............

[Shadow Moonseye]

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[Shadow Moonseye]

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[Shadow Moonseye]

Bestiary:

[Shadow Moonseye]

Cities of Sheol

[Shadow Moonseye]

Important Persons

[Shadow Moonseye]

Characters

Vincent Langdon Kincaid ------ Temporarily inactive at Loki's request

Zira D’Lani

Jubal Lazarre (alias Liam Canfield)

Rua Tane Makara

Luke Highlander

Alexandra “Alex” Cartwright

Theodore Harold Edmund (alias Jack)

Ezrin Maywater

Anoch Sunara

Mazrim Bor

708

[Loki]

General Information:
Name: Vincent Langdon Kincaid
Sex: Male
Ethnicity: Caucasian
Age: 33
Home Planet: Aiur
Profession: Federal Marshal

General Appearance:
Height: 6'-4"
Weight: 195lbs
Skin tone: Lightly Bronzed
Eye Colour: Steel Blue
Hair Colour: Midnight Brown
Hair Style: Loose Hanging Medium Length
Facial Hair: Light Scruff

Face Structure:
General: Long, lean, with sharpened angles.
Standout Features: Strong Jawline

Makeup:
N/A

Piercing(s):
N/A

Tattoo(s):
N/A

Scar(s):
Face: None
Torso: Recent, highly visible long and narrow scar from a relatively recent stab wound.
Arms: Faded mark from a low-caliber bullet entry wound on left shoulder.
Legs: None

Attire:
Head: Dark brown cowboy hat, worn out of spite since it was a gag gift from political antagonists.
Torso: Dark brown leather duster over casual attire.
Legs: Thick blue denim jeans.
Feet: Dark brown steel-toed combat boots.

Accessories:
Head/Neck: None
Left wrist: None
Right wrist: None
Right hand: Black fingerless leather shooting glove.
Left hand: Black fingerless leather shooting glove.
Waist: Light tactical belt.

Biography:
Vincent comes from a long line of law enforcement, both military and civil sectors. The career path is such a majority that those who aren't in some sort of blue or camo uniform at work are often teased at family reunions; this specifically is aimed towards the men and it is usually the women in uniform who are the most passionate when it comes to ridiculing the civilians. It was no surprise that the shield fit Vincent like a glove, taking to the career path like it was written in his genes. Just like most Kincaids, he climbed the chain of command quickly; jumping on open positions backed by a stack of recommendations a mile high. As with most cases where there are those who excel, there are also those who hold personal grudges against his family for one reason or another. Typically in the form of internal politics. Such things slowed his progress and reputation, but his record was too impeccable to stop his advancement.

That was until one particular bust against a crime syndicate notorious throughout government controlled space went sour. A high ranking Triad Enforcer had been operating in the area and government operatives managed to locate him. According to the report filed, Vincent's team jumped the gun and acted before the Federal officers could get into position. Without both teams in place and working in concert, the raid turned into a bloodbath getting several officers injured and killed, though due to their late entry no Federal agents were harmed. Vincent was among the injured having been stabbed in the gut by the Enforcer while attempting to detain him. Once the dust settled, the Enforcer managed to escape and disappeared from the proverbial radar.

Naturally, the failure of such a high profile raid necessitated a scapegoat and his name was Vincent Langdon Kincaid.

Vincent's time in the hospital, having his injuries treated and unable to dispute the claim was all the time needed to mar his good name. When he did get out, nobody would listen about how he acted the moment the order was given, but as fate would have it the officers who would have been able to attest to that had been among those killed in action. He was confident that there was a mole acting among the Feds who had intentionally caused the plan to fail. Though, that was nothing more than a thought in his mind without the evidence to support it.

The political fallout had been swift and crippling to his career. The next two years Internal Affairs had been breathing down Vincent's neck; not that he had anything to hide, but such a thing brought about a certain stigma that planted the seed of doubt among his peers that he was a dirty cop. Seeing an opportunity to finish off Vincent's wounded career, the superiors who sought to block his progress within their department finally managed to corner him. Their influence with IA had coaxed the results of his investigation to be 'Inconclusive' and given him an ultimatum under the pretense of 'saving face with the community'. He could either accept the assignment as a Federal Marshal on one of the lesser tamed planets, named Sheol, or be suspended from the force indefinitely since he was a 'potential security risk'.

