[b]Full name:[/b] Maurice Pfeifer.
[b]Gender:[/b] Male.
[b]Age:[/b] 29.
[b]Physical description:[/b] 1.70 meters tall, 120lbs. Black-haired, worn medium-short and unkempt, with a full beard about 5 cm long. Crooked, aquiline nose, and dark, brown eyes.

[img]https://images-ext-2.discordapp.net/external/HSFNTGSfvh3Bsv7f4F-zG0MQ4gAFrCvazVXSgZFD3OU/https/i.imgur.com/WatPjg0.jpg?width=463&height=627[/img]

[b]Personality:[/b] A practical man, always restless and looking for something to busy himself with. Never seems to be alone, and has that general attitude so common among wastelanders, one tough cookie.

[b]Backstory:[/b] 

Maurice was born in a water mining outpost, deep in the wasteland. The outpost was built on top of a sizeable aquifer, deep within an expansive cavern system that required the miners to delve into the underground to operate the machinery needed to pump the water out to the surface, where it could be loaded onto airships.

It was a tough living, but it was a living. From an early age, he and the other children of the settlement would help around the mine, taking tools, food, and supplies down to the uppermost levels of the complex. It was expensive machinery, and temperamental, too. Leaks and breakages were common, and as Maurice grew, he realized that theft was too.

It was lucrative business for men to 'overlook' some leaks, and to stash away the losses to be sold on the side, for a profit. As Maurice grew, so did the problem, and soon the overseers of the mine saw fit to double their security. 

A militia of sorts was levied, and Maurice proved a natural with a rifle. He avoided his father's underpaid wages and meager living, and took on a gun and a mean attitude. 

But the Dims were few and the shifts were long. Maurice soon found himself involved in the very practices he was meant to oppose. He and a few others from the watch were approached by an agent interested in acquiring the cargo from a convoy, at a discount. 

Maurice and his fellows were assigned to the convoy, in a rather 'fortunate' turn of events. The pay was very good, and no one aboard the Class C vessel expected their own guards to be in on it. The crew weren't willing to die for a few thousand gallons of water.

Piracy suited them, somewhat. They knew where the pipes were, they knew the routes the airships took, and they knew what guns they carried. For a while, it worked out.

Until it didn't. The outposts stepped up their game, they hired tighter crews, professional security. It soon cost more to make a raid than it did to purchase legally. So their employers ended their agreement. 

Maurice got his pay, and tried to enjoy it in peace. But a warning came to him one day. One of the men from his former gang appeared at his doorstep, unnerved to the core. The men they had cheated were after them, with a vengeance.

With a head start, Maurice managed to set out once again and sold most his belongings to purchase some equipment. But it became obvious he wouldn't get far, not in a world so dangerous, where any one man with a gun could make a quick Dis by putting a bullet in his skull. 

But he had skills, and the fall of Tholmhaven had given rise to men who just might need those skills... and so, with a dust storm raging strong all around, alone in a rusted skyport, with little but a rifle and some spare clothes, Maurice boarded the first ship that would take him.

[b]Description:[/b] Maurice was a water miner, men who delve deep underground in claustrophobic conditions, to operate and repair heavy machinery known to be as deadly as it is expensive. He's spent most of his life in danger, and is well used to the pressure of life-threatening situations. Having served as an armed guard in the wastes soon after, he's also no stranger to firefights, or airships, for that matter.

He's something of a short fellow, a product of the cramped tunnels and poor nutrition of his birthplace, but is quick and agile, even in tight places where other men would be reduced to a crawl.

Back home, in his free time he hunted and played cards to pass the time. He wasn't very good at either.

[b]Skills:[/b] He's a fair shot with a rifle, and strong from having spent a lifetime working the water mines. He's well used to running in cramped spaces, and his short stature makes it easy for him. The heat of the wasteland doesn't bother him as much as it might do to others, given he's accustomed to the sweltering temperatures underground. 

He's also familiar with the layout of the land around his hometown, having spent several years traversing the wasteland as a convoy guard.

[b]Quirks:[/b] He's very much not fond of the sunlight, or crowds. Open spaces and idleness make him nervous. Silence is nearly unbearable.
[b]Other:[/b] He really likes omelettes. Like a lot.