Name: Jackson Curtis Pulliam ["Jace"]
Species: Human
Gender: Masculine
Age: 27
Physical Description:
Standing at a well-formed 6'3, 186 lbs, Jace is still built with the Alliance marines' power and speed requirements in mind. Though one would expect his years off the job to soften his figure or work ethic, if anything his resurgence as a mercenary has hardened his resolve and left him in better shape than before. He tends to wear something not entirely dissimilar from Alliance issue casual wear - similar to the uniforms onboard the SR-1, though tending to be mostly black and slim-fitting - and boots when not on duty, suggesting his days as a marine may not be one hundred percent behind him. When off-duty, hints of tattoos (a small aerial map of Valencia, the city where he was born, creeping along his collarbone and stopping just at the base of the left side of his neck; 133, his regiment number from the Alliance, on the three middle phalanges of his right hand; the name Charlotte, tucked on the back of his right bicep and largely hidden behind shirt sleeves) can be sighted and hypothesized over.
Jace's face is as strongly cast as his body and personality; a combination of a prominent brow ridge, aquiline nose and high, slightly gaunt cheeks lends the ex-marine's face a playful, wolfish trickery. His eyes are a bright blue, not particularly icy but nonetheless pale. His long, chestnut brown hair is long enough that it would frame them (Pulliam grew it out after leaving the Alliance) but he keeps it pushed back, tied up, or held still in or out of combat so as to avoid being an issue. The shaved-thin, scratchy layer of facial hair along the lower half of his face is a similar color, framing lips that are either twisted into an irritated grimace or an appraising, disdainful half-smile. The stubble also serves to coat a five-inch cut along the bottom of his strong chin - when asked about it he merely says it was "the hardest hit [he] ever took," and that no blow to the face could ever rattle him again after that.
Class: Infiltrator (specifically, gun-for-hire and urban warfare specialist)
Skills:
Ammo Powers
Cryo Ammo
Disruptor Ammo
Shredder Ammo
Tech Powers
Tactical Cloak
Incinerate
Overload
Equipment: M-12 Locust, M-92 Mantis
Psychological Profile: Jace tends towards natural surliness and dry-witted disregard for others, devoting most of his words to critiques, nitpicks, or petty barbs directed at those around him. He was born and bred to be one of the charismatic, dime-a-dozen soldiers the Alliance boasts, and on his own in Omega he knows little else but to be a dime-a-dozen charismatic soldier. He shares little of these private reservations, though; he'll divulge to team members what he feels they need to know before clamming up and telling them to "talk about this kind of shit off-duty."
Most of his powers are based off his older, more narrow Alliance teachings - he believes that if something's meant to be killed, only good old fashioned ammo can kill it, so he devoted his skillset and his mother's prized Locust into being prepared for any firefight. Jace is cool and calculating enough from behind cover, but carries a bit of a firebrand's streak - often recklessly moving to a less advantageous spot of cover if it gives him a better fight or allows him a shot at the enemy's throat. Though possessive of the natural leadership qualities the Alliance looks for, Jace is consistently and visibly more comfortable in a second-in-command or advisory role.
Off duty, with a few (human) beers in him, Jace can be almost pleasant, joking and drinking with less abandon and less venom in his tone. It's easy enough to see the charisma, the joie de vivre that made people put their trust in him in a fight, watch the spark light in his eyes - and then watch it temper and fade at one wrong phrase.
History: With a father that served as a talented battlefield medic and a mother who fought proudly in the Second Fleet and the Skyllian Blitz, fighting and serving were in Jace's blood. Born weeks after the discovery of the Charon relay, Jace enlisted happily when he came of age and saw his first action alongside his mother in the Blitz. Though his record was never less than exemplary, the sheer number of standouts in the Alliance military, coupled with the rapid rise of biotic troopers in the Navy, left opportunities for advancement slim. At some point after Torfan - his answers, illogically, veer on just when - Jace dropped out of the military honorably, to the disappointment of his family.
Serviceman Pulliam attempted a couple years worth of civilian life on Terra Nova, but after the geth attack on Eden Prime he decided mercenary life suited his fancy much more than sitting on his hands and waiting for the geth to start butchering human colonies in droves. He took up mercenary work throughout the Traverse (including, again illogically, cases that actually had nothing to do with any geth incursions into human territory) until Saren Arterius' attack on the Citadel. With C-Sec decimated and the Citadel in need of repairs, Jace was floated an offer by friends of his family for a low-level position in Zakera Ward, with potential for advancement and the opportunity to make a difference again.
Illogically, he left - left Terra Nova, left a girlfriend, left behind a chance at doing something he may have been able to love on the Citadel, and boarded a freighter to Omega. In the months after the geth attack, Jace began taking up small-time protection, intimidation, and mercenary jobs, evading pings from his Alliance life as best as he could while trying to climb the ladder on Omega. Being handpicked by Aria T'Loak herself...well, something the ornery son of a bitch did must have worked.
