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Toma Veer - Details

Born

23 July 4121

STR

12 (1)

DEX

16 (3)

CON

14 (2)

INT

18 (4)

WIS

13 (1)

CHA

15 (2)

Administer

-1

Connect

-1

Exert

-1

Fix

2

Heal

2

Know

-1

Lead

1

Notice

0

Perform

1

Pilot

-1

Program

1

Punch

1

Shoot

-1

Sneak

0

Stab

1

Survive

1

Talk

2

Trade

2

Work

2

MAX HP

42

Speed

30 ft

Occupation

Technician

Archetype (i.e. Class)

Expert

AC

14

Age

38

Species

Human

Gender

male


Backstory

Toma Veer, born and bred on Verokha Prime, is a master of clandestine bolt-and-weld operations. Growing up in the shadow of Port Blacksand, he learned the ins and outs of machinery not from any formal education but from the unsanctioned teachings of rogue technocrats with whom he associated as a youth.

Under their guidance, his skill in manipulating forgotten and forbidden tech flourished, though his allegiance wavered amidst the shifting loyalties of Verokha's technocratic sphere. His ambivalence grew from years of experiencing firsthand the veiled manipulations and constant gossip of tech traders in the Varnak Hollow Bazaar. Toma carved out a niche for himself as a dockyard technician, a position that allows him access to a wealth of machinery as well as irreplaceable networks among the star-laced traders and travelers passing through independent of the warring galactic factions.

He developed an intricate friendship with Mary Liebowitz Jr., pivoting Toma’s world from mundane to complicated, intertwining technology repairs and black-market operations. His ambivalent reputation takes form there, straddling the edge of legality while always claiming plausible deniability. He's known for his aptitude to fix the unfixable, albeit with gentle skepticism about each new request, aware that it might lead to certain murky waters.


Description

Toma is a wiry man, his physique built from days spent maneuvering tight corners in the depths of the engine rooms. His eyes are sharp and observant, a dull green tinged with an ever-present glint of skepticism. Grease-stained hands and a scattering of faded tattoos peek out from beneath a worn jumpsuit, remnants of his origins at the docks. His hair, a mess of dark waves, is usually tied back, revealing a weathered face that's seen its share of trouble and ingenuity.
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