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"Command, whose footprints are these?"
"What was that noise?!"
And so on, and so on. So I may have been a bit blatant in referencing MGS aesthetics for this outfit. And yea, another HSD character. What? Me? Pfeh, I would never be addicted to character creation.
Bit of backstory for this iteration of Cora, too:
Left alone at an early age, and made to fend for myself since practically day one in a quiet Spyglass CorpTown. With nothing to my name, not even clothes, I persevered through the harsh realities of living without significant figures in my life. I didn't realize at the time, but, this mentality, this... making something out of nothing, is exactly what Spyglass citizens are taught and encouraged to do. They wouldn't offer me anything, but they allowed me to stick around. I almost wonder if it was morbid curiosity, but maybe they saw something in me. A spark, maybe? Hell if I know. Years roll by, I stumble and scramble through life, peddling my skills with lockpicks and my novice ability to break into low-level systems with a half-broken Crash Suite I snagged off of some sleeping dog in the back alleys.
I caught my break, though, when I was offered a simple task: break into a hideout, lift some credit chits, and escape with as many as I could carry. Simple on paper. Eager, I thought myself prepared for the task ahead, and prepared my kit, headed to the site, and set to work. Like a shadow, I worked through the least guarded window, crept inside, and searched in secret for what felt like hours. Deep within the compound, I found the prize, but had only just gotten the thing open before the first report of a firearm rings across the room, and I roll behind the safe just as the bullet whizzes by. I'd brought no weapons, and had a handful of chits clutched in my shaking hand. With few options open, I pushed to my feet but kept my head low, and sprinted across the way, flinching and panicked with each shot, fearing each time that this would be my end. If this was the end, I was going to go out on my own terms, and leaped into a window, shattering and falling a good story, rolled, and kept running away from the place. I ran and ran... and only as I collapsed in the shadows of a familiar alleyway did the pains of my fall really catch up to me. With gritted teeth, I willed myself through the aches, never knowing whether I'd actually broken anything in my escape. I look to the chits scattered at my feet, and ponder for a moment if all of that was worth the risk.
Wearily, I push to my feet, and latch the provided Toggle to the nearest smart surface, and open a call with the contractor, explaining that I nabbed a handful, asking what they wanted done with them. My puzzlement must have been obvious when they told me to keep them, as they assured me this was a test of competency, and that I'd apparently passed with flying colors. Getting spotted, nearly falling to my death, and running with 3, maybe 4 chits is 'flying colors'? Who am I to judge, I thank them, close the call, tuck the chits away and roll myself to sleep.
My rest is fitful and uncertain, and I swear that I can feel someone, or something, picking at my leg. Ticks? As I open my eyes, intent on checking, I fall back and sputter, claws readily flexing as I find someone looking me in the face. Clumsily, she introduces herself, and I, in kind, introduce myself. With panic fading, I get a better look at her, and find myself quickly infatuated.
That... was the start of something good, I thought at the time. Romantic... isn't the word I'd use. We were a couple of alley-dwelling felid Vectors... it was warmth, though; it was company. Purpose. I would die for her, if it came to that. I kept doing odd jobs for these contractors, sharing my haul with her, giving her the best I could, but in the years that followed, as the two of us reached into adulthood, we sought something more. Something... stable. Together, we gathered the warmest gear we could, and set out into the wintry hell that is Ganymede, and trudged through the wilds, aimed for a MarsCo outpost that was supposedly planetside.
I enlisted in MarsCo's defense services, undertook the training. It was a long, arduous process, but through it, I learned discipline, and honed my body further. From a grimy alleycat to a more proper Vector citizen.
Unfortunately, the bond that I thought we'd forged was less strong than I imagined. Than I felt. One night, she simply disappeared, no trace, no note. My first inclination, of course, was an abduction, and I put out the word of a potential kidnapping. We scrambled, searching every nook and cranny we could. Ganymede, though, has a reputation, and with each passing day, I felt drawn further and further from finding her. She's resourceful, resilient, and surely still out there somewhere. I... hope to find her again. No, I will find her. A thousand armies won't stop me. I'm Cora Valion, MarsCo independent operative.
Art/Cora Valion: Yours truly, FrostWyrm102
HC SVNT DRACONES[HSD] Second Edition (RPG system): Weapons Grade Funk/Severus
"What was that noise?!"
