[CHAR] By Way Of The Leaning Gale [Space Western RP]

[Kingfisher]

Name:

Captain Eliot Warren Robbins

Age:

56

Appearance:

Robbins is a tall, well-built man, with broad shoulders and a beefy form. His jaw is hard, and riddled with stubble, and his dark hair is starting to grey. His eyes are a dark brown, his skin lightly tanned, and his features are firm.

The captain dresses in a casual manner, but to this day keeps his Confederate Uniform in his room.

Personality:

Ever since the end of the civil war, Warren has spent his whole life running. He keeps a cheerful exterior, but the horrors of battle weigh heavily on his shoulders. Eliot's got no respect for Union laws, but has his own moral code, which he sticks to fiercely.

Once upon a time he believed the Confederacy would return in a blaze of glory, and smash the Union into a thousand pieces, but nowadays he holds a far more pessimistic world view, and tends to keep his head down when he can afford it.

Biography:

Eliot was raised in the Robinson Orphanage for wayward children, and spent his earliest years in near-povertous conditions. When the Crimson Blade Bandit Crew came riding through town, Eliot jumped at the opportunity to live a life of adventure, and climbed aboard with the tough-talking gunslingers.

The next few decades were spent raiding both Union and Confederate vessels, until a heist gone wrong left Eliot shot in the back and abandoned by his fellow outlaws.

Eliot spent some time in jail, until the Civil War kicked off, and the former bandit was conscripted into the Confederate Army. He excelled within the military, and quickly rose to the rank of Captain.

The Captain was there at the battle of Starfall, when the last few vestiges of Confederate Resistance laid down their guns, and surrendered to Union law.

Eliot fled to the fringe systems, where he commandeered a Union transport vessel by the name of “Soverign’s Grace”, which he re-named “Brightburn”, in commemoration of the battle where he earned the rank of Captain.

Him and his crew have been outlaws ever since, trying to get by in the badlands of the space age.

[Terminal]

Iikka Guiomar

Name: Iikka Guiomar
Terran Operator

Age: 33
Gender: Male

Description

Iikka has a slight frame, weighing around 130 pounds or 59 kilograms while being 6 '2 feet or 1.90 meters tall. Their skin has a faint copper hue, their limbs are wiry with faint cords of muscle, and their build is lean and scrawny - Iikka is often mistaken for being younger than they really are due to their undersized build, much to his irritation. His face is generally described as foxish, being angular while possessing prominent cheekbones and orbital ridges. Their mouth has a faint asymmetrical skew to the left due to the high frequency with which Iikka smirks, and their eyes are a striking orange coloration. His hair is long, tawny, scragly, and usually drawn into a pony-tail, worn so his brow and ears are kept clear.

Iikka possess a small tattoo of some obscure symbol behind the fold of his right ear, which cannot be viewed from the front.

Biography

Iikka was born on the planet Letona, a water-logged planet with largely swampy landmasses home to a Ruthekk cloister, with a small population of Terrans and Zaetarian. His parents were tender and loving of him for the first year and a half of his life, until an incident where an intruder stole into their home - and into Iikka's nursery - in the dead of night. Although Iikka was not harmed and nothing was stolen, his parents' treatment of him changed drastically, turning to that of pure neglect and apathy for no clear reason. Iikka spent most of the next seven years either being foisted off onto other Terran families in the colony for care or simply being locked indoors.

When Iikka turned eight, his parents legally disowned him and remanded his custody to the Letona cloister. Uncertain as to what to do with a young Terran boy, the Ruthekk decided they did not want Terrans mixed in with their own fostered juveniles and instead relegated him to a ward that housed orphaned Zartarian hatchlings. Iikka thus spent the height of his childhood surrounded by a glut of colorfully depraved reptilians who spent the better part of their time devising new ways to physically and emotionally scar the abandoned boy, in addition to the occasion poisoning attempt. He quickly adapted to the malice that surrounded him in the ward, finding ways to turn his tormentors against each other while steeling his heart against their hateful words. His Ruthekk handler made note of his deft social jockeying against all odds as the years went on, and when Iikka turned sixteen learned that he had been recommended for training and hire as a possible Ruthekk-sponsored corsair and smuggler on the nearby Terran world of Irenenon.

