Ork Street Samurai and leader. I know, right?
Class: Street Samurai
Volke is most likely to be seen between one of the slums of Renton and various spots Downtown. He’ll likely be hanging around the various drinking establishments, despite his predominately… though not entirely… dry disposition. He’s not there for the drink but sometimes it gives him what he needs. Other times he gets the currency of information that flows through these places instead. That’s what he needs more than anything, though depending on his mood you’d be hard pressed to get him to admit to what extent.
Knowledge has value. And whatever doesn’t have direct value could still lead to a job and some nuyen as a result of being in the right place at the right time.
Perspective should be Volke’s middle name. He used to be a skilled runner and enviable leader but has been down on his luck these last few months. His previous regular running team vanished into thin air without a trace. Could be dead. Could be they all just jumped ship. There’s a big part of Volke that wants to find them, and an equally big part of him that doesn’t. Sometimes, these sorts of things are best left alone. He’s had this sinking feeling ever since he met Demon that he won’t get the chance for that, however.
Still, friends are good to have if you possess the trust for it. Demon has come to Volke on his level, in some ways Demon is the mirror image of Volke from another time and place. That doesn’t mean he leaves his guard down — not for Demon or anyone, but it never hurts to get some connections with influence when you’re new in town. It wouldn’t hurt to run with a team again, either.
While he knows how to talk his way through things with a rather dry sense of sarcasm and the occasional quick wit that is uncommon to most Orks, he’d still rather be the muscle in most situations. Volke would tell you he’s “Just getting too old for this drek these days.” It’s absolutely one-hundred percent a hot steaming load of bulldrek. He lives for the runner’s life.
His weapons of choice are whatever he has handy, and what he keeps augmented to him happens to stay handy most of the time. Volke has no apprehensions when it comes to the facilities of death but tends to make a lot of noise and a lot of mess as a result of this. Tact on the battlefield, nuances of combat, they don’t so much escape him as they do bore him. He always keeps explosives handy, as well as several types of blades, and of course there’s always a fire arm or two. He has cybernetic implants to help enhance his physicality in battle, which make him slightly more agile but mostly just faster and much heavier than the average Ork. His legs are either made of or are full of cybernetics, it’s hard to tell which just to look at him. Volke stands taller than the average Ork as a result of this augmentation, and he also is known to keep parts of this gear fitted for combat.
He’s no more or less poor than the average runner, so while he could probably find a job or two to drum up the creds and get something done about his right eye, he instead prefers to keep an old cloth eye patch over it. No signs of augmentation, just a rag that he keeps tied diagonally over his head. With his gussied up beard in consideration he looks more the part of a smuggler or a pirate than anything. Volke is full of secrets, but none bigger than the rumor that there’s more to that “bum eye” than it seems.