Lords of Polaris (Full)

Pax Cyreon; a massive, entirely self-efficient station orbiting the white dwarf Vigil, the pinnacle of humanity’s technological success, the prototype that would launch hundreds of sister’s stations throughout the galaxy and forever solve the issue with over populated planets. When the war broke out the dream died. The officials of Pax Cyreon, ones delegates of the dozen governments that came together in an alliance of arms and resources to fund and build the project, witnessed the flames of battle from afar and broke off all ties with their former masters.

They forged their own government and pressed on, completely independent and neutral in the conflict that was consuming the rest of the galaxy. In only a matter of years the new government forged its own totalitarian regime over Pax Cyreon, complete with full security and naval forces. With their naval forces they stretched outward, taking in the forsaken colonies across the far flung worlds beyond them. Pax Cyreon was the edge of civilized space, the edge of the war.

Soon the war reached the station, however. The government, blinded by arrogance, didn’t recognize the signs until it was too late. Corporations from across the galaxy had brought in military forces of their own and began taking control over districts through the station, both within cities as well as the outlaying farms and forests. Refugees had been flocking to Pax Cyreon for decades, living in poverty and resorting to gang activity. The gangs quickly formed into deadlier versions of themselves, mercenary outfits. They served anyone willing to pay. Pax Cyreon became a war zone for the corporations over night.

In the midst of the chaos between the warring corporations, and the Pax Cyreon security forces doing what they could to keep order, numerous other governments began filtering into the station. They remained hidden at first, but within a matter of years their presence became as known as that of the Pax Cyreon’s very own government. They not only had their own military forces, however, but the aid of the mercenaries as well. To top things off the station was flooded with smuggling, human trafficking, and every other nefarious outlet known to mankind.

The Pax Cyreon station saw only one option to regain control over the station. A black ops team of experienced mercenaries, one that had no ties to the government, a black ops that for all intents and purposes did not exist on any record; not even its members would have histories. It was the first step toward the birth of the mercenary outfit Lords of Polaris.


Pax Cyreon Station

Pax Cyreon has a large enough mass for a fully functioning gravitational field. Its surface is a large, uneven disc at its core. Below the surface is a series of catacombs filled with support systems, living spaces, docking bays, and so forth from the crew who originally built the station. The underside looks like a reverse of the towering skyscrapers on Pax Cyreon itself, only a dual matte-grey, lifeless.

On the surface, Pax Cyreon appears, acts, and for all intents and purpose is an artificial planet. Soil, faune, flora, water, all were imported until the station. An advanced plasma shield with an azure tint covers the station and allows an artificial atmosphere to be created and contained. It also affords a view of the universe when tilted away from Vigil, and a view at the star itself when tilted toward it; the tilt giving the residents a fully functioning night and day cycle. To complete the feel of a true planet, systems were implemented into Pax Cyreon to offer a complete weather cycle, as well as seasons as it drifts closer or father away from Vigil.


Character Builds:

Small: Main, side-arm, melee, explosives (limited to one charge or two grenades)
Medium: Main, sub, side-arm, melee, explosives (limited to one charge or three grenades)
Large: Main, sub, side-arm, melee, heavy (replaces sub), explosives (two charges and one grenade or four grenades)
Heavy: Main, side-arm, melee, heavy (replaces sub), explosives (two charges and one grenade or four grenades), extra ammo.

Spoiler:

Name: Nikolai Keldian
Alias: Ronin
Age: Thirty-two
Sex: Male
Blood Type: AB-

Height: 5’11
Weight: 176
Build: Medium

Complexion: Medium, oriental skin tone
Eye Colour: Dark green/brown
Hair Colour: Black
Hair Style: Silky straight, grown halfway down his back. Styled into a folded top-knot during combat
Facial Hair: Full stubble
Tattoos: Twin dragons rise up both of his sides, wrapping up and over the shoulder blades with their heads over either side of his chest. The rest of his back is covered in an image of a samurai in the dead of winter, with the text “The most dangerous impulse is to feel safe” written in the sky, between his shoulder blades
Piercings: None
Scars: Diagonal slash down the left side of his neck. Over half a dozen minor scars on his forehead, cheekbones, and jaw. A thick slash on his left upper arm from a glancing bullet two years before the battle at Alpha Reoux-3
Specialization: Behind lines Recon & Infiltration
Experience: Four years in the Veourix S.D.G.F (Standard Deployment Ground Forces) and another nine years in the Veourix R.I.S.O (Recon & Infiltration Special Ops)
Last Known Status: M.I.A three years prior during the conflict for Alpha Reoux-3, three weeks prior to the fall of Veourix

