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Its Tabletop Time

GATECRASH: Scrap (Corpus)

GATECRASH: Scrap (Corpus)

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Born into war, and raised by guerilla operatives, Scrap survived time and time again, when young, through luck, when older, tenacity and skill crept in. He was sharp witted, and viciously unrelenting, leveraging the unique emotional detachment and underdeveloped empathy of a child of war. He did not remember his birth parents, his father dead before he was born, his mother, before he could recall. He just existed, moving from one fractured cell of fighters to the next, bouncing from one catastrophe plagued found family to another. Ever surviving, like a constant in a swirling maelstrom of new faces replacing old. However, numbers thinned. Survivors became rarer than casualties, and eventually, Scrap was alone. At first he grieved for his lost family. But after time, he appreciated the freedom a lack of connection offered. No more rescuing trapped friends, no going back for someone, or waiting. He ran when he needed to run, he fought when he needed to fight. He only had himself to protect, and only his immediate needs to concern himself with.

What was left of cities crumbled to dust around him, as a fresh wave of conflict surged across the world. The great warships of the Regency leveled ruined cities in attempts to slow the latest invader. “The Supreme One?” It didn't matter to scrap. As long as he stayed away from the conflict. 

Eventually Scrap lost track of time, and lost track of place. His world became the tunnel network that latticed the world and the tens of meters thick rubble piles that had once been cities. Without conscious awareness, something called to him in the quiet of these places, and he crept down. Winding through places he had never seen, top security doors, facilities once held shut but now opened by the wounds of war. Eventually he found a place unlike any he had found before. A tear in reality. The voice called to him, and seeing only an inevitable death awaiting him if he stayed, Scrap stepped through. 

Inside Isoras heart he found the voice that called to him, and Corpus offered him a fraction of their power, a promise to stave off death. Scrap didn’t care about a catch, he was tired of running. Filled with the power of Corpus and eyes opened to the world of Gatecrashing, Scrap set out...

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