Unlike a lot of humans out there now a days, I was born on Earth. A modest, humble place in the heart of the United States named Colorado. I never met my dad, but mom assured me and my sister that he was the greatest man she ever met. We came from the long line of explorers. Our family line went all the way back to Leif Erikson, and our great great great great great grandfather was on board the first space shuttle out of our solar system... But that was on my father's side, and he left a long time ago. My mom became broken. A drunk, a drug user... so it left me to take care of my mom and little sister... And then He showed up. My father's apparent best friend started to get friendlier and friendlier with my mom, and soon enough he became my stepdad. He was a disgrace of a man. He did nothing but smoke, drink, yell at my mom, and when he wasn't doing that he was beating me for standing up for her.

But my mother never left. Maybe if she knew the fate of my dad she would have done something... but her sadness weighed her down, left her the broken pieces of the woman she once was... I started to rebel against my step dad. I would steal from his wallet, make my "attacks" on him look like accidents, I would often get in fights with people and give them my step dad's name as mine to see if they would come to our house and start beating the shit out of him. It never worked.

One night I came home after school to find... m-my mother in a bloody mess on the ground, my sister crying with a bloody nose, and the stench of liquor filling my nose as I saw my step dad over them. I fought back. My mom said I was so much like my father. Strong, brave, willing to step up and do the right thing... But as I fought my step dad, I thought if my dad was so great, then why did he leave his family with this man.

That was the start of my criminal record. After that my step father never pressed charges on me, my mom said it was all an accident, but he sent me to a military school... At the Spire, the Galactic Committee's headquarters. Turns out I come from a long line of important soldiers in the Chase family, so they were eager to take me in. I never considered myself a soldier, but the more I got compared to my father, the more I got angry with him. He sounded perfect, too good to be true, and yet my mother was a raging alcoholic, my sister was afraid to leave the house, and I was thousands of lightyears away to do anything to protect them. So to me, Todd Chase wasn't that special.

I was one of the top in my class when I eventually graduated, and had my own squadron and ship. We were a peace keeping unit that dealt with new interactions with alien colonies, or any hate crime distributions. One of the Committee's enemies planned a terrorist attack on a new allied colony accepting to join the Committee. The aftermath of the battle had My whole squadron dead, except me, but I didn't leave uninjured. My left hand had a horrible shake now, and nicknamed Atlas for withstanding so much pain and punishment during the battle.

I was put on medical leave, to go back home and see my mom and sister again.

I came home to find out the worst news you could ever get. Jamie Chase, My mother, apparently "fell down the stairs" and passed away two years ago. One year after that, my step father wasted the family inheritance, and he was so unstable to protect my sister they took her away. She blamed me for not staying, and she refused to tell me where she was... My step father ruined my life.

I wanted to fight him, to kill the man who murdered my mother and took away my baby sister... But I didn't. My left arm was too badly hurt, My heart felt hollow, and so I left without another word to the man... The next morning the Committee police were at my door, and I was charged the the murder of my step dad, and my next door neighbors. I was court marshaled, found guilty of my crimes, and sent to a maximum security prison known as The Rock.

I was 22 at this time. I was broken myself. I hated my step father. I hated that I was in this prison for a crime that I didn't do but wish I did. I was mad at the Committee for finding the wrong guy, for throwing me here after my years of service to them... But most importantly, I was mad at my dad. Wherever he was, I hoped he was miserable with the fact that he left his perfect family behind, and I hoped he found out that his wife was dead, his daughter was traumatized, and his son was in jail. I hoped that crushed him more than it crushed me.

Then the Committee came to my cell. They offered me another chance to make myself something other than a husk in a cell. They offered me a ship, a chance to lead. To be a Stellar Explorer. They told me it was a suicide mission, that I would most likely die within days by some terrorist party out there, or getting swallowed up in some giant plant on some planet... But a part of me held an idiotic concept. I had hope that I would be able to clear my name. Or to find my father. Or to see my sister again... I accepted, and I was the proud owner of my new Assault-Class Exploration ship, "The Monroe."

