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Linton Marovel - Details

Born

08 June 4139

STR

9 (-1)

DEX

14 (2)

CON

11 (0)

INT

16 (3)

WIS

14 (2)

CHA

15 (2)

Administer

1

Connect

0

Exert

-1

Fix

-1

Heal

2

Know

-1

Lead

1

Notice

-1

Perform

-1

Pilot

0

Program

-1

Punch

2

Shoot

0

Sneak

1

Stab

1

Survive

1

Talk

1

Trade

2

Work

0

MAX HP

38

Speed

30ft

Occupation

Ghost Market Broker / Smuggler

Archetype (i.e. Class)

Expert

AC

11

Age

27

Species

Human

Gender

Male


Backstory

Born into the harsh industrial reality of Furyan, Linton Marovel learned early that morality is a luxury few can afford under the heavy boot of the Red Sun Dominion. With a sharp mind and a silver tongue, he avoided the neutronium mines by insinuating himself into the Ghost Market, the sector's premier criminal syndicate.

Publicly, Linton is known as a callous opportunist and a rising star within the Ghost Market's smuggling rings operating out of Stalwart Reach. He moves contraband under the noses of Dominion censors and brokers deals that leave everyone feeling slightly cheated. His reputation for self-preservation was cemented recently when he provided information that led to the capture of Alistair Quillburn, a well-known trader. While the public views this as a ruthless move to eliminate competition, the truth is far more complex.

Unknown to his Ghost Market overseers or the Dominion, Linton is a deep-cover sympathetic to the Iron Veins insurgency. The betrayal of Alistair was a calculated, agonizing decision made to preserve his own cover when Dominion intelligence began closing in on the insurgency's supply lines. Now consumed by guilt, he uses his illicit profits and connections to secretly funnel weapons and medical supplies to rebels hiding in the Crimson Gorge, frequenting 'The Miner's Respite' to pass encrypted data to the resistance. He plays the role of the cocky traitor to perfection, all while plotting to resurrect the Iron Pact and drive the Dominion from his home world.


Description

Linton Marovel possesses a lean, predatory grace, standing tall with a posture that is relaxed yet ready to snap into action. He has the rugged, unpolished handsomeness of a young man, with dark, unkempt hair that falls over a forehead often creased in cynical amusement. His eyes are a piercing, intelligent brown, shadowed by dark circles that hint at sleepless nights and a guilty conscience. He wears a high-collared, angular jacket made of dark ballistic weave—a blend of military surplus and spacer fashion—over a grey synthetic tunic. A faint, jagged scar runs along his jawline, a souvenir from a deal gone wrong in the Ghost Market. He almost always wears a smirk that doesn't quite reach his eyes.