[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/k8P7wia.jpg[/img][/center]

[color=7C685D][b][u][b]Character Name[/b][/u][/b] [/color]
[indent]Corcan of The Caves[/indent]
[color=7C685D][b][u]Character Age[/u][/b][/color]
[indent]42[/indent]
[color=7C685D][b][u]Physical Information[/u][/b][/color]
[indent]Corcan is a typical specimen of the mountains; short and broad-shouldered, with ruddy olive skin accentuated by the mauve shades of dirt he is constantly covered in. His eyes and hair are brown, his teeth a dulling yellow-ivory, and his voice a grumbling, hoarse baritone. His features are squat and squareish, from the shape of his frame to the shape of his face, and his eyes are deep-set, as squinted and beady as a mole. He has been bald and bearded for nearly half of his life, preferring to wear a bandana, skullcap, or helmet whenever possible, becoming twice as irate as usual if he is seen as a bald man for more than a few seconds.

His body is a stocky ball of muscle, kept stitched together in an array of scar tissue and furlike hair, with meaty clublike hands almost constantly balled into fists. Corcan does not bear the healed wounds of a soldier or even the cauliflowered ears of a pugilist, though his lifetime of strife is visible in his muscles and the historied industrial accidents Myar's mines have left on his body -- Namely, his missing left pinky finger and missing right leg, which has been replaced just below the knee with a peg leg and rectangular chunk of wood cut vaguely into the shape of a foot. Aside from his lifetime of working in tight conditions, hard-drinking, red meat, and pipe smoking, most would agree it is the peg leg that makes Corcan the slowest member of the team.[/indent]
[color=7C685D][b][u]Psychological Information[/u][/b][/color]
[indent]Corcan is about as gruff and unfriendly as you'd expect a man repaid for a lifetime of toil with a suicide mission to be. He knows he has been sent out to serve a purpose, and while his temper does not keep him from attempting to fulfill his purpose, it does put him at ends with the crew, who he essentially believes to be young, hesitant, and inexperienced. For all his boasting, the mines scratched out of the mountain caves host some of Myar's most terrifying creatures, which is ostensibly the [i]sole reason[/i] he believes himself to be better-suited for the task at hand than the rest of the crew. In spite of this experience, he suffers from violent, bed-wetting nightmares centered around the creatures he has seen and had brief interactions with in the caves, a strong sign of weakness he subconsciously covers with a work ethic, a cruel demeanor, and a demand to sleep separately from the rest of the crew.[/indent]
[color=7C685D][b][u]Biography[/u][/b][/color]
[indent]Corcan was born in a small community at the base of the Craggog Mountains, to one of the lowest castes of hermit colonies; hamlet dwellers who lived by mountain walls and had the most Wastelander interaction, be it trade or invasion, which led them to gradually intermarry over generations. His father was a stonemason whose name was the Wastelander word for [i]Dusk[/i], while his mother was a cart puller whose name roughly translated to "Mossy Log". Their baby, of course, would be given a name that meant "Silty Mud." Indeed, the wall-hermits were far from the living paragons of Myar's cultural advancements, though their life was a simple, honest life. Few were simpler and more honest than Corcan.

Growing up with relatively few paths to choose from, Corcan chose the most intrepid available path to valley hermits -- The Path of Caves. The miners who studied this path considered themselves the unheard backbone of mountain hermit society, a feature which has undoubtedly affected Corcan's view of himself and the world. Because those who follow the path of caves [i]create[/i] caves, it is paramount that they study the way mountains form, how cave-ins occur, and how to strip mine entire mountains for ore without creating a sinkhole beneath the mountaintop civilizations. As Corcan would grow older, he would grow more jaded. The Path of Caves, as he had found, hardly ended at proper excavation techniques.

As Corcan and his fellow miners mined deeper into the planet, they would have increasingly strange experiences with the native lifeforms beneath the caves they called "Scratchers" for the strong nails they used to climb up stalagtites. Sometimes, Corcan would only see them in a flash of movement in the corner of his eye, jumping between cave pillars into far-off caverns. Other times, Corcan would turn on his flashlight to find one yards in front of him, hungrily scooping out the chest cavity of a missing miner like a child hollowing a gourd. Corcan's experiences in the mines haunt him, and in a way, leave him thankful for his random selection. Despite the millions of miles between himself and the Scratchers, they still haunt his memory, having now become a full-fledged phobia for the otherwise stalwart, stone-faced miner.[/indent]