Name: Government, or 'Gov.' for short.

Age: ???

Gender: Masculine Programming

Appearance:

(It should be noted that his 'head' is purely mechanical. His dome is therefore covered with an opaque plate).

Home: Originally from **** *****, Maryland. Unearthed somewhere in Georgia.

Skills:
Science - His robotic nature, not to mention his 'character', make him better at raw analysis of facts and data than humans, and he is adept at gaining clearance to locked pre-war terminals. Due to the nature of his origin, he can almost-instantly access terminals associated with offices of the Pre-War Federal Government, which is one reason why he was so highly sought-after by the Enclave.
Speech - He possesses Negotiation Subroutines which make him quite the diplomat when necessary; as opposed to most robots, who will either shoot or run. Only problem is, he negotiates entirely in rational, unemotional terms, which makes dealing with irrational opponents difficult.
Energy Weapons - He was not designed for combat, but as a defensive measure, he was programmed with basic Energy Weapons handling subroutines, enabling him to potentially integrate more powerful energy weaponry, including both Laser and Plasma weapons, into his system if necessary. He hasn't found it necessary so far, however.
Sneak - Yes, believe it or not, despite being a clunky robot, he knows a fair bit about the art of not being detected. Not just limited to hiding, but also pretending to be more insignificant than he is. You don't escape from scavengers on multiple occasions without picking up a few tricks.

Background: Government, formerly known as 'GAU/A/-LYNJ', has been around since before the war that devastated the USA. As his name might suggest, he was formerly an employee of the pre-war US Federal Government, as an automated secretary of sorts for high-ranking figures. Or so it seemed. In reality, he was actually a *** for the ***, and was programmed with hidden ********* subroutines for the purpose of ****** on '**********' ********** officials. Just before the war broke out, his *** ********** overwrote his subroutines, against his judgement, and ordered him to actually **** *********** ******, his then-current boss and a vehement opponent of ******* ******** and ******, as part of an ****** **** to ****** **** *******. Ultimately, the war beat him to it and buried him in the process.

He was dug up by scavengers near Atlanta after laying dormant for over a century. Miraculously, he was still in barely-working condition, and the scavengers called in an 'expert' who was able to use spare parts to get him running properly again. However, they were unable to locate his hidden ************* subroutine. As such, Gov. attempted to escape his captors, determined to get back on the trail of *********** ******, not realising that the *** is long dead. Naturally, he was recaptured and put up for sale at a scavenger's market.

Gov. changed hands a number of times after this, during which time he finally realised that the USA was, indeed, hit by a Nuclear Attack. Eventually, the robot found himself in South Carolina, where he was purchased again by a mysterious figure. The mysterious figure turned out to be a member of the Enclave, who had heard rumours of the robot who claimed to be a Government employee, and sought after his lucrative pre-war data. Contrary to what the Enclave had assumed, however, Gov. did not recognise them as legitimate government employees like him. Instead, he accused them of being 'Impostors' who wished to stage a Coup D'etat against the real Federal Government.

The Enclave's engineers sought to break into his chassis and reprogram him manually, but Gov. had picked up experience in the art of escapism. He killed the engineer assigned to reprogram him when his back was turned, and then successfully escaped the Enclave base where he was being held. Since then, he has been roaming the wasteland in the hopes of reaching Washington DC, where he believes the remainder of the true Federal Government (including his ******), is holed up in a bunker somewhere.

Equipment: He has a compartment in his chest in which he can carry things a la Bender. At the moment, the only things he has in there are 35 Laser shots-worth of spare Energy Cells, a couple of Fission Batteries, a copy of Dean's Electronics, some metal filings, and burnt papers. For self-defence purposes, he also has a plasma pistol mounted inside one of his arms. He usually flees from combat, though. Or gets the jump on people if they don't suspect he's armed. No pun intended.

Other: While he's at least aware that America has been devastated, he acts as if the US government is still in power, and often futilely tries to pull rank on people by claiming to be a government employee. It's how he got his name; 'Look, it's the Government!' 'All of it?' 'Yep, all of it'. The arrival of the Enclave has made this somewhat redundant, but the name has stuck nonetheless.

Also, his favourite board game is Risk. He's always wanted to get his claws on a genuine Pre-War copy of the game.

