---

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Name: Ansgar Victor Staudinger
Aliases: Socket, That Asshole
Age: 31
Species: Human
Birth Planet: Mars
Allegiance: Himself, nominally whoever his employer is.
Gender: Male
Occupation: Freelance Mechanic

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Height: 5'8"
Weight: 143lbs
Build: Lean, wireframe, but all muscle
Eyes: Green
Hair: Dark Red
Skin Tone: Light
Tattoos/Scars/Piercings: Two full sleeves of Celtic iconography and artstyle, several shrapnel scars across his upper left chest.
Personal Style: Very utilitarian, dressing for the environment and preferring his working attire.

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No Nonsense * Angry * Spiteful * Loud * Begrudging Concern

Relationship Status:
interview:

How did you hear about the Veritas Lux Mea?
"I'm always watchin' for good work, or at least interestin' work. I've heard both about the Veritas Lux Mea, an the fact she ain't always on the up and up. Least that's what the smart money was always on, so here I am."

How well do you deal with a high stress situation?
"Get angry, and fix the damned problem. Whether said problem's an engine tryin' to jump free of its ship, or some tosser tryin' to be trouble again. Percussive maintenance works wonders on both, don't it?"

What do you think about the government?
"To 'ell with the lot of em. Greedy sods wouldn't notice anythin' unless a drop of money is involved. To be honest, let folks take care of themselves and any they give enough of a shite about, and that's that. Only reason we need any sort of government is for dealing with other governments. Let the idiots have competing circuses."

What do you think about people not of your species?
"Don't really care lass. Look, don't care if ye got two legs or six, if yer a pain in me ass then yer a pain in me ass. They pass me a spanner when I yell for one? Well, they're at least a useful pain in my ass."

How do you feel about less than legal operations?
"I'm from the Hub, lass, legality only matters if yer fixin' to get caught."

How would your acquaintances describe you?
"Foul mouthed, foul tempered, but could fix an engine with duct tape and sheer spite just to prove the tossers wrong. They'd be happy to shove my ass in the engine room or into anything mechanical, and would be perfectly confident in it either being fixed, or it at least not being their problem anymore. Useless sods."

How would your mother describe you?
"Foul mouthed, foul tempered... Damn shame to the family name, running off from the family business and being some freelance crook at the best of descriptions. Reminds her of her first husband, and I know the old hag does not mean well by that in the slightest."

How would you describe yourself?
"Half jokes aside, I'm a right bastard, but I know my work and I ain't a pushover in any sense of the word. Look, I ain't one to mince words, I piss off as many people as I don't, but I ain't a people person. I prefer anything mechanical, it's soothing, and a damn sight more reliable."

What do you know about us?
"I did some digging around, you lot ain't just about petty crime or easy jobs, least what the smart ones are talkin'. I'm tired of runnin', savvy? I aim to misbehave."

Why do you want this job?
"Besides the pay and gettin' back at the tossers who've wronged me an' the rest o' us? Dead end jobs an' shite ain't worth the problems anymore. Might as well go for somethin' serious for once."

Why should I hire you?
"Yer gonna need a mechanic that can do a damn sight more than just turn a wrench and keep an engine running. If its mechanical, I can get it doin' things it really shouldn't, whether that helps us or harms them, well, that's yer call boss."

Habits:

• Smokes a lot, or at least has a cigarette handy at all times
• Tends to fiddle with small items, hates having idle hands

Hobbies:

• Playing the violin (Prefers to keep that hidden)
• Tinkering on machinery
• Modifying and tweaking ballistic firearms

Fears:

• Dying alone.
• Being trapped drifting in space.
• Losing his hands.

Likes:

• Being left to his own devices.
• All things mechanical, especially older, more sturdy machinery.
• A good drink after a long day.
• Ballistic Firearms (The louder and noisier then better)
• Classical Music

Dislikes:

• Electronics.
• Energy Weaponry.
• Atmospheric Flight (Space Flight doesn't bother him).
• Interference with his work/trying to tell him how to do his job.
• Rich Snobs

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General Skills:

• Decent shot with sidearms (Especially his personal pride and joy)
• Gun tinkering and modification
• Fairly mean brawler
• Can brute force a variety of security systems
• Can keep himself from bleeding out in a pinch
• Skilled at maintaining thrown accuracy

Specialty Skills:

• Mechanical Savant.
• Surprisingly tough and strong, can give as good as he gets.
• Tough nut to mentally crack, will not budge once dug in.

