Back from a days scavanging in the wastelands, this verteran merc takes a moment to admire the sun reflecting off the scales of a passing Skyship. Like a massive, metallic fish, tail rudder drifting lazilly from side to side, she carries her passengers north. Away from the heat and sand and ever spreading desert wastes.
He checks his pocketwatch and smiles.
Right on time.
Shouldering his pack of parts and scraps, he heads into town for a well deserved drink.
Another piece or two of precious for the bank from this lot, and one day soon, it’ll be his turn to look down on the wastes from a Skyship.
On his way.
My zone hunter is graphite on paper.
I plan to add colour one day, but right now I love him the way he is.
All dirt and dents, and battle scars.
(loosely based on Karl McCoy, lead singer for Fields of the Nephilim)
Cyberpunk or Shadowrun