ooc: Please note everyone, Dripik has edited some IC into his previous post.
Annoyingly, it doesn't effect Dionysia (waiting for Arthur I think) or Anni (Venks? Chronicler?)
However, I may as well move my new guy.
:
Name: Grace
Gender: Male
Species: Slig
Age: 18 (Sligs live to be about 20)
Appearance: Notably smaller than your average big-bro, but still quite big enough thank you very much. His mask is the old visor-style but not quite as opaque as normal; a little can be seen of his sunken, puffy eyes beyond. He bares a fair share of scars and looks fairly roughed-up at the best of times.
Personality: Shrewd and mean; his interests are only for himself and he distains the society he lives in. He's never violent for the sake of violence, but he has a dangerously short fuse.
Equipment: His pants are old and poorly maintained, his visor is old, specialised and reasonably well looked after. His gun is a very old model, but powerful and treasured by its owner.
History: A old battle veteran from when land and slaves were won through war and not deception, Grace was retired from the military when his usefulness was used up. A tactician and a fearsome leader, he did not adapt well to life as a guard. His inability to hold down a job for more than a few weeks have caused much wandering across Mudos, finally leading him to Rupture Farms.
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IC:
Pants making a noise not unlike a machine being deconstructed by an imbecile, Grace the slig stalked his way down the corridors of Rupture Farms, his foul cigarette adding its own layer of filth to the already smoke-grimed ceiling. He quickly located the Boss's office, entered the lobby and banged on the door with a fist. When nothing happened for thirty seconds, he left again, and saw a glukkon twaddling down the corridor towards the office in the way only glukkons moved in their ridiculous suits.
"Oi," He called by way of a polite greeting, "You the boss round here?" Over a decade and a half of military service had given him little respect for even the best of glukkons.