Inventory:

• Clothing - Heavy working attire, designed for resilience from wear and tear in a machine shop or engine room.
• Fairly large toolbox full of various items he'd need to fix just about anything mechanical
• A smaller, more portable bag full of less specialized, more generic tools for patch work on the fly
• Herald - Bought as scrap and slowly repaired and refurbished over time, only has four shots but has massive stopping power from the size of each round. Monstrous recoil.
• Large Pipe Wrench, mostly used for percussive maintenance on anything needing it.
• Bowie Knife strapped to the back of his waist.

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Reason for joining crew:
"Besides needing the work, I am right tired of bein' a drifter on the fringes. Might as well get something done right proper, eh? Might as well prove mother dearest wrong, no sense being only a crook."
History:
Ansgar really can't speak much on his early childhood, it really didn't mean much to him outside of stories of his parents escape through to this new universe since he was honestly on the younger edge of those who had come through to the new universe. His folks, and most of the ones on the ship in question, ended up drifting straight to the Hub, joining the massive mixed conglomerate of vessels and docks. The family had always been mechanics and engineers, so they took naturally to life in such a place, learning tech and earning their keep.

Ansgar chafed under this type of environment initially, mainly the wanderlust and desire to get out from underneath the family's rather restrictive lineage, being the younger brother of an older sister who would have inherited the business anyways regardless of his ability or performance. So he grabbed a bag of tools, at the age of sixteen, and ditched the family business in favor of a criminal path. He joined up with a gang on the Hub initially, picking up tricks on how to go about bypassing and breaking through mechanical security systems as well as keeping their vehicle and kit up and running. His family disowned him as well, though he's kept in touch with his sister and kicks the less illicit money her way every now and again when she needs help.

Starting at the young age as a criminal mechanic, Ansgar quickly learned to not only avoid and detest the government on general principle, but he usually got to see first hand how their activities and greed were doing more harm than good. The mood and idea that he should really be doing more than dead end gang work was starting to build, and word was spreading among the smart money that a certain rebellion was building on a certain starship. Grabbing his expanded toolkit and loading it up, alongside his personal keepsake of a sidearm and started hopping from ship to ship, working on catching up and offering his services. He'd have to get acclimated with their systems, so the more time he'd have to do so, the better. And if he made some good money on the side? All the better, far as he was concerned.

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Character Quote: "Through Hell and Highwater, we'll keep goin'."
Theme Song: Iridium - The Sidh
Official Unofficial Theme Song: The USS Make Shit Up - Voltaire
Criminal Record: Breaking and Entering, Assault on a Civilian, Unauthorized modifications of systems, Illegal ownership of firearms, Destruction of Government Property
Anything Else: Tends to have a very thick accent, exaggerated when irritated or during high stress incidents.

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Name: Corinna Annabel Taggart
Aliases: Cora has used an impressively long list of aliases in her career. Shortly, before joining the crew of the Veritas Lux Mea she adopted the nom de guerre of Teg.
Age: 25
Species: Human
Birth Planet: Mars
Allegiance: Current Employer/Highest Bidder
Gender: Female
Occupation: Mercenary

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Height: 5'7''
Weight: 140 lbs
Build: Cora is a coiled spring of muscles, ready to strike at a moment's notice. She has the well-built and carefully maintained body of a professional who has to be able to rely on her body even in the worst of situations.
Eyes: Grey
Hair: Cora has dark brown hair that reaches just past her shoulder blades. She keeps her hair pinned in an elaborate knot at the nape of her neck, not quite having the heart to cut it short despite the impracticality of caring for long hair on the frontier. To secure the chignon, Cora uses a set of antique silver hairpins.
Skin Tone: Olive skin, sports a light tan.
Tattoos/Scars/Piercings: Cora has no particularly noteworthy scars and makes a habit of avoiding anything as memorable as tattoos or piercings.
Personal Style: A formal dresser when at all possible, Cora favors bespoke three piece suits in dark shades, bow ties, leather shoes, and derby hat that match the color of her suits. It is a rare sight indeed to see Cora in anything approaching a dress, but she dryly remarks that once as part of an elaborate plot to assassinate a leading baron of industry she did in fact wear an evening gown.

