[hider=Dead Money]Baddest battleship in the galaxy. More to come soon.[/hider]

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[b]Logan Krosair
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[img]https://i.imgur.com/xVnuOcR.jpg[/img]

Age: 46 
Species: Steel Warden (Commander)
Sex: Male

	Logan "Top" Krosair is the owner and captain of the Orion-class warship [i]Dead Money[/i] and the man diametrically responsible for establishing the 5-man [i]Hellsong Guardians[/i] mercenary group.

	A born and bred Gearshift "Steel Warden" through and through, Logan is of the dreadfully rare yet exceedingly potent "Commander" phenotype of the Steel Warden subspecies. 

	And like all Commanders, Logan has access to the [i]Ethereal Thole[/i], a metaphysical "quirk" that, at the cost of his own mortal longevity, permits him to temporarily rewrite the conventional laws of physics on a restricted scale by tapping into a prohibitively dangerous quantity of psionic power to forcibly compel any machine that he is directly piloting to maintain its structural integrity even when struck by a cataclysmic blow that would have otherwise seen it destroyed outright. 

[[WIP]]

[b]Vor’Keth the Defiler[/b]

[img]https://i.imgur.com/0BLWzIl.jpg[/img]

"[i]I presented your sect with two choices: either they gave me the baddest son of a bitch they had on call---or they'd face the [i]'Money[/i]. And so they gave me you.[/i]"

Age: 378
Sex: Male
Species: Howling Furrows Beast Machine 
	
	Affectionately represented to others as “everything wrong with Wild Space rolled into twelve metric tons of psycho robot cat” by Captain Krosair, Vor’Keth is a carnal, four-legged concoction of high-pressure electro-hydraulic actuators and unholy malignancy who serves as Dead Money’s chief ground operations element and on-board security detail.

	Vor’Keth hails from deep within the [i]Howling Furrows[/i], a Wild Space locality universally disreputable for playing host to a collective of fiercely territorial “Primal Age” Beast Machines known as the [i]Cerise Sons[/i]. Although scant in number, the Sons were quite broad in their collective fame throughout Wild Space and beyond, perhaps being best known for engaging in such a grotesque echelon of vehemence and debased savagery that even the somewhat “less” bellicose members of the Beast Machine race actively avoided drawing too close to their ever-expanding jurisdiction zones out of fear of opening themselves up to violent molestation by a cohort of these slaughterous synthetics. On the battlefield, the Sons were [i]deathly[/i] efficient in their war workmanship, functioning as one cohesive unit with a singular direction rather than a gaggle of crazed war machines each with his own personal agenda like so many of the engines outside of the Furrows were so apt to do. 

	Though young and inexperienced, Vor’Keth served honorably with the Cerise Sons for three standard centuries, taking part in thousands of planetary flash raids and assaults against fledgling alien civilizations and encroaching opportunistic explorers within the Howling Furrows. He ripped and tore and sundered his way to magnificent prestige--securing a mountain of gruesome war trophies and prestigious battle honors in the process--and even earning the gilded boon of being sanctioned by his sect's Sovereign to head his own strike force into the fray. 

	And so terrible was Vor'Keth's streak for violence, so decorated his war mantle, that some within his sect began to legitimately believe that he was preordained by unseen forces to contest the reigning Sovereign of the Cerise Sons for his exalted position. Vor'Keth's support base grew. Many were pushing him to issue a challenge to the Sovereign for his title. 

	Unfortunately, Vor'Keth would be charged with committing a capital transgression by an astonishingly jealous rival sect mate before he was able to put that challenge to action. Vor'Keth knew the clan's behavioral tenets and time-honored traditions by heart and knew something was gravely askew about this accusation, yet before he could formally defend himself in front of the Cerise Sons' sentencing tribunal, Vor’Keth was apprehended, swiftly stripped of all accumulated honors and his command station, and then left aimlessly adrift in a remote sector of the Furrows with no wireless communications capabilities at his disposal. 

	But fate would grace him with the arrival of Logan Krosair and his titanic warship. Unable to move and surely powerless in the face of a combat craft of such awesome might, Vor'Keth could only watch in muted fury as two hefty maintenance drones sped from the ship and plucked the hapless Beast Machine from the blackness of space. When he was deposited in the ship's largest cargo hold, Vor'Keth would meet Logan Krosair, whom generously explained to the dishonored synthetic that he did not actually defile the Cerise Sons' customs or laws in any shape or form, but that he was rather one keystone component in a grander scheme that was apparently bigger than all of Wild Space combined. 

	"Once we're done, you'll be the Sovereign of every sect in existence my friend, not just the Sons. Put that petty animosity you have for my kind away and let's do good work."

[b]Personality[/b]

Like nearly all Cerise Sons, Vor’Keth is profoundly vainglorious and emotionally unflinching. Fear is an alien emotion to him, and he relishes thoroughly in the elysian ding of war and the heartwarming sounds of the dying, feeling nary a shred of ruefulness for the unspeakable woe that he inflicts upon those damned enough to find themselves locked in his target reticles. He considers himself the ultimate warrior, and has vowed to return to the Howling Furrows one day to solidify this personal belief into objective fact by defeating the Cerise Sons' current Sovereign in ritual combat. 

Even though he has been disgraced and defamed by his old sect, Vor’Keth pays due homage to his birthplace’s unsavory reputation, remaining resolute and unapologetic in the pride that he maintains for his Howling Furrows heritage and for his Cerise Sons membership in particular. 

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