. That was on her, now, just her back in her own privacy. Just like any self-respecting adult should.