I was assigned a team, my natural leadership skills and my time in the military made them trust me, but.. My time in the COMMITTEE military left me in some tension with some of the crew. That soon faded when we survived our first assignment... Fighting a fleet of invisible ant-men type aliens on a remote planet surrounded by quick sand. Our reputation grew mission after mission. Whether it be planet data collection, or recon strikes. We became the best exploration team in the galaxy, and got the title: The Marauders.

It's not been an easy ride. I've made close friends, and I've lost many of them. There are some old seasoned veterans on the team, and new guys. I would do anything to keep them safe, and I continue my search for my father, and have been pestering the Committee to let me see my sister again... I've never told anyone about my past. All they know is that I was put away for killing my step dad and neighbors... And yet they trust me. I will protect my ship, and my crew with my life... But there are only a very select few that know about my past and my alternate goals, though. Maybe my past will come back to haunt me... But for now, I'll go along with this ride... I'm with great people, and although we are technically on a suicide mission, I've had some fun. What can I say? A group of crazies and criminals do know how to have a good time.

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One of the first generation star-fighters, Raymond first flew Raven during his time in the Military, when he was put in charge of the Marauders he found out that his fighter was sent to be scrapped. During a mission to recover intel from a wreck on a junk planet, he found his old ship sitting there to rot. He managed to fly it back to the Monroe and patched it up over the three years of being a Marauder.

Name: T4-073
AKA: Kaite (Pronounced 'Kite' (Will usually respond to anything as long as he knows he's being addressed))
Age: 3 (appears 14-18 (Mentally 30ish))
Race


Faction: Marauder, Child of Aylv (by blood, only)

Role in Team?: Weapons Expert, Chief of Security, chef (Licensed for operations in most ship-side weaponry, piloting/navigations and even small-arms training...but arguably good reasons were found to disallow this for the time being)



Weapon(s) :
- 'Sandcastle' Custom PWD (12 round clip .45 acp) often holstered on left thigh.
- A simple Pappenheimer Rapier tailored to his size and mostly for display, Kaite is still dangerously versed in fencing.

Family/Relationship?: Three brothers died from clone sickness, murdered his last brother out of mercy. Has been on The Monroe for about two months.
Other:
- Kaite speaks vith zeh slightest ouf accents vhich I intend to inflict upon readers.
- Uses broom closets and other small spaces in favor of the crew barracks.

Name: L'Azul
AKA: Newt

Age: 53

Race: Kautada

Appearance: Kautada are a strange race of small, amphibious, salamander like creatures. The race has pale skin, slightly overlarge heads, small prehensile tails, webbed feet and fringe gills on the sides of their necks. Their eyes are solid red orbs and their skin is often moist and shiny with four arms. L'Azul is no exception, he stands at about 5'3, a bit tall for his race, with four arms and finged gills. He, like most of his race, is often smiling and carries himself happily. His hands are almost always moving, adjusting tools or jotting down notes in his messy hand writing or desperately trying to find what he needs amongst a mess of disorganized papers. He is hairless, like all of his race, and in his gills are small tube-like containers filled with a concoction of water and a slimy substance. His skin is coated in the substance which is not unlike slimy water, and his gills take in the rest. He has a small metal protrusion at the base of his neck which is his only outward cybernetic enhancement, being a reaction booster.

He most often wears a silver bomber jacket with several symbols along his shoulders, under which is a simple black shirt. for time in arid enviroments he has a special rig he hooks along his neck in order to breathe and remain moist. He does not often look the ppart of a scientist, to be quite frank, preferring a more casual appearance.