When faced with the choice between premature retirement or being relocated to the ass end of space as a bastion of law in the otherwise lawless parts of a backcountry world, Vincent realized he could not give up his badge so easily.

Weapon(s):
Melee: Trench Knife
Ranged: .44 Revolver

Inventory:
Container: Modular Buttpack
Supplies: 2 Water Bottles, 5 Emergency Ration Bars (1 Day of Nutrition Each), Spare .44 Rounds, Flint & Steel, Small Field Med Kit, Water Disinfectant
Miscellaneous: Handcuffs, Speed Loader, Flashlight, Binoculars, Badge Wallet, Compass, Money, PDA w/ Security Uplink, Shaving Kit
Personal items: Family Photo (tucked under Marshal's ID in badge wallet.)

[Digital Muse]

General Information:
Name: Zira D’Lani
Sex: Female
Ethnicity: Caucasian
Age: 20
Home Planet: Sheol
Profession: Scavenger/Guide

General Appearance:
Zira-full body

Zira-close up
Height: 6'
Weight: 160 pounds
Skin tone: deeply tanned
Eye Colour: light brown
Hair Colour: reddish brown
Hair Style: long, dusty dread-like braids with innumerable ribbons of torn and scavenged fabric woven into them like trophies.
Facial Hair: none

Face Structure:
General: Blunt, wide across the cheeks, surprisingly delicate nose and lips
Standout Features: deep crow’s feet around her eyes from being in the desert sun all her life.

Makeup:
Eyes: none
Blush: none
Lips: deep brown lip stain for sun protection
Other: none

Piercing(s):
Left eyebrow: none
Nose: none
Lip: none
Left ear: feathers through a piercing
Right ear: makeshift earrings with small metal parts
Torso: none
Other: none

Tattoo(s):
Dragon in black in from neck , winding around her torso, across her stomach and thighs and calf

Scar(s):
Face: a slight scar through her left eyebrow
Torso: two long knife scars across her upper chest and neck
Arms: none
Legs: many incidental scrap marks and old cuts

Attire:
Head: make-shift darkened eye covering from old vehicle tail lights and leather straps
Torso: Once white tank top with several tears in it beneath a dusty tan short sleeved shirt
Legs: Cargo pants that were once black but have so faded they appear orange in places. Most of the pockets have been stitched and repaired so often, there’s little original fabric left
Feet: Hand-made calf-high moccasins with stitched on rubber from old tires on the soles.

Accessories:
Head/Neck: dark blue bandana to cover her nose and mouth during sand storms
Left wrist: stainless steel bracelet
Right wrist: leather gauntlet studded with old galvanized washers
Right hand: none
Left hand: old leather glove with only the first 2 fingers still intact
Waist: 5 makeshift belts made up of rope, silk scarves, a pair of over-sized leather belts and a metal bicycle cable.

Biography:
Zira is a proud and dedicated scout and warrior of her people. The Hellites were miners from the very earliest days on Sheol. When the mines ran out, the descendants reverted somewhat to the tribal existence required to survive in the desert. Over the centuries, none of them could remember the mines or why they guarded a particular corner of the sun-crushed land so jealously. The Hellites are scavengers, guides and are extraordinarily dangerous if one wanders into their lands unprotected. However, they do know that survival also requires knowing the enemy and trading with them on occasion.

The young people of the family after coming of age are often sent out to the cities or way stations to act as guides or guards and learn all they can. They also learn to trade and scavenge parts where they are more readily found to make their own weapons. None of the Hellite (other than the Chief) has a real rifle and it may or may not even fire any longer. It is more a status symbol than weapon after all these centuries.

She underwent the “Embrace of the Black Dragon” when she was 16. The youngest in her clan. Her family gained much honor. To the Hellites, warriors are honored and songs are sung to their memories. As the eldest, Zira claimed the right to be trained and excelled. Her strength and conditioning from growing up in the harsh desert was tested, but she remained unbending. On the eve of her 16th birth year, she challenged the elders and demanded the test of the black dragon. For 6 days, she endured the pain of the needle and ink, the lack of food and achieved her vision of the bear. She showed neither pain or fear and was granted full warrior status. Her heart was full and rising from her blankets, bloody and defiant, sang her song of triumph. The following 3 days, her family held a great feast. The other warriors came to sing their songs of past glories and to weave ribbons of tribute into her hair. From then on she was trained in the ways of hunting men. She could disappear in the dunes, find water and track across rocks.

