Sienna wasn’t born with a silver spoon— But with a rusty screwdriver. And it got her further than anything else ever could.

  Born on a dusty moon in the Outer Reaches, Surrounded by abandoned mines, fog, and junk piles, She never pyed with dolls— She pyed with circuit boards that threw sparks and screamed danger.

  Her parents were miners. Tough, honest, exhausted. They passed down what they knew because it was all they had. And Sienna soaked it up— The way other kids absorbed stories about princesses.

  “I learned early that everything breaks. But most things can be put back together.”

  At twenty, she hit the road. Lorville. Stanton. Anywhere that blinked or blew up. She scavenged junk, built weapons, fixed dreams.

  And wherever she showed up— People liked her. A smile, a tool, a weird little joke. Even the nasty types liked her. Especially the nasty types.

  Which, of course, causes problems. She usually notices too te.

  Her main ship, the Iron Hunter, is a Drake Corsair— A chaotic tangle of colorful wires, vibrating walls, And a semi-sentient ship AI (“she says it coughs sometimes”).

  She’s also got a Prospector for mining, A Vulture for shipwrecks, A Nomad for hauling, And her favorite ROC, lovingly named Deeper. Yes, she knows how that sounds. No, she’s not changing it.

  She tinkers. She ughs. She loves machines. And people—if they’re kind. Or sad. Or just a little criminal.

  “I can save your legs or build you a psma sword out of toilet parts. But feelings? I need a different manual for that.”

  Type: Engineer, mining expert, sunshine on wheels Age: 35 Specialty: Tinkering, repairing, surviving idiocy Status: Underestimated, underestimated, still underestimated Alias: Scrap Personality: Open, naive, enthusiastic—with a quiet little “Please don’t disappoint me” Dream: A whole pnet built from recycled materials Problem: Thinks everyone can be good. Spoiler: they can’t. Threat: Lie to her once, she forgives you. Lie to her twice—Rogue finds out.