MyName / Tokada Moonfist

Name: Tokoda Moonfist
Gender: Female
Race: Dwarf
HP: 14
Skills: Skilled Pilot, Gunner.

Combat stats:
AC: 13
DR: 1

Weapons:
Longsword: 1d8, one hand: 3p

Armour:
Light shield: +2AC, one hand: 3p
Chainmail: +1AC, +1DR: 4p


Special Item: The Fist of a Moon - A classic of the practicality of dwarven engineering. It is a big gun that shoots big shells with the intent to hole a vessel with a single shot, venting the entire atmosphere. The weapon was designed by her family, hence the name. She had it specially shipped out.
Description: Tokoda has the build of a woman who, for most of her adult life, scraped by on Ynidus by desperate mining; wiry muscles, smooth skin from the atmosphere, and an unnatural pale from living in perpetual night. However, it's clear that she's let that muscle mass go in recent years. She wears plain, undyed beige tunics and pantaloons, fading into her sunstarved olive skin.
Backstory: How did that one marine put it, Tokoda thought to herself as she raced down the corridors of the ship. The ship shuddered from another impact, jolting her memory. "War is months of boredom interrupted by moments of terror" Replace war with life on the Rings, and you'd describe Tokoda's situation perfectly. Cometships were slow affairs and needed little attention, which is why a hand of Nulom was left abandoned in the rec-room while the crew dashed for their stations. Towards the reef or away? Before she could even arrive at the bridge, she had to decide whether or not she should dive towards ring, hoping to find cover among the asteroids, or to spin off into The Ocean, looking to dodge away from whatever was attempting to break through the ice shields.
Her adrenaline addled mind on overdrive, her thoughts drift back to half a century ago, when she was a youngling, working in the strip mines of Ynidus. Back there, the most important decision she'd have to make was where to swing her pick. Always something to do, never anything to do, she thought snidely. Who am I kidding? Turning in my pick for a voidsuit was the best choice I've ever made. She allows herself a small smile, and puts on a small burst of speed. A decade of toil on ships for a shot a chance to sit in the pilot's' chair was a pretty good tradeoff, from the perspective of a dwarf.
Some decent card games out here, too, she mused. For most, life on the moons was an tedious struggle to survive the harsh conditions and frequent raids. Pastimes developed that appealed to the time rich and cash poor of the Rings. Everyone and their mother had a deck of cards, and they've all played every variation of the standard games. Strange amalgamations cropped up and spread in popularity, eventually replacing their predecessors. A popular game was Nulom, a crossover of Old Maid and Poker about accusations and bluffing. It had made her rich and poor in equal measure. Thinking back to her hand, she let her smile grow a little more. They'll never know what hit them.
She slid into the pilot's chair, and gripped the controls before taking a dive into the thick of the asteroid belt.

Her gamble didn't pay off. They were holed heavily and barely managed to avoid their pursuers through sheer luck. The ship crippled, most of the crew dead, including the captain, the remaining crew sold off the ship and cargo, and went their seperate ways. Tokoda joined on with another crew, her current one. Tokoda was loyal to the captain. They meshed well and treated her with respect. Hell, she would be loyal to anyone who let her fly them anywhere twice, what with her penchant for risky, dangerous stunts. She feels irrationally responsible for what happened, despite the fact that she couldn't have done anything to save them. It's an old-fashioned case of survivor's guilt. On her metaphorical shoulders, she feels the burden of keeping the crew together and avenging the loss of their captain.