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Elian 'Asset Vex-419' Vancet - Details

Born

16 March 4116

STR

10 (0)

DEX

10 (0)

CON

10 (0)

INT

10 (0)

WIS

10 (0)

CHA

10 (0)

Administer

-1

Connect

0

Exert

-2

Fix

-1

Heal

0

Know

-1

Lead

-1

Notice

1

Perform

1

Pilot

-1

Program

1

Punch

0

Shoot

0

Sneak

0

Stab

-3

Survive

0

Talk

-3

Trade

1

Work

2

MAX HP

30

Speed

30 ft

Occupation

Data Processor / Living Terminal

Archetype (i.e. Class)

Indentured Analyst

AC

10

Age

34

Species

Human (Bio-augmented)

Gender

Male


Backstory

Born on Gelime at the end of its golden age as a 'Sanctuary of the Mind,' Elian was a promising archivist dedicated to the preservation of pre-Sundering history. When the Red Sun Dominion annexed the system twenty-five years ago, Elian was not killed; he was 'repurposed.' Deemed too valuable to waste but too independent to trust, he underwent the Dominion's 'Civil Service Integration'—a polite term for aggressive neuro-conditioning and cybernetic enslavement.

Now designated 'Asset Vex-419,' he serves within the bowels of The Argent Archivum . His existence is defined by the 'Company Charter' tattooed across his torso, a legal document binding his biological functions to the Dominion's bureaucratic needs. While he publicly operates as a loyal, emotionless drone processing vast amounts of data for General Sevre, his mind is a battlefield.

The Null Hypothesis has recently managed to inject a subliminal code into his daily data stream—a 'glitch' that is slowly deconstructing his conditioning. He possesses fragmented memories of Dr. Edward Nelson's forbidden research on cloning, data he processed without realizing its significance, making him a walking repository of heresy that both the Dominion and the Resistance desperately want to access.


Description

Elian is a striking, unsettling example of forced transhumanism. He stands at average height, but his posture is rigidly perfect, evoking the stiffness of a mannequin. His skin is alabaster pale, the result of years spent under the artificial lights of server farms, contrasting sharply with the black, barcoded tattoos running down his neck and forearms. His scalp is shaved clean to accommodate a series of chrome data-ports at the base of his skull. He wears a pristine, slate-grey jumpsuit emblazoned with the Red Sun Dominion sigil on the chest and corporate branding running down the pant legs. His eyes are his most disturbing feature—implanted oculars that glow with a faint, amber light when he is processing data, often flicking rapidly as if reading invisible text.
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