Personality: In the Hellite family, dishonesty can be as dangerous as a weapon; lying or deceit could kill in the desert. So, it is not only taboo, it is harshly punished. As such, Zira is bluntly honest and easily lied to since she doesn’t deal with liars regularly. She is slightly zenophobic, untrusting of ‘Out Worlders’. They have no honor in her eyes and are soft compared to her family. She is seen as overly serious by outsiders, but among her own people or those she knows well, she can be funny and smiles easily.

Skills: Stealth, misdirection, tracking, hunting, wilderness (especially desert) survival, killing from ambush and guerilla fighting techniques. She is also a skilled scavenger and can cobble things together out of the barest spare parts. She can run at an easy jog for hours without tiring.

Weapon(s):
Melee: Spear, 4 knives, bolos, sling-staff,
Ranged: bolos, home-made crank gun made from an old pipe vehicle transmission gears. It can fire stones, or molded round shot. It has a massive kick back and is not accurate over 50 yards.

Inventory:
Container: leather shoulder bag
Supplies: 4 days dry rations, 3 water skins, sewing kit, 15 rounds of home-made ammo,
Miscellaneous: rain poncho, knife, several packets of stolen herbs in different pockets
Personal items: pouches with flint and tinder, salt and other necessities, bedroll with several blankets, yards of rawhide cording, tanned skins for replacement moccasins.

[Digital Muse]

General Information:
Name: Jubal Lazarre (alias Liam Canfield)
Sex: Male
Ethnicity: Caucasian
Age: 20
Home Planet: Dardell
Profession: none

General Appearance:
Height: 6' 1"
Weight: 195 pounds
Skin tone: lightly tanned
Eye Colour: light brown
Hair Colour: black with white
Hair Style: His razored hair is dark with long bangs feathered with white.
Facial Hair: none

Face Structure:
General: lean with squared chin and straight brows
Standout Features: deep dimples in his cheeks when he smiles

Makeup:
Eyes: none
Blush: none
Lips: none
Other: none

Piercing(s):
Left eyebrow: none
Nose: none
Lip: none
Left ear: small silver hoop
Right ear: small silver hoop
Torso: none
Other: none

Tattoo(s):
Face/Neck: none
[b]Torso: none
Left arm: none
Right arm: none
Left leg: none
Right leg: none
Left foot: none
Right foot: none

Scar(s):
Face: a slight scar above his lip
Torso: none
Arms: none
Legs: none

Attire:
Head: silk scarf around his neck
Torso: leather vest with 5 buckles to close it, green cotton long-sleeved shirt
Legs: dark heavy cotton jeans with multiple pockets, a black leather belt
Feet: hobnail boots and woolen socks

Accessories:
Head/Neck: old welder's goggles to shade his eyes, necklace with a locket that contains a photo of a young woman.
Left wrist: stainless steel bracelet
Right wrist: none
Right hand: none
Left hand: none
Waist: none

Biography:
Jubal’s Father was a minor city official in a small provincial town on an outlying planet calledTdarnek and his mother owned a pastry shop. They had only the twins and doted on them. Jubal and his sister, Yvette were as opposite as could be. Where he smiled and charmed, she was driven and focused on her desires.

Jubal grew up happily in a warm and loving home. His mother indulged him and he exasperated his father with his lack of focus. He rarely got into any real trouble and when he applied himself, did very well in school. But he never liked to work. It was far too dull for his tastes.

Personality: Unlike his volatile twin sister, Jubal, is cheerful and generally carefree. He is curious, sometimes unhealthily so. Growing up he was forever squirming into gated yards or losing himself in some dusty old shop for hours. He can focus minutely when something interests him, be it music, a girl or some dusty old map that is obviously a fraud. At other times, he’s as flighty as any young man without a care in the world. He is flirtatious, a rogue, a scoundrel and other names to many a young girl's Fathers. He rarely misses the opportunity to steal a kiss. He loves a good scam and adventure.

Skills: Jubal has tried apprenticeships with several different trades but lacked the focus to stick with any of them. As a result he has some skills in typesetting, black smithing, plumbing and even as a street artist. His natural curiosity makes Jubal more observant than normal and at times he seems to have flashes of intuition which are in reality his subconscious processing things he’s seen or heard. He has an uncanny sense of direction and an easy likability. Jubal’s cheerful personality does make older companions tend to write him off or feel protective of him. In his times of avoiding having any real job, he gained many skills including pickpocketing, picking locks, palming small objects, lying in a completely believable manner and can charm the socks (or more) off of all but the most astute. He’s not a perfect Con, but he’s learning.

