[table][row][cell] 
[hr][h2][color=#0080ff]Big Mo[/color][/h2][hr]
[justify][color=Gainsboro]Born in the bustling heart of Lagos, Earth's most populated mega-city, Mo came from a hard-working family who worked the dockyards. From a young age, he was destined to the same path; gifted with formidable strength, he found the grueling physical labour of a stevedore more manageable than most. By his late teens, he had demonstrated an excellent eye for detail. This, coupled with his tireless work-ethic, drew him to successfully enlisting for a procurement and logistics apprenticeship within the Sol Federation military-supply chain. He was well suited to the role, effectively managing shipments, manifests and paperwork while taking a hands-on role in cargo management.

Through his twenties, he grew disillusioned with the bureaucracy associated with the Sol Federation — endless forms, bribes, and cut corners all mounting up while ordinary dockers, like his own family, broke their backs. He eventually resigned and found himself looking for work in Jovian Blocspace, aware that it would not only pay better, but that the paperwork wouldn't be as needlessly convoluted. He eventually found himself in the employ of Garran "Gravel" Voith, adapting his procurement expertise to fence-work.

Broad, burly and tall, you could be forgiven for mistaking Mo for an enforcer. While he is comfortable getting into a scrap, his priorities lie elsewhere. With a broad smile and a booming laugh, he is significantly less intimidating once befriended. While disinterested with wider politics, he is loyal to friends and families — but ultimately, as a pragmatist, he won't risk his life for ideology. With a natural, jolly "fixer" personality, he has a good eyes for taking hot goods and legitimising them.

[b]Traits:[/b] Hard-working, pragmatic, dependable, detail-oriented, resilient, physically strong, grounded, adaptable, resourceful, streetwise, approachable, friendly, jolly, easygoing, apolitical, good-humored, sociable, observant.[/color][/justify][/cell][cell][sub][sup][color=2e2c2c]____________________________________________________________________________[/color][/sup][/sub][hr][color=Gainsboro][h3]◤  [sub]“Count out the 3s, I’ll do the rest.”[/sub][/h3][/color]
[img]https://i.pinimg.com/736x/f9/ac/b8/f9acb883633696fa49937ad5c24d056d.jpg[/img]
[hr][color=ff3838][b]Full Name:[/b][/color] Mohammed Kwasi Tochukwu
[color=ff3838][b]Age:[/b][/color] 34
[color=ff3838][b]Homeworld:[/b][/color] Earth
[color=ff3838][b]Occupation:[/b][/color] Procurement Officer / Fence
[color=ff3838][b]Affiliation(s):[/b][/color] Sol Federation Navy (formerly), "Gravel"
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[hr][h2][color=#0080ff]Brenko[/color][/h2][hr]
[justify][color=Gainsboro]Europa is a land of commerce and opportunity: a magnet for the successful or ambitious; a place to double or triple their existing wealth. For those who were born and raised on Europa, however, particularly in the underbelly of its capital, Galileo, life is not so glamorous. In fact, it is a most unfortunate place to be born. Crime is rife, and unless it impedes upon the profit margins of the Commonwealth, it is left to fester.

Brenko was a Galilean street urchin as a child, and a thug as a teen. To crawl out from the cracks of civilisation, one must dirty their hands, and dirty them he did. He had no access to an academic education, so he learned how to kill instead. He first took a life at thirteen years old, and by twenty he had lost count. In truth, he was one of the lucky ones; he had the ice-cold nerve of a hunter, and the dexterity to wield weapons effectively. Where others were unable to drag themselves from the detritus of the slumlands, Brenko crawled and clambered his way out, doing whatever he could to find a better life. By his twenties, he'd escaped the darkest corners of Europa and found himself consistent, well-paying mercenary work. For the next twenty years he would work dozens of contracts, mostly as a part of private armies for corpo Guilds.

