Nick PC Name Position Description
OpenSent Harland Banks Engineer Former Petty Officer (Boatswain's Mate, Engineman or similar) who served on an Indepent blockcade runner. Harland lost his left leg below the knee during the war, so he doesn't get around as well as most folks. A touch of whisky keeps the pain at bay most days, and he's like to get a little ornery if he doesn't get his daily nip. Harland doesn't care much for the Alliance, they took his leg in the battle of Sturges and he's damned if he's gonna go hat-in-hand to some Core world to get a cybernetic replacment.

Kender Erin Fitzpatrick Pilot
History: Erin Fitzpatrick really didn't have much of an issue with life growing up. She spent her childhood on Londinium and although was dubbed "overly curious", the young days passed without note. Once in High School she was tested for certain 'aptitudes' by an up and coming fed-sponsored school, but she did not make the cut. She was told that she was very intelligent, but had some mental abberations that precluded her inclusion. (She has a voracious thirst for knowledge, and has tremendous capacity to memorize and do math equations in her head.) Instead, her coordination and smarts earned her a scholarship years later to an Alliance Military Academy where she trained flying light and medium craft.
Piloting delighted her, and she found something that compared to her love of reading - flying. She really despises the notion of combat, and her tendancy to try and outfly and evade instead of attacking got her relegated to a non-combat wing of Alliance Military Transport division - driving mid-bulk-transports from one Fed Station to another.

Even though during the Independance War, she was decorated twice for running past blockades that were cutting off lines of supply, and the Browncoats were sent running, she was cashed out after only 2 years' service. Her odd personality quirks that were overlooked during wartime, earned her a medical discharge and a kick in the ass to the dirt on Persephone now that "peace" had broken out. With only a small bit of savings and a trunk full of gear and data discs, she moved onto trying to find a place for herself out in the Black. She has no strong ties to the Alliance, although a bit of resentment that they cut her off from all the cortex access she had while in service. 

Personality: Erin is a very striking woman, a hair over six feet in height and with dark red hair that she keeps braided while on ship. She doesn't seem to care too much for her appearance, so this gives her very much a "girl next door" look than "courtesan or companion", but nonetheless she draws the eye, but is pretty much unaware or uncaring about the attention. Erin is also very trusting, and loyal to her crew, but sometimes she gets taken for a ride by any ung jeong jia ching jien soh that feeds her a convincing line. She is reading constantly, always with her nose in a databook during any free time, and can be heard sometimes reading out loud to herself in a soft murmur. She tends to stay on-ship when she can due to her allergies (she despises going onto agricultural planets - they make her sneeze for *days*) but one of her hobbies sometimes draws her planetside - she loves to take still photographs and has quite the eye for composition.

Disintegration Mildred Wong 1st Mate
Mildred "Millie" Wong was born to life on the frontier. In the old west of Earth-That-Was, she would have held a rifle at her husband's side onboard a Conestoga wagon and ridden out into the grasslands in search of their own place in the world. Out here, in the 'Verse, things aren't so much different.
At the age of fifteen, she married Darren Wong of Lilac, who she met while bringing her family's crops to market one afternoon. A short courtship followed, and then they bought a share in a migrant boat going to Jiangyin to start new cattle ranches. For ten years, their lives were peaceful, busy, and childless. Then the Alliance came calling on the outer planets and Darren took it into his head to stand alongside the other Browncoats. Millie shared a weaker form of his sentiments and all of his stubbornness, leading to the sale of their ranch and enlistment papers for her husband.

Rather than signing up to kill others, Millie asked to be allowed to volunteer in the supply chain and assist the quartermasters of her husband's unit. There, she put her formidable organizational skills to work while also arranging entertainment for the troops - including some of her own guitar playing.
Tragedy struck sooner, rather than later, when an Alliance expeditionary force stumbled across their supply convoy and blew several of the transports out of the skies over Hera. Darren was onboard one of the boats that went down, leaving a grievng and horrified Millie to face the 'Verse alone.
In the time since the Alliance victory, she has plied her varied skills across multiple planets, stations, and moons, often traveling as a minstrel or roustabout and never afraid to do what she must to get by.