Weaknesses: Jubal is as unaggressive is his sister is combative. He’s been in a few scrapes as most humans have been growing up, but only when he was forced to protect his friends. Jubal is a fast talker rather than a quick draw.

Weapon(s):
Melee: a leather wrapped heavy, flexible steel baton. While it potentially can be deadly if applied correctly, it is mostly used to break bones or cause temporary paralysis of limbs.
Ranged: One hand-made, crank-powered air gun that fires ball bearings. It is a heavy pistol type weapon with fair accuracy up to 50 yards. Jubal stole the weapon from a dead bandit, but has yet to fire it and learn it’s particular quirks.

Inventory:
Container: leather messenger bag
Supplies: 4 days dry rations, 3 water skins, first aid kit,
Miscellaneous: rain poncho, knife, several packets of cash stashed in different pockets, lock pick tools in a carefully rolled leather case, loaded dice
Personal items: an old stone with a depression worm in one side from eons of handling.

[The Melancholy Spirit]

.........

[quakernuts]

General Information
Name: Luke Highlander
Sex: Male
Ethnicity: Caucasian
Age: Twenty Seven
Home Planet: Pariah
Profession: Automotive and Robotic mechanic and Engineer

General Appearance:
Height: 167cm (5'6")
Weight: 72 kg (160 lbs)
Skin tone: Lightly tanned
Eye Colour: Dark Brown
Hair Colour: Dusty Brown
Hair Style: Casual Short Shaggy
Facial Hair: None, keeps shaved.

Face Structure
General: Calloused, but round and well spaced facial features.
Standout Features: Numerous small scars on his skin, the most prominant one being a small straight scar crossing the bridge of his nose.

Makeup
Eyes: None
Blush: None
Lips: None

Piercing(s)
Left eyebrow: None
Nose: None
Lip: None
Left ear: None
Right ear: None
Torso: None
Other: None

Tattoo(s):
Face/Neck: None
Torso: None
Left arm: None
Right arm: None
Left leg: None
Right leg: None
Left foot: None
Right foot: None

Scar(s)
Face: A two inch straight scar crossing the bridge of his nose, three less-than-an-inch scars on his left cheek, and two less-than-an-inch scars on his right cheek. A one inch jagged scar on the left side of his neck.
Torso: One 'X' shaped scar about the size of a quarter right below the heart.
Legs: None

Attire:
Head: Simple Black Baseball Cap, no logo.
Torso: Red long sleeve shirt. Tan cargo vest with multiple pockets and hidden compartments.
Legs: Regular Blue Jeans with added pockets farther down the legs located farther down the thigh near the knee.
Feet: Dusty brown ankle boots, weathered and worn.

Accessories:
Head/Neck: Sleek Mirrored Shades
Left wrist: Wrist-Watch
Right wrist: None
Right hand: Black Fingerless Glove
Left hand: Black Fingerless Glove
Waist: Black belt with gold buckle

Biography: Luke was born to a poor couple with a small auto shop on the planet of Pariah. His parents believed the best way of doing things was the right and honest way, and Luke was brought up to share these beliefs. He was often singled out at school mainly because of his tendency to stick to the straight path of things, and was bullied relentlessly because his parents ran him on a tight leash that prevented much of a social life. Most of his time was spent in the auto shop with either his mom or dad working on anything from a broken door handle to a heavy duty cargo truck that was twice the size of their building. In his younger years, he mainly observed, and helped fetch things for his parents. Later on, he came to love the work. His parents had been at it for years, and he was not about to give up the tradition that his family had set for him.

Around his seventeenth birthday, Luke got into his first fight. His years as working as a mechanic had given him an already enviable athletic build, and some of the more ‘popular’ kids were taking that as a threat. Luke had never fought anyone in his life, and returned home that day bloody and broken. From that point on, he continued to work at the shop, but in his spare time would practice martial arts and hand to hand combat techniques for self defence. He never intended to start a fight, but he planned on being prepared for the next round. Sure enough, they tried again another year later. This time, it was the other kids that left bloody and broken while Luke got away with a black eye and some nasty cuts.