A gruff, blunt, and antisocial man, Brenko will avoid 'team building' and crew interaction at all costs, usually gravitating to wherever on the ship is least busy, lest he find a kindred spirit who is comfortable with silence. Now in his late fourties, Brenko's lethal edge is beginning to dull, pushing him into life as a corsair' more sporadic in its physical demands (for every field operation, there are days of drifting from A to B; a better life for the weary bones of an ageing hunter). He makes no effort to mask his distaste for corpos, but he is also acutely aware that are, and have always been, the source of his paycheck. He does not like Everest, and does not pretent to, but to him: helios are king.

Traits: Cold, hardened, cynical, ruthless, professional, sharp-eyed, calculating, intimidating, detached, opportunistic, adaptable, bitter, humourless, selfish, methodical, distrustful, survival-driven, world-weary.[/color][/justify][/cell][cell][sub][sup][color=2e2c2c]____________________________________________________________________________[/color][/sup][/sub][hr][color=Gainsboro][h3]◤  [sub]“Hormatyňyzy saklaň, maňa töläň.”[/sub][/h3][/color]
[img]https://i.pinimg.com/1200x/84/11/86/841186e5da7967fb76483278424bed40.jpg[/img]
[hr][color=ff3838][b]Full Name:[/b][/color] Brenko Temirkhan
[color=ff3838][b]Age:[/b][/color] 47
[color=ff3838][b]Homeworld:[/b][/color] Europa
[color=ff3838][b]Occupation:[/b][/color] Headhunter
[color=ff3838][b]Affiliation(s):[/b][/color] Various merc groups (formerly)
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[hr][h2][color=#0080ff]Dr. Treschow[/color][/h2][hr]
[justify][color=Gainsboro]Once upon a time, Erling Treschow wore a white coat and latex gloves; a Federation-certified physician who worked at the prestigious Schiaparelli Memorial Hosptial in Tharsis, Mars. He'd been a family man, with a wife and two children. At some point, for reasons buried deep in Federal bureaucracy and sealed files, he was delicensed. Rumours on Callisto, where he has made his home for the last fifteen years, vary dramatically; malpractice, thievery, corruption, experimentation, and every other possible explanation under the sun. Treschow himself never speaks of it.

It is not uncommon for the Sol Federation to chew up and spit out its people and for them to then make their way to Jovian Blocspace. Most find the adaptation to be challenging, and never truly acclimatise to the grime and lies. Treschow, however, was willing to wade through the muck to carve out a life for himself on the sooty, industrial moon of Callisto. For many years, he offered his services to anyone who would pay for them; often mercenaries who sought out cheap alternatives to corpo-ran private hospitals. His clinic was a murky rented room in Mandragora space port. It wasn't pretty; but if you needed a bullet digging out, a wound stitched, or a black-market implant installed, he was a good value option. Recently, local corporations have chased him out of town for impeding on their business, and he has sought alternative work. Though outwardly gruff and unflinching, Treschow carries himself with a dry wit and a disquieting fascination for his craft. Some of his patients swear he enjoys his work little too much, as he is prone to treat surgery more like a puzzle than a human life in his hands. He is discreet and tight-lipped about personal matters, yet prideful of his skill, always insisting on being called Doctor. Aboard [i]the Dullahan[/i], he will happily engage in conversation with crew members, but is equally content being left to his devices.

[b]Traits:[/b] Calm, secretive, eccentric, intelligent, cynical, unscrupulous, resourceful, dry-humored, dark-humoured, discreet, prideful, unnerving, morbid fascination, jaded, unemotional, clinical, unflappable, calculating.[/color][/justify][/cell][cell][sub][sup][color=2e2c2c]____________________________________________________________________________[/color][/sup][/sub][hr][color=Gainsboro][h3]◤  [sub]“I don’t ask questions. Don't you.”[/sub][/h3][/color]
[img]https://i.pinimg.com/736x/e6/8f/be/e68fbef9378440209ac6e5498deec8ca.jpg[/img]
[hr][color=ff3838][b]Full Name:[/b][/color] Dr. Erling Treschow
[color=ff3838][b]Age:[/b][/color] 50
[color=ff3838][b]Homeworld:[/b][/color] Mars
[color=ff3838][b]Occupation:[/b][/color] Surgeon
[color=ff3838][b]Affiliation(s):[/b][/color] Schiaparelli Memorial Hosptial (formerly)
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