Name: Zuri.
Gender: Girl
Age: 17
Personality: Shy, loyal, strong willed, depending on her metal spikes to orient herself.
Appearance: she was an experiment that went wrong, now she has the body of a human, but with short, black, silky fur covering most of her body except her face and hands. Where the feet should be, she got something looking like paws and on her forehead it’s three small metal spikes. Her eyes are green and she got a long strong tail.
Family: All dead.
Childhood: Zuri was a fun loving girl. She used to play in the garden, having tea parties with her little sister. Her parents called her Zuri because of her pale withe skin, and her gentle nature. Everything was like a dream for the little girl, but the day she turned 10 things changed. Four men came to visit, she could hear her mom screaming, her father running up the stairs to her little sisters rom. She was scared and hid under the bed. The door slammed up, and her father’s dead body hit the floor with her sister in his arms. Two of the strangers picked her sister up and walked out of the room, just as if nothing ever happened. It didn’t take long before Zuri was found eighter and the two girls was brought to a lab full of children. The men were trying to alter the DNA of the children to make them the perfect warrior or spy for the tyrant that ruled the land. Her sister died in one of these experiments. And Zuri was the next. One of the kids had managed to bring a kitten into the lab, and lost it. When Zuri was up to be tested on, the little black cat jumped in front of her just as the light hit her, and she was found a failure. They throw her away, alone into the woods to die.
Gender: Girl
Age: 17
Personality: Shy, loyal, strong willed, depending on her metal spikes to orient herself.
Appearance: she was an experiment that went wrong, now she has the body of a human, but with short, black, silky fur covering most of her body except her face and hands. Where the feet should be, she got something looking like paws and on her forehead it’s three small metal spikes. Her eyes are green and she got a long strong tail.
Family: All dead.
Childhood: Zuri was a fun loving girl. She used to play in the garden, having tea parties with her little sister. Her parents called her Zuri because of her pale withe skin, and her gentle nature. Everything was like a dream for the little girl, but the day she turned 10 things changed. Four men came to visit, she could hear her mom screaming, her father running up the stairs to her little sisters rom. She was scared and hid under the bed. The door slammed up, and her father’s dead body hit the floor with her sister in his arms. Two of the strangers picked her sister up and walked out of the room, just as if nothing ever happened. It didn’t take long before Zuri was found eighter and the two girls was brought to a lab full of children. The men were trying to alter the DNA of the children to make them the perfect warrior or spy for the tyrant that ruled the land. Her sister died in one of these experiments. And Zuri was the next. One of the kids had managed to bring a kitten into the lab, and lost it. When Zuri was up to be tested on, the little black cat jumped in front of her just as the light hit her, and she was found a failure. They throw her away, alone into the woods to die.
Name: Richard Fransis Oployd Ferdinan Stevens.
Nickname: Scraps
Age: 75
Ocupation: runns the towns local scrappile. inventor, merchant and recycler.
Family: None he can remember. he had a memoryloss 25 years ago and his life befor is a mystery. has a pet robot that he changes when he is bored.
Mental status: Mad, to a sochialy acseptable degree, and often bored.
personal mantra: "everything can be made if you see it inside your head!" this mantra have made half the scrappile into a storrage for "projects under development". a normal person would call it a lost cause but Scraps never acsepts defeat... therefor, the big storrage of stuff...
He awoke with a strong headake. he looked around and saw nothing else than rusty pipes, broken glass and randomly tossed wooden scraps. he sat upp, scratching his head. the feeling of having forgotten something was spinning around inside his head. he started looking around and after serching for a while, he found a worn out top hat. "Why would anyone toss you away, little friend?" he said to the hat. he put it on his head and started talking to it further. "you wouldent, by any chance know where we are, would you?" it was, to him, like the hat showed him around as he was walking. while walking, he came upp with the splended idea to name his reacently aquired hat. "what do you think of the name Arty, good friend?". the hat didnt moove or say anything, but since he felt his head get warmer as the hat was on, he took that as an aprooving sighn. after an hour, he had reatched a few buildings that ledd on to a small town. he asked around, but aperantly, nobody knew him. in the evening he went back to the area where he had woken upp. "it seems to me that we dont know who we are, Arty. what do you sugest?" the hat said nothing. "no ideas, huh?" he said. "i guesse we should find a place to sleap, then.". after finding a small, rusty tank, he and his good friend, the hatt layed down to fall asleap. the fain light of the sun reatched into the inner wall of the tank and iluminated a few ingraved words. "Richard Fransis Oployd Ferdinan Stevens... what an interesting name... dont you think so, Arty?" the hat said nothing, but this became his new name. since the townsfolk had some trouble remembering this, and the fact that he now lived on the scrappile, they just called him Scraps. the years went by, and without really understanding how it happened, everyone started seeing the scpappile as Scraps home and responsibility. he was the sort of person you would start calling: acseptably mad. as the years went by, the townsfolk could see another figure wandering besides Scraps and he was no longer only talking to his hat. the figure allways changed and was clearly not of flesh and bone. the small steampowerd robot of his became known as Dex. it had now been 25 years since he woke upp, but still, he couldent remember his past. not that it botherd him. every time the thought passed his mind he would say "not to worry, Arty. we will propably know tomorrow."