Having been disowned by his parents and born without Terran space, Iikka possessed limited rights and protection under Terran law, making the necessarily illicit career of corsair nonetheless the best possible state of affairs for a person in his position. While initially confused and unsure of himself while navigating the unfamiliar bureaucracy of a world civilized to the point of amicability relative to the schemes of a Zartarian glut - while also struggling with a sudden upsurge in hormones and culture shock due to his abrupt reintroduction to his own species after nearly a decade of separation. Upon realizing that his experience with utility logic and social instigation put him ahead of the curve relative to millions of law-abiding traders and civilians though, he quickly set to work; to this day the Ruthekk sovereignty still lists Iikka Guiomar as the foremost factor in the development of the previously untapped Irenenon-Ruthekk black market.

For nearly five years Iikka made a commanding income for himself while making many powerful contacts and allies amongst the local interstellar underworld, and felt something approaching contentment. However, his streak of good fortune ended when a run of romantic affairs concurrent with a pointed private investigation as well as a sting operation revealed that his his exposure to Zartarian poisons earlier in life had rendered him sterile while also shattering his identity as corsair. The Ruthekk Sovereignty retained just enough gratitude for his service to fish him out of hot water before dismissing him from service, forcing him to spend most of his acquired fortune in bribes just to escape the local media region and away from an irate Terran colonial authority in the midst of a civil war, with the execution of smugglers and 'non-national Terrans' rising to disturbing heights.

Iikka spent the next six years simply building himself back up as an independent in the information game and trade; using his knowledge and connections to act as a fixer for smugglers rather than having to dirty his own hands which turned out to be eminently safer and more profitable. More cautious after his time as a corsair had blown up in his face, Iikka became reclusive and protective of his identity - and so learned of the individual who was tracking him down weeks before they arrived. Whoever the entity was, they were resourceful and unafraid of throwing money around - and strangely difficult to identify despite the large waves they had been making. Fearing some victim who had the business end of an illicit shipment pointed at them in the past had come back to hunt him down, Iikka moved quickly. Unwilling to leave the information and smuggling trade but hesitant to remain where he was and at risk, he joined the crew of the SV Brightburn, figuring that living a double life as a mercenary, always on the move, would be sufficient to deter his pursuer until they finally ran out of money or just gave up.

That was five years ago, and Iikka stopped hearing about their mysterious pursuant in the last two - but has found his position aboard the Brightburn to be suitably advantageous to his needs...

Profile

Iikka's temperament is one born from living amongst a glut of hostile Zartharians for the better part of a decade. On the surface he projects an air of easy confidence, social dominance and a lazy, brutish swagger - the image of a mocking, mischievous trickster in effect. However, underneath, and as revealed through his actions, his is a melancholy disposition. Nearly everything he says he carefully rehearsed or thought out, and as a result Iikka is a talented and fluid improv artist. He will freely lie as easily as he breaths, though never implausibly so - making even the truth suspect to those who know him too well.

As an exceptionally skilled social operator, Iikka can shift through and discard roles and personas effortlessly; walk into a room and either be the life of the party, a fly on the wall, or the one bad apple. His experience in dealing with others, especially criminals and those with plenty to hide, has made him good at judging others' temperaments and modes of thinking, making him an excellent mediator and negotiator when called for.

On a more personal level Iikka is highly wary and pushes those near to him away due to a mixture of anxiety from past experiences and the resulting caution, as well as a deep-rooted degree of general insecurity and self-doubt. While Iikka is generally competent and an excellent social manipulator, he is nonetheless used to things never really going his way, automatically assuming a cynical point of view and assuming only the worst as realistically possible.

Medical Profile

Iikka spent the better part of his childhood and adolescence being occasionally drugged and poisoned by Zartharians, and as such possesses great tolerance for most of their cultural cocktails - as well as a general, heightened tolerance for most toxins in general. This same exposure to the reptilian specie's poisons has also apparently left him sterile.

The same Zartharian glut that took such pleasure in having him poisoned also got their kicks in through physically abusing Iikka to such an extent that he required a plasmodium augmentation just so he could heal from the last broken rib or laceration before the next one arrived. As a result he heals at an accelerated rate. Iikka's blood will clot and seal minor to moderate dermal injuries in moments, and he can recover from severe trauma in the form of breaks and puncture wounds in mere days. Fractures are the one of the few remaining forms of physical injury he requires medical intervention in order to heal from properly, though it should be noted that the augmentation merely accelerates natural healing and will not enable the recovery of lost body parts. The specific augmentation is rare but not unheard of amongst the Ruthekk species, but is nearly undocumented amongst Terrans despite its status as a co-species treatment.

