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The world that Sawyer Sciarrino -- more commonly know by the stagename of Soysauce -- hails from is ... not a very nice place, to put it lightly. One might best summarize it as a diesel-punk parallel of the 50's, with a healthy injection of wild, wild west.

The region that Soysauce has spent his whole life in, specifically, is referred to as the Dustbowl. One might be able to correctly deduce from the name that it's not exactly a lovely region to live in -- dry, dusty, characterized by huge expanses of sandy nothing. The stretches of desert are punctuated here and there by farming communities and cattle ranches, mostly clustered around pockets of arable land and oases. Still, a lost individual could easily travel for days in the desert without finding any trace of human life.

The single bright spot of Dustbowl (literally) might be Beacon -- a huge metropolis situated over one of the biggest pockets of livable land in Dustbowl. Covered with bright, shining lights that can be seen for miles and miles around, Beacon is a thriving city that would rival any other. A major stopping point for mass-transport zeppelins and trader aircrafts, it boasts a healthy population and bombastic, flashy nights. Bars and pubs are everywhere, and people living in nearby ranches and farms are increasingly moving to Beacon to 'live the life.'

However, it's worth noting that Beacon, like any other major city in that day and age, has a hugely seedy underbelly. More specifically, the Dustbowl is a region heavily plagued by slavers and a thriving slave-auction industry. Due to the scattered population and lack of a solid police force, Dustbowl has long since become the favorite "farming ground" for slave raiders, who will attack farming communities and stragglers to capture people. These slaves are then auctioned off to Beacon's wealthy residents in underground auctions, or sold off to trade zeppelins for distribution in other cities. Though the slave trade is something that most people dislike, it's also something that almost everyone has come to grudgingly accept -- after all, between the large number of fearsome raiders and the wealthy individuals who would hate to see the slave industry crumble, anyone who stands against slavery usually doesn't meet a pleasant end.

All in all, the world that Soysauce comes from is -- difficult. Although the shiny lights of Beacon make a good attempt at covering up all of the problems that plague its citizens, it's not exactly an ideal place to live. Not by a long shot. Still, it's Soysauce's home, and he's learned to love it despite all its flaws.

► Sawyer is born to a modest farming couple near the outer edge of the Dustbowl. They lead the life expected of most farmers in the Dustbowl -- days of caring for crops and nights of fending off wild animals, managing to survive off their crops and otherwise just scraping by. From a fairly young age, Sawyer learns how to manage the farm: how to tend to crops, how to take care of livestock and, most importantly, how to handle a gun.

► When Sawyer is still young, he once comes across a runaway slave who's managed to stumble to the very edge of his family's farm. The slave's injuries are severe, and Sawyer barely has the chance to fetch the beaten man a drink of water before he expires. Sawyer decides then and there that he hates people who would dare to do this to another person -- that he hates people who would deprive another of their freedom and life. This belief lasts him the rest of his life.

► By the time Sawyer is in his tweens, he's already a crackshot with a revolver and able to take care of most of the farm on his own. But between his days of chasing off wild animals and attending the tiny local school, he yearns for the distant glow of Beacon on the horizon. Tired of quiet life on the farm, he wants so badly to experience what the city has to offer.

► When he's sixteen, he finally refuses to wait any longer. Packing only a few of his belongings, some clothes and his trusty revolver, he hitches a ride on a traveling merchant's diesel hovercraft up to Beacon. The lights and sounds nearly blow his mind, and he decides that this is now his new home.

► It's hard making a living in the Beacon, but between his enthusiasm and friendliness, Sawyer manages it. For the first few years, he runs a variety of odd jobs -- waiting tables, working as delivery boy, acting as helper at a small mechanic's shop. As time goes by, he gets to know people around the city. Through friends who work night-time job, he also learns to bartend and dance. Though he never did too excellently at school, Sawyer is energetic and hard-working and willing to try out any number of new things. He adapts to the city well.

► The piece de resistance of his myriad skills is when he persuades a friend at a jazz bar to teach him how to play the saxophone. Between all the different jobs he runs, it doesn't take too long for him to save up and purchase a saxophone of his own -- he affectionately names the instrument Alexander and begins performing at bars. It turns out he's much better at playing the saxophone than any of the other weird skills he's picked up, and it becomes his main way of earning a living for quite some time. Sawyer's stagename, Soysauce, ends up being what most people call him. Might as well go by it, then.