Faction: Marauder

Role in Team: Chief Science officer

Bio: : L'Azul was, and is, a bio-mechanical engineer with more PHD's than any human could attain in a lifetime. Born on the Kautada homeworld, while no prodigy he was far above the average intelligence of his own hyper intelligent race long before he began artificially enhancing it as is normal. After graduating from one of the more prestigous state run universities on his homeworld L'Azul was eager to cut his teeth on something important, even groundbreaking. This, was where Jericho came in. Doctor Jericho Sinclair offerd the young scientist a direct and directorial role at a company getting back on its feet after some... setbacks. The company seemed to be exactly what L'Azul was looking for, the firm having made several important discoveries and breakthroughs... even if they did have one too many lines blacked out in their dossier to be comfortable, but L'Azul happily accepted the position. To the young Kautada was placed as part of what seemd to be some sort of super soldier project, largely dealing with embryotic enhancement and testing, with a few more developed subjects used on occasion. Many of the dosage's, concoctions and... genetic testing seemd mildly off to him, but he pressed on with his research and testing. It was often hard as Doctor Jericho seemed extremely tempermental with the testing and implementation, often requiring the team to re-start from scratch after some perceived failure even when things had been far better than expected. But, all was not lost.

After awhile, L'Azul came closer and closer to a breakthrough in dealing with a more mature subject. His prototype was everything Jericho and the companies mysterious board were looking for. But, shortly before he had a chance to finish fine tuning and revealing his prototype, he was layed off and the project shut down. More than a little miffed, and having lost many of his more advanced records, he still had his personal notes. He locked them away somewhere only he knew for safekeeping and set about looking for new opportunities... unfourtanetly they never came. Shortly after his being 'layed off' authorities from the Kautada broke into L'Azul's home and personal laboratory and arrested him. The scientist was brought before the council and accused of multiple extreme ethical violations while under the employ of the company. Unbeknownst to L'Azul the company, and more specifically Doctor Jericho, had set him up as a fall-man. While he had guessed everything had not been 100% ethical, the things he was accused of during his ensuing trial were truly sickening, things he had no idea about or control over. Eventually, due to an inability to tie any of it directly to the young Kautada the council gave him a choice. He could either choose service on the Monroe as a chief scientist and bio-mechanical engineer, or he could be kept in holding for a possibly indefinite amount of time while his trial became tied up in the courts. With little in the way of real choice, he decided service was preferable to imprisonment. And so, he was shipped to the Monroe.... but not before he could secretly get his notes, lest something in there damn him... besides, a good researcher never lost his notes.

Personality: Despite his past, like much of his race he often has a sunny and active
personality. It is difficult for the Kautada to open up about anything sad or upsetting, meaning he often tries very hard to avoid speaking about his past or why he is indeed on the Monroe now. He seeks to be everyones friend, but is close to very few. Those few who have gotten extremely close to him have noted he is prone to bouts of melancholy when out of sight and alone, a rather worrying state for one of his race/

Weapon(s) : Personal heavy caliber, bio-capsule side arm.


Family/Relationship: None he has maintained contact with.

Other: None

Name: Jackal Westari
AKA: Wyrm
Age: 137
Race: Gorgas



Appearance:
Though massive to others, Jackal is a runt of his litter, standing only at 9'5" he is well under the 12 foot average of his kin.
Jackal weighs 850 pounds. His scales are a cobalt blue with a white belly, and eyes are a shining yellow. He has three horns, a small horn on the snout and two horns facing from the back of his skull.

Faction: Marauder
Role in Team?: Enforcer
Bio: Jackal, being a runt, had a hard time competing with his kin of his tribe. For his century-long childhood he had dealt with bullies, monsters, and the occasional tribal warfare. He survived it all, though, despite the odds. Not finding any peace home, he took the opportunity to leave his planet when he stumbled upon a group of bounty hunters that had been stranded on the planet. Offering assistance in exchange for a ticket to the outside world, Jackal left his home world at the age of 115, and in trying to adapt to the unfamiliar alien worlds and distant stars he tried to make a name for himself as a mercenary. Mostly doing fairly easy jobs though (Who in the right mind would hire him for some dangerous mission if he couldn't hold a gun?), things hadn't gone as planned. Trying to fit in with the numerous amounts of unfamiliar creatures and their customs was another trial he has yet to fully overcome. He Joined the Mauraders in hopes of turning his lackluster career into something more, looking forward to the experience it will give him even if this isn't a permanent stay.