Equipment

Iikka, like any self-respecting showsman and face, uses very specific and and tools. Fighting is not really his thing considering he can talk his way out of most problems, but he takes to risk like he takes to poker - never stand against more than one player, never run a straight, buy everyone a drink, and know when to fold. His equipment is largely non-lethal, or else mitigatory in nature.

Thermal-Ballistic Vest: A ballistic vest woven using thermally conductive fibers with surface-seated heat sinks built-in, Iikka's ballistic vest lends his appearance a little more bulk which he finds advantageous in order to keep people from mistaking him for being younger than he actually is. Despite this, the model is still relatively light and thus of limited protection against ballistic projectiles, capable of taking one or two direct small-to-medium caliber rounds before losing integral strength. However, it is enormously more effective in deterring fire from energy weapons, capable of redirecting the heat from plasma and ablative lasers efficiently across its entire surface while dumping excess energy into capacitors and heat-sinks that line the surface of the vest. Iikka can endure sustained fire from both pulse and stream type energy weapons with a reasonable chance of survival, assuming everybody is aiming for his chest.

FCZS Bloodmist: Iikka's weapon of choice for nearly any engagement, social or otherwise. An unorthodox weapon designed by the Zuthekk that fires shells packed with powdered metal flechettes, the predominant draw of this weapon is its chemical injection system, which can soak loaded flachettes with any liquid compound so long as it is not so volatile that the shell is ruined. The weapon is subsonic and the shell breaks apart upon leaving the barrel, making it a silent shot-gun style anti-armor weapon that, with multiple shells of differing flechette density, makes for a versatile close-quarters weapon. Iikka has used it on many occasions to tranquilize rowdy belligerents by filling their esophagus with sedative-laced metal shards...and he has also used it to kill using less pleasant concoctions or heavy-density shells. The weapon is extremely risky to use in unpressurized atmospheres due to the potential for blowback.

DC-15 Tibanna: For when things go wrong. The DC-15 fires weakly coherent bolts of thermobaric plasma. The weapon has low stopping power, but has a unique niche market draw that few other weapons possess. The pistol houses a fission pile in the grip that acts as a free-neutron emitter in conjunction with the pistol aperture, meaning that as long as there is an atmosphere for it to fire in, the DC-15 can never run out of ammunition or power, and only needs to be reloaded once every sixteen and a half billion years. However, the weapon only stores a limited quantity of gas for its fusor chamber at a time, meaning it can only fire a limited number of shots before more atmosphere needs to be drawn into the barrel, limiting its rate of fire. Additionally, certain atmospheres - particularly caustic ones by way of example - can corrode or ruin the interior barrel.

[Life in Stasis]

Name:
Camden Ives
Terran Medic

Age:
47

Appearance:
Your standard Outer Rim outlaw: underfed, overcaffeinated, and exhausted. The ship's medic is slim and tall, though the latter is usually diminished by habitually sinking into a scholar's pose, hunched over something like a book or a meal. Despite her dark olive complexion, Camden somehow manages an unhealthy pallor and keeps greyish circles beneath both eyes. Nearly always she bundles her black hair into a simple, roguish tail, mostly to prevent stray locks from hanging into an open wound she might be suturing. Something other than the years has worn her down early, leaving a tired haze in her eyes.

On the back of her right hand, a brand in the shape of a coiled viper has been burned into her skin, marking her permanently as a murderer in the eyes of the Union.

Personality:
Lots of people talk big. Camden’s been around the Outer Rim long enough to hear it all (she hasn't been there long, but there are only so many clichéd hyperboles). He'll shoot ya soon as look at ya. She can pilot a fighter through the eye of a needle. He's the biggest, meanest sumbitch this side of the Gale. Camden has no need for bluster, her own or anyone else's. She never brags and never believes a claim until she sees it for herself.

At first blush she's talkative, even chipper, ever ready with a joke or a playful elbow jab. But lie to her, play games, or threaten someone she loves, and she'll show you how ruthless looks with a smirk.

