Theme: Suljeva
Name: Hadoff Nasser | Age: 48 | Sex: Male | Height: 6'3'' | Position: Weapons Expert
Personality:
Hadoff can be a hard man to judge. At one moment he might be an antisocial, ill-tempered old man and the next he'll have pulled a complete three-sixty. That is not to say he's ever one to be friendly, or even really talk - not unless he's angry or discussing a firearm of some kind. Hadoff is not a man to form relationships, especially not binding ones. He hardly knows his children, aware only that his daughter is soon to be trading her surname for another man's - eagerly - and that his son is taking courses under the watchful eye of a large construction corporation. He takes his role as Weapons Expert seriously, though has assumed a mindset of: "I can tell you how to use it, but I can't tell you how to be good with it." His stores of ammunition and firearms are well guarded and deemed sacrosanct, only doling out what's needed as it's required and absolutely nothing more. This belies a regimented mind, and he truly is a man devoted to an order - his order. This is not to say he will disobey orders, even ones he does not like. He'll let his superiors know of his distaste, but will carry out their commands to the letter and then some, if necessary. He's still more than willing to take up arms if the need arises, whether it be to defend the expedition from monsters, mercenaries or saboteurs. Some might call him eccentric, even crazy. They would more or less be correct. This should never be mistaken as a weakness. Hadoff is cunning and fiercely intelligent, always absorbing information from his surroundings. Catching him off guard is a difficult thing to do, indeed.
Appearance:
Hadoff is a grizzled, scarred and aging man. His green eyes are clouding, his hair slowly turning to silver, and darkly tanned skin is pocked and littered with scar tissue. Several wounds mar his face, alone, and many more cover his arms, legs and torso. His bearing is tall and muscular, his presence alone filling a room. He carries a weight with him in that way- a shadow of experience that follows him wherever he goes. If not for his sometimes "odd" demeanor, most would take a single look at him and deem Hadoff a fearsome figure fit for leadership. Not to say he has no commanding qualities, it's just his personality tends to undermine his physical impact in the eyes of others. The little finger is missing from his right hand, along with most of his ring finger - an injury sustained from being swarmed by wild beasts during his early years, when he was only nineteen. Old tattoos cover his left arm, most of them symbolically added during his long tenure with Reykjat and denote anything from membership to successfulness and lethality.
Ability:
Over his lifetime, Hadoff has used a vast assortment of weapons to make end's meet. As such, he could very well be considered a qualified expert concerning most of the various firearms on the market. And even if it's something he's not wielded before, he probably knows a lot about it from using something similar. He can recite the care and handling of every weapon in his store, the various forms of ammunition they can load and all the mods these weapons can be fitted with. Aside from this job requirement, Hadoff is also a trained soldier - which should be obvious given his experience using this cache of firearms to the extent he has. He has seen combat in all forms, and undergone extreme pressure and pain to complete an assignment in some of the worst scenarios imaginable. He is no stranger to duress, and considers threats challenges to be overcome- although not eagerly awaiting new problems to arise, he meets them with never-waning zeal whenever they choose to rear their heads. He has never been one for magic, preferring the solidity of a gun and the surefire reliability it provides, boasting that skill with a rifle will always outlast talent for magic - not to say he has no appreciation for magic, he simply believes it is less effective or dependable.
Equipment:
-Personalized Gen-9i HAZOP Armor: Among the standard issue series of armors within the folds of Reykjat, this particular model is fully equipped for handling some of the most extreme conditions and combat situations. The suit is airtight and water-proofed; fitted with air filtration, full spectrum optics and HUD, two way radio, reflex-enhancing exoskeleton, defensive plating comprised of carbon alloys and ceramics. Supplemental shielding on the torso bolsters protection of the most vital organs. The suit draws power from five Dust batteries situated on the lower back, beneath a protective plate. The Gen-9i relies on low energy consumption for most of its functions, affording the wearer up to three days of power if run non-stop, however the suit can be worn with minimal drain to extend this limit for much longer.
