Back: Crow picking at a carcass Arms: Swirled and snake-like

Various scars on arms and legs from walking and picking through debris. Scar on back and head from being beaten.

Wears a practical style. Monochrome with lots of layers. Various shirts with a leather jacket that has been distressed from use. Grey pants and boots. A few pockets to hold things.

Hawk-like face reflects a disposition that is attentive and alert. His lips are thin and they often curl when he smiles. Rough looking. Face often without a shave, a bit dirty, hair slicked back but scraggly.

- Face mask - Small crowbar - Shoulder pack

Finding interesting things, new places, fitting in

Enforcers, Military, any authority, warm beer, boring conversation

Collects useless things, foul mouth, whistles when alone

Trapped, ostracized, complacent, not fitting in

Resourceful, tenacious, curious, independent

Rising into a role of specialist (plate-side), Tav is stuck socially somewhere between the Drenchers and Aristocrats. As one who scavengers and sells for personal gain, he knows he's bought into the "system." Most of the time, he doesn't quite mind that, until he goes Drench-side. That's when he realises how far he's sold his soul. Betrayal. He has eyes for coin. He will do all in his power to work out just how to get it. Mostly he scavenges and sells what he finds. With the identity crisis that he has, he finds he will even change his personality to pander to those who has what he needs. He doesn't want to be ostracised by either group and he needs to use others to get what he wants. Often this leads to him choosing himself over others. He soon disdains such selfish thinking when he visits the Drenchers and is reminded of their plight. As such he feels alone.

Jan Sinsalida - Father - deceased Edith Sinsalida - Mother - Retired

Scavenger

"Once a Drencher...always a Drencher." That was uttered by his father who clapped his hand on Tav's shoulder and doubled over. Dead. The bullet had gone clean through. The young Tav, flicked up his eyes at the shooter and their eyes locked. A haze of smoke drifted past the wide eyes of the Enforcer. It was a pivotal moment. The reality of the Drench. Father dead. Mother depressed. Soon they were just another Drencher family fallen into destitution. Survival was on the shoulders of Tav at a very young age. Begging and stealing brought too little coin and too much risk. Then there was scavenging. Go to unlikely places, pick through trash, ransack abandoned machinery and you soon learn what sells, right? He learned how to scavenge well, but was even better fencing it off. Tav continued to make money, off the Drench, sure, but the real coin was from above the Plates. He soon learned how to speak to those up there to a point where it was difficult to know where he once harked from. It proved useful, later. But they survived somehow. Over time, Tav was able to do business above and below the Plates and was able to spend more time out of the Drench. He worked hard to appease both sides, seemingly a Drencher one day, and then up with the specialists and burgeoisie on another. While he managed this well, he began to lose a sense of who he was. Coin became his God. He began to forget those last words uttered by his father. That was until The Lockdown.