There is rarely ever a moment Camden is fully sober. When she is, her hands shake, her temper is short, and the only thing on her mind is where she's getting her next drink.

“Listen mate, don't worry about what's in my flask. You don't want me workin’ on you without it.”

Biography:
Thing about scars is that either one hides them or takes every opportunity to make a story of them.

Camden is the former, but the brand on her hand is visible enough: the Union says she killed someone. Doesn't matter whether she did or not, she's marked for life. Some merchants won't sell to her in the nicer parts, some clinics won't hire her, and the Union would be only too happy to put a bullet in her skull. It's ruined her life, taken away every thing she ever had. Good family, good reputation, good money. She was educated, ran a blog, and was in line to head up a decent hospital in the Epsilon Sector, in Union Space. There was even a man once. They were going to build a family, and everything was going to be wonderful.

Now she has that scar.

When the Brightburn picked Camden up, she was working under a less-than-morally-ambiguous Zaetarian at a makeshift clinic for lowlifes who couldn't afford real medical care, or didn't want questions about how they were hurt. This man was barely more than butcher, but Camden needed to eat, so she spent long hours to save as many patients as she could manage from preventable infections or stupid deaths. Working in filthy conditions and with a meager array of tools, her abilities were limited.

She met Robbins when he came in with a gunshot wound. They shared a laugh or two (at least she did) while she sewed him up, and they ended up chatting at length because there wasn't enough anesthetic to dull the pain.

Same night, some poor sap came in after taking a fifty foot step off a building one street over. Camden's employer received a bribe to kill him and make it look like bad luck. She never knew that for certain, but she worked it out when his treatment was incompetent even for him. Sacrificing sleep, she attended to the patient instead, against the Zaetarian’s wishes.

In the morning, she woke up at her desk to find he had bled out. It didn't make any sense. She hadn't missed anything. When she asked her employer, he asked her to leave at gunpoint.

Out of a job, Camden went to the port before the Bightburn took off, and asked Robbins if he was hiring.

Additional Notes:
At all times, Camden carries loaded revolver, but she never draws it unless she intends to use it.

[POOHEAD189]

Name: Reeves "Reaver" Kamdo

Age: 39

Appearance: Tall with wiry muscle, Kamdo's built like a blade. His facial structure is just like the rest of his body, handsome and sharp. With combat apparel down to his boots, he wears a simple blue-grey tanktop on his upper body. His indigo hair is moderate length, reaching his shoulders, parted in the middle of his face. He has a vivid tattoo on his left shoulder of a skull with a bullet hole through the temple.

Personality: Reaver's a born hunter, almost enjoying the chase as much as capturing his bounty. He's fiery and fierce, but when he's not out shooting, fixing up the ship, or practicing jiujitsu, he does little else but lay around and eat. Sarcasm is his go to for most any situation, and one liners are sure to be heard before he takes someone out. He'll adhere to the captain though, if he pulls rank on him. Kamdo grew up a soldier after all, even if he loves the freedom of being out of the service.

Biography: Born on the poor agricultural world of Deltenumm, Reeves grew up on a dusty farm with his mother, father, and various siblings. Reeves had the distinction of being the 2nd oldest, behind his oldest sister. He got to working on his father's hover tractor, fixing it up and keeping it operational. Reeves was also prone to defend the farm and his family from other land owners wanting more land, and thieves looking for an easy target. He loved to hunt game when he wasn't fixing up the family's vehicles.

When the war broke out, there were both confederate and union recruiters landing on world. It took about a year for the place to become a battleground, and Reeve's farm was behind Union lines. He'll never forget the mistreatment of his family. In fact, he and his kin grew uncooperative, so the Union torched their farm and scattered his family. Reeves and his brothers joined the Confederacy, and to this day he still doesn't know what happened to his parents and older sister. Two of his brother's died in the line of duty, one surviving and starting a family just after the war.

Reeves on the other hand was noted with distinction for killing five Union soldiers when a raiding party boarded the frigate he was in, working as an engineer. He was even captured at one point on Sigma Prime and beaten for three days until it was liberated by his comrades. But the war took a turn for the worst, and a few short years later he and his fellow confederates were on the run. Reeves didn't surrender however, and eventually joined Captain Robbin's crew.

Additional Notes:
He is proficient in Jiu Jitsu and enjoys readings books on ancient Japanese history/philosophy.

