-Name: Elias Vex
-Race: Human
-Age: 49
-Appearance: Standing at six feet tall and built of lean muscle, Vex is the very image of an older soldier. You can see it in his rigid stance and purposeful gait, however beset by a limp it may be. The hard lines on his face and the grey rapidly encroaching upon the rich oak of his hair and beard show his age clearly. The thick callouses on his knuckles suggest a man who knows how to throw some mean punches.
-Personality: Vex may come across initially as dry and aloof, yet beneath the exterior is a man who has spent his life fighting for something, and often being screwed for it at the end of the day. Yet, should you display to him a sufficient integrity, he may just end up following you through the gates of hell. Only someone who has been stabbed in the back knows the significance of true loyalty. You'll know he likes you when he cracks a smile at one of your jokes, and you'll know he really likes you when he cracks wise right back at you.
-Equipment: Vex is arriving to Tryliin with less than he'd like. He had to sell a lot of old gear to afford his pills, but he has kept his old .45 service sidearm and flak suit. Somewhere along the way he also procured a beat up, yet reliable combat shotgun and a bandolier of solid slugs.
Around town, Vex favours plain, rugged clothes and sturdy boots. Thankfully his flak suit is just subtle enough to be worn underneath any standard attire.
In lieu of any close-quarters weapons, Vex has his fists, which he can make even better use of with his gloves. With metal pads over the knuckles and heel of the palm they hurt like hell and stabilize the fingers so he has no need to worry about breaking any fingers.
Here's hoping his first proper paycheck can afford him some better gear.
-Abilities: Vex can pick up and use just about any small-arm you give him, though he favours shorter range encounters over distance fights. If he can close the distance on you and put a slug through your brain, or punch your throat into your spine, all the better.
He is perhaps even more adept at beating the absolute living piss out of an opponent owing back to his pugilistic past, yet he's smart enough to know not to try and employ such techniques against any prick with power armour.
He can also use his old injury to his advantage. You'd be surprised how many people fall for the helpless old man bit, only to have their nostrils uppercut right back into their brains for it.
-Bio: Vex started life as a grunt, young and smooth-faced thinking he was going to make his mark on the universe, explore the stars and go on wonderful space-faring adventures.
The fucking naivety of youth, huh?
After graduating basic, he was placed in a planet-side unit on some bumfuck nothing world where the most action he saw was the slap of mop on tile. This wasn't the life he was made for, and he knew it. Yet, he made the most of it. Vex devoted himself to physical and martial discipline, while also diving headfirst into the ancient arts of pugilism. Not a bad way to earn some extra scratch, and there was only so much practice a bag and a sparring partner could provide.
Once his service ended, he declined a second enlistment, instead enrolling in special forces. Surely that had to be the answer, right?
Wrong again.
Yeah, he went on missions, but most of his day-to-day life consisted of being on-call and never away from HQ.
Growing increasingly frustrated by the military life, Vex took his papers and walked away, taking his skills to Markindine. If you asked him about it now, he'd tell you it was the best time of his life, and simultaneously the worst. If you followed up with asking him if it was all worth it? He'd get a far away look in his eyes and fall silent, unable to answer.
He certainly saw a lot of action, but the veneer began to fad and he realized he was just a blunt object sent to displace people from their homes and lives. The company told him they were dangerous rebels and insurgents, that they were the bad guys and the righteous hands of Markindine would be the good folks salvation.
Bullshit, all of it. The folks he killed may have been raining down rapid hell fire upon him, but they were just ordinary men and women trying to protect their homes and way of life.
His final mission with Markindine was supposed to be a typical sweep job. Take the team in and cleanse the land for a new business venture to blossom in its place. Vex took a high-caliber sniper round to the knee that nearly took his whole damn leg off. Half the squad were reduced to ribbons and in the end he and those left were reprimanded for not "maintaining the integrity of the site". He was just a number that cost money, and he had just firmly landed himself in the red. They fixed him up and after the mission that left him, in his words, a cripple and in theirs "operationally unfit", he was discarded with a pittance of a severance pay and a pat on the back. No pension, no thanks for your service...hell, not even a cushy gig at a desk.
All Vex ever wanted was a cause worthy of his life, and a life worthy of his cause. Something those pencil pushers at Markindine would never have known, or cared to even ask. Instead they left him with permanent physical damage and a growing addiction to painkillers.
-Goal: Tryliin is far, far away from any kind of life Vex has. Even though folks call it dead or a wasteland, some even call it hell, there's something almost romantic about the idea of it. Like a pioneer from one of those ancient stories of settlers and pilgrims. Perhaps he'd try his luck with the Rail Riders. They stood for a good cause, and would probably welcome even him. Though rumour has it some upstart named Phoenix wants to start a company. Ex-Silverstone, they say. Man might just put a bullet in Vex's head if he knew he was former Markindine, but life was no fun without the risk. Why not try and set up a meet and greet?