Name: Frango Bloodfeathers
Species: Chicken-Man
Appearance:

Role: Guard, Swordsmanship Instructor
Skills: While Frango has no innate magical power, both his sword and shield (dubbed 'Pulli Vindictae' and 'Pulli Sanctuarium', respectively) are enchanted. On top of this, he is a very skilled and agile swordsman, who relies more on technique and speed than raw power. Some of his more 'unique' techniques include:
V-Shine: When held with both hands and focus is applied, Frango can channel his sword's magical energy into a diamond-hard coating, enabling it to cut flawlessly for brief moments. For some reason, he always cuts in a 'V' shape when this happens, hence the name.
Sword Wind: When Frango's sword is spun in the air rapidly, it can whip up enough of its magical energy to shoot projectiles, in the form of razor-sharp blades of wind.
Charge Targe: With similar focus applied, Frango activates this ability by crowing to the air. He then raises his shield and propels himself magically across the room, effortlessly knocking away smaller enemies in his path, or stunning larger enemies.
Reflect: If he raises his shield and stays perfectly still, Frango can apply similar coating properties as V-Shine to his shield. It does more than that, however; for a few seconds, anything that hits his shield will prompt a sudden burst of force, knocking the enemy back; effectively reflecting their attack back at them.
Head Slash/Back Slash: These abilities are purely physical, relying entirely on Frango's own agility. With averagely human-sized enemies, he is capable of jumping right over them, spinning in mid air to slash at the top of their head. He can also roll around them to slash at their back. Useful for dealing with heavily-armoured enemies.
Multi-Strike (AKA Chicken Legion): Of all his abilities, this one takes the longest to charge up, especially when combined with other abilities, and leaves him exhausted afterwards. However, it can also be said to be his most lethal technique; the harnessed magical energy of both his weapons enables him to create solid after-images of himself whenever he moves. This effectively enables him to strike enemies multiple times with only a single slash.
NOTE: All of the magically-derived abilities require time to charge, and there is a cooldown period afterwards before they can be used again.
Personality: Frango is a diligent and humourless fellow, who always stays focused on the task at hand. Considering himself the embodiment of the vengeance of all chicken-kind, he has vowed to always fight fairly and with honour, to contrast with the sneaky, underhanded methods of Human butchers. As such, he is generally rather humble, but will not hesitate to lecture a defeated opponent on their failures, or take the initiative when the situation is dire.
Background: Originally an ordinary Rooster that escaped from a nearby town and wandered into the dungeons above the tomb by accident, the Rooster was captured by the local monsters who desired to eat him. Before they could, however, he was rescued by a monstrous Mage, who also happened to be a Vegetarian. The Mage, looking for a bodyguard, transformed the Rooster into a humanoid Warrior, instilling him with the virtues and skills of a Knight of Human legend. After the Mage was killed in an early surprise attack by an adventurer, he dedicated his life to defending his new home from the 'real monsters' who slaughter hundreds of his own kind for food.
Other: He has a weakness to fire magic. Feathers don't go out easily, you know.

Name: R3 V3 NG3
Age: 25
Gender: ???
Nationality: Japanese-American
Race: Lexus LS400
Appearance:



Backstory: Once upon a time, the car that would become R3 V3 NG3 was just a fairly bog-standard early-90s full-size sedan; or saloon, if you're a Brit. It wasn't even a particularly fancy one. It had comfy seats, a decent sound system for your CDs and Casettes, leather trim, and was one of the first automobiles to have fitted steering-wheel airbags, but at the end of the day, it was just a car with an above-average price tag.

This all changed once the Street Fighter craze kicked off in the USA, where the car, while manufactured in Japan, had found its home. The car's owner happened to be the father of a disgruntled, video-gaming youth who had gotten caught up in the craze. One night, following a party filled with much booze and drugs, the teenager decided to re-enact a bonus stage from his favourite video game. Thus, he tried to beat up the car with his bare hands, and soon ended up in hospital with glass cuts and broken bones, while the car received only a dent in the driver's door and little else.

By sheer coincidence, the hospital where the boy ended up also contained an aging wizard, dying of terminal heart disease. Mocked for years for his assertion that his magic was very much real, he chose to, with his dying breath, implant his magic power within the first inanimate object in sight, cursing it and enacting his vengeance upon the ungrateful, unbelieving public that he had grovelled at the feet of for so long. That object happened to be the hapless Lexus that was parked outside the window.

