Zoids: The Western Continent War
Ixel (Madoan Leoncross)
Nationality: Guylos Empire
Weight: 150 lbs
Eye Color: Green
Hair Color: Black, when he has any
Exp (total/to level): 1191/xxxx
Athletics: x (x+1+0)
Bluff: 18 (6+10+2)
Combat (Hand to Hand): x (x+15+0)
Construct (Zoids): x (x+10+0)
Construct (Zoid Tech): x (x+10+0)
Construct (Zoid System): x (x+10+0)
Expert (Zoid Tech): 16 (6+10+0)
Expert (Zoid Systems): 16 (6+10+0)
Expert (Programming): 21 (6+15+0)
Expert (Politics): 8 (6+2+0)
Expert (History): 8 (6+2+0)
Instincts: 22 (6+14+2)
Intimidate: 18 (6+10+2)
Negotiation: 20 (6+10+4)
Senses: 22 (6+14+2)
Sneaking: x (x+10+0)
Survival: x (x+1+0)
Trivia: 23 (6+17+0)
Zoid Pilot: x (x+17+0)
Alertness: = +2 Senses
Self-Confident: +2 Negotiation & Intimidate
Silver Tongue: +2 Negotiation & Bluff
Photographic Memory: Sense roll to recall, in detail, anything character has seen before
Common Sense: +2 instinct
Diplomat: +2 Negotiation
Zoid Empathy: Bluff, Intimidate, Negotiate work on zoids as well
Lousy Shot: -1 to attack rolls with guns
Wanted: By family
Wanted: By Guylos Empire
He stands at 5’6", slender and with the hint of a developing tan. His head is shaved and he always wears a hat, particularly his favorite gray beanie, to hide a scar. Usually wearing sunglasses to hide his eyes, a gray-green and the left hosts the curl of his family’s tattoo, disfigured with another of black fire. When he’s not biting his lips they are pulled into an almost-smile. Comfortable clothes suit him best: an old pair of slacks or jeans and a faded brown jacket when he runs out of clean shirts. Boots, unless dress codes demand something more formal.
Driven, flexible, obsessive. He tries to remain as mellow and aloof as possible, a perpetual poker face. It’s a bad habit from his upbringing that serves him well in diplomacy but horribly on a personal level. If he’s not submerging himself in anything zoid related he’s actually quite lethargic and prone to falling asleep just about anywhere. Growing up around mechanics made him used to their clanging, though silence unnerves him.
Madoan was born into a business. His family is part of the Guylos Empire and runs one of the more successful chains of garages on one front and works in weapons research and design on another. As one of the youngest of four, he was allowed freedom to chose which business he would make his. However, riding the coatails of his family and sponging off of their money, blood or earned, didn’t interest him in the least.
His earliest memories are of zoids, of the silver dance between fire, oil, human, and machine. They were his life and if there was something he didn’t know about them, learning it was his priority. He didn’t have friends and only dealt with people beyond mechanics if his family demanded it of him. Which was a lot. They demanded he became educated, especially in the nuances of diplomacy. A Leoncross could have his machines, his books, and his grit. But above all else, he was a businessman. That’s why he left for the Republic and abandoned his birth name.
He would be a businessman but he would be his own, and he would not be denied time with the machines that filled his dreams. But in order to start his own garage he would need money. Mercenary life was an easy option. He could pilot a zoid well enough to make money doing it.