• M1911 Gun
• Combat Knife
• Smoke Grenade (2)
• Frag Grenade (2)
• Various Engineer tools (wrench, blow torch, welding goggles, etc)

[Raid]

the Dead Crew Member

Name: Dakho Choo

Age: 48—deceased

Appearance:

Someone’s gotta look good

Dakho did his best to stay classy after the war. He liked looking good and enjoyed spending what money he earned on clothing. Nothing ridiculous, mind you, he’s no peacocking Zaetarian. However, he joked that he dressed as he did just in case the Brightburn’s clientele demanded to speak to someone who didn’t look like they just emerged from a dust storm on Fu Ho Kaun.

Personality: Dakhon was a peaceable person. He didn’t like arguing and didn’t like people arguing around him. However, he wasn’t about to try to negotiate and solve every squabble the crew of the Brightburn was in. He has more dignity than to stoop to the level of trying to convince Camden that she could use a little more sleep or that Iikka ain’t fooling him. Let alone who’s turn it is to go grocery shopping—he just walks away. However, he took great pleasure in twisting people’s words around. Embarrassment, he believed, was the most attractive expression on a person’s face.

Through and through, Dakhon was an anthropologist. Observe, note, theorize, test. For him, the Leaning Gale was a superb place of study. He loved it here. Complete adrenaline junkie despite his tendency towards self-preservation.

Biography: Dakhon fought for the Union. Okay, wait, don’t freak out. Up to that point in his life, Dakhon was able to talk himself out of everything—getting married, going to pilot school, helping his mother move across the solar system—so when everyone was suddenly jumping to go to war, he was taken aback that he was expected to do the same, too. Since when had he showed any inclination for shooting. He likes talking far too much and if you shoot someone, who was there left to talk to?

Thus, it was Dakhon’s absolute pleasure when his yammering landed him as a transmission technician on the Sovereign’s Grace. He survived the war. Obviously. It took too long, in his opinion. Wasted resources, lives, and soon enough no one wanted to talk to him in the Union because of his so called blasphemy. When some Confederate stumbled on to the empty ship when the rest of the crew was off celebrating the Unions victory, Dakhon naturally assisted in the commandeering of the newly baptized Brightburn. It was his absolute pleasure to finally have someone to talk to again. And listen! What a treat.

Dakhon never got to send a transmission to his Mum about everything he experienced in the Leaning Gale. Five years after the war as he laid dying from pancreatic cancer he refused to get treatment for in a hospital in some fueling station that housed too many Zaetarians to make his passing truly comfortable, that was his one regret.

So he gave decided to do what made sense at the time:free the first slave he found mildly attractive, bequeath his entire music collection to her, and promptly die. Perfectly poetic.

Additional Notes:

• Especially fond of American singer/songwriters from the 1960-1980s.
• Carried no weapons. He had faith in his crew members to keep him safe.

---

Name: Cha’kwaina (Che-Ya-Quee-nah)

Age: 9

Appearance:

All Quinunaki’s have the pale lavender skin of far off stars, solid black eyes of complete darkness, white hair, and mouths full of vicious pointed teeth. Cha’kwaina is no different. (From what you can tell.) Her black finger nails, she was told, prove her family is from ocean-residing tribe in Kogaan, her species home planet. She’s shorter than most of her people, that is to say, she’s of average Terran height. She will grow no taller, as she has reached her final stage in physical maturation for the Quinunaki. All that’s left to is gain enough weight to help support any future pregnancies.

She prefers to go barefoot. All other physical features she keeps hidden. After her mutilation in the Rising, Cha’kwaina took to wearing veils in public that covered her face and head, leaving only her eyes exposed to the world. Because you’ll never see her without a veil, there is no need to go further into detail. Even now, she favors the loose robes she took to wearing when still a slave.

Personality:

Cha’kwaina been drugged a majority of her life. Told who she was, what she should be, and how to act. So you’re gunna have to wait until she figures out who she is herself. But here’s a list of what she’s got so far:

• She worships the stories about her people and their native home on Kogaan.
• She worries she is not really a Quinunaki.
• Multitasking is difficult.
• She talks to herself in her native tongue to help sort out her thoughts because who else would she talk to?
• She’s ashamed of her body.
• She finds music confusing, purposeless, and entirely fulfilling.