-M67C Deck-Clearing Shotgun: Loaded with up to twelve 8-gauge magnum shells at a time, and capable of an effective range of up to 40-50 metres with a tight spread and high penetration capability. The M67C is a tube-fed, gas operated automatic cycling shotgun, boasting tremendous stopping power up to considerable ranges - although lethality does drop after a certain point due to widening spread and gradually decreasing velocity of the shot. A choke applied to the weapon extends its reach somewhat, but not stupidly so. Armor penetration is especially lax at longer distances, making this a weapon far more suitable for close-quarters engagements.
-Taglite Mawler-M4: The Mawler is a trustworthy sidearm in any engagement. Staggered magazines fit up to twenty rounds with basic armor piercing capability. Not a weapon designed for range by any means, the Mawler is meant for precisely the role a side-carry is intended: a back up, only to be used in case of emergency.
Background Information:
Hadoff was born in what could only be called a company town. The sky was choked to an eternal grey, even under the light of the sun, and constantly reeked of processed Dust and other assorted chemical wastes. The population was mostly indentured, but Hadoff's father wanted better for his son- his only child. At the age of eight he was sent to live with his uncle in another city, far from the reach of the small corporation that had run his birthplace. His uncle had been a soldier, and then a mercenary, and raised his nephew to be just that. He was drilled, grilled and pushed constantly past his breaking point as the years dragged on. His uncle was stern, but not cruel. Any resentment Hadoff may have had for the man faded away rapidly as time went by, and eventually he came to more than admire him. Ten years after his expulsion from home, Hadoff entered into a talent search directed by Gilter Company, a mercenary organization ultimately controlled by the Massada Group- a powerful holding concern with several such "freelancer enterprises" within its considerably expansive pockets. The work was often somewhat challenging, and paid well enough. Hadoff distinguished himself in the jobs he partook in, going above and beyond what he was typically called to do to ensure the fulfillment of the contracts as best as possible. This continued for nearly four years, lasting until the Company took a contract to attack a convoy of Dust collectors and requisition their recent haul. The job seemed to go down without a hitch, but that changed when the corporation that had funded the expedition somehow discovered the Giler Company had been behind it. In order to settle the score and protect their own interests, Massada decided to liquidate the Company, but not before contacting a handful of operatives and offering to erase their names from Gilter's manifests and employ them elsewhere under the Group's umbrella. Hadoff was among those few, and not a single one refused- constituting the entirety of the survivors of Gilter Company.
Three years later his contract with Massada expired, and he left seeking other work. He found it with Reykjat, an autonomas paramilitary organization free from the restrictions businesses like Gilter Company had been bound by. Of course, this entailed an even more dangerous breed of contracts, involving long-term assignments into hazardous environments and conflicts with powerful enemies, including state militaries on occasion. The years bled together after this, with Hadoff moving from one job to another, his willingness to sink to lower tactics to emerge with his paycheck growing with every day spent in the field. Somewhere along the line Hadoff entered a brief retirement and married, bearing two children: a daughter: Kiliya; and a son: Edissan. This didn't last for more than a few years, and soon enough he was back in the thick of mercenary work. One job in particular that sticks out in his past is where he had been hired by a private investor to lead an expedition out to a newly discovered Dust deposit, one that was supposed to be incredibly rich. On the side he had been paid off by a corporation to sabotage the team. He accomplished this with ease, watching from a safe distance as the expedition was destroyed entirely. Word of Hadoff's betrayal reached the investor, who dispatched an assassin to track down the man responsible for the collapse of his venture. Unable to find Hadoff or his children, he settled on murdering Hadoff's wife, instead. Soon after, both the killer and his employer went missing. Hadoff took measures to ensure their bodies will never be recovered.
With no real end to his career in sight, Hadoff decided to take a bit of a slower line of work, as he saw it. All throughout his life he'd taken jobs where he had been near Dust in some way- somehow. He had never truly gotten involved, always just sort of skirting along the sidelines of the industry but keeping mostly to other things. As desperately important as Dust was, he had always managed to avoid directly associating himself with the stuff. He'd never really been on an expedition before, never been part of a collection crew. Finally, after all those years he decided to see what the lifestyle was like and took a contract as a Weapons Expert within a convoy. Whenever asked how it compares, he answers without hesitation, "It's a good bit of respite."