Role: Face/Negotiations (except with Alliance), entertainer, secondary gunhand/tech. She's not amazing at anything other than music, but can put her hand to whatever is set before her.
Personality: Generally friendly and approachable, with a sardonic and self-deprecating sense of humor, Millie usually doesn't have trouble making friends with anyone she meets. Despite being born and raised in agricultural environments, she can generally get along with people from any walk of life, with one major exception. The cold fury she feels upon discovering someone she's met served on the Alliance side of the Unification War leads to a stony silence unless they go out of their way to provoke her. As a side effect of her feelings, she avoids the Core unless dire need or incredible fortune push her there. Fighting is not her first answer to any situation, but she has no remorse about using violence as a tool once the guns come out. 

Alliance Officer who went AWOL after his hometown was bombed by his commanding officer who heard a rumor that it was harboring a browncoat plattoon.  After the war he spent alot of time traveling from planet to planet staying out of sight of hte alliance and trying to survive.  He carries the typical training of alliance soldeirs with some new tricks picked up out on the rim. 

Picture a gray, crochety head surgeon from an Osiris Hospital. He was just recently 'let go' from the company after 10 years, thanks to the discovery that years ago, he was involved in the research and development of paxilon hydrochlorate. You see, the Miranda incident has brought about a full investigation, with certain information under full disclosure. The hospital wants nothing to do with the incident, so they demanded an early retirement from their head surgeon. This, of course, did not help his pre-existing drinking problem. He's wrongly un-employed, and resents every moment of it. He's highly skilled, but doesn't want to hear about it. He'd prefer to get outside the core for a while, at least until all this goh suh blows over. Cause gorrammit, if another reporter knocks on his door, he's gonna kill someone. 

tweber2323 Finneaus Torram Deck Hand/Driver
I'm a drifter. I have never stayed in one place for very long for as long as I can remember. This is how I like it. Mom was... distant and the closest thing I had to a dad was an outlaw my mom hooked up with when I was a young'un. I won't mention his name, but he gave me a gun and taught me how to shoot it. He taught me some other stuff too. Things of the not so civil nature. I would describe myself as scruffy looking. Dirty blonde hair and usually about a week's worth of scraggly beard. Tall and thin, but not completely scrawny. I have bright blue/green eyes that take in every detail. I wear clothing made on the Rim which means it's made to withstand a lot of abuse. Faded denim or black leather pants, heavy flannel or cotton shirts of a dark color, rugged work boots and a ten gallon leather hat. Sometimes when I am feeling dressy, I pull out my fancy leather vest with the silver buttons. And when it is cold out, I have a long black leather trench coat or a tattered but comfortable poncho my mom made a while back. I wear a Smith and Wesson Revolver at my left hip and a big knife on the right. I keep the gun in top condition but I rarely touch the knife. 

I don't like to be too outspoken, in fact I would rather not be noticed at all unless it's by the ladies. I try and stay away from manual labor and anything to do with the infirmary. I fancy leisurely games of chance that usually involve money or goods being exchanged. I like to have a drink every now and again, especially if there are lady folk around. I live by the code of those that live in the black or maybe it is just my code, but I keep my friends and family close and watch their back and put distance between myself and those that wish to do me and mine harm. I don't have many goals in life, other than to live free, enjoy myself and to hear the lamentation of the women.
I have survived on my own out on the rim for a while now, either by gambling, driving or relieving folk of goods they didn't really need. As much as I like to be on my own, it is often necessary to fall in with those you can trust and help each other to survive and hopefully thrive. I don't mind the Alliance or any law man, so long as they aren't around. Life ain't easy on the Rim, but having a good ship and a fine crew makes for a fine life, so long as one can keep flyin'.