Species: Human
Gender: Masculine
Age: 27
Physical Description:
Standing at a well-formed 6'3, 186 lbs, Jace is still built with the Alliance marines' power and speed requirements in mind. Though one would expect his years off the job to soften his figure or work ethic, if anything his resurgence as a mercenary has hardened his resolve and left him in better shape than before. He tends to wear something not entirely dissimilar from Alliance issue casual wear - similar to the uniforms onboard the SR-1, though tending to be mostly black and slim-fitting - and boots when not on duty, suggesting his days as a marine may not be one hundred percent behind him. When off-duty, hints of tattoos (a small aerial map of Valencia, the city where he was born, creeping along his collarbone and stopping just at the base of the left side of his neck; 133, his regiment number from the Alliance, on the three middle phalanges of his right hand; the name Charlotte, tucked on the back of his right bicep and largely hidden behind shirt sleeves) can be sighted and hypothesized over.
Jace's face is as strongly cast as his body and personality; a combination of a prominent brow ridge, aquiline nose and high, slightly gaunt cheeks lends the ex-marine's face a playful, wolfish trickery. His eyes are a bright blue, not particularly icy but nonetheless pale. His long, chestnut brown hair is long enough that it would frame them (Pulliam grew it out after leaving the Alliance) but he keeps it pushed back, tied up, or held still in or out of combat so as to avoid being an issue. The shaved-thin, scratchy layer of facial hair along the lower half of his face is a similar color, framing lips that are either twisted into an irritated grimace or an appraising, disdainful half-smile. The stubble also serves to coat a five-inch cut along the bottom of his strong chin - when asked about it he merely says it was "the hardest hit [he] ever took," and that no blow to the face could ever rattle him again after that.
Class: Infiltrator (specifically, gun-for-hire and urban warfare specialist)
Skills:
Ammo Powers
Cryo Ammo
Disruptor Ammo
Shredder Ammo
Tech Powers
Tactical Cloak
Incinerate
Overload
Equipment: M-12 Locust, M-92 Mantis
Psychological Profile: Jace tends towards natural surliness and dry-witted disregard for others, devoting most of his words to critiques, nitpicks, or petty barbs directed at those around him. He was born and bred to be one of the charismatic, dime-a-dozen soldiers the Alliance boasts, and on his own in Omega he knows little else but to be a dime-a-dozen charismatic soldier. He shares little of these private reservations, though; he'll divulge to team members what he feels they need to know before clamming up and telling them to "talk about this kind of shit off-duty."
Most of his powers are based off his older, more narrow Alliance teachings - he believes that if something's meant to be killed, only good old fashioned ammo can kill it, so he devoted his skillset and his mother's prized Locust into being prepared for any firefight. Jace is cool and calculating enough from behind cover, but carries a bit of a firebrand's streak - often recklessly moving to a less advantageous spot of cover if it gives him a better fight or allows him a shot at the enemy's throat. Though possessive of the natural leadership qualities the Alliance looks for, Jace is consistently and visibly more comfortable in a second-in-command or advisory role.
Off duty, with a few (human) beers in him, Jace can be almost pleasant, joking and drinking with less abandon and less venom in his tone. It's easy enough to see the charisma, the joie de vivre that made people put their trust in him in a fight, watch the spark light in his eyes - and then watch it temper and fade at one wrong phrase.
History: With a father that served as a talented battlefield medic and a mother who fought proudly in the Second Fleet and the Skyllian Blitz, fighting and serving were in Jace's blood. Born weeks after the discovery of the Charon relay, Jace enlisted happily when he came of age and saw his first action alongside his mother in the Blitz. Though his record was never less than exemplary, the sheer number of standouts in the Alliance military, coupled with the rapid rise of biotic troopers in the Navy, left opportunities for advancement slim. At some point after Torfan - his answers, illogically, veer on just when - Jace dropped out of the military honorably, to the disappointment of his family.
Serviceman Pulliam attempted a couple years worth of civilian life on Terra Nova, but after the geth attack on Eden Prime he decided mercenary life suited his fancy much more than sitting on his hands and waiting for the geth to start butchering human colonies in droves. He took up mercenary work throughout the Traverse (including, again illogically, cases that actually had nothing to do with any geth incursions into human territory) until Saren Arterius' attack on the Citadel. With C-Sec decimated and the Citadel in need of repairs, Jace was floated an offer by friends of his family for a low-level position in Zakera Ward, with potential for advancement and the opportunity to make a difference again.
Illogically, he left - left Terra Nova, left a girlfriend, left behind a chance at doing something he may have been able to love on the Citadel, and boarded a freighter to Omega. In the months after the geth attack, Jace began taking up small-time protection, intimidation, and mercenary jobs, evading pings from his Alliance life as best as he could while trying to climb the ladder on Omega. Being handpicked by Aria T'Loak herself...well, something the ornery son of a bitch did must have worked.
