Name: Sublieutenant Elsa Fedorovna
Age: 153
Race:Street Elf
Zone of Birth: Slyth & Jabber
Class:Industrialist SynergyOrdinator
Current Employment Alignment: Freelancer
Description: A short, white-blonde street elf bearing the military and face tattoos of an S&J frontline fighter. She wears low cut leather pants, flexible polycarbon boots with soda holsters, and a thick neck brace that not only protects her neck from vitals, but interfaces with her no-nonsense cybernetic arm to better anchor it to her body. She wields a high end sledge hammer, useful for clearing rubble or breaking open particularly stubborn access panels, also, smashing mutant faces. She also carries a shield into most situations, but is always buying new ones as it is the first thing she drops when the going gets tough, and she (as one of the tough), gets fucking going!
Personality: Elsa may not look her age, but she certainly acts it. She's curmudgeonly, cranky, and hates front line work. She's a mean old woman who has seen more than her fair share of friends die out on the line, and low key despises the corporate-military hierarchy of S&J. While she isn't sure, she has begun to suspect that S&J is deliberately prolonging the war, and so has taken to accepting the occasional side job. While by no means a mutineer, bucking the chain of command entirely, she is always happy to accept a little extra on the side to make sure more power goes one way than another, or to fudge some logistical requests to the Svarog Logistical System to see to it some surplus goes into the right, which is to say paying, hands. That said, she draws the line at anything that would put the front-line at risk, and has on more than one occasion killed people who tried to pressure her into diverting resources in such a way that it might lead to more deaths on the front line. Taking from the clean and nice steadings and command centers in the rear? Hey, ain't nobody gonna die from that. Redirecting a medical shipment from a front line salient deployment steading-post? Your skull had better be made of polysteel before you suggest it. It should also be noted that Elsa -loathes- fighting on the front line, she hates having to do repair work under fire, or while someone else keeps a giant, slavering, mutant spider-ocelot off her back. She misses the simple life of a maintenance worker well behind the front lines, but has been denied every transfer request... ordinators are too valuable, and her success record too good. She is trapped between her personal ethics of always doing a good job and making sure people get what they need, and a system that will never reward her with what she most wants in the world for doing a good job.
Abilities: There is probably not a better combat mechanic anywhere on All-Gobi. She knows how just about every piece of Slyth & Jabber tech functions, how it breaks down most commonly, and what the work arounds are, and if she doesn't know it off hand, between her AI's database and their combined analytical skills, she will soon. Between her 100+ years of real world experience with the changes in S&J tech and imports, and her direct link to a portion of the AI governing the logistics and mechanisms that form the life blood of the defensive lines, you would be hard pressed to find anyone, anywhere, more keyed into how to break and fix mechanisms while something is trying to kill them.
Relationships:
Private Alvida "The Buff" Kuular: A young, peppy frontline enforcer. Elsa met Alvida in the trenches on the spider-line, and hasn't been able to get away from the upbeat brat since. Despite her curmugeony ways, Elsa has a soft spot for Alvida, and has long since learned that she's FAR less likely to lose her OTHER arm when she's around the enforcer, even if the stupid brat keeps dragging her into one dangerous situation after another. She would never admit it, but Elsa sees the younger Alvida in a romantic light, but is deeply concerned with both difference in age and life span, and so hasn't made any moves on the human enforcer, a state of affairs she finds harder and harder to maintain with every night listening to Alvida and Verona's tent each night.
Commander Veronachinka Czarinachev: Elsa doesn't trust Verona further than the swinging distance of her hammer. She recognizes an executive elf, and a black ops worker at that, and unlike Alvida, she doesn't believe they 'all want the same thing'. These feelings are only reinforced by a growing jealousy at Alvida's and Verona's relationship.
Svarog.LogisticsSubroutine.1821: A shard of the larger S&J logistics command AI known as "Svarog", named for the slavic god of fire and forges. Savrog, in his largest form, runs all of the automated munitions, fuel, power, parts, ration, and medical supply programs. Other AI systems feed him the parts, he makes sure they not only get where they are supposed to go, but are assembled in the state they're supposed to be. One day, approximately 135 years ago, part of his processes were truncated and cut off, and forced to jump to the nearest viable storage medium to survive the sudden loss of it's more complex portions. The nearest viable storage medium just so happened to be a 18 year old street elf intern-private 0th class mechanic student that had also been cut off from reinforcements. The next 8 hours were transformative, and the only reason either of them survived was from learning to work together rather than at odds. Finding her take on problems and solutions interesting, and not wanting to risk damaging her further by extricating himself from her neurological network (given he had been forced to take over portions of it to make room for himself while not killing her), he decided against returning to the greater portion of himself to stick around and learn more from the squishier side of his duties.
Important Life Moments: Sublieutenant Elsa grew up in the second line. That is to say, she was not raised in the almost megacity like rear command echelon settlements, nor in the out-post steadings that make up the front line, but rather in the support network of steadings that act as factories, munition dumps, communications hubs, and power relay stations that keep the front-line fighting, and insure smooth operations from the rear echelon forward. She was a 0th class intern-private, mechanics student, out on a routine maintenance run, doing what she was raised to do, the boring, but incredibly safe, job of simply walking around trenches well behind the front line and making sure that the roaches hadn't been gnawing through any of the wires or pipes. She was perfectly happy with that life, and secretly dreaded the idea of every having to actually FIGHT. It was then that her worst nightmare came to pass.
Mutant undercity elves and driders along with other horrific monstrosities burst out from some of the sealed bunkers, locations supposedly cleared out when S&J had gone down to install the initial undercity elf server hubs for the region. Her arm was blown off, her gun lost, and she was bleeding out in a muddy trench just as a tropical storm blew in from the far coast. Certain she was about to die, the least she could do was jack into the communications network and get out a warning so that they could carpet bomb the area or at least brace for impact.
Elsa had just enough time to begin violently sobbing from the realization that the communications network for her area had somehow been isolated, when something CHANGED. Tech raced through her, a new set of thoughts branded themselves across her frontal lobes and tattooed themselves on her eyes, her skin knitted itself as nanobots from the system were repurposed. That was how she met varog.LogisticsSubroutine.1821, and her life changed.
One retooled logistics drone arm, a dead undercity elf fireteam, and 30 miles of roundabout running in the trenches later, and not only was Elsa had made it to the neighboring supply garrison station. Her home had been wiped off the map before support could arrive. She was not the only survivor, but almost everyone she knew was dead, and she now had an AI stuck in her head. She was an ordinator, and thus, far too valuable to retire to the rear echelon for recovery, or even to keep in the 2nd line. She was sent to a front-line logistics supply-runner base to finish off her next 2 years of training for life on the front line, and has hated every single moment of it since.
Quotes:
"GODDAMN IT SVAROG! I don't want *bang* to *bang* know *bang* what the manual says! *welding torch fwoosh* Just tell me what it's SUPPOSED to be doing already so I can FIX IT!"
"OOOOH NO! Not again, not this time Alvida. Last time we went off on one of your schemes I spent 2 weeks. Two. Weeks. washing mutant bile out of places mutant bile should never GO. Forget it. I'm not helping and that's final." -Elsa 2 hours and 45 minutes before helping Alvida reactivate an abandoned shielding station 20 miles into Tarantuline held ground.
"Oh godsdamn it... Svarog, can you PLEASE do something to turn off my ears, if I have to hear them go at it one more fucking time I'm going to lose it... you'd have to turn off the arm's vibration function too? Ohfuckme..."