Graduating from high school, he didn’t persue any further education. His love was for the auto shop, and in his mind, he didn’t see the reason for having a certificate saying he could do something when he could simply show the people that he could. At the age of twenty, his father became terminally ill and, due to lack of proper health care on the father’s part, died a few months later. While Luke was able to carry on, his mother was absolutely rocked, and was no longer able to do any of the heavy lifting around the shop. She took up the mantle of the accountant and office worker while Luke became the chief mechanic. He lived there for a few more years before the land the auto shop was built on was bought out by a large corporation. His mother had saved up enough that she could live handsomly for the rest of her life, but Luke was still young. He was too restless to simply sit back and relax.

So, the next summer, Luke booked passage upon the cargo ship ‘The Gnome’. It was pretty much the ugliest cargo ship he had ever seen. It had a bulbous back area for carrying the cargo, and the bridge extended forward so that it looked like a sideways comma. Luke was hired as an engineer, and spent a few more years as one of the ships three engineers. Here, he learned everything he could about star ship engines, and everything that had to do with them. This knowledge was added to everything else he knew, and was known from his coworkers as being able to think outside the box to fix something. Not always the fastest or the cheapest, but the most reliable.

At the age of 26, Luke heard about this ‘Garden of Eden’ way out on the edges of the Viel. His coworkers and friends discredited the entire thing as a myth, and that it didn’t exist. While Luke’s rational mind had to agree with them, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more to it. So, yet a year later, he said goodbye to The Gnome and its crew, and booked passage on the next ship to Ora Noc Terrol. There, he will find for himself just how much of a myth this rumor really is.

Weapon(s):
Melee: 12" Combat Knife
Ranged: None

Inventory:
Container: Vest Pockets and Small Backpack
Supplies: Four cans of emergency Rations, Three Bottles of Water, Emergency Field kit.
Miscellaneous: Cash, random bits of parts for a 'just in case' repair scenario. Molecular Mechanic's Tool. ("Changer": A Engineer/ mechanic tool that has rearranging molecules so that it can become anything that the user needs it to be. Be that a screwdriver, hammer, wrench, blade, or even torch. Although to do the torch, fuel must be provided.)
Personal items: Small handheld computer with long range communication capability.

[The Melancholy Spirit]

.....

[Guilty Carrion]

Removed Application. Have fun everyone.

-Plaguewalker

[Squall Reyes]

General Information:
Name: Theodore Harold Edmund but his "friends" call him Jack.
Sex: Male
Ethnicity: Unknown
Age: 30
Home Planet: Sheol
Profession: Was once a member of a knife throwing act duo. However a tragic accident had made him a one man show. Honest.

General Appearance:
Height: 6' 2"
Weight: 190lbs
Skin tone: Light Tan even though he has spent most his life outdoors.
Eye Colour: Dark brown
Hair Colour: Black
Hair Style: Short hair that is in no way kept yet keeps a style all it's own.
Facial Hair: A well maintained beard.

Face Structure:
General: Long, thicker eye brows and sharp nose.
Standout Features: "Eyes closed by the sun yet sharp as a hawk"

Makeup: NONE

Piercing(s): NONE

Tattoo(s): Unknown

Scar(s):
Face: 4 Well evenly spread lines that come from his cheek to his chin. Accidents while practicing, Jack says.
Torso: Unknown
Arms: Littered with scars of vary depth and length. All from accidents while practicing, Jack says.
Legs: None.

Attire:
Head: None
Torso: A very rare and treasured black leather jacket with black shirt under.
Legs: Thick blue denim jeans.
Feet: Black hiking boots.

Accessories:
Head/Neck: None
Left wrist: None
Right wrist: A extremely rare Rolex watch
Right hand: Black leather gloves which he keeps in his pockets
Left hand: Black leather gloves which he keeps in his pockets
Waist: Belt which is covered in knives.

Biography:No one quite knows who and where Jack came from. But to hear him tell it. It goes a little something like this. "I was born to a good god fearing family, who did their best to survive in a place such as this. More importantly they did the best they could to raise a young man like myself. Despite my...differences from the other children I did my very best to make friends and made several throughout my life. Course, friendship in this world is like the sand, in one moment it call all get blown away.

Anyways continuing my life story we arrive to perhaps the most important moment in my life. I came to posses my knives by a wise shaman who gave me them with the belief I would bring balance to the force. I trained daily with the use of them, learning what one may call the ins and out of metal blades and their effects on the human body. I also spent much time researching geometry and its possible application to ricocheting the blades to their target. I would however also do the math on paper before ever attempting it on my partner.

