Name: Bartok
Age: 40
Gender: Man
Species: Human
Appearance: 6'2", shoulder length wavy hair (soft black and grey) with the top tied back. 2 foot long beard in a single braid. The hair seems to be (mostly) covering up Martian face-tattoos, the only one fully visible is a heavy dark green line across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. Olive skinned, blue eyes. Usually dressed in a flannel shirt, denim jeans, combat boots,  and an old, worn grey longcoat, like the kind worn by imperial soldiers...

Personality: Stoic; doesn't speak unless spoken to, and keeps his responses brief. Gets anxious, even agitated while his flask is empty (it is rarely empty). Functional Alcoholic, takes frequent sips throughout negotiations or heated conversations, but never takes his eyes off the opposition. Doesn't seem comfortable making his own decisions,  often glances in the captains direction,  like he's looking for guidance, or approval. 

Brief Backstory: Former Imperial Soldier, born and raised on Mars. Doesn't talk about his time in service, and ignores anyone who tries to press him on it. Gets up and leaves the room if conversation comes to an event referred to commonly as "The Martian Massacre"; a militant crackdown in response to murmurs of dissent when knowledge of the Emperors failing health leaked to the public. It got so bad there were actually a couple strikes from orbit before order was restored. [i]Official[/i] reports claimed that there were no survivors in the targeted zones; orbital strikes don't recognize friend or foe...

Equipment: grey longcoat,  bowie knife, utility belt with shoulder straps for additional pockets. Worn but functional standard infantry Rifle,  complete with flip-lock lance blade in the butt of the rifle. Canteen that does not contain water. Broken device with a button on it which he has never explained to anyone.

Skills: hand to hand combat,  simple sewing, ground tactics,  plays violin.