Personality: Previously a warrior of his tribe, Jackal holds a title of honor and pride when it comes to certain things. He has a difficulty speaking, and thus stays quiet most of the time as he is embarrassed of his dialect. Speaking only when necessary, he has a difficulty catching onto jokes, sarcasm, and other quips. He also has a tendency to eat the flesh of other creatures or races, as it is a part of his culture (especially for a defeated foe) to honor the dead by eating the body. Of course, like others of his kin he has a sort of cravings for such sustenance, and has a sort of hobby to be able to have consumed the flesh from one of every sentient race he comes across. While a bit of an oddball, his morality is still held (albeit with strange customs) on an overall good conscience. He values the ideas of kinship and brethren closely, those he has the pleasure to work with are always considered brothers.

Weapon(s) : A handcrafted iron sword, with a 7 foot blade and a 1 foot handle, with a leather grip. An iron encrusted shield that can attach to the wrist.

Star-fighter?: N/A
Family/Relationship?: N/A
Other: When he does speak, it would sound something like an orc trying to speak a Russian Accent, if you can imagine that.

Name: VLS-482106

AKA: Valus

Age: 36

Race: Varg

Appearance: A typical looking Varg, once upon a time. Valus stands at 6'9 and his time in the mines have "blessed" him body that rivaled even the strongest soldier. His skin is pale white, like bleached bones, and crisscrossed with many scars. His eyes are a piercing white, faintly glowing in low light. All in all he is fairly ugly by Varg standards, all hard edges and damaged skin. Then we move on to the machinery, the things most people will notice first. Strapped to his face and back is the machinery keeping him alive as his lungs had to be replaced when he caught "Dust Lung", a side effect of breathing in molten Warpstone fumes that corroded his lungs. One thing you won't notice at first is that the left side of his chest has been replaced with machinery, needing room to insert the refined Warpstone to power his new arm. The arm itself is slightly too large and heavy, causing him to slouch and walk with a odd geit. As is common with Varg cybernetics, they are incredibly uncomfortable to wear and make getting a good night's rest impossible. Valus carries himself with a constant annoyed scowl.

Faction: Marauder, Varg Revolutionary (Former)

Role in Team?: The Monroes chief "Geologist", a holdover from his time as Outcaste of Tuchan Mines, and an extra gun when needed.

Bio: Valus' life is hardly anything special. He was a miner, spent nearly his entire life surrounded by rock, dust, and that damnable Warpstone. All in the service of beings who didn't even know he existed, or cared really. It was his final five years as an Outcaste that things began to be interesting. Tensions were rising and a riot was on the horizon, the workers of Tuchan Mines having heard of the freedom of other races and wanted in. For three more years things grew, a fight here, destroyed equipment there, all it took was one well placed shot to start it all. The cork finally popped when an Enforcer pulped a younglings head as an example, soon all hell broke loose.

Valus was in the thick of it, the first real riot on Vrakkas in untold generations. Mining equipment was tested against weapons of war in a stalemate that lasted for days, many lives taken on both sides. Eventually the military won out, their sheer numbers and superior training beating the miners angry tenacity. Most were executed on the spot, but the Outcaste were shipped off the Galactic Committee most likely to drive a wedge between the Common Caste and the Outcaste by giving them lighter sentences.

Valus has been a Marauder ever since, traveling with a crew for nearly a year and three quarters before a pirate raid killed most of the crew. He's been assigned to Capt. Raymond ever since.

Personality: Valus is your typical Varg, a hulking brute with a dour, joyless attitude and little understanding of the intricacies of kindness and compassion. He is stoic and doesn't know how to open up to other about pain, both physical and emotional, as doing so would be a death sentence on Vrakkas. Instead he keeps to himself, only interacting with others as much as he needs to out of a skewed sense of survival as if at any moment the Families will swoop down from the void and make him disappear.

