Name:Camden Ives
Terran MedicAge: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.