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Pragmatic * Deliberate * Daring * Iron-Willed * Cynical * Distrustful

Relationship Status: "Who's asking and why are they asking? Are they buying me a drink?"

interview:

How did you hear about the Veritas Lux Mea?
"Ran into an old friend on the Hub. Some old military spook, the friendly kind. He told me you were fixing to start some noise. Said you were looking for some muscle, said it might be worth my time."

How well do you deal with a high stress situation?
"Very well. Provided it involves a lot of shooting or maybe some demolition work. I wouldn't be very good at my job if I couldn't control my nerves."

What do you think about the government?
"What's it to you? You a government spy? Gonna rat me out? For the sake of argument, let's say I have my share of personal differences with the government and wouldn't mind taking them down a peg or two. No, I'm not bitter."

What do you think about people not of your species?
"Do aliens count as people? I don't know, that's an interesting question, but it doesn't matter much to me. I treat them like they treat me and keep a healthy distance. Just like I would with any human. We all bleed and die the same, so we're square in my book. Just do your job, stay out of my way, and don't fuck up and we can be friends."

How do you feel about less than legal operations?
"Legality is a nebulous concept at the best of times. Provided the pay is right, I have no problems creatively interpreting the letters of the law. Pay me a bit more on top of that and I'll happily break the law for you. A space merc's gotta be able to make a living after all. And let me tell you, saints and heroes don't last very long in this line of work."

How would your acquaintances describe you?
"A competent, reliable, and most importantly discreet mercenary. Good with a gun, good with explosives, and useful in scrap."

How would your mother describe you?
"Naturally, she'd say that I'm wonderful young lady. She thinks I traded in my combat boots for dress shoes when I left the service. I told her I got a job as an interstellar courier. Look, I even had these business cards made up..."

How would you describe yourself?
"I'm a freewheeling merc, a damn good one at that. If you're looking for something deeper than that how about you buy me a drink first? I went through psych evals in the military and those were a whole lot less bothersome than this."

What do you know about us?
"You've got a ship. I can read the name. You've got some beef with the powers that be. You're probably wanted by more than one government agency. Hell, I wouldn't doubt that Syndicate themselves would like to have a lengthy chat with you. The Peacekeepers do so love to keep a tab on things. Even things that are none of their damn business."

Why do you want this job?
"The pay is right. And who doesn't love starting a good revolution? Besides, what else am I supposed to do with all this training? Dome people as part of some corporate security outfit at the behest of my executive overlords? Nah, pass, hard pass, some other merc can do that. File this under charity work, sister, I'm fixing to do you a favor."

Why should I hire you?
"Look, you're the one asking around for some muscle. I just happen to be that muscle. Don't make this more complicated than it has to be. You tell me how much you're willing to pay. Then I tell you if you need to ply me with more alcohol before I am drunk enough to accept. Then we shake hands and I do whatever it is you want me to do. No questions asked, promise."

Habits:

• Maintains a small collection of odd knickknacks she's acquired in her travels. Cora is particularly fond of ancient timepieces, such as mechanical pocket watches.
• Extremely meticulous in her appearance, highly unusual for a roving mercenary in the current era.
• Sleeps only under the highest quality silk blankets, imported from the Glao home-world, Forl.

Hobbies:

• Recreational drug use, chiefly stimulants and depressants such as alcohol, however, fear not, it has yet to affect her combat performance
• Exercising
• Gambling
• Dancing
• Reading

Fears:

• Imprisonment
• Boredom
• Loss of her abilities

Likes:

• Alcohol, coffee, and other drugs
• Risky ventures, dangerous missions, and in short, adventure
• Guns
• Loud Music
• Late Nights
• Fast Ships
• Traveling and exploring the stars

Dislikes:

• Space Bushido
• Rules and Regulations
• Predictability or Stagnation
• Early Mornings
• Pointless Ceremony
• Owing others money or favors
• Most of all, people who don't pay

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General Skills:

- Brawler: Cora is a gifted barroom brawler, as capable with her fists as she is with a chair or bottle of alcohol when the situation demands it.