Common Clothing:
- Head: None
- Torso: Sleeveless shirt, dark green
- Arms/Hands: Brown leather armbands, black fingerless gloves
- Legs/Feet: Dark urban camouflage cargo pants, engineer boots
Combat Fatigues:
- Head: None
- Torso: Dark green under armour
- Arms: Plague series breathable gloves
- Legs/Feet: Plague series breathable socks
Armour:
- Armour Class: Medium
- Head: None
- Torso: Full chest plate and pauldrons from the Plague series manufactured by Delirium Industries
- Arms/Hands: Plague series gauntlet and elbow plate
- Legs/Feet: Plague series greaves and combat boots
- Colour scheme: Green and black
- Installed Mod: (If Applicable)

Weapon(s):
- Main: .556 caliber M-46 Shadow Assault Rifle
- Sub: None
- Side-arm: 12 mm M-3 Therion Heavy Pistol
- Explosives: Three grenades
- Heavy: None
- Melee: Modern military-grade tanto

Miscellaneous Gear:
- Flashlight, attaches to the side of his rifle
- Spare ammo strap (both forearms and left thigh)
- Small medi-kit

Personality Profile:
From the Desk of Dr. Svisdahl, Veourix Tactical Forces Psychiatrist

Sergeant Nikolai Keldian seems to be another case of the soldier following stoicism philosophy. It isn’t anything I haven’t seen before from men and woman who come out of the southern hemisphere. Growing up with a watchful, cautious eye at all times, very few if anyone to trust; these individuals often become withdrawn and severe even in humor, which often comes out dark, dry, and stale.

What I have come to notice different in Nikolai is his tendency towards meditation outside of combat. He has also spoken of a code of honor that is, in his words, ‘for all intents and purposes, my own’.

With an advanced control over emotions, stress, and adrenaline, Nikolai is as calm and composed under intense combat situations as any commander could ask for. Without a care for showy words, Nikolai is a moderate leader in combat. His utmost concern seems to be with himself, however. He isn’t one to go out of his way to save anyone. He fights for his own survival, seemingly ignoring the chaos around him. In the end it seems Nikolai has found a home amidst the chaos of battle.

Background: Grew up on Veourix in the southern hemisphere, in one of the most densely populated slums on the planet. By the age of six he was working to support his family as an engineer’s assistant. At the age of twelve he was conscripted into the Veourix military and saw his first combat action a month before his sixteenth birthday. During the next four years he served in the S.D.G.F across several star clusters against several governments. Nikolai never came to understand the war that had started several galactic decades before his birth. Nor did he ever bother with trying. The military got him out of the hellhole he grew up in. For him, that was all that mattered.

Around the age of twenty he was recruited into the R.I.S.O. One of the few elite branches of the Veourix military; specializing in recon and covert missions beyond their galactic borders. For the next nine years he served in the unit, traversing more space than many common soldiers in any standard military likely knew existed. Near the end the Veourix military was pushed back to its home world and three orbiting moons. On the moon Alpha Reoux-3, a brigade of shock troopers from Kĕliąctrul dropped from the upper atmosphere of the moon. Nikolai was part of the skirmish unit station on Alpha Reoux-3. Each moon fell within under six hours.

During the conflict, Nikolai had his helmet blown apart by heavy fire from one of the shock troopers. The battle left his face and neck heavily scarred. It is uncertain how he managed to make it off the moon and into free space. Galactic records showed him as one of the many M.I.A, presumably K.I.A, from the battle until he showed up on the Pax Cyreon Station scanners a short while before he was reportedly killed in a back alley firefight.

Name: Xavier Keller
Alias: Claw
Age: 31
Sex: Male
Blood Type: AB positive

Height: 5'10
Weight: 190 lbs
Build: Medium.

Skin Tone/Complexion: Slightly tanned
Eye Colour: Brown
Hair Colour: Brown
Hair Style: Shaggy
Facial Hair: Soul patch
Tattoos: A small tattoo on his wrist with the words; "I always explode on time" written in cursive, and another on on the opposite wrist in the same writing stating; "Sometimes Explosions Are Necessary"
Piercings: A single small piercing on his right ear with a small simple silver earing.
Scars: His hands are covered in numerous scars from small explosions, and his face has a it's fair share of small nicks and scratches. Most notable would be the triple scratch coming from his left cheekbone down to his top lip.

