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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Watus" data-source="post: 1156174" data-attributes="member: 14589">You ain't seen nothin' like the mighty Quinn.Force Commander J.C. Quinn, Imperial Marines (retired)Human (Mixed), Marine 6 / Traveller 6Str: 16 (+3)Dex: 14 (+2)Con: 18 (+4)Int: 14 (+2)Wis: 12 (+1)Cha: 11 (+0)Edu: 12 (+1)Soc: 5 (-3)BAB: +12 (9 + Martial Training)Melee: +15/+10/+5Ranged: +14/+9/+4Combat:Unarmed: +17/+12/+7 (1d4+3 x2) (Brawling + Imp Unarm + Weap Focus)Saves:Fort: +7 base + 4 CON = +11Refl: +5 base + 2 DEX = +7Will: +6 base + 1 WIS = +7Stamina: 120Lifeblood: 18Credits: 11,650XP: 66,000Languages: Galanglic (r/w), Irilitok (r/w), Trokh (r/w)Skills:Driving (4) 6Gather Information (6) 7Gunnery (10) 12Intimidate (8) 11K/Interstellar Law (5) 6Leadership (12) 14Pilot (4) 5P/Administrator (7) 8P/Cook (1) 2Ride (0) 3Sense Motive (12) 13Spot (10) 11Survival (6) 7T/Medical (2) 3Feats:AP Light, Medium, Vacc SuitBrawlingConnections (Military)Improved Unarmed StrikePoint Blank ShotRapid ShotTacticsVessels/GravVessels/Wheeled (HW)Weapon Focus (Brawling)Weapon Focus (Cutlass)WP Marksman, Combat Rifleman, Lasers, Swordsman, Ship's WeaponsZero G CombatEquipment:???Description:5'8", 215lbs, 42 yo, White, Male, Human, Hair: Blonde (short), Eyes: Blue (steely).If you'd never heard the expression "barrel-chested", you'd have no choice but to invent it on seeing Quinn for the first time.  If he were a dog, he'd be a pit bull, and in fact, there's a good resemblance there that only gets stronger as he ages.  His scarred knuckles and Marine Corps tattoos might give you the impression that he had a personality to match - and, in truth, you wouldn't be far off.  Details: Quinn has a large Marine Corps tattoo on the inside of his left forearm, and another tattoo of the face of a woman whose name he can't remember ("It was a long time ago, kid.  Now shut up.") on his right sholder.  He is missing the terminal digit from each of the last two fingers on his left hand.  They were bitten off in a bar fight and never recovered ("Little **** swallowed 'em.  I shoulda killed him just for that.")  He has a wide variety of other scars too numerous to mention.History: The men of Phlume have hard hands.  The women too: broad across the palm, with fingers like rolls of quarters.  Forearms tend toward the large, and backs are generally strong.  The endless plains can be unforgiving, and the people who work them have been shaped by the landscape's ungenerous nature.Phlume is the kind of world where people whoop when they're happy and holler when they're mad, and do each in about equal proportions.  It's the kind of world where the weather blows up fast and angry, and where there's not much to do indoors but drink and dance and fight.  It's the kind of world where when the calves reach slaughter weight, the schools declare a holiday, lest, being empty, they look like fools.  Phlume is the kind of world where children grow up strong and straight, and in the full knowledge that they are as far from the bright center of things as it is possible to be.Quinn's father had always assumed that his oldest would stick around and take over the ranch, but he would be sorely disappointed.  For as long as Quinn could remember, he had wanted nothing so much as to get offworld, and away from the stench of manure.  He was a decent student, and a good athelete.  He had the opportunity to go a good university and play [game], but he couldn't stand the idea of four more years on Phlume.  Unable to flee, he stayed and worked the ranch trying to save for a ticket off-world.  But it soon became clear that it would never happen - he had no talent for economy.  Trapped in the life he swore he'd never settle for, Quinn's wild streak got wilder, and soon a fight that ended in gunplay nearly landed him in prison.  And so his father dragged him down to the recruitment station and watched as his oldest son enlisted in the Imperial Marine Corps.  Quinn got his wish.  And he never saw Phlume again.The Marines were good for Quinn.  They channeled his aggression, and fostered his taste for responsibility.  He proved to be an excellent Marine, if a bit wild when on leave.  After a few years working internal security, he was reassinged to Qaarz, in the Ley sector, as part of a Task Force designed to quell the growing Vargr resistance there.  He did his job, and did it well enough to be granted a commission, but he found himself secretly empathyzing with the Vargr.  Thoroughly dominated and belittled by their Luriani overlords, the impoverished Vargr turned to violence out of desperation.  It was a situation Quinn recognized well enough.  It was here, on Qaarz, that he was first driven to display his embarassingly wide heroic streak.  Out of ammo, Quinn ran through the crossfire of a pitched battle to guide a small group of Vargr and Luriani children out of harm's way.  He was given the Medal for Conspicuous Gallantry, and earned the respect of the Vargr resistance as well as of his own superiors.He would spend nearly 20 years of his life with the Marines.  During that time he would prove himself to be a competent administrator as well as a hard charger.  In return, the Marines would decorate him repeatedly, and finally elevate him to the rank of Force Commander before he decided it was time for him to move on.  When he was a young and angry man, the structure of a military life had been exactly what Quinn had needed to thrive.  But as he entered middle age, he found it beginning to chafe, and as his third marriage entered its inevitable tailspin, he realized it was time for him to do something else with his life.  It was time for him to let his hair grow a bit, and maybe shave a little less often than twice a day.  It was time for him to report to no one but himself.  And so he resigned his commission, signed the divorce papers, and booked passage on the first tramp freighter off world.It's now four years later, and Quinn's found that the life agrees with him.  He's as free as he wants to be.  The skills he gained in the Marines are much in demand and he is never without work.  Except for now.  But the fact that the bank repossesed the aptly named "Occassional Cash" was hardly his fault.  Neither was the fact that her captain had proven to be miserable speculative trader.  But now, on Darumm, out of work and with the end of his savings in sight, he enters the lottery and hopes for the best.  Surely someone on Dukh will see the value of his experience and give him the leg up he needs to begin the next phase of his life.  In any case, he sure as hell isn't going back to Phlume.Homeworld: <a href="http://www.utzig.com/cgi-bin/iai/system_info.pl?UID=&Sectors=Spinward_Marches&Hex=1611&UID=" target="_blank">Phlume</a> 1611 C887624-8 - NI Ag G 610 Im G5 V M8 D</blockquote>

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