Oh I forgot to mention that after learning all I could from my sensi I left to be come part of a knife throwing duo. This however didn't last long as she became jealous of my skills and perhaps it was rage that made me miscalculate the throw but sadly I have had little luck locating a replacement. The chains on my hands also seem to hinder any possible search to get me back on stage."

Weapon(s):
Melee: Knives. Lots of knives.
Ranged: More knives.

Inventory:
Container: At the moment a black duffel bag he borrowed from a friend. And as always his jacket pockets.
Supplies: Bag: 3 bottles of water, several MRE, 3 Emergency Ration Bar
Miscellaneous: Bag: Binoculars
Personal items: Bag: Knives Pockets: More knives.

[Kyrt Malthorn]

General Information:
Name: Ezrin Maywater
Sex: Male
Ethnicity: Caucasian
Age: 33
Home Planet: Venus
Profession: Freelance Interstellar Pilot / Navigator

General Appearance:
Height: 5' 6"
Weight: 145
Skin tone: Pale
Eye Colour: Green
Hair Colour: Mahogany
Hair Style: Naturally wavy, hanging to the base of his neck in the back. Bangs surviving between a steep widow's peak are combed straight back.
Facial Hair: A chinstrap beard, generally kept quite short (average half a centimeter).


Face Structure:
General: Squarish face, deep-set eyes, recessed chin.
Standout Features: Prominent labial lines, especially when he's smirking, smiling, grimacing, or grinding teeth.

Makeup: N/A

Piercing(s): N/A

Tattoo(s):
Right arm: Wrapping around his wrist, a relatively simple design of a coiled dragon swallowing its own tail - done mostly in green with a red underbelly.


Scar(s):
Face: A 3" long scar across his right temple, slanted toward back of the jaw. This is almost unnoticeable due to sideburns but it is quite visible where it severed the lower edge of his ear.
Torso: A total of sixteen scars of varying length and shape, all across his right torso from the shoulder to the last rib.
Hands: On his right hand, a 1" scar between the middle knuckles, and a second 2.5" beginning between the thumb and first finger - nearly reaching his wrist.

Attire:
Head: None at present.
Torso: A neutral gray, sleeveless shirt for standard fare. He also has a pale blue flight jacket with white collar, cuffs, and hem. More than the most cursory glance tells of circular patches torn from the shoulders and left breast at some point.
Legs: Flight suit pants to match the jacket.
Feet: Calf-length, soft leather boots. The laces are gray and frayed by long service.

Accessories:
Head/Neck: Sunglasses; large, round configuration with a thick titanium rim and padding for the bridge of the nose, complete with a lanyard. Not a second-rate brand.
Right wrist: A hefty wrist watch with a few extra features. Tells time, date, current temperature, GPS coordinates, atmospheric pressure, oxygen and CO2 levels. Large buttons are enviro-suit friendly, and it comes in a sealed casing guaranteed to survive most harsh planetary conditions. Limited warranty.
Right hand: White gloves with 3" cuff, not always worn.
Left hand: See above; same deal.
Waist: Wide black belt, synthetic fiber weave with a number of matching buttoned pouches.

Biography:
Born to Randal L. and Lilian A. Maywater, the top ecologists in the terraforming process of Venus. Ezrin was raised in every bio-dome and about half the cities built to date; his parents' jobs frequently necessitated relocation. He attended public schools and moved to Earth to attend community colleges until graduating with no distinguishable achievements. He Enrolled in flight school at 20 and graduated at 21, receiving class-B certification for atmospheric and deep-space flight; though he applied as an interstellar commercial liner pilot, he was turned down. He settled for signing on with a prospecting company and took a position as an survey team pilot. He worked with a clean yet unexemplary service record with Laslo Alexakis as his partner, technician, and sole companion on over a dozen deep-space assignments. After eight years, Laslo was decommissioned following a diagnosis of cancer. Ezrin stayed with the company for another 2 years, but submitted 5 separate requests for partner transfers. All of these were granted, however his record began to accumulate citations for failure to adhere to company regulation, and for relatively minor navigational errors. Toward the end of this period, Ezrin took extended leave, purportedly to care for his ailing parents. When both died in the following months, he turned in his two weeks' notice rather than return to active status. Being unable to find piloting positions due to bad recommendations from his former employer, he sold his parents' house booked a shuttle to Sheol.

Weapon(s):
Melee: 5" utility knife, living in a belt pouch.
Ranged: M-9 Tempest, SMG. 4x Mags.

