Wardav is the kind of woman who would blend in perfectly in the roads of Funky City, amidst the immense crowds of trash floating down the street, carried by the acrid smoke. Dark-skinned, she stands somewhere near the five feet domain at best. Blonde-striped black dreadlocks, pulled into a rather loose ponytail, crown a fairly soft-featured face - one that, despite the hard gaze and the few tell-tale scars, betrays little actual experience. She has two ears, the left of which is obviously cybernetic: sleek black metal, dotted with usually green status lights. Real subtle. Twin artificial eyes replace what presumably were her natural ones. They don't have a color: one simple alloy or another, to shield the electronics, and an iris-sized circle of flickering lights to indicate whether they are even functioning. Below those, a faded scar runs all the way to her small nose, which sits atop a pair of relatively small, unblemished lips and a square jaw.
For the most part, the rest of Wardav's body is fairly average, at least by Nepleslian standards. The girl has a fine musculature, perhaps akin to what one would find on a runner, a climber or a swimmer. Of particular note is her left arm. Jet black, covered in ports and decidedly unbranded, it could be argued the cybernetic appendage is worth more than the woman it's attached to. Or, well, it WOULD, if it wasn't covered in scratches and didn't miss a few plating panels, exposing the complicated wiring underneath. Wiring which, to be brutally honest, isn't in the best of ways. A small screen on the inside of the wrist, its glass cracked, is meant to display relevant information to the user.
When she speaks - and that happens OFTEN, it is in a hoarse, almost whispered voice. For one reason or another, the smell of disinfectant clings to her like an overly affective puppy. That is to say, wherever she goes.
If one had to sum up Wardav's personality in one word, which is, coincidentally enough, how long a prospective acquaintance would get to talk before she does, nothing would do the young cybernetician justice as much as 'peppy'. Well, that and perhaps 'mischievous'. To elaborate, she has the notion of NOT crossing anybody, at least not publicly, but somehow always finds herself doing just that, willingly or not. Harmless things, really - a little theft, perhaps, be it something worthless, or something a bit more… critical, such as a non-vital organ during surgery. It's not entirely her fault, really, she always WAS a bit of a kleptomaniac. And mildly schizophrenic. On top of being entirely unhinged, of course.
To put it simply, she's not the best of friends. To her credit, the few genuine friendships she forms usually last very, very long, as she is viciously loyal. Violently so, as a matter of fact. Her other defining trait, as already stated, is a seemingly unending amount of positivity. During the lowest, most desperate of times, she is - and has been - known to crack absolutely inappropriate, if good-natured, jokes. That is, in addition to trying to cheer up those around her, no matter how dire circumstances may appear.
It is important, however, that these traits are not mistaken for signs of a childish personality, or intelligence. Those who commit this mistake, in fact, could very well find themselves conned out of their money, gear and clothes as soon as the façade is dropped. Or, slightly less likely, stabbed. She is quite erratic in her behaviour, really.
The one thing that does NOT change, however, are her goals. Wardav is a cybernetics buff, absolutely enthralled by their workings, their purpose and their utility. Her short-term goal is to design cybernetics. “Which” isn't a question; simply, she works on whatever her short attention span feels like it's interested in at the time. For this very reason, she can usually be found in a laboratory, be it hers or a “borrowed” one, tinkering with the electronics of some artificial appendage or another. In the far future, well, she hopes to replace her entire body with self-made augs.
Her OTHER interest, discovered through an almost entirely random series of circumstances, is virology. She finds something absolutely fascinating with how virii work. Perhaps it's how malleable they are, with the right equipment, and how BROAD their scope can be. Fortunately, Wardav currently doesn't have any plans for this field. It is safe to assume, however, they would probably revolve around a flesh-eating, brain-liquefying virus.
Information about Wardav's past is, as any prospective seeker is likely to discover, fairly hard to come across without looking into, or being acquainted with the right circles. This is mostly due to a lack of documentation and, more generally, a very limited circle of friends on Wardav's own part. In order; Simone was born early on in YE 18, in Funky City, on Planet Nepleslia. The exact location, due to the city's own nature, is for the most part a lost cause. What IS known, however, is that her place of birth was fairly close to The Rainbow Room.
Perhaps, the most reliable information is that about her parents: her mother was one Renna Cayne, an engineer working out of a personally-owned firm, while her father was most likely a retired Nepleslian Marine, Chas Kinnear. The exact circumstances of Wardav's birth aren't exactly known, except that it happened privately - most likely with the help of a street-side ripper-doc the couple met beforehand. The same doctor, identified only by the initials M.R., was also the one who set Wardav up for adoption shortly after her birth. With no takers, the newborn was handed to one of the many orphanages littering the city. Although not officially named, the very much arguably legal institution was less-than-jokingly nicknamed “Any Port” by locals, for reasons that should not require any explanation.
Despite the scant few details available, Wardav's childhood, growing up in Any Port, was remarkably, and perhaps surprisingly, average. Available sources - mostly retrieved psychological evaluations from on-site staff, show that Wardav, from the age of seven on, tended to gravitate towards the same small circle of friends. A stubborn cautiousness related to meeting new people is noted several times in these same documents, over the years. Alongside shelter, Any Port also offered basic education. Nothing professional, perhaps, but the kids in the relatively ancient building were taught reading, writing and, most importantly, the very beginnings of certain professions. Notably, this is what sparked Wardav's interest in medicine. The initial push should be attributed to Britt Erikson, a doctor and part-time Any Port volunteer, whom Wardav is still in contact with. He served as a mentor of figure of sorts, recognizing and promoting Wardav's studies, even– and perhaps especially - after her escape, if it could be called that, from Any Port.