► Content earning a living performing in bars, Soysauce lasts in the city until his early thirties before the wanderlust that brought him to the city in the first place strikes again. Though the city is his home, he takes to taking the odd job here and there that takes him outside the city -- delivery jobs, requests to hunt down stray animals, short stints guarding traveling merchants on their trade routes. Using a second-hand diesel-engine hoverbike to travel the wide expanses of desert, Soysauce spends half his time in the city, half his time out in the wild.

► One day, as he's returning to the city from a delivery job, he stops by a small farming community to rest. Unfortunately, he stops by just as a band of raiders are attacking -- and Soysauce can't just let that happen. Though he's never been strong, Soysauce is nimble, sly, and deadly with a firearm. The revolver he carries around for self-defense is just enough for him to take out the lead slaver and scare off the others. Sure, he's made a powerful enemy of the slavers, now, but -- the sight of the farming community still safe and free is totally worth it.

► It becomes something of a habit he never meant to acquire. It turns out the slaver he killed is the brother of an infamous slaver boss, and that man has put out a bounty on his head for his capture, alive. In turn, Soysauce can't help but interfere when he hears of slavers having attacked a community -- how can he not try and cut off the slavers before they deliver their new slaves to Beacon?

► Between his half-reluctant participation in anti-slavery gunfights and the numerous odd jobs that he runs, Soysauce leads a busy life. And while he's still best known in Beacon as "that saxophonist with the weird stagename who's usually performing in that one bar, over there," he's -- kind of stuck in a situation that's far too much for him to handle. But that's okay. He'll learn to roll with the punches and deal with it. That's how he's always been!

Soysauce is ... a 'nice guy.' Yeah, that might be a good place to start.

First impressions would mark Soysauce as a perfectly friendly, genial gentleman -- which he is, for the most part! Always willing to greet people with a smile, always ready to lend an ear to anyone who might need it and always ready to share a few drinks at the closest bar, Soysauce is the type to make friends easily. Despite what his love of stiff formal attire might suggest, he's actually a pretty casual guy -- he feels at most home at jazz bars and their dusky, smoke-filled ilk, sharing stories over a few drinks and having a good laugh. Although he does, of course, keep his manners in mind at all times. He always tries to be a good gentleman -- speaking politely at all times, keeping his actions courteous, balking at the very thought of hurting women or children. As much as he's used to the rough environment of Dustbowl, he still prefers to keep any sort of violence as a last resort and, when manslaughter becomes a necessity, chooses to perform the act as swiftly and painlessly as possible. Soysauce is the type to kiss the back of a lady's hand upon meeting her, giving a low bow and introducing himself with the soft, lilting voice of someone with nothing but the purest of intentions. The type to actually, completely unironically, challenge another man to a duel if things ever really get serious. The type to truly, seriously, believe in old-school ideals like chivalry and justice.

It's somewhat strange, given the fact that he's spent a huge portion of his life fending for himself and has had more than a few brushes with the seedy underbelly of the city, but Soysauce is actually somewhat naive in his worldview. As in, his default assumption is that 'people are good and trustworthy.' It's a rather dangerous way of thinking, especially since Soysauce has a bounty on his head and is in very real danger of being killed or captured, but it's just not in his nature to doubt people without good reason. Soysauce is the type to think, by default, that people can be trusted and won over and befriended. Innocent until proven guilty, right? Why should he become one of those cold, distant people when he can keep himself open and make friends more easily?

And this willingness to trust in people extends further than just shallow chatter and brief friendships, too. Because if Soysauce has a clearly exploitable weakness, it's that he's a terrible bleeding heart. Hugely sympathetic to the plight of others and always willing to listen when people reel out their sob stories, Soysauce is that type of person. The one who always offers to help others, even if there's absolutely nothing to gain from it. The one who'd run halfway across town to return a lost object if it looked like it was important to the owner. The one to smilingly say that he'd love to do anything that would be of help, if it looks like someone's in trouble. The one who's been jerked around and tricked before, but brushes it off easily and says that next time, he's sure things will turn out okay! After all, if he has the time and ability to help others, then why shouldn't he offer forth what he can? It's only the proper thing to do, right?

Right?