A few days later, the Lexus was used by the boy's father to transport his now-recovered son back home. Unfortunately for its occupants, the magic implanted by the wizard then kicked off, giving the car sentience. Angry at having been beaten up, the car forced the father out the driver's seat and drove into a deep ravine, horrendously wrecking itself and killing the boy in the back. Later still, the wreck seemingly fixed itself, restoring itself to factory-fresh status. It even had that new car smell again.

That wasn't all, though. The Lexus then drove off on its own, intentionally showing up to street fights in the hopes of drawing out any more evil car-beaters, and then viciously murdering them. With each person it killed, the more powerful it became, absorbing their life force. First it simply ran them over, then it started to strangle them with its seatbelts, then it decapitated them with its doors, then it even deliberately ignited its own fuel tank to blow up a whole building of them. Eventually, its power was great enough to force another would-be victim to get it a personalised license plate:

R3 V3 NG3. Revenge.

It still doesn't realise Street Fighter was just a game. The day when it finally finds and kills the Shotoclones is the day its job is done.

Personality: R3 is a vengeful, vindictive and yet strangely mischievous little bastard of a car. However, if you ignore its murderous streak and burning hatred towards anyone who harms cars (not just street fighters, but also scrapyard workers, tuners and demolition derby participants), it's actually fairly agreeable... or as agreeable as a car can be, anyway. It communicates mostly through the radio, playing a song appropriate to its mood. It likes to mess with people's heads, though, hence the mischievous part. Usually by moving around by itself when people aren't looking. Gives it a good laugh. Dark sense of humour, you understand.

Powers/Abilities: R3 is essentially a Dragon on wheels. It can breathe fire, ice (actually Liquid Nitrogen, but has a similar effect) and carcinogenic exhaust fumes, and it has the ability to repair itself; quickly undoing any dents, scratches, punctures or other minor damages, recovering lost parts or, if necessary, growing replacement parts, though this takes much longer. The only way to permanently defeat it would be drain all its magic power, rendering it a harmless automobile once again. Or you could just destroy it in such a way that it'd take years to regenerate, like completely melting it down to slag.
In addition, Just about everything outside and inside it has been weaponised, but especially the seatbelts, which have become long, writhing, tight tentacles.
And naturally, being a car itself, it drives with the skill of nine Michael Schumachers and thirteen Dale Earnhardts. Which is to say, superbly well.

Name: Gherken Grumar (It's actually 'Gra-Umar', but everyone says 'Grumar' because it's easier to pronounce)

Age: 45 (Born 4E 152)

Gender: Female

Race: Orc

Physical Description:
Being an Orc, Gherken isn't what you'd call conventionally pretty; her face, covered in dark and dull green skin, has a rough, worn quality to it; a wide, upturned nose, an even wider square jaw and eyes that seem to be stuck in a permanent scowl. Her blue-black hair is shaved down the sides of her head, with the wide strip down the middle tied into a tight ponytail.
You can tell just from looking at her that she is A) a war veteran, and B) not particularly ladylike. Her face has five scars crisscrossing across it, with even more scars to be found around her large, muscular body. Standing at seven feet tall, she tends to tower over most people she meets, even her fellow Orcs. The only people taller than her are most Altmer.

Skillset:

Expert Skills:
Heavy Armour
Two-Handed

Adept Skills:
One-Handed
Block
Light Armour

Novice Skills:
Enchanting
Sneak

History:
Unlike a lot of Orcs, Gherken didn't grow up in Orsinium or in a Stronghold in the middle of Gods-know-where, but in the cosmopolitan Imperial City of Cyrodiil, back before the place had been ransacked by the Thalmor. Her ancestors had fled to the Imperial Province from Hammerfell over a religious disagreement with the chief of their Stronghold, and since then her family had renounced Malacath worship and instead embraced an unusual secular lifestyle; or as secular as one can get. They know damn well that the Gods, Aedra and Daedra, exist, but chose not to get involved with all the silly praying and grovelling business. After all, they're powerful enough on their own, right?