Inventory:
Containers: Belt pouches and a 2.5' long duffel matching his flight suit. It's got his name on it embroidered in white right above the spot a circular patch was ripped off.
Supplies: The bare essentials. Couple of shoulder-strap canteens for water. 3 horrific-tasting day-ration protein cubes. Sunblock. A high-power electric lantern - power cell life up to 96 hours (4 days)
Miscellaneous: A radio communication headset, rarely worn. Normally kept in its own belt pouch.
Personal items: A small stack of 1.5" x 2.5" photos of family and friends, and his parents' wedding rings. Also have a belt pouch to themselves.

[Gunneh]

General Information:
Name: Anoch Sunara (Ah-knock Soo-nah-rah)
Sex: Male
Ethnicity: Egyptian
Age: 30
Home Planet: Sheol
Profession: Survivalist/Guide/Hunter/Ex-Bandit

General Appearance:
Height: 6'8"
Weight: 220lbs.
Skin tone: Tan
Eye Colour: Brown
Hair Colour: Brown
Hair Style: Shaggy, usually messy and ends just below his eyebrows
Facial Hair: Brown stubble that covers most of his face

Face Structure:
General: Angular with sharp cheekbones and chin
Standout Features: Diagonal scar through the middle of his right eyebrow, about six inches long.

Makeup:
Eyes: N/A
Blush: N/A
Lips: Homemade balm to protect from desert winds
Other: N/A

Piercing(s):
Left eyebrow: N/A
Nose: N/A
Lip: N/A
Left ear: N/A
Right ear: N/A
Torso: N/A
Other: N/A

Tattoo(s):
Face/Neck: N/A
Torso: Anubis between his shoulder blades
Left arm: Eye of Horus (wrist)
Right arm: Ankh (wrist)
Left leg: N/A
Right leg: N/A
Left foot: N/A
Right foot: N/A

Scar(s):
Face: Diagonal scar through the middle of his right eyebrow
Torso: Multiple claw marks on his back, chest and stomach from encounters with the animal inhabitants of Sheol and six bullet wounds in assorted places
Arms: A blade wound from an encounter with another bandit clan on his right arm running from the ball of his shoulder down to the inner crook of his elbow
Legs: Bite mark from one of the animal inhabitants of Sheol on his left calf, assorted scars from scaling the rockier parts of the desert

Attire:
Head: N/A
Torso: Tight, black t-shirt and a light weight, long sleeved, desert camouflage BDU jacket with a nape tape that reads "MacMahan" (pilfered from a corpse)
Legs: Light weight, desert camouflage pants (pilfered from a corpse)
Feet: Worn-out combat boots

Accessories:
Head/Neck: Black bandana around his neck that can be pulled up to cover his nose and mouth during sandstorms, dark tinted goggles that hang around his neck to protect his eyes during sandstorms
Left wrist: N/A
Right wrist: N/A
Right hand: N/A
Left hand: N/A
Waist: Tan cloth belt

Biography:

Since the tender age of only ten, Anoch has been nearly entirely self-reliant: After his family's brutal murder, Anoch escaped into the desert where he spent the next six years fending off the brutal predators that roam Sheol's deserts and basically just trying to survive.

Around the age of sixteen, after a close run-in with a pack of beasts that were after his flesh, Anoch was brought into a clan of thieves that witnessed the encounter. According to the leader of the clan, Anoch's animalistic ferocity and his presence in the face of danger were more than what they were looking for in a new recruit. Cautiously, Anoch accepted and spent the better part of twelve years with the clan.

After a while, though, Anoch became restless and left the clan to wander in the desert once more. He purchased a small hut on the outskirts of Makala and now makes his money as a guide or by selling the carcasses of animals he kills to local shop vendors for use of their hide or meat. He's not too far gone from his old ways to profit from those less fortunate in the desert, but he usually only steals from the dead.

