[center][h1]Earther[/h1]
[h2]Name:[/h2][h3]Jonathan Alexander Vanderswift[/h3][h2]Age:[/h2][h3]95[/h3][h2]Appearance:[/h2][h3]Height: 5'8" 
Weight: 110 lbs
In his prime, he was taller and weighed more.[/h3]
[img]https://previews.123rf.com/images/iakovenko/iakovenko1802/iakovenko180200430/95187217-sorrowful-old-man-holding-his-eyeglasses-with-vacant-look-he-is-sitting-in-invalid-chair-and-sufferi.jpg[/img][h2]Personality:[/h2] 
Charming, free spirit, adaptable, a child at heart, calm, and calculating. He can be stubborn when he thinks something should be a specific way. During the end years of his life, he gave into depression mainly due to the fact he couldn’t care for himself anymore. He tried to not give in to that too much by delving deeper into his work with cybernetic enhancements and limb replacements. [h2]Biography:[/h2]The start of his life was like most in his era. He went to school and learned what he could. Never one to stand out, he made sure not to get the “best” grades. Mainly because he didn’t want the attention. The day came to enlist. It was simple enough for him to poke around to find out what he needed to do in order to get the classification he wanted. Sniper, Ranger. His life went more or less the same after that. Training. This was all like school. It probably helped that he grew up in a more militaristic family. 

Sadly, this is where he stood out far beyond the others. In order to combat the ire of his fellows he started cracking jokes and became known as the laughing man. His career took him all over the world… well, small parts all over the world. At around the age of 35, he took a spinal injury saving a platoon that was pinned by enemy fire. After that, he was honorably discharged and given a stipend for his services. He was also awarded a few medals. 

Not one to tell what he kept from the war, he ended up collecting a small arsenal of weapons over his years. After selling those too rich collectors, he took the funds and founded his business. This was, of course, a year or so after his rehabilitation. The reason for his business was for other war vets like him. The small stipend that he received for years of service was enough for a few months, maybe a year to live on. His business was built to help others like him rebuild their lives as well as themselves. 

On that Day: “Ninety-five and I can’t move. I think I crapped my pants and I’m so old that I can’t even tell.” He thought to himself dejectedly as he laid in bed. A small sigh passed his lips. Deep down he wanted to just die. However, there were people that needed him. His business for disabled vets had grown and thanks to the hearts and donations of others it was prosperous. “What is that noise?” His voice was raspy and airy. Slowly, as he sat up only to scream out as a blinding light washed over him. “Was this the end? Am I free?” Were the last things he thought while in his bed on the top floor. If his body were to be found later, he would have died with a smile on his face. Always the laughing man.

[hr]

[h1]Other Worlder[/h1]
[h2]Name:[/h2][h3]Alexander[/h3][h2]Age:[/h2][h3]20[/h3][h2]Planet:[/h2][h3]Unknown[/h3][h2]Profession:[/h2][h3]Gladiator (Presumably)[/h3]
[img]https://i.pinimg.com/originals/b3/83/ba/b383bafe337ae3e61a879ec4e55c164a.gif[/img][h2]Personality Quirks:[/h2][h3]Unknown[/h3][h2]Equipment / Items[/h2][h3]Trident
Net
Scutum: large oblong shield
Galea: plumed helmet with a visor and small eye holes
Gladius: short sword
Manicae: leather elbow or wristbands
Greaves: leg armor that went from ankle to just below the knee.
Knife [/h3][h2]Skills:[/h2][h3]Unknown[/h3][h2]Biography:[/h2] [h3]Unknown[/h3]
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