Nickname: Scraps
Age: 75
Ocupation: runns the towns local scrappile. inventor, merchant and recycler.
Family: None he can remember. he had a memoryloss 25 years ago and his life befor is a mystery. has a pet robot that he changes when he is bored.
Mental status: Mad, to a sochialy acseptable degree, and often bored.
personal mantra: "everything can be made if you see it inside your head!" this mantra have made half the scrappile into a storrage for "projects under development". a normal person would call it a lost cause but Scraps never acsepts defeat... therefor, the big storrage of stuff...
He awoke with a strong headake. he looked around and saw nothing else than rusty pipes, broken glass and randomly tossed wooden scraps. he sat upp, scratching his head. the feeling of having forgotten something was spinning around inside his head. he started looking around and after serching for a while, he found a worn out top hat. "Why would anyone toss you away, little friend?" he said to the hat. he put it on his head and started talking to it further. "you wouldent, by any chance know where we are, would you?" it was, to him, like the hat showed him around as he was walking. while walking, he came upp with the splended idea to name his reacently aquired hat. "what do you think of the name Arty, good friend?". the hat didnt moove or say anything, but since he felt his head get warmer as the hat was on, he took that as an aprooving sighn. after an hour, he had reatched a few buildings that ledd on to a small town. he asked around, but aperantly, nobody knew him. in the evening he went back to the area where he had woken upp. "it seems to me that we dont know who we are, Arty. what do you sugest?" the hat said nothing. "no ideas, huh?" he said. "i guesse we should find a place to sleap, then.". after finding a small, rusty tank, he and his good friend, the hatt layed down to fall asleap. the fain light of the sun reatched into the inner wall of the tank and iluminated a few ingraved words. "Richard Fransis Oployd Ferdinan Stevens... what an interesting name... dont you think so, Arty?" the hat said nothing, but this became his new name. since the townsfolk had some trouble remembering this, and the fact that he now lived on the scrappile, they just called him Scraps. the years went by, and without really understanding how it happened, everyone started seeing the scpappile as Scraps home and responsibility. he was the sort of person you would start calling: acseptably mad. as the years went by, the townsfolk could see another figure wandering besides Scraps and he was no longer only talking to his hat. the figure allways changed and was clearly not of flesh and bone. the small steampowerd robot of his became known as Dex. it had now been 25 years since he woke upp, but still, he couldent remember his past. not that it botherd him. every time the thought passed his mind he would say "not to worry, Arty. we will propably know tomorrow."
Name: Mirashi "Mira" Eskrine
Age: 18
Family : Mum Vilanda(witch), dad Dario, little brother Ramond.
Personality : Curious, outgoing at times, very protective of her family and friends. Inventive.
Her story so far:
She have often been telling stories about how her first memory of life as she know it, was of a rather large, angry looking woman standing over her bed, waving her fingers over her, mumbling words she could not understand. Mater of the fact is, this woman would be no other than her own grandmother, who quite charmingly ran away from the city shortly after this incident. There is no simple way of explaining your daughter and the man you hate, that you just wanted to check their young daughter for magical powers. In the middle of the night. Without telling anyone that you would.
To this day, Mira is not sure is she have got any magical powers after her mum, but she really could not care less, if she ever wants to get things done, she is not slow to invent herself something that will help her. The interest for inventing things she had mostly after her father, who works with metals, but also from the ever so slightly mad Scraps, who lives at the scrapyard close to where they live. And with friends like Scraps, there is no wonder her parents get a bit worried at times, whenever she comes home with things they have made together, but cannot explain what is.
Age: 18
Family : Mum Vilanda(witch), dad Dario, little brother Ramond.
Personality : Curious, outgoing at times, very protective of her family and friends. Inventive.
Her story so far:
She have often been telling stories about how her first memory of life as she know it, was of a rather large, angry looking woman standing over her bed, waving her fingers over her, mumbling words she could not understand. Mater of the fact is, this woman would be no other than her own grandmother, who quite charmingly ran away from the city shortly after this incident. There is no simple way of explaining your daughter and the man you hate, that you just wanted to check their young daughter for magical powers. In the middle of the night. Without telling anyone that you would.
To this day, Mira is not sure is she have got any magical powers after her mum, but she really could not care less, if she ever wants to get things done, she is not slow to invent herself something that will help her. The interest for inventing things she had mostly after her father, who works with metals, but also from the ever so slightly mad Scraps, who lives at the scrapyard close to where they live. And with friends like Scraps, there is no wonder her parents get a bit worried at times, whenever she comes home with things they have made together, but cannot explain what is.
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