The truth is, beneath all of his smiles and pleasantries and little jovial acts of heroism, Soysauce is ... a somewhat lonely individual. Growing up on an isolated ranch with few friends has given Soysauce something of a lifelong thirst for companionship, and what Soysauce fears more than anything is being completely isolated. Soysauce hates to be alone for too long, hates to be kept apart from the people whose company he enjoys, and, more than anything, Soysauce dislikes being disliked. Because -- he wants so badly to like other people, and it hurts to think that others might not reciprocate that feeling of his. It's not painfully obvious, but there's always a sort of dog-like, eager desire to please in the way that Soysauce can act towards people at times -- a vicious desire for friendship that people might just catch glimpses of now and then.

It doesn't just stop at friendship, either. This quiet desire of his is also partly what drives Soysauce to fight so hard against the slavery that runs rampant in Dustbowl. A huge part of the reason why he'll risk his neck trying to shoot down slavers and interrupt raiding attacks, of course, is because he knows that it's wrong for anyone to deprive another human being of their freedom. Soysauce believes that all slavers deserve a swift and merciless death for the pain and suffering that they've caused; it's the just and right solution. But -- Soysauce is also very cognizant of the fact that to combat this slavery is the Right Thing To Do i.e. something that will make him more likable. It's a selfish line of thought, and Soysauce knows that. He'd be ashamed if anyone ever pointed it out, and he tries to hide it, but he couldn't ever deny it. He just ... wants so badly for others to enjoy his company as much as he enjoys theirs.

And it's rather telling, too, that Soysauce would stand up to slavers and their vile ilk when it's such a huge danger to himself. He may be trusting, he may be a bit naive, and he may be a bit idealistic, but Soysauce isn't fearless -- in fact, if he had to name something he feared the most, it would be slavery. Always a free spirit used to doing what he likes and going where his heart urges him, Soysauce is terrified by the very thought of being enslaved -- a very real threat that he's had to defend himself against more than once. And yet, he would still go against what scares him the most, because of some warped combination of heroism and a desire to Do What's Right.

In some ways, it's a rather sad situation. Everything Soysauce does is in hopes of being liked, of making friends, of never having to be alone. Like an abandoned dog that wants so badly to tag along after those it trusts, whining miserably when left behind, Soysauce just -- longs for other people to be by his side. And it's not a bad thing, per say, his longing for companionship. It's not any sort of crippling complex that keeps him from functioning like a normal -- or even excellent! -- person, and it's not something that Soysauce lets slip too often. But it's just -- there.

Make no mistakes, it's hard to ever call Soysauce a 'bad person.' His intentions are pure, and he'd never harm another person without good reason, always willing to help people or lend an ear or be there for another person if they make any indication that it would help. When he says that it's a pleasure to meet you, he completely and sincerely means it! But -- he's not selfless, is what must be noted.

Soysauce is no saint. He might be a 'nice guy,' but it's for a fairly specific reason.

Trained to use guns to hunt and fend off wild animals from a very young age, Soysauce is a stunning crackshot with just about any traditional firearm -- rifles (bolt- or lever-action, either way), revolvers, pump-action shotguns and anything else with a trigger and a barrel. Automatic weapons are a rarity that he hasn't had much of a chance to practice with, but Soysauce has an eagle's eye when it comes to aiming swiftly, and he's a very quick learner when it comes to guns. His weapon of choice is a powerful bolt-action rifle loaded with magnum rounds -- with just one shot, he can usually take out just about any threat he faces.

Other than his proficiency with guns, Soysauce's strong suit is his quick-wittedness. Though he's never been one for studying from books or learning in a classroom (he gets bored of it too quickly), Soysauce is very observant, and able to make decisions very quickly on the fly, adapting to whatever's been thrown his way and thinking rapidly on his feet. His usual method of combating slavers is a sort of quick hit-and-run tactic -- spraying a round of gunfire on his hoverbike, zooming off, then circling back to take another stab. Though he's not quite as spry as he used to be when he was about ten years younger, Soysauce is still admirably nimble, and has great reaction speed.

On the flipside, though, Soysauce's physical strength is ... pathetic, to put it bluntly; it might just have something to do with the fact that Soysauce has a fairly dainty build, 5'7" and weighing far less than he should. He's just barely hardy enough to lug around his saxophone case -- dissembled rifle included -- for any length of time, and any physical activity that last for too long tends to incapacitate him for the rest of the day, and part of the next. Part of it also has to do with his age; he just isn't as sturdy as he used to be when he was younger.

Basically, a glass cannon. He might not be able to take too much damage, but he can sure dish it out quickly and brutally.