Weapon(s):
Melee: Steel scimitar
Ranged: Torgue HVY40 Rowdy Bastard Assault Rifle

Inventory:
Container:
(1) Brown canvas backpack (pilfered from a corpse)
Supplies:
(3) Water skin
(1) Tin containing tobacco and rolling papers
(1) Animal hide pouch containing assorted jerky
Miscellaneous:
(1) Box of matches (bag)
(1) Flint (bag)
(1) Steel (bag)
(5) Clips of Assault Rifle ammo (bag)
Personal items:
(1) Mask made from the skull of what appears to a jackal, painted black and red (bag)

[Crazy Hobo]

General Information:
Name: Mazrim Bor
Sex: Male
Ethnicity: Caucasian
Age: 34
Home Planet: Hera
Profession: A captain in [Insert Faction Name]

General Appearance:
Height: 180cm (5’11’’)
Weight: 79kgs (175lbs)
Skin tone: Lightly tanned
Eye Colour: Brown
Hair Colour: Blonde
Hair Style: Short and under very tight control. Not one hair is out of place.
Facial Hair: None

Face Structure:
General: Angular jawline, high cheekbones, and a hawk nose.
Standout Features: Sunken eyes and slightly smiling lips.

Makeup:
Eyes: None
Blush: None
Lips: None
Other: None

Piercing(s):
Left eyebrow: None
Nose: None
Lip: None
Left ear: None
Right ear: None
Torso: None
Other: None

Tattoo(s):
Face/Neck: None
Torso: None
Left arm: None
Right arm: None
Left leg: None
Right leg: None
Left foot: None
Right foot: None

Scar(s):
Face: None
Torso: Grazing bullet wound on the left side of his waist
Arms:
Legs:

Attire:*
Head: None
Torso: A light gray military jacket with black bars on both shoulders that bear insignias that dictate rank. Under that is a simple black shirt.
Legs: Light gray pants with light padding and suspenders.
Feet: Black combat boots.

Accessories:
Head/Neck: Dog tags, although the ones hanging around his neck are really just for show.
Left wrist: None
Right wrist: None
Right hand: An old signet ring, a family heirloom.
Left hand: None
Waist: None

Biography: Mazrim was born into a rather wealthy family on a planet that many would consider rather high class. He was basically raised as an aristocrat, getting everything he desired, all the best schooling, and the potential to do anything he wanted, although there was only one thing Mazrim truly desired. He had been raised to believe that perfection was everything, and anything less was unacceptable. As far as Mazrim saw it, the only place that he could go to get anywhere near perfection was the [Faction Name]. They were a strong force on Hera, and to Mazrim they looked like angels. Angels that could show him the way to Ora Noc Terrol
.
After he enlisted, Mazrim rose through the ranks rather quickly. Not because he was obscenely talented or extremely charismatic, but because he had a work ethic and a drive that utterly surpassed any of his peers, and by the time he was twenty, Mazrim was already in officer candidacy school, and after completing that and becoming an officer he discovered something. He really enjoyed power. There was something about the power that his position brought that excited him. It was nearly as exciting as the pursuit of perfection. Almost. Abusing his power almost became a hobby, and he became rather corrupt rather quickly. Sure, he still did everything to the book in regards to military matters, but anything else was handled in quite a different manner. Although he soon had no time for his little games, for he was deployed to fight other factions on the front lines. That first deployment was where he got his scar. An enemy bullet grazed his side when he became careless. Mazrim often looks at it as his greatest failure.

Years passed with him still fighting, and commanding, on distant planets and during that time Mazrim was promoted to the rank of Captain, and with the promotion he was finally afforded more leeway in his pursuit of Ora Noc Terrol. Luckily the High Command felt he had served long a long enough stint on the battlefield, for now, and he was taken off of active duty very recently.Tthe instant he returned from the front lines he loaded up his personal ship for a journey to the best possible starting place on the road to Ora. Sheol. And no one is going to get in his way.

Weapon(s):
Melee: 12” Combat Knife (8” blade, 4” handle)
Ranged: Gemini Mk II 12mm Semi-Automatic Pistol

Inventory:
Container: Jacket Pockets, and a black military duffle bag.
Supplies: 4 bottles of water, 3 days of rations, GPS, and water purification tablets.
Miscellaneous: Binoculars and cash.
Personal items: He has two medals from the fighting he participated in.

*Here's the reference picture for the uniform http://www.starshiptroopers.net/PROPS-COMPLETE-COSTUMES.html

[Shadow Moonseye]

....

[Shadow Moonseye]

The Road to Paradise is officially open!

So, a few quick things. No one leaves the shop yet. You are to purchase your weapons here, unless you are already on the planet or had them shipped ahead of you. Please keep the shop keep in character. As always, if you have questions don't hesitate to ask, whether its here, in the chat (not chat box), or through a PM, I'm more than happy to help.

Other than that, have fun guys!

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