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Episode Two Breakdown – Thearod Davic


Episode Breakdowns are free resources to accompany each episode of Fractured Systems which deal with the broad topic of each specific episode. Breakdowns may have bold placeholder text, which is meant to be replaced by whomever chooses to use the resource.

All Episode Breakdowns are completely free to use in their entirety.


NPC Quick Profile: Thearod Davic

Name: Thearod Davic

Age: 37

Race: Half-Elf

Archetype: Technomancer

Profession:  CEO of AerTech

5SF

Closing the message window, having notified my Husband and children that I would be working overnight. A smile crept across my lips as I booted up the comms system, closing the blinds of my office with a wave of a hand. By morning, I would be rich, I would retire, and my family would no longer have to worry about if they would see me often or not. After typing into the input window for the communication software, a synthetic voice reads aloud to the runners under my employ. “Begin operation.

General Summary

Thearod Davic is a successful businessman, husband, father, and CEO of AerTech- a company concerned with the security of military facilities and how to improve protection. He has worked tirelessly for years, sacrificing time with his family and friends in order to achieve a status of power within the company who took him off of the streets those ages ago. Over the course of his employment, he has seen changes in the company send clients and employees alike out of the window, leaving them behind so that AerTech could move onto greater things. All the while, he supported the company. Finally, he sat in a seat of power, the CEO of the company. And he finally had the resources to pull off something that would make him billions. Come morning, he will no longer be CEO, and he will be able to watch his children grow up into fine young adults. Assuming he is not tracked to the operation.

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Episode One Breakdown – A Fishing Village


Episode Breakdowns are free resources to accompany each episode of Fractured Systems which deal with the broad topic of each specific episode. Breakdowns may have bold placeholder text, which is meant to be replaced by whomever chooses to use the resource.

All Episode Breakdowns are completely free to use in their entirety.


The Breakdown: Immersive Environments – A Fishing Village and Outlying Lands

In the distance, a shoreline grows sharp against the horizon, the faded, blurry haze of the early morning sun giving way to smooth, water-laden banks of grayish-white sands. As the waves lap in towards the coastline, water rushes into the footprints left across the sands by those venturing out onto the beach. A particularly fresh set of prints leads towards strong, oaken piers, trusses stained dark from the high-tide waterline wearing down upon the lumber over the years.

As the port of the village grows closer, the sound of those waves slapping to shore grows louder, the wet squelching of water collapsing back in upon itself beneath the piers finding a home within the ears of all around. The wind flies crisply past, sharp breaths of the wild lands carrying the scent of fresh fish and damp wood out to sea. Voices pierce the noise upon closer listening, the fishermen calling out to one another in some form of shorthand speech, hawking wares to each other and selling their catch off to the vendors at the base of the docks.  A strong smell of salt washes out over the seas, followed by the faint chill of cold-kept meats, accompanied by the common villagers purchasing their food for the coming days. A trained ear can head the sharp slicing of a kept blade shearing through a fillet, offering up a sample for those nearby to taste for themselves. A true sign of confidence in your wares.

As boots meet the cold wood stepping off of the boat, doors and bells can be heard beyond the gates leading into the village, the morning life of the town bustling to full. Armor clanks quietly as the local militia continue their rounds, small talk keeping them sane on an otherwise mindless task. Canines and felines call out to their masters, crying their pleas and woes to the open air until some fashion of food is laid before them. Shop owners flip signs to indicate their status as open for business, several going so far as to slide a display or two just out of the doors of their shops, advertising some fashion of quality over the other vendors about.

One vendor bows his head respectfully, calling out a pleased greeting towards a small group of men and women heading for the Barracks, ready to relieve the current militia shift of their patrols just as soon as they’ve had a stiff drink and donned their armors.

All the while, pets and pests alike scurry about upon the gravel-laden paths, several skirting off into the two taverns perched opposite each other. <<Tavern Name>>, perched upon the hilltops of the Noble Ward, holds themselves to a higher standard, as seen by one of the barmaids chasing the critters out with a soft straw broom. No need to extinguish a life that is not directly harming, they feel. Whereas down near the docks, <<Tavern Name #2>> simply step outside and dump the carcasses caught in their traps from the previous night into the compost barrels, leaving them for the farmers to use as food or fertilizer where needed.

Stepping out of the main gates of <<Village Name>>, a sharp silence rings out, encompassing all. Strange, it seems, to hear so much as to let none of it be noticed. As ears adjust and vision softens, the quiet rustling of swaying grasses is picked up, the wildlife calling out to one another in the distance as several working shouts radiate from the town behind. It was easy to see why a lone farmer chose to keep his crops away from the village, choosing a quieter destiny than those within the safety of the walls. As the farmer tends to his crops for the morning, the cries of local fauna grow louder, drawing gazes towards the forest in the distance.

Soft grasses slip quietly into the dense underbrush of bushes and wild wheat, the occasional cotton hanging with an extra catch upon the plant, small fibers of canvas. Signs of travelers passing through before.

As the tree line draws ever nearer, the cawing of avian life shrieks into the canopy, the heavy bushes leading into the forest swaying with rabbits and foxes living within, hiding from those who would wish them serve a less lively purpose. A vision takes hold in a dream tucked back in the mind, giving view from above.

Upon the wings of a hawk, the canopy draws closer, leaving the viewer plummeting down towards the dense treetops at a terrifyingly quick speed. At the last moment, those wings flare out and curve back, granting enough dragging forces to slow to a manageable pace, only to tuck in on either side so that the avian can dive down and break through the leaves. Branches sway, the bark and sinewy, young fibrous woods twisting and creaking with a near guttural weight, echoing through the silence below.

The vision fades, giving way to the sight of various animals leaping about the underbrush, fallen leaves and branches acting as homes to some, and hiding spots for others. The soft warmth of the sun radiates down in shafts of light through the canopy, illuminating the forest floor like spotlights tracking a crime. A family of hares duck their heads back into their hovel, a sprinting fox blazing past the entrance before skittering itself gracefully to a stop, spinning around to await it’s next chance for breakfast. The soft, howling yawn of a wolf cub breaks the tension, it’s mother nudging it by the hind quarters gently before turning gaze to the fox, watching warily as if judging its worth as prey.

The splashing of water against flesh breaks that canine concentration, and all eyes slip towards the source. Tucked away down a path barely seen and uneasy to traverse, lies a pool of steaming water, the quiet, methodical sound of heated water melding to the airs above adding a pleasant backdrop to the sounds of the forest around.

Tucked into this secluded grove, stands a figure waist deep within those waters. Hands cup and gather the warm liquid, raising up to let rain come down over themselves. A bath anyone would be proud to start the morning with. Droplets and small rivers of water wash down the flesh of this individual, rinsing away the impurities and imperfections of a past that no longer matters.

With a jolt, attention is wrenched away from the scene ahead, the crisp, jagged, harsh snapping of metal hitting wood breaking through the air. Sprinting towards the source, well away from that hidden grove, a group of loggers continues their work from the previous day, large axes swinging in the slow, heavy rhythm of a company simply working for their pay.

Splinters and chips of wood fly with each impact of those axes into the massive, ancient spruce, shattering away carvings and symbols from another time long ago. The area around the loggers lay barren save for the capped off stumps of trees who have met a similar fate, devoid of the warm bustle of animal life the forest prior held. One final blow lands to the tree, consuming the focus of all around. Visions sync to one single point, fading into the sap-leaking chasm left by the metal blades.

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