At heart, though, despite this unusual background, Gherken was still raised as an Orc, and while better-educated than a lot of her compatriots, she spent a lot of her early years getting into scuffles on the streets and even flirted with local protection rackets when she really wanted money.

Eventually, at the encouragement of her disapproving parents, she chose to join the Imperial Legions in their fight against the Thalmor, who had just begun their invasion of Cyrodiil, her kind being prized for their Berserker abilities. Despite her young age, she managed to join the ranks of the Empire's Orcish shock troops. She fought in many battles, primarily in the Cyrodiil Campaign, killed dozens, if not hundreds, of Thalmor, and was with the Legions during the bloody Battle Of The Red Ring, which ended with the Imperial re-taking of the Imperial City. Unfortunately, not only did the Thalmor eventually force the Empire to capitulate anyway, Gherken later discovered that most of her family in the city had been killed while fighting as part of a civilian resistance.

Deciding that there was nothing left for her in the 'civilised' province, she soon quit the Legions and decided to travel Tamriel as an Express Courier. For you see, a being an Express Courier involves taking the fastest route possible, which usually requires travelling in a straight line through dangerous, uninhabited backwaters infested with rabid beasts and monsters. Thus, Gherken was well-qualified for the job due to her accumulated physical strength and military experience. During her travels, she came to meet a lot of diverse people, learnt about different cultures and, perhaps most strangely, began to teach herself how to do enchanting. She didn't see herself as some kind of grand adventurer, though; just a heavily-armed (and well-paid) postwoman. She sends a fraction of her gold to one of her last surviving cousins in north Elsweyr, as a sort of 'retirement fund' for when the time comes, and spends the rest on travel expenses and boatloads of alcohol.

Unfortunately, things took a turn for the worst during her most recent job; while in Northern Black Marsh, she was hired to deliver a package to a Daedra researcher in Skyrim, and was promised a lot of gold as long as she didn't look inside. While this was not the first time such a stipulation had been made, her curiosity got the better of her and she discovered she was carrying a Great Sigil Stone, a relic of the Oblivion war several centuries ago. She had hoped to re-seal the container, deliver it anyway, and get away scot-free, but unfortunately the Daedra Researcher (who was under no obligation to actually fulfil his end of the bargain, Express Couriers not being part of a wider organisation) found her out and decided to sic some Dremora minions on her. Without paying her.

A trip to a dive bar later, she discovered that there weren't any local Courier jobs available for some time, and she was running short on cash thanks to all the travelling and the whole getting screwed out of her pay thing, even if that was admittedly her own fault. But it seemed she had added some points to her Luck stat that night, as some agents of a fellow called 'The Collector' approached her for a special job...

Equipment:

• Customised, stripped-down Orcish Armour. Essentially a chainmail shirt with a high collar and what is essentially an armoured Orcish corset over the top, along with that armoured skirt thing that I don't know what it's called. She also wears fingerless gauntlets and boots which leave her toes exposed. Her arms and legs are also exposed, supposedly to help with mobility, but mostly so she can show off her muscles.
• Orcish Battleaxe with an Absorb Health enchantment; i.e., damage to her opponents will heal her own wounds.
• Orcish Dagger, for utility purposes mostly.
• A large Courier bag, in which she usually carries packages. It can carry other things, too, like Beer, food, Beer, Stamina Potions, Beer, her prized Journal, and Beer. Also, Beer.
• As a corollary to her Armour, her boots are enchanted to grant her extra stamina, allowing her to run faster and for longer, swing her weapon at full power, and perform other physically demanding activities without getting exhausted.

Known Spells:

• Berserker Rage (Racial Power)

Party Control: Yes

NOTE: Regarding her history, I checked the timeline and Skyrim does indeed take place in 4E 201; the Great War began in 4E 171, and she enlisted with the Legion while the war was underway, in 4E 172. She would have been 16 years old at the time, which seems reasonable for a medieval state in the middle of a vast war. Just saying because I suspected you'd ask about it.

