Vylosius Gatalia
Vylosius Gatalia (a.k.a. Razorbunny)
Name's Vylo. I'm from a garden world named Ilir Vortus. Yea. That bumbling place. They and I didn't get along well, obviously. They loved their gardening and herbalism, while I loved to tinker. They didn't like it, so, when I was old enough, I saved up and left that green hell behind.
The trip was fine, talked to some other travellers, and reassured myself that this was the path for me. After leaving the ship and working through customs, my travel visa comes up invalid. Try it again, invalid. Now, I didn't have enough money on hand, so... Next thing I knew, I'm processed and tossed practically naked into a debt-internment facility.
Looking at it, I think some bastard on the senate had a hard-on for me, and was bitter that I got off-world before they could propose. No proof, just a hunch. The first few days in that facility, I had only myself as company, so, I had a lot of time to think. Not so much to tinker, but, I did put my practical know-how to good use in that place. Did it so well that by the end of the week, I was called to a meeting room. Across the table, a purple vesk. He called himself Kymag, and he had a proposition for me: he needed someone for a little pet project. Someone with mechanical knowledge. Someone who he would be willing to bail from their predicament. My showing off in that facility caught his eye, apparently. I, of course, agreed, but attempted to put up a condition. He was amused by the sheer gall, and heard me out. All I wanted was the ability to use any byproduct for my own purposes. Silence fell, but with a chuckle, he allowed it.
So, with a heap of scrap in my arms, I was shown just what I was getting myself into. I don't have the damnedest clue where he found this behemoth, but, it's clearly seen better days. Evidently, fixing this thing up would be my job for the foreseeable future. Setting aside enough scrap for my theoretical drone took months. Progress is slow, but sure. Some of Kymag's boys think this beast is Ilirian in origin. I have my doubts, but, that might explain why nobody else knows where to begin with it.
On the side, I developed and built R-B3ET from the ground up, and that little drone has really become quite a handy helper around the shop... well, after I convinced Kymag that there was no way that outsiders could crack into its sensors. He's a touch paranoid about keeping the project a secret.
It hasn't all been sunshine and rainbows, though, as I've never exactly been happy with Kymag's crew. I'm in his debt, sure, but, his and his gang's unabashed ruthlessness does not sit well with me. I hear that someone from that Crowe agency has a vendetta against Kymag. If that one comes a knockin', I won't stop 'im.
The trip was fine, talked to some other travellers, and reassured myself that this was the path for me. After leaving the ship and working through customs, my travel visa comes up invalid. Try it again, invalid. Now, I didn't have enough money on hand, so... Next thing I knew, I'm processed and tossed practically naked into a debt-internment facility.
Looking at it, I think some bastard on the senate had a hard-on for me, and was bitter that I got off-world before they could propose. No proof, just a hunch. The first few days in that facility, I had only myself as company, so, I had a lot of time to think. Not so much to tinker, but, I did put my practical know-how to good use in that place. Did it so well that by the end of the week, I was called to a meeting room. Across the table, a purple vesk. He called himself Kymag, and he had a proposition for me: he needed someone for a little pet project. Someone with mechanical knowledge. Someone who he would be willing to bail from their predicament. My showing off in that facility caught his eye, apparently. I, of course, agreed, but attempted to put up a condition. He was amused by the sheer gall, and heard me out. All I wanted was the ability to use any byproduct for my own purposes. Silence fell, but with a chuckle, he allowed it.
So, with a heap of scrap in my arms, I was shown just what I was getting myself into. I don't have the damnedest clue where he found this behemoth, but, it's clearly seen better days. Evidently, fixing this thing up would be my job for the foreseeable future. Setting aside enough scrap for my theoretical drone took months. Progress is slow, but sure. Some of Kymag's boys think this beast is Ilirian in origin. I have my doubts, but, that might explain why nobody else knows where to begin with it.
On the side, I developed and built R-B3ET from the ground up, and that little drone has really become quite a handy helper around the shop... well, after I convinced Kymag that there was no way that outsiders could crack into its sensors. He's a touch paranoid about keeping the project a secret.
It hasn't all been sunshine and rainbows, though, as I've never exactly been happy with Kymag's crew. I'm in his debt, sure, but, his and his gang's unabashed ruthlessness does not sit well with me. I hear that someone from that Crowe agency has a vendetta against Kymag. If that one comes a knockin', I won't stop 'im.
Species
Year of Birth
1057 ABO
22 Years old
Children
Sex
Female
Height
4' 1" (1.24 m)
Weight
65 lbs(29.48350kg)
