November & December Test Drive Meme

[thewakemods]

It's that time again!

→ Comment with a new character you'd like to test out in the game's setting. (put character/canon in subject line pls!)
→ You don't have to be in the game to comment! HI NEW PEOPLE LET US ENABLE YOU.
→ Tag around with new and old characters.
→ App all those characters
→ ???
→ PROFIT!

**NOTICE** - For new series and recent updates/occurrences to existing ones, please mark as SPOILERS if you must refer to such, but please use your own discretion in general.

Comments

And have a Kaylin (Clef is mine too, forgot to label.)

[kaylinneya]

Kaylin had been patrolling when she saw the new woman and swore under her breath in French, which the city happily translated as if it had the translation matrix as well. But she approached anyway. Why the actual ****s did she get all the new people?

The woman was short, but clearly an adult for all she stopped getting taller at thirteen or so. She looked like a living crease, or so she was often told. She wore a white shirt with buttons on the cuff of her sleeves that looked like it needed an ironing, and perhaps a washing. Over that was the leather top, the sort of leather that spoke to armor, rather than fashion. It needed some mending under one arm, and could use a good scouring. And somehow managed to look wrinkled. Over that was a chain mail shirt that bunched in such a way that it too looked untidy, which was quite the feat for chain mail.

She had forsaken her tabard today, since that was hanging to dry, and so her wide belt went over the chainmail directly, holding a dagger on either hip - one of a time and world as her clothes, one clearly a much higher technology level than her chain and leather, given it was a vibroblade from the Star Wars universe. Also on the belt was a nightstick, some rope, a belt pouch, a water skin... and two pokeballs.

Her pants were padded leather, and torn at the calf on one leg, badly stained with old blood. Her shoes were good thick soled work boots that could very much use a washing.

Her hair was a rough cut mess of muddy brown pulled into a sloppy knot at the back of her neck that threatened to come free of the gnawed up stick she used to keep it in place. She had a cut over one eye and a fading bruise on her jaw. On the other side of her face was what looked like a delicate tattoo of poisonous nightshade. Sitting on her shoulder, its body on the far side of her face from the tattoo was a tiny flygon, about the size of a house cat. It stopped eating her hair long enough to study the new woman.

Kaylin took a deep breath, put on her best 'cop' face, then spoke. "Do you require assistance?"