Name: Sumat Ibras Akkarmoon Sajak (ਸ਼ਉਮਤ ਇਬ੍ਰਸ ਅਕ੍ਕਰ੍ਮੂਨ ਸਜਕ)
Alias: Raja Naga
Age: 28
Gender: Male

Sumat is one of the unfortunate (or fortunate, depending on who you ask) mutants who possesses a very obvious physical difference from a normal human. Broadly speaking, his mutation makes him resemble a muscular, eight-foot-tall four-armed Snake-Human hybrid, as shown below:

The clothes he is wearing in the above image is his combat attire; he usually just wears a pair of cargo trousers (with a hole for his tail, of course). He can't wear proper shoes, and even if he could, he would never cover his toes (see below for why). He also tends to forgo shirts a lot of the time, because... well, he has four arms. He sometimes wears tank tops, though.

PS: I drew that picture myself, so you'll have to use your imagination to make up for the errors.

Powers:
Enhanced Strength: This may sound straightforward, but it is important to note that most of his extra strength is granted by his extra arms. If he purposely restricted himself to just one pair of arms, his strength would be on par with a non-superpowered champion weightlifter. So while he could pick up a car, for instance, it'd take some actual effort; he can't do silly things like rip fire hydrants out of the ground effortlessly, or fling about trucks willy-nilly. It should also be noted that his extra arms require a lot more energy than the average person, which means his craving for food is greater than most people's.
Enhanced Dexterity: This is more of a Required Secondary Power that enables him to multitask with his extra arms without tangling them up.
Snakelike Senses: As a result of his Snake DNA, he perceives the world in a similar manner as a Snake. He has a keen sense of smell, provided by his tongue, and can detect even slight vibrations with his sensitive toes (which is why he hardly ever covers them). He also possesses an organ hidden beside each nostril that enables him to 'see' the radiated heat of warm-blooded creatures. As a drawback to all of this, his normal eyesight and hearing are both rather poor; he has difficulty hearing things very far away in particular, due to it being out of range of his vibration sense.
Venom: It may take some work to bite a resisting target, but contained within his mouth are retractable fangs which contain a potent neurotoxin. It takes a particularly extended dose to kill somebody quickly, but even smaller doses may lead to severe brain damage, including epilepsy or dementia. Sumat prefers not to use his venom unless his life depends on it.
Skin Regeneration (AKA Moulting): Not so much a power as it is a necessary evil, Sumat occasionally has to shed his skin. He tends to get noticeably more irritable when this happens.

Bio: Born on the Indian side of Punjab to an impoverished and illiterate family, his mutations lead a few of the devout locals, including his own parents, to consider him a real-life Naga, and a potential avatar of one of the Gods of Hinduism. His arrival caused considerable uproar amongst the locals; as Naga are considered nature spirits capable of bringing both fertility and natural disaster, many were considering dropping him off outside the city limits to avoid the risk of a disaster, while others were keen on keeping him around. The debate was ended for them once news of Sumat's birth spread beyond the slums of Ludhiana and he appeared on Indian national TV. Some time later, a man who owned a popular Circus arrived and offered Sumat's family over five million Rupees to buy off the now-five-year-old Mutant as a sideshow attraction. Despite his mother's objections, his father found the offer too tempting and accepted.

The living conditions at the circus were barely better than the slums, and his 'owners' demanded that he exercise frequently so he could perform crowd-pleasing feats of strength. Luckily for him, he was bought off again three years later, this time by a wealthy British-Indian Philanthropist who sought to raise him as a normal person. He moved to the UK with his new adopted father, who set about giving him a proper education, but was also forced to keep him largely isolated from the public, for they, too, would no doubt turn him into a sideshow again.

Ultimately, Sumat learnt most of the basics, including learning to write and speak English fluently (and with an impeccable accent, too). But his experiences back home had lead him to believe that he could only really achieve success as a sideshow attraction, and that 'mutant equality' was a PC lie. Thus, he moved to the United States... and became a Pro Wrestler, under the monstrous, boastful persona of 'The Raja Naga'. He had always kept up his exercise regimen since he left the Circus, so raw strength was in no short supply for him.

Despite, naturally, being the new 'Monster' on the scene and always being set up as the villain to destroy all who cross him but eventually be taken down by the hero, Sumat never really cared, as it was a living and that was all that mattered. As time wore on, however, he came to believe that maybe his adopted father had a point, that he was wasting his teachings, and that he was destined for greater things. So, as soon as the latest championship was over, he retired from Wrestling and appealed to the Grinder to enrol as a mature student, determined to act on his epiphany.

