I can't believe I forgot about this one. As it happens often, we will still play it.
Name: Zamil Defter
Appearance: Black-grey hair, a sharply defined jaw opposed to a smooth brow, dull brown eyes, and ghostly-pale skin with a multitude of scars.
Armour: A mottled pattern of black, grey, and white designed to blend in with urban environments. It usually seems to have a fog around it, almost like a gillie suit.
Family: Seven sister, four brothers, three ex-wives, and more illegitimate children than he can count.
History: Quite the old hand, Defter has seen more things and lived to tell the tale than probably anyone alive. Defter chalks it up to his damn fine luck, his partner says it is because he never gets surprised. Well, more expresses with her eyes. Since he was a young man, Defter has found himself in the company of a Filar-Nitzan(no, I am not making this up, it's Cannon), one of the extremely rare smoke beings of legend. After a year of not knowing why he always found smoke near him, Nevtya, the Filar-Nitzan, managed to make contact with him. While a Filar-Nitzan could express emotion in it's eyes, more complex thoughts are almost impossible to express. That was until Defter managed to figure out how to tap into the same light spectrum the Filar-Nitzan used to communicate. With the modification firmly in his visor, he killed, sexed, smoked, ate, and swore his way through the galaxy. Until the Vong came knocking, he was planning on retiring. Obviously things changed.
Personality: A gruff man with little patience for formality or pretentiousness, he just wants to get the job done and go home. If you can think of a vice, he's got it. Not to overshadow his few redeeming qualities. Like his breath, which is always retched, or his morals, which are flimsy at best. But hey, if you want something right, you don't call in a pretty boy to do it. You call in the guy who's done it before. At least Defter thinks so.