- Juryrigger: Cora is a passable mechanic in a pinch, but she is mostly knowledgeable about weapon maintenance.

- Combat Medic: Cora knows the basics of battlefield medicine, an important skill when considering that gunshot wounds are not uncommon in her line of work.

- Peerless Endurance: Cora possesses a remarkable endurance and is liable to keep going when others have long since collapsed from exhaustion.

Specialty Skills:

- Demolitions Expert: As part of her military training Cora was taught the finer aspects of making things explode in a controlled manner. Given the right supplies, Cora can construct all manner of explosive devices.

- Asymmetric Warfare Specialist: A product of some of the darker, shadowy area of military operations Cora has extensive experience in how to fight unfairly and with an eye on inflicting heavy casualties on the enemy.

- Commando:Cora is an expert marksman with all manner of firearms and she has received specialized military training. She is no amateur with a passing interest in bloodshed and a lifetime of hastily acquired abilities. Rather, she is a trained professional and carries herself in a manner that betrays military training of the highest quality that humanity can muster.

Inventory:

- Clothing: Cora wears a bespoke three piece suit, in a tasteful shade of black, a fashionable red bow tie, a well-tailored dress shirt, leather shoes, a pair of fine leather gloves, and a perfectly fitting derby hat. She wears two bandoleers full of ammunition, a belt decorated in a similar manner, and a beautifully engraved leather holster on her hip. In a pocket of her dress shirt she carries an antique silver pocket watch.

- Browning Hi-Power: Cora's pistol of choice is a modernized Browning Hi-Power. Chambered in a heavy caliber, the Hi-Power is an exceedingly reliable and accurate semiautomatic pistol. The culmination of thousands of years of firearm development, the basic design of the firearm hearkens back to the early 20th century. However, Cora has had the pistol customized to suit the needs of the current era and her own particular tastes.

- Beretta 515: Cora carries a small hold-out pistol, chambered in a light caliber, as a back-up gun in an ankle holster. It is capable enough weapon at close range and when the going gets tough.

- Heckler and Koch XM 75: Keen to bring some proper firepower to any fight, Cora favors a modular weapon system developed by Heckler and Koch. The latest and greatest in military grade firearms, the XM 75 provides the user with unparalleled flexibility thanks to a state-of-the-art system that allows rapid change between various feeding mechanisms and barrels. This allows the weapon system to fulfill a number of vital combat roles. A matching business suitcase allows for a discreet carry.

- Grenades: Fond of explosives Cora carries two fragmentation, one high explosive, and one smoke grenade with her at all times.

- Knife: Held against the small of her back Cora has a simple enough knife, useful for cutting apples, wires, rope, or as a weapon of last resort.

- In Storage: Several changes of formal attire, lots of guns, spare parts, an alarming amount of explosives, and plenty of ammunition.

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Reason for joining crew:

Cora joined the crew of the Veritas Lux Mea for three simple reasons. One, she was in between contracts. Two, she was broke and needed a ride. And three, she'd been spoiling for a proper fight with the government for some time. Slow as she is to admit it, she had an old score to settle with the powers that be.

History:

"It's a classic story really. I was born in some shithole town back on Terra, old Earth, not that I remember it. My parents were nobodies, farmers, country bumpkins that never mattered. And when the Zitari snapped their fingers and sent us to Artemis, I ended up in just as much of a shithole town as back on Earth."

"I knew what my future was going to be like if I stayed there. I had only to look around me to see it. So I did what any clever eighteen year old without options does when they realize that their future is five kids, a husband with no teeth, meth, so much meth, and the worst kind of fucking beer. I enlisted, I joined the Colonial Defense Forces and found my way in space. Took to it like a fish. The shooting, marching, zero gravity fights, blowing things up, and cutting throats that is. I even got myself some fancy medals as part of Operation Nightfall, which was a fancy way to say cutting down some protesting space miners that were cutting into corporate profits. Although that didn't matter much with how shit the pay was. Still, it was better than a slow death back on Artemis. And the food was free."

"Eventually, I found myself at odds with the military. I had some personal differences with my superiors. Personal differences are what we professionals call it when your commanding officer decides to recall the shuttle that was supposed to extract you from a combat zone following a mission because said mission happened to be compromised and the rest of your squad was turned into a fine red mist by an incoming artillery shell."