When it comes to non-combat skills, Soysauce is a jack of all trades, master of none. Though he's a great saxophone player, it's only good enough that he can earn a living playing in bars, nothing more than that. And then there are all the weird little skills he's picked up during his younger years -- over a period of about twenty-five years, Soysauce has worked as waiter, line cook, bartender, mechanic's assistant, delivery guy, club dancer, wild-animal exterminator and traveling bodyguard. Oh, and he's pretty good at driving a hoverbike. While he's not exactly masterful at any of the above, he's certainly retained enough to be competent at them.

On a less physical note, Soysauce's greatest weakness would probably be his strange naivete when it comes to trusting other people. It may have to do with his hunger for companionship, but Soysauce tends to have unusually low standards for coming to trust people. It's a rather dangerous weak spot of his, especially considering the fact that an increasing number of slavers and bounty hunters are aiming for his capture in recent days, but Soysauce just doesn't see the point in placing other people at a distance -- it's hard to make friends that way!

► 01 x set of clothes (formal shirt and pants, tie, waistcoat, leather belt, leather shoes)
► 01 x tenor saxophone, "Alexander," in custom hardshell case
► 01 x bolt-action rifle, dissembled to fit in saxophone case, three round capacity
► 30 x .300 magnum rounds, stored in saxophone case
► 01 x large-frame double-action revolver, six round capacity
► 01 x revolver holster, worn at belt
► 24 x .44 magnum rounds, stored in saxophone case
► 01 x keyring containing misc. keys
► 01 x wallet containing misc. currency & etc.

Soysauce wakes up. Which is disconcerting, since he doesn't remember going to sleep. Well -- they say that no one ever really remembers the moment they fall asleep, but this extends further back than that. Soysauce has no memory of -- laying down anywhere. Certainly has no memory of laying down here. Wherever here is. Where is this? There's something transparent and blue glossing over his vision -- no, wait. It's sliding away quickly. The fluid (?) enveloping him is falling away, and there's a tube that he didn't know was thrust deep in his throat pulling out of him, and it's enough to make him double over and gag -- coughing and hacking for air as he collapses on all fours on the floor.

Not the most dignified morning call.

It's a bit longer before his breathing calms down enough that he can pull himself up on his feet -- shivering a bit upon realizing that his clothes are missing. (What --?) It's a little chilly, and he feels terribly vulnerable without his usual set of formal clothes. His waistcoat and tie, that's what he needs. And though his first thought is that he's been hit by organ-thieves and left to adapt to missing a kidney, when Soysauce looks down, there's no tell-tale line of stitches at his side, no pain in his gut. So -- that's a no, then.

He's sort of standing in place, staring around wide-eyed at himself, then at his surroundings, having a hard time processing all of what's going on. Because it's all -- it's all so foreign to him. It's all dark steel and sharp corners and unfamiliar shapes, like the interior of a zeppelin twisted into something more forbidding.

"Ah -- ah, hello?" It's half to make sure his voice is still working (it is) and half to check if anyone is nearby when he calls out quietly. "Is anyone there?" No response. Taking a few cautious steps forward, Soysauce peers around a corner, around the row of creepy-looking blue tubes. "Excuse me?" Nope. He's been unconsciously scratching at his arm, and it's only then that Soysauce realizes there's something -- etched into his arm. Rubbing at his skin to see if it's permanent ink, Soysauce mumbles to himself,

"... who the hell kidnaps strangers just to strip and tattoo them?"

[ VIDEO. ]

[ click! as the video flickers on -- and it's upside down. the face that shows up (upside-down, of course) is a little aged, a little graying at the temples, all sharp features and brows furrowed in confusion. soysauce's dark eyes are narrowed in scrutiny as he stares at the comm-device -- and then quickly brightens up in some combination of delight and wonder as he realizes what this thing is. ]

-- marvelous! This must be the sort of thing those traders were talking about --

[ yes, he's never seen a cellphone (or anything with a screen, for that matter) before.

there's a brief pause before he realizes he's holding it upside down and turns it right-side up. another pause before he realizes -- oh, this thing's probably transmitting! it probably works a bit like a radio or telephone, right? just with pictures?

he clear his throat briefly before smiling, speaking in a friendly, level voice. ]

Good afternoon! I do hope that I'm not being an awful bother by -- doing this. [ a soft laugh. ] I suppose it's fairly obvious that I have no idea what I'm doing. All of these shiny toys and metal objects are rather new to me, I'm afraid.

Mm, now, I wonder if anyone would be so kind as to give an old man some pointers about the situation?