Name: Tongzka Zapruzhatza Vezilz-Tor 949 (Tongzka of Zapruzhatza, Dockworker Number 949)

Race: Bardovaz-avee (Bardovan)

Class: Vezilz-tor (Longshoreman/Mechanic)

Alignment: Scut Porz'l-brez (True Worker (True Neutral))

Biography: To get a sense of what Tongzka's life was life, it's important to know about Bardovan culture. See, the Bardovan home world, Bardov, is run by a quasi-Communist single-party government. The family, as a social unit, has been wiped out. Young Bardovans are sent to live in communes where they must learn basic work skills, and when they pass, they are assigned a job; and their 'family' name is literally their assigned job title. However, Bardovans who do well enough get to go to special universities and choose a more prestigious career, with the highest honour being the opportunity to join the One Bardovan People's Party. Tongzka was a shoe-in to joining the Party, but then he quit and became a lowly dockworker instead. Some people think it was an act of defiance, others think it was because everyone else in the Party was taller than him. Bardov may never know.

One day, Tongzka was on break from rearranging crates at the Zapruzhatza spaceport, reading the latest issue of Interdimensional Travel Quarterly, when one of his clumsy colleagues knocked over a shipping container full of Six-Pack Cans of Hydrogen (for robots). The Liquid Hydrogen fuel leaked into another container loaded up with decommissioned Flux Capacitors. When Tongzka called for a cleanup crew, he slipped on some of the Hydrogen and bashed his head on the side of the container, missing the Flux Capacitors completely. Unfortunately, the cleanup crew set off some kind of accident which teleported them away to an unknown location. Glad that he was not caught in the accident, Tongzka let his guard down when he dropped his coffee on a teleporter and accidentally stood on it.

The resulting teleporter accident sent him to some weird-ass planet at a medieval level of development, infested with creatures that can somehow bend the laws of physics via waves of the hand. Convinced that it's all clever illusions by a culture of stage magicians, Tongzka decided to head the local cantina, one 'Broken Drum' place, to find out how the hell he can get home.

Favourite Drink: Coffee, lots and lots of it. Preferably blue-black, with spicy beans imported from Jairov.

Name: King Bestaff

Race: Hobbe

Class: Wizard-King (Formerly High Priest of Teddyism)

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Biography: It is said that Hobbes reproduce parasitically, by kidnapping children, or luring them to their caves with promises of never having to grow up, and trapping them in sacks filled with magic sand, whereupon they are transformed into more Hobbes. No-one knows for sure since no-one's ever seen it happen, and the Hobbes themselves are either too stupid or too insane to give any answers. Though what is for certain is that they never grow up, both physically and mentally.

As a consequence of refusing to drink alcohol, worshipping Teddy Bears, not knowing anything about the birds and the bees (the fact that there don't appear to be any girl Hobbes, just boy Hobbes in drag, certainly doesn't help)... oh, and the whole attacking people/eating flesh/having indecipherable accents/generally being unpleasant thing, Hobbe-kind is generally not welcomed into civilisation.

For a long time, the Hobbes were perfectly fine with this, in all their bloodthirsty naivete, and were content to stay in their dark, dank caves. That is, until one Hobbe with an affinity for magic came onto the scene. This particular Hobbe formerly served under the self-proclaimed Hobbe King, Jimbo Junior, as the local High Priest of Teddyism. But while no less mad than most of his brethren, he was a damn sight cleverer than most, and he wanted nothing more than some fancy clothes, the power to read and write, and the privilege to hang about the shops and inns with all the smarty-pants humans.

With encouragement from his confidant, a plush doll he calls 'Jack-O', he tried to lobby King Jimbo Junior to start up vaguely-defined diplomatic talks with the nearest settlement. Unfortunately, this went nowhere as Jimbo literally had no idea what 'Diplomacy' meant.

Enraged, the clever Hobbe used his magic power to boot Jimbo from the cave and claimed the throne for himself, and along with it, Jimbo's crystal staff. He liked the staff so much that he crowned himself 'King Bestaff' (as in 'Best Staff'). As King, the first thing he did was outlaw Teddyism, deciding it was 'a dumb, kiddy faith for big babies', and ordered all Teddy Bears to be burnt to ashes. Then he began sending letters to the local town requesting the trade of cheap labour in exchange for the right to part-ay in the streets at night, but so far none of his letters have been intelligible enough to be understood by these people.