"Now, don't get me wrong, being an elite soldier for the government was a sweet gig, but I had to spread my wings, I needed a fresh start, you know? I just needed something else, something that paid more. Propping up an authoritarian government is only fun for so long and at some point you realize your pension is going to be worth dirt."

"After my separation from the Colonial Defense Forces, I went off to find my own way in the galaxy. I did some traveling, I did some trading, I did some pirating, I did some more pirating, and then found myself landing a stable gig as an independent contractor...a mercenary if you will. Hopped from system to system, from planet to planet, from job to job. Earned some money, lost some money, made some friends, and made more enemies. I shot some people and I saved fewer still."

"And now? Now I'm here. On this rust bucket of a ship, fighting some revolution. Oh, it's a dirty job, but someone's gotta do it. I doubt we'll make it. But it's going to be one hell of a fight."

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Character Quote: ""
Theme Song: The Ecstasy of Gold
Criminal Record: Gifted with an uncanny ability for knowing which government officials to bribe, Cora has managed to maintain an almost spotless criminal record. Her sole criminal offense on record is related to an unfortunate incident involving a competing mercenary and a broken chair.
Anything Else:

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Name: Corinna Annabel Taggart
Aliases: Cora has used an impressively long list of aliases in her career. Shortly, before joining the crew of the Veritas Lux Mea she adopted the nom de guerre of Teg.
Age: 25
Species: Human
Birth Planet: Neptune
Allegiance: Current Employer/Highest Bidder
Gender: Female
Occupation: Mercenary

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Height: 5'7''
Weight: 140 lbs
Build: Cora is a coiled spring of muscles, ready to strike at a moment's notice. She has the well-built and carefully maintained body of a professional who has to be able to rely on her body even in the worst of situations.
Eyes: Grey
Hair: Cora has dark brown hair that reaches just past her shoulder blades. She keeps her hair pinned in an elaborate knot at the nape of her neck, not quite having the heart to cut it short despite the impracticality of caring for long hair on the frontier. To secure the chignon, Cora uses a set of antique silver hairpins.
Skin Tone: Olive skin, sports a light tan.
Tattoos/Scars/Piercings: Cora has no particularly noteworthy scars and makes a habit of avoiding anything as memorable as tattoos or piercings.
Personal Style: A formal dresser when at all possible, Cora favors bespoke three piece suits in dark shades, bow ties, leather shoes, and derby hat that match the color of her suits. It is a rare sight indeed to see Cora in anything approaching a dress, but she dryly remarks that once as part of an elaborate plot to assassinate a leading baron of industry she did in fact wear an evening gown.

---

---

Pragmatic * Deliberate * Daring * Iron-Willed * Cynical * Distrustful

Relationship Status: "Who's asking and why are they asking? Are they buying me a drink?"

interview:

How did you hear about the Veritas Lux Mea?
"Ran into an old friend on the Hub. Some old military spook, the friendly kind. He told me you were fixing to start some noise. Said you were looking for some muscle, said it might be worth my time."

How well do you deal with a high stress situation?
"Very well. Provided it involves a lot of shooting or maybe some demolition work. I wouldn't be very good at my job if I couldn't control my nerves."

What do you think about the government?
"What's it to you? You a government spy? Gonna rat me out? For the sake of argument, let's say I have my share of personal differences with the government and wouldn't mind taking them down a peg or two. No, I'm not bitter."

What do you think about people not of your species?
"Do aliens count as people? I don't know, that's an interesting question, but it doesn't matter much to me. I treat them like they treat me and keep a healthy distance. Just like I would with any human. We all bleed and die the same, so we're square in my book. Just do your job, stay out of my way, and don't fuck up and we can be friends."

How do you feel about less than legal operations?
"Legality is a nebulous concept at the best of times. Provided the pay is right, I have no problems creatively interpreting the letters of the law. Pay me a bit more on top of that and I'll happily break the law for you. A space merc's gotta be able to make a living after all. And let me tell you, saints and heroes don't last very long in this line of work."

How would your acquaintances describe you?
"A competent, reliable, and most importantly discreet mercenary. Good with a gun, good with explosives, and useful in scrap."

How would your mother describe you?
"Naturally, she'd say that I'm wonderful young lady. She thinks I traded in my combat boots for dress shoes when I left the service. I told her I got a job as an interstellar courier. Look, I even had these business cards made up..."