On the outside he is quick to annoy, his patience smeared thin by lack of sleep and constant discomfort, but would hardly ever raise his fist in anger unless he sees something truly monstrous. Having just left the heel of the Families nothing makes his blood boil more than seeing abuse of power, the only surefire way to cause the generally reserved Varg to break out in angry bellows. However should you strip away everything else, the pain, the anger, the flicker of rebellion yet to fully alight, you will find that Valus is just incredibly tired.

Weapon(s): Varg Mining Laser: A durable piece of equipment that Valus was able to smuggle off world as a final insult to the Families. It's intended purpose is to mine rock around precious metals and then divide those metals into easily movable chunks. It just so happens that if you point it at an enemy they will find empty space where armor, muscle, and bone used to be.

Cybernetic Arm: Being large and heavy has it's merits in a fist fight, plus having enough force in his hand to crush most metals isn't a bad side effect either. Though, he could always switch it out his "hand" with a mining drill.

Star-fighter: N/A

Family/Relationship?: Has sired several young but as law decreed he was not allowed to see them.

Other: Valus speaks with a deep, metallic voice which is punctuated by ragged wheezes and hacking coughs.

Name: Shyr Dracosis
AKA:
Age: 19
Race: Elg'Cahl
Appearance: Fairly standard for a Elg'Cahl, with bright green eyes and rusty red fur. Stands at 3'8"
Faction: Marauder
Role in Team?: Engineer, fighter



Personality: Shyr is a surprisingly happy and upbeat individual, curios about both people and things around her. She loves to find new things, but above all else the one thing that makes her the happiest is the thrill of a challenge, especially if violence is involved. She is a very fast learner, notable with how fast she picked up on advanced engineering.

Weapon(s): Combat shotgun, tooth and claw
Star-fighter?: N/A
Family/Relationship?: N/A
Other: Keeps a flask of toxic liquid on her at all times, made from metals from her homeworld. In combat she prefers close quarters, taking a liking to shotguns in particular.

"I'm trained to bring down empires. But assassins have much better job security nowadays."

Name: Kellian Sythrac
AKA: Operative Onyx, The Silent
Age:25
Race: Dyanel



Appearance: (This is just his preferred form when in public)



Faction: Freelance Contract Killer (Former Dyanel Intelligence Commander)
Role in Team?: Tactician, Stealth expert, Spy



Personality: Conficting with his identity as a professional killer, former intelligence operative and all round ne'er-do-well, Kellian is a cheerful and friendly person, always happy to help people out with their needs and is generally described as a nice person to be around. Of course, underneath that happy image he can be extremely cold and calculating, able to read people easily and manipulate them with next to little remorse, assuming he needs to. If he ever gets close to people, he can be incredibly protective, even willing to lay down his life for theirs if he needs to. As he has had next to no friends in his life, he will cling onto those he does get, somehow. He is also extremely awkward around women, again, stemming from his limited non-professional contact with them throughout his life (he was also taught to consider them a distraction unless the mission involved seducing them). He is a lot more confident with them in the field though.

Weapon(s) : He does not carry any weapons in particular, preferring to procur whatever he needs in the field. Most of the time he will use stealth, charisma and his race's strength and speed (the latter of which is fast even compared to other Dyanel) to get what he needs. If needing to use a weapon, he will use short blades and silenced handguns.

Star-fighter?: He has learned how to fly most starfighters, but does not have one of his own.

Family/Relationship?: His father was promoted for his loyalty after the failed coup, and now serves as the Vice-Director of Dyanel intelligence, making him one of the most powerful men in the hegemony. He has placed a massive bounty on his son's head, but hasn't needed to pay a thing. His mother was killed during the coup, in a bombing on her settlement block. His three younger sisters also joined the intelligence corps, and are all on track to receive command positions like their big brother soon.

Other: He has a habit of subconciously moving things around a room if the owner isnt looking.