Said escape is perhaps the turning point of Wardav's admittedly short life. From what can be gleamed, her group of acquaintances, dissatisfied with their life in Any Port, decided to try their luck outside, in the streets of Funky City's southern shore. Wardav, sharing the sentiment, decided to follow. Roughly fourteen by the time of her escape, the girl cut all contacts with Any Port except with Erikson. Between petty thefts and minor crimes with what effectively became yet another gang of rooftop runts infesting Funky City, Wardav assisted Erikson in his clinic; by day, a fairly respectable aug shop, also offering medical services of any sort. By night, a chop shop, rendering services to the few gangs controlling the area. Here, Wardav learned basic medicine: from stapling and sewing wounds closed, to settling broken bones, to more complicated and dangerous surgery. On the other hand, she also learned to employ and appreciate cybernetic augmentations, coming to enjoy a few herself - namely, her ear, her eyes and her arm, all “scavenged” from the corpse of one of the more unlucky street ronin scurrying the dark alleys like rats.
When not doing either of the above, the girl pursued her own interests. Specifically, the study of pathology and virology. Without access to proper equipment and education, this proved to be very much time consuming, inaccurate and in a way, mostly theoretical knowledge: only Erikson had very basic centrifuges and incubators, which Wardav lost access to when she moved off-world. She enjoyed what little time she had with the discipline, however, so much that one of her goals, whenever the occasion arises, is to set up a laboratory entirely for herself.
Sometime during 6月 36年, however, something changed. Specifically, the city - the urchin life began feeling quite constricting. Suffocating, even. Wardav discussed this at length with Erikson. She was growing unhappy with the stagnation her friends seemed content with. A small theft there, a little favour for some less savoury group here. No way of living, Wardav concluded. Still, nothing much to do about it… right?
Well, there WAS something, at least in the very short run. In the span of a week or so, Wardav distanced herself from her urchin friends- at least, enough so she wouldn't be involved in their illegal shenanigans any more. Instead, she began working full-time under Erikson, performing minor installation and healing. She even picked up a proper surname, after roughly twenty years without a proper one. It is perhaps not a surprise that said choice was “Wardav”.
She was alive, sure, but not really living. Once more, though, going off-world without the proper hooks was tantamount suicide, at least in her mind. And so, she quietened down and dove into work. At least, for two or so years…
Simone Wardav is connected to:
Britt Erikson; mentor, father figure, cyberware technician. Very close. Renna Cayne; mother. Little to no interaction between the two. Chas Kinnear; father. Little interaction between the two, and violent to boot. Phoebe Madi; only remaining contact from urchin gang, ex partner in crime. Still decent friends.
Mostly as a part of the whole medical tutoring she underwent, Wardav is fairly comfortable with genetics, especially Nepleslian. She's fairly well versed in Nepleslian biology, alongside that of some of the more common animals found roaming Funky City.
Mostly due to experimentation and, in fringe cases, memorization, Wardav knows how to mix basic medicine, and could comfortably explain the basics of a chemical reaction. On the less savoury side, she's known to make some wicked napalm. In fact, she has a penchant for producing explosions out of common household items, something which troubled - and troubles - Erikson to no end.
Well, sometimes the gangers don't want something FIXED, strictly speaking. Really, Wardav chalks the creation, handling and, well, mishandling of all sorts of explosives, from chemical fire to makeshift dirty bombs, under the label of 'scientific experimentation'. Whether to be at peace with herself or because she genuinely believes in that, it is one of the big mysteries of life.
Oh, -yeah-. Wardav's got it down squat. Whether she has to staple an artery shut, reposition a bone without using tools or performing brain surgery, the girl likely has the procedure memorized. And if not, well, hopefully her compendium is under hand. Cybernetics? Oh, child's play. From neural interfaces to good old replacement limbs, if it exists, there's a good chance Wardav can shove it in. Finally, pathology and virology are her side interests. Unfortunately - or fortunately, depending, she has little ACTUAL experience. Knowing her, it is perhaps for the best.
Well, she WAS an urchin for the better part of twenty…ish years. She knows how to beg, how to steal and how to pickpocket. Mind, she's atrocious at the latter two, but she's got the very basics down, at least. Nothing to say about the first one, though - after all, it's how she got employed, more or less. Engineering: Well, yes and no. Although she has the practical know-how and can, for the most part, hold a wrench from the handle, a severe lack of academic knowledge dooms most of Wardav's creations to generally violent failure. It is only through persistence and building things that frankly do not have the right to function that she developed into something of a problem solver. Asking her to find a REFINED solution to any problem, however, will end in tears. Maintenance and Repair: Those limbs won't maintain themselves! Realistically speaking, however, the only thing Wardav could reliably be trusted with repairing is, obviously enough, cybernetics. She prefers operating on the smaller-scale, refined electronics that set synthetic body parts aside from many other systems. Communications: A skill notable only because of the sheer ATROCITY she has at it. After years spent in the streets, listening to and trying to communicate with all sorts of people, Wardav naturally developed a 'gutter dialect' of sorts, one which could perhaps be reproduced in broad strokes by placing the nearest Trade dictionary in a paper shredder, then reading from the remains. Although MOSTLY capable of decent speech, Wardav has the tendency to lapse into this dialect at arguably the worst of times, or when talking to herself.
Simone Wardav has the following
Possibly outdated and filled with pages upon pages of handwritten notes and sketches, it details all manners of things that could be inflicted on your average Nepleslian, supposedly to heal whatever ailment. It takes the form of a gigantic, weathered book. The original title is all but long lost.
Simone Wardav currently has 3 KS.