How would you describe yourself?
"I'm a freewheeling merc, a damn good one at that. If you're looking for something deeper than that how about you buy me a drink first? I went through psych evals in the military and those were a whole lot less bothersome than this."

What do you know about us?
"You've got a ship. I can read the name. You've got some beef with the powers that be. You're probably wanted by more than one government agency. Hell, I wouldn't doubt that Syndicate themselves would like to have a lengthy chat with you. The Peacekeepers do so love to keep a tab on things. Even things that are none of their damn business."

Why do you want this job?
"The pay is right. And who doesn't love starting a good revolution? Besides, what else am I supposed to do with all this training? Dome people as part of some corporate security outfit at the behest of my executive overlords? Nah, pass, hard pass, some other merc can do that. File this under charity work, sister, I'm fixing to do you a favor."

Why should I hire you?
"Look, you're the one asking around for some muscle. I just happen to be that muscle. Don't make this more complicated than it has to be. You tell me how much you're willing to pay. Then I tell you if you need to ply me with more alcohol before I am drunk enough to accept. Then we shake hands and I do whatever it is you want me to do. No questions asked, promise."

Habits:

• Maintains a small collection of odd knickknacks she's acquired in her travels. Cora is particularly fond of ancient timepieces, such as mechanical pocket watches.
• Extremely meticulous in her appearance, highly unusual for a roving mercenary in the current era.
• Sleeps only under the highest quality silk blankets, imported from the Glao home-world, Forl.

Hobbies:

• Recreational drug use, chiefly stimulants and depressants such as alcohol, however, fear not, it has yet to affect her combat performance
• Exercising
• Gambling
• Dancing
• Reading

Fears:

• Imprisonment
• Boredom
• Loss of her abilities

Likes:

• Alcohol, coffee, and other drugs
• Risky ventures, dangerous missions, and in short, adventure
• Guns
• Loud Music
• Late Nights
• Fast Ships
• Traveling and exploring the stars

Dislikes:

• Space Bushido
• Rules and Regulations
• Predictability or Stagnation
• Early Mornings
• Pointless Ceremony
• Owing others money or favors
• Most of all, people who don't pay

---

---

General Skills:

- Brawler: Cora is a gifted barroom brawler, as capable with her fists as she is with a chair or bottle of alcohol when the situation demands it.

- Juryrigger: Cora is a passable mechanic in a pinch, but she is mostly knowledgeable about weapon maintenance.

- Combat Medic: Cora knows the basics of battlefield medicine, an important skill when considering that gunshot wounds are not uncommon in her line of work.

- Peerless Endurance: Cora possesses a remarkable endurance and is liable to keep going when others have long since collapsed from exhaustion.

Specialty Skills:

- Demolitions Expert: As part of her military training Cora was taught the finer aspects of making things explode in a controlled manner. Given the right supplies, Cora can construct all manner of explosive devices.

- Asymmetric Warfare Specialist: A product of some of the darker, shadowy area of military operations Cora has extensive experience in how to fight unfairly and with an eye on inflicting heavy casualties on the enemy.

- Commando:Cora is an expert marksman with all manner of firearms and she has received specialized military training. She is no amateur with a passing interest in bloodshed and a lifetime of hastily acquired abilities. Rather, she is a trained professional and carries herself in a manner that betrays military training of the highest quality that humanity can muster.

Inventory:

- Clothing: Cora wears a bespoke three piece suit, in a tasteful shade of black, a fashionable red bow tie, a well-tailored dress shirt, leather shoes, a pair of fine leather gloves, and a perfectly fitting derby hat. She wears two bandoleers full of ammunition, a belt decorated in a similar manner, and a beautifully engraved leather holster on her hip. In a pocket of her dress shirt she carries an antique silver pocket watch.

- Browning Hi-Power: Cora's pistol of choice is a modernized Browning Hi-Power. Chambered in a heavy caliber, the Hi-Power is an exceedingly reliable and accurate semiautomatic pistol. The culmination of thousands of years of firearm development, the basic design of the firearm hearkens back to the early 20th century. However, Cora has had the pistol customized to suit the needs of the current era and her own particular tastes.

