Nickname: Minnow
Age: 27
Role: Mercenary
Personality: He's a rough around the edges type person. He's not usually very social tending to be more the man of action then the man of words. James fought for the Independents in the war and has had a chip on his shoulder ever since. He is the kind of guy who would rather shoot and ask questions never. He isn't very intelligent though and doesn't care who knows it. He made his living with his blood and has the skill and scars to prove it.
Physical Description: James stands at just under five feet, at four foot nine. He almost always has stubble that he can never seem to stay on top of. He keeps in rather good physical fitness as he knows that in an instance anything can happen. And if you are fat and slow you aren't going to make it. He has plenty of scarring from the war and his time spent in internment. His left arm is a robotic prosthetic and has a few nifty features.
History: James Minot grew up on a farm on a fringe world known as Keialyw. It was mostly immigrant Psy'tan and a few humans who couldn't afford not to be dropped off here. After he and his family spent years carving a life out of the alien rock with their blood sweat and tears the war with the UCP began. For the first two years his world went unscathed, mostly left out of any real danger. But midsummer on the third year they came in force and started taking over. It wasn't long before rebel forces sprung up and eventually joined in as part of the Independence. His father and his brother were the first to take up arms in his family. Forcing him to stay at home taking care of his mother and sisters. After his brother was killed in the cross-fire his father came home and tried to run. But James couldn't begin killing the Coalers any faster. He was disgusted at his family for not wanting revenge and disowned himself as he left for the war. Out for blood and to make a name for himself. He spent the next four and a half years fighting them at every turn, making them truly pay for every inch of ground. Eventually leaving his home planet when they were overwhelmed and joining the countless others in raiding supply-lines.
During his last few months in the war he was captured and tortured for information. Having started to make a name for himself with the rest of the crew on the Zealous Axe. They wanted names and locations of rebel hideouts and ship docking areas. He never gave them anything tangible though and for that he suffered immensely. They took from him his left arm and probably would have killed him if his crew hadn't eventually taken the bunker he was being kept at. He'd seen the horrors of what both sides were capable first hand for himself. "I'm no angel but them Coalition. No better then the blighters they aren't." Since the war he'd spent most of his time wandering the black trying to find himself a decent job or a decent life. At first he kept on with the crew of Zealous Axe but it didn't last long without the common goal at hand. The in-fighting they had ignored began to bubble over and eventually they all parted ways. He has not had a very good run since then either though as he went from ship to ship signing on as a mercenary where he could and laborer anywhere else. Not one ship kept him the entire term though, something to do with his attitude.
Extra: When he lost his arm in the war he thought he'd never see it again. But thanks to some cock-eyed doctor he had met in a back alley of one of the core worlds, he had a fully functioning prosthetic arm.