And so on, and so on. So I may have been a bit blatant in referencing MGS aesthetics for this outfit. And yea, another HSD character. What? Me? Pfeh, I would never be addicted to character creation.
Bit of backstory for this iteration of Cora, too:
Left alone at an early age, and made to fend for myself since practically day one in a quiet Spyglass CorpTown. With nothing to my name, not even clothes, I persevered through the harsh realities of living without significant figures in my life. I didn't realize at the time, but, this mentality, this... making something out of nothing, is exactly what Spyglass citizens are taught and encouraged to do. They wouldn't offer me anything, but they allowed me to stick around. I almost wonder if it was morbid curiosity, but maybe they saw something in me. A spark, maybe? Hell if I know. Years roll by, I stumble and scramble through life, peddling my skills with lockpicks and my novice ability to break into low-level systems with a half-broken Crash Suite I snagged off of some sleeping dog in the back alleys.
I caught my break, though, when I was offered a simple task: break into a hideout, lift some credit chits, and escape with as many as I could carry. Simple on paper. Eager, I thought myself prepared for the task ahead, and prepared my kit, headed to the site, and set to work. Like a shadow, I worked through the least guarded window, crept inside, and searched in secret for what felt like hours. Deep within the compound, I found the prize, but had only just gotten the thing open before the first report of a firearm rings across the room, and I roll behind the safe just as the bullet whizzes by. I'd brought no weapons, and had a handful of chits clutched in my shaking hand. With few options open, I pushed to my feet but kept my head low, and sprinted across the way, flinching and panicked with each shot, fearing each time that this would be my end. If this was the end, I was going to go out on my own terms, and leaped into a window, shattering and falling a good story, rolled, and kept running away from the place. I ran and ran... and only as I collapsed in the shadows of a familiar alleyway did the pains of my fall really catch up to me. With gritted teeth, I willed myself through the aches, never knowing whether I'd actually broken anything in my escape. I look to the chits scattered at my feet, and ponder for a moment if all of that was worth the risk.
Wearily, I push to my feet, and latch the provided Toggle to the nearest smart surface, and open a call with the contractor, explaining that I nabbed a handful, asking what they wanted done with them. My puzzlement must have been obvious when they told me to keep them, as they assured me this was a test of competency, and that I'd apparently passed with flying colors. Getting spotted, nearly falling to my death, and running with 3, maybe 4 chits is 'flying colors'? Who am I to judge, I thank them, close the call, tuck the chits away and roll myself to sleep.
My rest is fitful and uncertain, and I swear that I can feel someone, or something, picking at my leg. Ticks? As I open my eyes, intent on checking, I fall back and sputter, claws readily flexing as I find someone looking me in the face. Clumsily, she introduces herself, and I, in kind, introduce myself. With panic fading, I get a better look at her, and find myself quickly infatuated.
That... was the start of something good, I thought at the time. Romantic... isn't the word I'd use. We were a couple of alley-dwelling felid Vectors... it was warmth, though; it was company. Purpose. I would die for her, if it came to that. I kept doing odd jobs for these contractors, sharing my haul with her, giving her the best I could, but in the years that followed, as the two of us reached into adulthood, we sought something more. Something... stable. Together, we gathered the warmest gear we could, and set out into the wintry hell that is Ganymede, and trudged through the wilds, aimed for a MarsCo outpost that was supposedly planetside.
I enlisted in MarsCo's defense services, undertook the training. It was a long, arduous process, but through it, I learned discipline, and honed my body further. From a grimy alleycat to a more proper Vector citizen.
Unfortunately, the bond that I thought we'd forged was less strong than I imagined. Than I felt. One night, she simply disappeared, no trace, no note. My first inclination, of course, was an abduction, and I put out the word of a potential kidnapping. We scrambled, searching every nook and cranny we could. Ganymede, though, has a reputation, and with each passing day, I felt drawn further and further from finding her. She's resourceful, resilient, and surely still out there somewhere. I... hope to find her again. No, I will find her. A thousand armies won't stop me. I'm Cora Valion, MarsCo independent operative.
Art/Cora Valion: Yours truly, FrostWyrm102
HC SVNT DRACONES[HSD] Second Edition (RPG system): Weapons Grade Funk/Severus
Category Artwork (Digital) / All
Species Feline (Other)
Size 865 x 1000px
File Size 176.9 kB
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