- Beretta 515: Cora carries a small hold-out pistol, chambered in a light caliber, as a back-up gun in an ankle holster. It is capable enough weapon at close range and when the going gets tough.

- Heckler and Koch XM 75: Keen to bring some proper firepower to any fight, Cora favors a modular weapon system developed by Heckler and Koch. The latest and greatest in military grade firearms, the XM 75 provides the user with unparalleled flexibility thanks to a state-of-the-art system that allows rapid change between various feeding mechanisms and barrels. This allows the weapon system to fulfill a number of vital combat roles. A matching business suitcase allows for a discreet carry.

- Grenades: Fond of explosives Cora carries two fragmentation, one high explosive, and one smoke grenade with her at all times.

- Knife: Held against the small of her back Cora has a simple enough knife, useful for cutting apples, wires, rope, or as a weapon of last resort.

- In Storage: Several changes of formal attire, lots of guns, spare parts, an alarming amount of explosives, and plenty of ammunition.

---

---

Reason for joining crew:

Cora joined the crew of the Veritas Lux Mea for three simple reasons. One, she was in between contracts. Two, she was broke and needed a ride. And three, she'd been spoiling for a proper fight with the government for some time. Slow as she is to admit it, she had an old score to settle with the powers that be.

History:

"It's a classic story really. I was born in some frozen shithole of a town back on Neptune, not that I remember it. My parents were nobodies, miners, laborers that never mattered. And when the Zitari snapped their fingers and sent us to Artemis, I ended up in just as much of a shithole town as back on Neptune. Well, almost, it wasn't as cold."

"I knew what my future was going to be like if I stayed there. I had only to look around me to see it. So I did what any clever eighteen year old without options does when they realize that their future is five kids, a husband with no teeth, meth, so much meth, and the worst kind of fucking beer. I enlisted, I joined the Colonial Defense Forces and found my way in space. Took to it like a fish. The shooting, the zero gravity fights, the blowing things up, and the cutting throats that is. Swallowed everything they told me, hook, line and sinker. Hell, I thought we were going to save the new world."

"Course, there wasn't much in the way of real fighting going on back then. Not that we didn't have ourselves some good scraps, but it wasn't a real war. Such facts didn't stop the brass from handing out commendations though and I even got myself some fancy medals as part of Operation Nightfall, which was a fancy way to say gunning down some protesting space miners that were cutting into corporate profits in some forgotten corner of Artemis. Those were the good old days. Back when we were jetting around the new planet pacifying upstart labor unions, hunting down bandits, and capturing political dissidents. It felt like we had a purpose, you know? Although medals didn't matter much with how shit the pay was. Still, it was better than a slow death back on Artemis. And the food was free."

"Eventually, I found myself at odds with the military. I had some personal differences with my superiors. Personal differences are what we professionals call it when your commanding officer decides to recall the shuttle that was supposed to extract you from a space station you rigged with enough explosives to send it flying into the nearest star because said mission happened to be compromised and the rest of your squad was turned into a fine red mist by a series of automated turrets set up by the owners of said station. Had to commandeer a shuttle myself before I could reduce that station to scrap metal."

"Now, don't get me wrong, being an elite soldier for the government was a sweet gig, but I had to spread my wings, I needed a fresh start, you know? I just needed something else, something that paid more. Propping up an authoritarian government is only fun for so long and at some point you realize your pension is going to be worth dirt."

"After my separation from the Colonial Defense Forces, I went off to find my own way in the galaxy. I did some traveling, I did some trading, I did some pirating, I did some more pirating, and then found myself landing a stable gig as an independent contractor...a mercenary if you will. Hopped from system to system, from planet to planet, from job to job. Earned some money, lost some money, made some friends, and made more enemies. I shot some people and I saved fewer still."

"And now? Now I'm here. On this rust bucket of a ship, fighting some revolution. Oh, it's a dirty job, but someone's gotta do it. I doubt we'll make it. But it's going to be one hell of a fight."

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Character Quote: ""
Theme Song: The Ecstasy of Gold
Criminal Record: Gifted with an uncanny ability for knowing which government officials to bribe, Cora has managed to maintain an almost spotless criminal record. Her sole criminal offense on record is related to an unfortunate incident involving a competing mercenary and a broken chair.
Anything Else: