Player: mausie

Character Name: Lael Dunn

Age: 20

Sex: female

Species: Rat, Double Rex

Height/Weight: 4'5 - 75 lbs

Social Status: Outer Class

Physical Description: Hidden under an over-sized, tweed newsboy cap and a trench coat that looks like it's been patched together from about six or seven different coats is a very scrawny rat. Gender is hard to judge under the layers, a few t-shirts and at least two pairs of pants, badly torn and even worse stained do a good job of making the rodent look oddly lumpy in all the wrong places. A pair of pink hands poke out of the tattered clothing at about where the sleeves are, near skeletal with sharp pointed nails and the slightest tufts of fur fluffing out form the backs. The wrists are covered in twisted bits of wire and metal scraps, no rhyme or order - accidental art. Feet and ankles are in a similar state, bare feet with only a touch of dark fur, ankles wrapped in a colorful array of wiring which likely once held a more useful purpose.

The rat attempts to keep its delicate face hidden, but on the rare occasion it is seen, it's quite an odd sight. Fur-less, almost a grey-pink color. Wide dark eyes with spiral curled whiskers and the deep sunken cheeks of someone that's been spent too much time on putty and little else. There isn't much in the way of hair atop the rodents head and what is there is simply another tie down point for bits of rope, string and wire and knotted and twisted about making it look a bit like a porcupine gone wrong without the cap to hide it all and even then a few odd bits always stick out.


Background: The early memories are faint, hardly there, only surfacing in nightmares of violence and quickly shaken off upon waking. Childhood in one of the grungier parts of the under city wasn't pleasant, worse so being the sole child of a single mother constantly strung out on whatever fix she could find in the depths. Whatever made the hurt stop that day, what ever too the edge off. The only memories easy enough for her brain to deal with were of her mothers deep seated paranoia. Warnings to stay away from the hybrids, stay away from mid city, don't talk to strangers, don't whisper where the Voice can hear your secrets. The warnings that became her mantra. It wasn't long before Lael found herself alone, her mother having lost the balance between drugs, sanity and the voices she heard and things she saw and bolted off into the darker reaches of the Under city. She waited several days for her mother to return before simply accepting that she was now alone. She clung hard to her mothers lessons though. Stay away from anything that might hear... it either listens or needs to be listened to and it's best that nothing hears you.

Her penchant for fixing things surfaced fairly soon after she was abandoned, it was something to do with her time. She spent a good deal of that spare time scavenging the larger junk piles near her childhood home for scraps of wire, diodes, capacitors, bits of string and metal and screws, often twisting them into her hair, clothes or around her limbs for safe keeping, never know when you might need a spare to fix something after all. The problem being, this deep in the under city, not everything worked the way it was supposed to when she finished tinkering with it. To Lael, everything is connected. Everything she touched and pieced together was trying to tell her.... something. So convinced of this, she became obsessed with trying to fix any and everything she could get her hands on so it would 'speak' to her, so she could listen. It started with small things like toasters and hair driers, sometimes they'd even come out working as intended, most of the time they ended up making odd noises, static or bits of them would stubbornly insist on pointing in a single direction like a compass needle. Other times they remain frustratingly broken, unspeaking, unhelpful, but still she listens trying to connect the dots in the wildly twisted maze.

Fear inspires, and recently Leal has begun her master project, based deeply on her biggest fears as she was guided to do... there were signs, things pointed, messages received. Her home sweet junk pile is going though a transformation. Once a place where bots and old electronics came to die, its heart is now very slowly and very carefully being changed, built up into a junk model of the mid city with the towering Toride rising out of the middle. It's a constant work in progress and she's always on the lookout for something that will make the perfect shape for a building or something that glows just right. Her biggest supply of parts are from the rogue bots wandering about the under city, almost anything smaller than her is fair game for a wrench to the processor save those few types she's learned bite back.

Personality: Overly cautious, very observant. She's very dedicated to her cause, passion to the point of obsession and anyone that's willing to listen with her may be considered an ally. Haunted by night terrors with glimpses of her best-left-unremembered early childhood make her more moody and on particularly bad days cause her to lash out at machines that just simply won't fix getting violent on them in a way that would tend to unsettle those unused to seeing such rages. On a good day she seems almost sane, reserved but friendly to anyone like minded... or who at least seems harmless. Mostly though, she just minds her own and continues to exist the best she can.

Weapons/Equipment: Numerous tools, some of which have multiple purposes as bludgeons, screwdrivers, and pokey things. Also a backpack E-fluid welding rig with a nozzle that adjusts from 'spot solder' to 'burn large zombie family'. Also, a huge rubber mallet.