Name: Morigan Wolfe
Race: Human
Eyes: Currently implanted with color changing contacts. They flash red under certain flash lighting but are shown to be the color of the species he is hiding as.
Hair: Jet black originally, currently dyed
Skin: Pale white originally
Note: Nasty Scar behind his right ear where he gouged out his military chip. A few slight scars from previous battles found on other parts of his body.


History: Morigan Wolfe was born on a planet from the Taurus system, one of the oldest settlements after humans expanded from earth. The ancestors that settled there were primarily from asiatic countries in the east and it shows greatly in the original languages and cultures that define it. The planet itself is small and forgettable on its own. Humans were spread far and wide after all and the biggest thing it is known for is their rare breed of cattle created from mixing genes from the earth cow with native species that lived there.

The Phaigian war. Wolfe had enlisted into the interstellar infantry a branch of the largest human military force that was ever known to exist at the very end of the war. The world he was raised on had been one of great eagerness towards the war the entire time it went on, calling for bloodshed to end the vile threat of Phaiges. The humans there were extensively superstitious and feared their blood drinking was a threat to all that was good. Wolfe had ridden on that call to earn honor for his family, to feel as if he had participated in a great victory and contributed to human-kind. He did it because it was the "right" thing. If you'd ask him now, there IS no right thing, just wrong and less wrong. What he witnessed on the Phaige planet was entirely wrong.

To this day Wolfe suffers from dreams of husked out buildings and corpses splayed out as far as the eye could see. Men, women, children, even wildlife. No tree, no shrub, no obscure rare specimen survived humanity's final solution. Nothing. Everything was dust. He wasn't the only one with severe regrets for what they had done leaving tour mid-service was not an option. They had to be sure every last Phaige was dead. Wolfe's company specialized in ground combat. He wasn't any sort of extreme pilot suited for mid space dogfights, his boots stood in mud with his rifle firm in his hands. Many squads of his sort were set loose after the detonation. The weapon was an energy pulse it penetrated anything on the surface, incinerating organic material to ash, fusing bones like concrete. Theoretically Bunkers could protect from most of the energy's initial impact.

Someone had prepared. A large bunker was set in the basement of an inconspicuous home in the middle of nowhere. Drones had scanned the subsurface to find a sprawling underground system that shocked everyone. The entire situation had made Wolfe ill at ease and wary, there was no doubt they would have to go in and kill anything that still lived.

The operation used to search and destroy everything was planned with clinical precision, every soldier had night and heat vision in their implants, their rifles at the ready. Three men to a room as they kicked down door after door. There was no hesitation, Wolfe found himself in a daze as they kicked in, shot dead the survivors and moved to the next room. It was too easy, it went too smoothly just kicking in pointing the barrels in their faces and pulling the trigger. It was like they expected, like they knew they had no chance. They looked at him with hatred and sorrow and pleading but....resignation kept them from raising weapons. Their whole planet had just been destroyed.

The few who fought back were in the large room they'd assembled as a makeshift cafeteria. The doors opened and instantly the main four of his squad collapsed. There was a flash and a piercing shriek that emitted in a quick sharp burst. The chips embedded into their sculls had shorted violently killing them before their brains had time to register what they had set off. Feedback peirced through Wolfe's own chip causing him to cry out and fall to his knees, clutching his protective helmet. Compact laser rifles set off as the surviving soldiers fired into the room, sucessfully killing two of the Phaiges. Wolfe managed to tuck himself behind the cover of an inlet for a doorway to a room they had cleared.

"How many are in there?! What the fuck did they set off?!"

"Hey! Wolfe! Scan 'em! Throw a scanner in! You hear me?! We need to see where the fuck they are."


[WIP]