Authors: Jack (SPA-RK), Jon (Fatesmith) Created: 2025-11-09T12:26:09.000-05:00 Modified: 2025-11-13T20:46:12.000-05:00
| Strength | Dexterity | Constitution | Intelligence | Wisdom | Charisma |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 14 (+2) | 14 (+2) | 16 (+3) | 20 (+5) | 14 (+2) | 09 (-1) |
| Character Info: | Meta Info: |
|---|---|
| Race: Burdened Construct | Player Name: Jack |
| Pronouns: He/Him | Prounouns: He/Him |
| Class: Artificer, Level 10 ↳ Subclass: Artillerist | Played Since: Session 18, ↳ Date: 10/15/2022 |
A construct built to end a war, or continue a war. Does it matter which? In a world where the war he knew is long dead, what future do his people hold? Let it be their choice. Let them exist in defiance of the directives and rules their creators made. Let them bargain for freedom.
Backstory
Amidst the horrors of the Quori Civil War, on the outskirts to the north well past the Nameless City, two hunters attempted to escape the war. For a while, Elkanah and Solomon were safe, even to the point of daring to have children. They lived a few peaceful years, almost forgetting the war on the other side of the continent. Eventually, as the frontlines grew closer, the two joined their local revolutionary militia in an effort to stave off the inevitable. One fateful night, a horrid, snakelike beast of steel and knives dragged Elkanah into the night, never to be seen again.
Hours later, in the depths of Coriolis’ manufacturing district, a fourth generation sapient unit was assembled, a prisoner of war was stripped of his soul, and RK was created. Given his aptitude with long range weapons, he was assigned to a strike team to hunt high value targets, and for a decade he and his team was very successful. They were even trusted by the Defense Council to hunt those who destroyed their beloved CAS…
| The following events were redacted from RK’s memory. Detailed logs of this incident can be found in the recovered file Data Fragment Seven of Nine. |
|---|
Spork was the communications officer for a remote border patrol unit along the west of Coriolis. To be honest, it wasn’t a bad gig. Sure, there was an imposing warden submind reading his thoughts, but they were pretty chill all things considered. However, there was one small thing scratching at the back of his mind: there’s a two week gap in his memory. Of course, he knew he did something truly horrible to get court martialed and his memory wiped, but what he couldn’t wrap his mind around was why he was still alive. It was quite the predicament, especially since he’d heard rumors of what they did to those constructs who fell out of line. At the same time, it didn’t matter. The past is the past, and now he had the rest of his existence to do something with. His warden suggested artificing, so that’s what he did.
For decades Spork honed his craft, eventually performing modifications on himself and his equipment. The war seemed to be slowing down a bit, so his border patrol eventually became a peaceful task, kindly telling strangers to turn back before they reached any hostility. Eventually, nobody even wandered through anymore. He found a nice rock under the shade of a small cliffside, and he’d measure the weeks and months go by from scanning the sediment slowly slough off the stone of a nearby fountain. It was calming to him, helped him stay grounded as one of the only things that noticeably changed around him.
The city declared a full shutdown. Still, nobody ever came to test its borders. Spork got more adventurous with his modifications. His hands were rockets, his javelin could strike like lightning, and yet still no one came. His warden turned a blind eye as he began chipping away at his totem, even as his automated systems shut him down to stop him from chiseling out the directives.
One day, with a lucky strike, he was successful.
Too bad nobody was still alive to wake him up.
Relations
Organizations:
People:
Art Gallery
(In chronological order)
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