ver. 0.3.2
Marcus Cane - Details

Born

05 April 4121

STR

15 (2)

DEX

14 (2)

CON

16 (3)

INT

18 (4)

WIS

16 (3)

CHA

14 (2)

Administer

2

Connect

1

Exert

2

Fix

0

Heal

-1

Know

1

Lead

-1

Notice

2

Perform

1

Pilot

1

Program

-1

Punch

-1

Shoot

2

Sneak

-1

Stab

1

Survive

1

Talk

0

Trade

-1

Work

0

MAX HP

75

Speed

30 ft

Occupation

Tactical Advisor and Security Consultant

Archetype (i.e. Class)

Professional

AC

14

Age

39

Species

Human

Gender

Male


Backstory

Marcus Cane was once a rising logistical star within the Trade Constellation, coordinating high-value shipments across the precarious routes of Sector 36. His life pivoted on a romance with Elara Kaine, a radical idealist who convinced him that the Constellation's profits were built on the suffering of the outer rim. Together, they defected to the Echo Conclave in the Hele system, using Marcus's insider knowledge to disrupt corporate supply lines.

However, during the catastrophic AI War of 4159 in Hele, when GH-23 went rogue, the Conclave was decimated. In the chaos, Elara didn't just flee; she locked Marcus in a venting chamber and sold the Conclave's encryption keys to a Red Sun Dominion salvage team to secure her own extraction. Marcus survived only by integrating a prototype experimental phase-shift module—scavenged from the Conclave's vaults—into his nervous system.

Now, Marcus operates as a high-end security consultant and tactical advisor for hire. He attaches himself to adventurer parties and mercenary groups operating near the Don System, specifically those brushing up against Red Sun or former Conclave interests. He is driven by the chilling certainty that Elara Kaine did not disappear, but rather altered her appearance and identity, and is currently embedding herself within the very mercenary circles he frequents. He watches his own teammates with the same intensity he watches the enemy, waiting for a slip-up that will reveal the traitor.


Description

A towering figure at 6'3", Marcus Vane projects a kinetic, coiled tension. His unruly jet-black hair is aggressively flecked with stress-induced grey, framing a face defined by sharp angles and a jagged, pale scar that bisects his left eyebrow—a souvenir from a Red Sun rifle butt. His ice-blue eyes are in constant motion, scanning exits and sightlines. He wears a masterfully tailored, nondescript grey tactical coat reinforced with ballistic weave; the coat is lined with hidden pockets containing encrypted drives and countermeasures. Underneath, faint subdermal scarring on his neck hints at the invasive installation of his phase-shift technology. He moves with a deliberate slowness that belies a terrifying explosive speed.
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