Specialization: Explosives/close quarters combat.
Experience: Spent three years among the security forces of the PTF (Pariah Tactical Force), and another ten among the Pariah Special Tactics Squad as their explosive expert.
Last Known Status: Was listed as KIA during a extremely hazardous situation where a bomb exploded before he could disarm it

Common Clothing:
- Head: Red bandana with small handgrenade pictures on it.
- Torso: Any kind of T-shirt
- Arms/Hands: Finger-less gloves
- Legs/Feet: Black sweats for pants, and usually goes barefoot around the base, but puts on socks and white sneakers for outside of the base.
Combat Fatigues:- Head: Nothing
- Torso: Urban camoflouge muscle shirt
- Arms: Nothing
- Legs/Feet: Urban camoflouge pants with black military boots
Armour:
- Head: A red and black combat helmet (S-12 'Assault' combat series) with a mirrored visor that covers the entirety of the face.
- Torso: Red and black pattern 'Assault' armour with additional slots for equipped explosives
- Arms/Hands: Red and Black 'Assault' gloves
- Legs/Feet: Red and Black 'Assault' leggings and boots
- Installed Mod: 'Clarity' Mind Mod.

Weapon(s):- Main: R-37 Granger Sub-machinegun
- Side-arm: Standard Epsilon Repeater Pistol
- Explosives: Multiple explosives including: Fusion, High explosive, Dirty, Contained, and Demolition.
- Melee: 12' serrated combat knife

Miscellaneous Gear:
Disarming kit including a variety of tools such as pliers, handheld torch, etc.

Personality Profile:

From the Desk of Dr. Crueger, Pariah Tactical Forces Psychatrist

In all my years as this proud unit's psychatrist, never in my life have I ever seen a man who is so easy to take a hating too. Corporal Xavier Keller is easily the most hated man in his unit, and for good reason. He is an asshole, plain and simple. He doesn't bother with things such as tact or even politeness. He'll say whatever is on his mind, and usually it is to put someone else down. He insults, threatens, and does whatever he feels like doing with little to no reasoning behind it. Yet, by looking at his record, he is obviously hiding some emotions deep beneath the black crust of his heart. According to these documents, he has willingly put himself in harms way to save a teammate, only to later insult and threaten them back at base. Another example would be his absolute refusal to leave a bomb armed due to the fact that too many civilians were in the immediate vicinity. These situations prove he is not solely a cold-hearted bastard, but that he simply doesn't know how to interact with people without making himself a target for retaliation. Maybe he enjoys it, or maybe he feels he deserves to be attacked. Either way, I would prefer to avoid the abuse of his company and leave that question unanswered.

Corporal Xavier Keller is not a loveable person, heck, not even a likeable person. He is, however, dependable under fire, and a rock in stressful situations. His attitude and personality never change, even in life or death situations, and this creates a weird base for the other soldiers to hide against. He will never be a leader, not by a longshot. I doubt that he ever intended to be, but maybe that is for the best. Coming to the end of this evalution, I can safely say that while not a stabalizing element off the field, he most certainly is one on the field. He will never crack under pressure, and despite his hard exterior, on the inside he is always looking out for the people around him. One last thing before I close this report Director.

If he calls me a "Trenchcoat wearing mind fucking nazi" one more time, I am filing harrasment charges.

Dr. Crueger, Pariah Tactical Forces Psychatrist



Background:

Xavier Keller was raised by his father, and his father only. Xavier didn't see much of his dad though, as his father was constantly working with the PTF as a squad leader to make sure the recent surge of terrorist activity didn't go beyond uncontrollable. Due to this, Xavier was forced to look out for himself, and he quickly took on a philosphy that no one was going to help you, so why should you help them? Even in elementary school he was an asshole, constantly getting into fights with teachers and students alike. He was seperated from normal classrooms, and often went into solitary confinement for multiple reasons but most often including physical assault. His father, who was supposed to uphold the peace on Pariah, was unable to uphold the peace in his own home. Xavier and his father were never close, and what time they did spend together either ended with a fight about behaviour, or Mr. Keller being called back onto patrol. This is what shaped the man you see before you today, and what has forever marked him aas an incurable asshole.

