ver. 0.3.2
Admiral Aelen Voss - Details

STR

12 (1)

DEX

14 (2)

CON

12 (1)

INT

16 (3)

WIS

12 (1)

CHA

15 (2)

Administer

2

Connect

0

Exert

-1

Fix

-2

Heal

-2

Know

0

Lead

1

Notice

1

Perform

-1

Pilot

-2

Program

1

Punch

1

Shoot

0

Sneak

-1

Stab

1

Survive

-2

Talk

-2

Trade

-1

Work

-2

MAX HP

30

Speed

30 ft

Occupation

Planetary Governor of Ioles / Admiral of the 3rd Fleet

Archetype (i.e. Class)

Warrior

AC

13

Age

29

Species

Human

Gender

Male


Backstory

Born into the shadow of his older sister, Supreme Chancellor Elara Voss, Aelen Voss has spent his life proving that while she possesses the vision of the Red Sun Dominion, he possesses the cold arithmetic required to execute it. Appointed as the Planetary Governor of the Ioles system and Admiral of the 3rd Fleet, Aelen governs from 'The Iron Crown,' a fortress station atop a space elevator above the Gilded Quarry. He is the architect of the 'Scarcity Protocol,' a governance style that artificially limits resources to the worker population to maximize dependence and pliability.

Unlike the fanatical zealots of the Dominion, Aelen views the empire as a mega-corporation. He successfully reactivated the 'Shattered Halo' shipyards, turning the Ioles system into the Dominion's primary naval forge. He treats the 'Harvested' (slave laborers) not with malice, but with terrifying, dehumanizing pragmatism—calculating their caloric intake against their kinetic output to the decimal. He is currently under immense pressure to accelerate fleet production following the acquisition of the Starkiller Relic, knowing that his sister's patience is as finite as the Osmium he mines. While he projects absolute loyalty, his heavily branded clothing and obsession with supply chains betray his true nature: he is a broker of necessity, and he is quietly stockpiling a personal fortune in refined ore, just in case the Dominion's aggressive expansion leads to a market crash.


Description

Aelen possesses a sharp, angular face with pale, almost translucently clean skin that speaks of a life spent in filtered station air. He keeps his jet-black hair slicked back with military precision. He wears a bespoke, crimson officer's uniform, but it is tailored like a high-end corporate suit, featuring gold pinstripes and the Red Sun Dominion logo heavily branded on the lapels, cuffs, and belt buckle. His most disturbing feature is a tattoo of the Dominion's Corporate Charter running vertically up the left side of his neck, disappearing behind his ear—a permanent pledge of allegiance in black ink. He is rarely seen without a datapad in one hand and a chronometer in the other.

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