Biography:

Cha’kwaina was born in Zaetarian captivity. She was trained, like a beast of burden, in a fabric sweat shop until her captors decided that she looked decent enough to be sold into the selective Zaetarian sex industry at 3. Like other Quinunaki’s in pleasure houses, Cha’kwaina was drugged. It was a menagerie of ever changing chemicals to prevent any of the Quin from developing a tolerance.

At 5, the Rising occurred. It happened in another pleasure ship that was almost two planets away, but her owner, Celsorelica Ghatarid decided an example needed to be made. Cha’kwaina, the youngest on her ship, was granted that honor. In a public ceremony in which tickets sold for the prices of small transportation vessels, cocktails were served, and Zaetarians strutted in their monstrous fashions Cha’kwaina was humiliated in the worst way possible for a Quinunaki: her teeth were pulled, one by one, and sold in a silent auction.

During her healing process under the supervision of a wrinkled Terran she learned two things: 1) her people were dying from a suspicious virus across the Leaning Gale and 2) she understood him, this ancient creature who never heard of Katheen bird let alone how to navigate the complicated . Celsorelica rejoiced when he realized his worthless Quin pleasure slave (“Who wants to have sex with a Quin without teeth? Takes away all the fun, my dear Cha-Cha,” he said.) could be trained as a translator.

By the time Cha’kwaina was 9, she mastered three Terran languages, the dialects of the major Zaetarian houses, and the harsh language of the Ruthekk. To her dismay, it was her lack of teeth that allowed her to speak these twisting languages that had her puckering her lips and rolling her tongue in unfamiliar ways. Celsorelica favored her in the ways that Zaetarians do: fawning, drugs, gifts, beatings, and sex.

“Just in case, let’s get you checked out,” Celsorelica said as news of dying Quin’s depleting Zaetarian pleasure ships came through the transmissions.

The Caesar was docked at the same refueling station as the Brightburn for this very purpose when Cha’kwaina was bought by a Terran and then freed by his subsequent death. Celsorlica thought it was a joke. Until the credits showed up in his account and Cha’kwaina was tucked away on the Brightburn before he could gather enough Zaetarian supporters.

The crew of the Brightburn was prepared to drop Cha’kwaina off at the next dusty frontier town because she stinks of trouble and they don’t need any more of that. She argued, in all the languages she knew, for an opportunity to prove herself: one month. That was her grace period. So far, it’s been a week.

Additional Notes:

the savages of the Leaning Gale

• Kogaan: the home planet of the Quinunaki; as inhospitable to the life forms that scratch out a living there as well as those wishing to infiltrate the planet and its resources. Very specific atmospheric conditions are needed for ships to enter and land on Kogaan.
• Living environment: due to the harsh nature of their home planet, the Quins place high regard on procreation and children.
• Rate of maturation:the shortened lifespan of these creatures doesn’t imply they don’t mature. The mental, physical, and emotional maturation of the Quin occurs in a shortened amount of time compared to other creatures of the Leaning Gale and beyond. Think of it in terms of “dog years.”
• Gene variation:increased rate of procreation leads to new mutations within the race in attempts to battle the continually changing environment of Kogaan; although basic characteristics of their race remains constant, each tribe developed definitive physical traits based on their location.
• Intelligence: simple in terms of technology, this race of people’s ability to adapt confounds researches.
• Warrior worship: those men and women who kill the Kathleen are granted high status in the community.
• Hair: those considered warriors shave the sides of their heads and keeps the rest of their hair braided in one thick length. In general, braids are considered sacred and good luck. It’s common for Quins to twine together objects and carry them with them.
• Teeth: to show their strength, Quins can choose to undergo lip mutilation. Their lips are cut or sewn back to keep their teeth constantly exposed. It’s considered attractive. It’s an extremely painful and dangerous process. 1/3 of those who attempt this procedure die.
• Time line: first contact with the Quinunakis occurred twenty some years before the war. In the last seven, however, contact increased with raiders and Zaetarian pirates due to demand.
• Slave trade: Quins are wanted for three purposes: labor intensive tasks; ring fighting; pleasure boats.
• Sickness:encroachment of their planet by new species from far stretches of the galaxy, a deadly virus is working its way through the Quins. The disease, unnamed, causes muscle dystrophy. 1/10 die. Of the surviving, 2/3 are left crippled or mutilated.