During his high school years, he found he had a natural affinity for explosives. His most memorable moment was when he managed to rig a plastic bottle of glue to explode on contact with the principal's ass when he sat down on his chair. It was during these years that his father was killed in action during a high risk hostage situation. His father had managed to save the hostages, but had been shot in the back numerous times while making his escape. This didn't make sense to Xavier, as he saw his father only caring about himself and the money that the law enforcement brought in. Once he was out of school at the age of eighteen, he joined up with the PTF for two reasons. One being that he liked the thought of having a gun and shooting people, and two, to figure out what it was about the job that made his father give his life for. For the next three years he managed to make a name for himself, especially when he managed to disarm a dirty bomb in an apartment complex without the aid of a defusing kit or any real experience with the equipment. His superiors liked his talents enough to bump him up to the PSTS.

He didn't make many friends, hell, he didn't make any friends. However, if you asked anyone in his squad if he could do his job, they would answer with a yes with no hesitation. During those ten years he managed to get into numerous fights, both with terrorists and his own squad members. He was even suspended without pay for decking his superior officer, knocking him out cold, and tying his head down in a toilet. Charges were pressed, but eventually dropped on the account that they didn't have anyone else who was as talented with explosives as Xavier was. It was just a short year after that where a local terrorist cell, named "Kalderan's Prophets" had managed to rig a rather complicated bomb to a subway train. While Xavier's team had managed to eliminate the terrorists, Xavier didn't have enough time left on the clock to disarm the bomb. Instead, he managed to free it from the floor of the train, run out onto the tracks, and drop it into a service tunnel. Just as he was closing the door, the bomb exploded, shooting a plume of fire upwards, and giving Xavier his signature 'claw' scar on his face.

It was during his tenth year that supposedly did him in. The same terrorist group he had managed to thwart just a few years prior had returned, and had managed to establish a whole series of bombs underneath a corporate building, and threatened to destroy it if they saw anyone leave. Under the cover of night, Xavier's team managed to infiltrate the building and take out the few guards with suppressed weapons. Xavier set to work on the bombs while the rest of his team secured the building and evacuated the building. This entire process of evacuation took the entire night, and the entire time Xavier was focused on the multiple bombs in the basement. Just as they managed to grab the last of the civlians out of the building, the bombs started going critical, and they all looked to Xavier. He ushered them out, saying he would be right behind them with an armful of explosives and another win to his reputation. Just as the last squad member walked out, the basement exploded and the entire building came crumbling down Xavier, and everyone watched as he was swallowed whole by the destruction and chaos.

Later searching found only his dogtags, and he was presumed KIA. However, reports have put him on Pax Cyreon Station under the Alias of Claw.

Name: Sydney Palmmer
Alias: Valkyrie
Age: 35
Sex: Female
Blood Type: O-

Height: 5’11”
Weight: 178 lbs
Build: Heavy

Eye Colour: Ice blue
Hair Colour: Dark Brown
Hair Style: Buzz cut
Facial Hair: None
Tattoos: Brand on the inside right bicep which reads ODST, running the length of her back a highly stylized tattoo of a spine. Written on this inside of her right forearm “War is my destiny.”
Piercings: None
Scars: Large burn scar on her right shoulder and arm, one bullet scar on her left thigh, two bullet scars on her stomach, and a slash over her right eye.
Specialization: Orbital drops and heavy assault.
Experience: Five years in the Kĕliąctrul F.R.A.F. (First Response Assault Forces) and another eleven in the Kĕliąctrul O.D.S.T. (Orbital Drop Shock Troopers)
Last Known Status: Presumed dead three years ago after contact was lost with the prison transport vessel Ammut.

Common Clothing:
- Head: None
- Torso: Dark grey racer back tank top, short black tank top
- Arms/Hands: Wristwatch
- Legs/Feet: Dark cargo pants or grey sweatpants, bare feet or combat boots
Combat Fatigues:
- Head: None
- Torso: Dark brown under armor
- Arms: black fingerless gloves
- Legs/Feet: multi climate heavy weave socks
Armour:
- Armor class: Heavy
- Head: Mark IV Mirrored Visor from the Seraph series by Netark industries
- Torso: Full chest plate and pauldrons from the Seraph series by Netark industries
- Arms/Hands: None
- Legs/Feet: Knee guards from the Seraph series by Netark industries
- Color Scheme: Dark Grey and Blue
- Installed Mod: N/A

