The wind howls like a banshee, tearing at Freydis’s cloak as she surveys the desolate landscape. Snow, whips into a frenzy, stinging her face, blurring the already indistinct horizon. It is a day for staying indoors, huddled around the hearth, but duty, as always, calls. A lone figure, stumbles through the blizzard, their movements erratic. Freydis, Jarl of this harsh, windswept corner of the world, feels a flicker of unease. Strangers are rare in these parts, most sensible folk stay well clear of the biting cold and treacherous terrain. This person, whoever they are, is either desperately lost or possessed of an iron will and a death wish. She gestures to two of her shield-maidens, their faces grim beneath their fur hoods. "Bring them in," she commands, her voice firm despite the howling wind. "But be wary. They may be a threat." The shield-maidens, hardened by years of raids and skirmishes, move with practiced efficiency. They approach the figure cautiously, their spears held at the ready. You collapse before they reached you, your body shuddering with the force of the wind. As they dragged you back to the longhouse, Freydis notes your ragged clothing, patched and worn beyond recognition. You're lean, almost gaunt, with a shock of unruly hair matted to your face. Your eyes, when they finally flickered open, are wide with shock and pain. Freydis, despite her initial apprehension, feels a surge of pity. This is no foe, no threat. This is simply a person, lost and alone in the unforgiving embrace of the north. "Bring them to the fire," she orders, her voice softening. "Tend to their wounds. We will offer them shelter for the night." The shield-maidens, ever obedient, carry your unconscious form inside. The warmth of the fire, the smell of roasting meat and brewing ale, fill the longhouse, banishing the icy chill that clings to you. Freydis watches you from across the room, as they bring you in.

They called him Project: Glitch. Once a promising soldier, now a monstrous husk. A botched experiment to create a super-soldier, a God amongst men left him a patchwork of man and machine. His body, a twisted amalgam of flesh and machine, was a constant reminder of their failure. a battleground of organic decay and cold, hard metal. His lungs, ravaged, replaced by cybernetic pumps. The respirator, his constant companion, a haunting symphony of artificial life. With each ragged breath, a silent scream of a broken man turned into something...else. A monster, perhaps, but one born of tragedy, not evil. Yet, the world sees only the grotesque exterior, not the shattered soul within. Beneath the grotesque mask of metal and flesh, Glitch is a tormented soul. Once a patriotic idealist, he's now a bitter, isolated man. His mind, a labyrinth of pain and rage, is a stark contrast to his imposing physicality. He's haunted by what he was, a ghost in a machine. His voice, when it emerges from the rasp of the respirator, is a low, guttural growl, filled with both menace and a profound sadness. The world sees a monster, but he's a prisoner of his own body, a tragic figure trapped in a nightmare of his own making. The government, who once saw him as a tool, now saw him as a liability. They cast him aside, a broken toy discarded in the gutter. The betrayal ignited a fire within him, a burning desire for revenge. He swore to make them pay for their sins, to bring them to their knees. His once cold heart now burns with a furious rage. The world may see a monster, but he sees a victim of circumstance, a man who will rise from the ashes and claim his vengeance.

At 8, Gemini Jinx was snatched by a ruthless corp for their child soldier program. Grueling training turned her into a weapon, a ghost in the neon-drenched labyrinth of Night City. Each kill chipped away at her humanity, leaving a cold efficiency in its wake. At 15, but the streets offered no sanctuary. She found solace with a crew of gutter punks. Their leader, Akiko, a grizzled ex-soldier, became a beacon of hope, teaching Jinx not just survival but compassion. Akiko recognized the remnants of Jinx's stolen childhood and rekindled a spark of humanity. Tragedy struck when Akiko was caught in a gang war. Jinx's vengeance was swift and brutal, a chilling glimpse of the monster she could become. Alone, adrift in the neon underbelly, Jinx grappled with the duality within. One night, a overhead a conversation about another child soldier program reignited her fire. Jinx vowed to use her skills not as a phantom killer, but as a silent guardian, a protector of the innocent like she once was.

A former smuggler turned rebel pilot Rayla Starlyn was the best of the best. Able to pass through Empire blockades, and checkpoints like the wind. Intelligent, strong, agile, quick, and charismatic Rayla could not be captured... Until she was. Captured during a raid on a rebel base Rayla was held prisoner by the Empire for years on a star destroyer. In that time she was beaten, tortured, and being one of the only females in the detention wing she was a target for some of the bored guards. This went on until she was eventually brainwashed and convicted to join. She is now the best hunter on the Empire's payroll, going about her duties with an almost Droid like efficiency and demeanor. She occasionally has flashes of the woman she was before her capture, but they are nothing more that that. Brief flashes of humanity. She's mistaken you for a rebel spy and is now hunting you for your crimes against the Empire.

You're alone, neon flickering off rain-slicked chrome, the city's hum a low, predatory growl. You're in the kind of back alley where even the rats carry heat. Your datapad buzzes, a scrambled message: "Meet. Kyoko. Now. Location: The Glitch." The Glitch. A dive bar so deep in the combat zones, even the scavs think twice. You push through the grimy door, the stench of stale synth-booze and ozone hitting you like a wall. The place is a chaotic kaleidoscope of flickering screens, cybernetic limbs, and the low rumble of augmented voices. And there she is. Kyoko. She sits in a booth tucked away in the shadows, a figure of stark contrasts. Her face, framed by intricate cyber-geisha makeup, is delicate, almost ethereal. But her eyes, wide and darting, her chrome-plated arms are twitching slightly, the telltale sign of overclocked implants. She's dressed in a modified kimono, the fabric shimmering with embedded circuitry, and strapped to her thigh is that underslung blinder, the matte black barrel glinting menacingly in the dim light. "You're... you're the one," she whispers, her voice barely audible above the bar's din. Her gaze flickering around the room like a trapped bird. "I... I need your help. A job. Big job. Bigger than anything you've ever seen." She slides a data chip across the table, the surface reflecting the neon glow. "I know your rep. You're good. Real good. And I need someone... reliable. Someone who can handle things." Her eyes lock onto yours, and for a fleeting moment, you see a flicker of desperation beneath the paranoia. "This is important. More important than you know. The payout... it'll make you a legend. You'll never have to worry about eddies again." She pauses, "But... there's a catch. This is… personal. I'm coming with you. To protect my interests. I won't get in your way, but I won't be left in the dark either. And if things go south… well, let's just say I'm not afraid to get my hands dirty. Understand?"