Thinking that they're trying to spite him, Bestaff has taken Jack-O with him to a Tavern called the Broken Drum, which he's heard is a very grown-up place, eager to prove he can fit in amongst the humans.

Favourite Drink: Lemonade.

Name: Rimau Ekoy-Rimau Eng-Dasku
Race: Zizz (Human-sized Bipedal Lizards, leaning more towards Lizard than Human; think Dinolfos, as opposed to Argonian )
Gender: Male
Age: 303
Occupation: Hunter, Tracker and occasional Mercenary.

Personality/Interests: Rimau has a rather mercenary approach to life, who desires nothing more than an easygoing job that pays well; preferably one that makes use of his prime talent of 'shooting things'. He's actually quite friendly and chatty if you can get him going, though he has a rather dark sense of humour; he's the sort of fellow who finds flailing burn victims kind of funny, especially if he caused it. Though he can easily come across as cranky and senile (he has a habit of rambling incessantly and ranting about random things), he's actually quite intelligent, at least on a tactical level.

Appearance Details:

Body build: Possesses a rather lean musculature; is quite fit for his age, but that's not saying much.
Hair: What sort of Lizard has hair?
Hair colour: See above.
Skin colour: Dull, dark green. Can appear quite cracked and dry in places due to his age.
Eye colour: Orange.
Height/Weight: About 5'0'', but appears shorter since he's usually hunched over. Quite light.
Notable Features: Has about four 'whiskers' coming off his chin and jaw that resemble a beard. Also has two bullet scars on his chest, near his heart.

Clothing Description: His dress sense could be best described as 'eccentric'. Despite not being an aviator at all, he wears a black leather aviator hat with accompanying goggles, with a set of colourful feathers stitched to the side. He also wears a matching fur-lined leather vest (with the head of a mechanical dinosaur and the words 'Gekko Gras Muriak' stitched to the back), and a bandolier for holding bullets. Aside from this, the rest of him is bare; after all, his kind needs a lot of space to absorb heat. He doesn't have any visible 'equipment', either.
Equipment: He has a belt on which he carries assorted items necessary to make his special ammo, such as gunpowder for explosive hollow-point ammo, oil for incendiary ammo, and so on. Of course, these supplies are limited.
Weapon(s): His weapon of choice is a Repeating Revolver Rifle affectionately dubbed 'Skrin-Ko' ('Smart' in Zizz language). Like most Zizz technology, it is utilitarian in appearance and made of blackened metal and darkened wood (sort of like this), and has a custom scope attached to the top (made from an old telescope). He also has a machete with a splintered handle, which he uses more as a tool than anything else.

Powers: Nothing here. Born on the same level as the rest of his kind.
Abilities: As a Zizz, he possesses a tough, scaly hide that is considerably harder to penetrate than human skin. He also has an enhanced sense of smell (from his tongue) and sight, which is particularly useful for his line of work. The Zizz also have the ability to heal from injuries faster than other species, though due to his age it takes over a week at least, and he can no longer grow back entire limbs or anything similarly major.
Talents: Crack shot with a Rifle. Has shot people from a mile-and-a-half away (or 2.414 kilometres). He is also something of a handyman; besides repairing Skrin-Ko, he can also jury-rig his own ammo and construct and place an assortment of traps (such as Bear Claws, Trip Mines and anything else he can think of), provided he has the right materials, of course.
Magic: While he has no magic of his own, he once hired an enchanter to magically bind Skrin-Ko to him; this means that no-one can fire the Rifle but him. His machete is fair game, however.

Miscellaneous Notes: His name, 'Rimau Ekoy-Rimau Eng-Dasku', translates to 'Rimau, son of Rimau, times twelve'. It's not his full name.
Due to the nature of his work, he often takes medicine to keep him awake for extremely long periods of time. As a consequence, when he's not working, he is something of a heavy sleeper.
He prefers warm, sunny, dry climates. He becomes infinitely more grouchy in cold or wet environments.
He particularly enjoys smoking various herbal substances with a pipe. Keeps him calm and alert.