Weapon(s):
- Main: T12 Cyclops Assault Rifle
- Sub: N/A
- Side-arm: Mark XII Enforcer handgun
- Melee: 14 inch combat knife

Miscellaneous Gear:
-Utility Belt with spare ammo pouches
-Flashlight
-Lighter
- Tube of QuikSeal

Personality Profile:
From the desk of Dr. Yeigh, Kĕliąctrul Special Forces Psychiatrist

Corporal Sydney Palmmer appears remarkably stable for one of her background--if not a bit temperamental. She gives a fearless, self assured vibe and thrives off challenge. Under stress she reacts exceptionally well, providing a stable foundation of calm that her comrades find reassuring. She demonstrates a willingness to follow orders to the letter; keeping to them with as little deviation as possible. She is a determined individual who lets nothing distract her from a goal. The Corporal has the rare ability to quickly assess a situation and make snap decisions where drawn out planning would be a mistake. She exhibits excellent leadership qualities and has the admiration of many of her fellows. Others depend on her ability, counting on her to not only get the job done, but do it well. I predict that she will be a rising star in the Orbital Drop Shock Troopers; it wouldn’t surprise me to see her speedily climb through the ranks.

However, there are a few traits that Corporal Palmmer shows that worry me. She is a woman of absolutes: In her eyes there is only right or wrong, good or bad, black and white; you either love or hate her. Earning her respect and trust appears to be a battle for even the most charming individual. Once earned though, she is very loyal--to a fault I might say. Outside of her friends and comrades she places a disconcerting de-emphasis on human life--a defense mechanism from her childhood no doubt. She is volatile and quick to anger, her record full of minor disciplinary infractions; each time she took her punishments with no protest so I view this as more of a point of interest than a worry. Soldiers have their own ways of solving their problems with each other behind closed doors.

All in all I would say that you would be hard pressed to find a better soldier. She has been and will no doubt continue to be an excellent addition to the ODST.

Additional notes: I find the woman to be utterly terrifying. She was brutally honest in answering all my questions and express explicit distain of me. I would much prefer she was passed along to Dr. Daike next time.

Background:
Born to unknown parents in one of Kĕliąctrul’s great metropolises, Sydney was dropped unceremoniously at an orphanage a few hours after birth. There was no identification on her -- birth records, hospital band, not even a trinket with an engraved name was present. The infant was brought in, named, and the required documents filled out. One more parentless child left among countless others.

Her early years were spent hopefully, wishing along with the other children that someone would come and take her away from the overcrowded rooms of the orphanage and give her a real home. As she grew older, the hope faded. The young girl wasn’t like the other girls. She preferred the rough play of the boys; choosing cops and robbers and skinned knees over tea parties and rag dollies. Growing older found her becoming frustrated, and she began fighting. She refused to answer to Sydney, instead wanting to be called Sid. Where other girls wore their hair long, she wore hers short in boyish styles. She fought more, and was disobedient. Countless hours were spent in time outs, separated from others, and being punished.

At the age of 12 Sid decided that she was never going to be adopted and that six years was far too long to wait to be able to leave. She started looking for ways out. Running away never worked and she wasn’t old enough to get a job yet. She wasn’t desperate enough to try looking for less legal means of escape. The years passed, and on the eve of her 16th birthday an idea struck her: Military recruiters often came to the orphanage looking for more bodies for the war. If she could lie about her age…

The next month found Sid in the middle of the group of orphans talking with the recruiters. At the first opportunity she signed the papers that would change her life. Whether the recruiters turned a blind eye to the desperate girl’s lie or were fooled by her proclamation, Sid would never know. That same day she gathered her few possessions and left the hell hole that had been her home for the past 16 years behind without a backwards glance.

Once in boot, she dove into the military life, relishing in the daily challenges her body and mind were put through. Over the next five years she thrived in the FRAF, striving to be the best she could. She still fought, but the fights were more infrequent than her days at the orphanage. She even made a few friends. Shortly after her 21st birthday, Sid was recruited into the ODST, some faceless higher-up seeing great potential in the young woman. She threw herself into the intensive training program, determined to graduate at the top of her class. The journey wasn’t without mishaps though. On her first jump she earned the massive scar that covers most of her right arm and shoulder. She failed to properly check her armor pre-jump and upon re-entry it malfunctioned. The heat fused the armor to her flesh. It was a painful lesson, and since that day Sid has made it a point to clean and maintain her armor daily. Though the accident set her back several months, she still managed to graduate in the top five and become a full fledged member of Kĕliąctrul’s fabled ODST.

Over the next 11 years she climbed through the ranks and made quite the name for herself amongst the shock troopers. She took part in many battles, seeing many planets and moons, more than she had ever dreamed possible as a child. Three years ago, her world turned upside down.

She took part in the attack on Veourix and its three moons, her and the other ODST overwhelming the Veourixian defenses. The moons under Kĕliąctrul’s control, Sid moved on to take part in the attack on the actual planet. She followed her orders to the letter, and was proud to be there during the final conflict.

Three weeks after the planet fell, Syndey received a summons to a court martial, where she was being tried for two counts of mass murder. The accusation stunned her. She could only watch mutely as she was swiftly convicted, and served a Dishonorable Discharge. She was sentenced to life imprisonment on Ciarn 5, no possibility of parole. She was stripped of everything and promptly shipped off on the prison transport vessel Ammut. After the FTL was engaged, contact was lost with the vessel. It was never found, and all aboard were written off as dead.

One week ago Sid showed up on Pax Cyreon Station under the alias of Valkyrie, who was shortly reported dead, another countless victim of the struggles within the station.

Name: Five (Closely Guarded, Unknown by Delirium Industries)
Alias: Khymera
Age: 25
Sex: Male
Blood Type: B+

Height: 5’6”
Weight: 139lbs
Build: Small

Complexion: Pale
Eye Colour: Solid Black
Hair Colour: Black with dark red streaks
Hair Style: Short Mohawk
Facial Hair: Dual-plaited four-inch goatee
Tattoos: Red crosshairs on eyes. The center piece of his ‘mural’ is Yggdrasil, the world tree of Norse Myth. Its branches and roots spread across his arms and legs, connecting the numerous scenes depicted on his body. The first is on his back, depicting the twilight of the gods, or Ragnarok. On either side of the trunk, it depicts Odin locked in battle with the great Fenrir wolf, while Thor battles against the Migard Serpent. Just above his tailbone, on the trunk, lies Loki’s fate, a serpent forever pouring venom onto his face. On his chest, the trunk is surrounded by a legion of distinctly unique Nidhogg, with the cold eyes of Hel staring out from the center of the trunk. Following the branches down his right arm, it soon sprouts into an image of the blackened throne of Hel, with the ruler herself in all her dark glory. A surprising amount of detail is used on the dark goddess, and while Khymera admits to having a ‘sexier’ version of her done on his arm, it barely detracts from the tattoo. Opposite Hel on the left arm, A Valkyrie clad in glistening black drags a dying man into a black portal, the warriors around them oblivious to his plight. As the roots stretch down his legs, the left shows the golden bridge to Hel, Modgud, passing over the river Gjoll, with looming towers of black hanging overhead. The right displays the tortured god Balder bound in torment by frozen chains, thousands of blackened hands gripping at his skin. The grand ‘mural’ has no breaks as it flows across Khy’s frame, any spaces expertly filled with tortured souls and black armoured warriors of old. The tattoo is so extensive; the only actual skin seen on Khymera’s body is on his head and parts of his neck, hands, and feet. Everything else is covered in ink.
Piercing: None
Scars: None visible

Specialization: Stealth Close Range and Long Range
Experience: 12 years as a runner for gangs, 5 years as Operative for Delirium Industries
Last Known Status: Transport shuttle C-1278 “Melody” near Pax Cyreon Station, KIA in raid and subsequent detonation of the C-1278 “Melody”.

Common Clothing:
- Head: None
- Torso: T-shirt (grey)/Bare-chested
- Arms/Hands: None
- Legs/Feet: Black cargo shorts and black sneakers
Combat Fatigues:
- Head: None
- Torso: Black Under Armour
- Arms: None
- Legs/Feet: Black Combat Pants
Armour:
- Armour Class: Light
- Head: Swift Series Helmet, Model Number X3, Delirium Industries. Two inch visor. Night Vision Capable.
- Torso: Swift Series Chest Plate, Model Number X3, Delirium Industries. High Flexibility.
- Arms/Hands: Swift Series Gauntlets, Model Number X3, Delirium Industries.
- Legs/Feet: Swift Series Greaves, Model Number X3, Delirium Industries. Combat Boots.
- Colour scheme: Dark Azure Blue, and Iron Grey
- Installed Mod: N/A

Weapon(s):
- Main: D-82 Charon Sniper Rifle Series
- Sub: N/A
- Side-arm: KE-7 Baroness Semi-Auto Pistol Series. Silenced.
- Explosives:
- Heavy: N/A
- Melee: 6” Combat Knife, Combat Hatchet
Miscellaneous Gear:
Bio-foam

Personality Profile: From the notes of Dr. Mariah Kelente, Psychological Analysis of…data corrupted…AKA Khymera.

Highly Classified under Protocol Sigma Six Eleven

It’s difficult to truly get a feel for ‘Khymera’. His insistence on the usage of his Operative Alias, and his borderline sociopath tendencies are cause of concern and his distinct lack of inhibition only makes the aforementioned problems more concerning. His obsession with the Norse ‘Goddess’ Hel is curious, but appears to be nothing more than simple idol worship.

His demeanour is ‘friendly‘, sometimes charming, and although he is prone to humour of the blacker sort, there is rarely anything aside from a playful smirk or riotous smile on his face. Some find him abrasive, and antagonistic, which is true, but Khymera is at his happiest when he feels tension, be it physical, sexual, emotional, or otherwise. If one can stand his prods and jabs, the happier he is to be around them. It seems difficult to truly make Khymera actually hate someone, but a distinct lack of close relationships and an absolute refusal to go into past ones make any comprehensive answers.

He appears to have difficulty bonding with other men, rarely advancing past a point of casual acquaintance, and even then, the ‘friendship’ seems strained. He gravitates towards members of the opposite sex, notably more relaxed around them, and easily making bonds, although his personality and lecherous traits can still lead to heavy conflict.

All in all, ‘Khymera’ seems perfectly content with his work, and the life which it brings. He may require psychiatric work later in life, but for now, he is more than qualified for this line of work and will suit our purposes perfectly.

- Dr Kelente
Delirium Industries Chief Psychiatrist

Background:

Born to an infamous drug lord and one of his countless ‘harem’ girls, Khy was one of many children raised by the harem. Unfortunately, he was a boy, and thus his father made him part of what he affectionately called, the ‘family’ business. In truth, his sons became his runners, delivering whatever their father needed to wherever it needed to go. The assignments came slowly at first…and the boys did their best to complete them. At the urging of his mother, Khymera strove to be fastest, and the best. He ran his hardest, no matter how it hurt, no matter how much his lungs burned.

And when they turned ten, the game gained a new rule. As the last of the runners returned, their father rose from his seat, drew his pistol, and promptly shot the latest one dead. Last in dies. The assignments picked up speed, growing more and more challenging with each passing trial, and after each, another body was tossed into the mass grave dug especially for them. Over two years, Khy survived were his brothers failed, enduring ever possible hardship, and managing to rise above. The grave was closed four days before he turned 13, 19 bodies of various decay entombed forever beneath cold earth. His father was ‘proud’ to call him his son, and the boy earned his place.

He was trained, taught to be stealthy, lethal, and fast. Every strike, step, and dodge needed to carry him forward, onwards towards whatever goal had been set by the whims of his tyrannical father. Life was brutal, and every day blended more and more into one as the years slipped by…

When suddenly, it ended. Raiding a ship owned by Delirium Industries, Khymera accidentally tripped an alarm, and found himself thrown into a prison cell covered in bruises. He was tortured, systematically beaten every single day, as they demanded to know who sent him, and what his target was. His tongue never slipped, and his silence caught the higher ups attention.

An offer was made, to join Delirium Industries as an operative, or to be abandoned on a deserted planet to starve. Wisely, he accepted, and they took him in under their wing. Despite his eccentricities, he excelled with the company, and the partnership was set to last.

However, during an operation near Pax Cyreon, his transport ship was attacked by raiders, and Khymera died in the explosion.

@Wake Angel, I kind of have Tech Expert covered. I dunno if Mel or anyone let you know or not.

.....

Rargh, I'm gonna be working on a post for this here in the next few days. Hopefully that'll get it moving again.

OH HEY LOOKIT THAT.

I finally posted!

Woot! That was an awesome post, Shadow.

See! I told you Digi would be happy! lol

Heheh, so you did!

Thanks Digi! ^^

Am I THAT predictable? *grumbles