Chemosh
Vibrant, shiney, salon exemplary, glossy black hair crowns this dark blue aliens head like a crown of modelesque perfection. Twin eyes of bright red stare out from a finely chisled, and decidedly unfriendly face.

An exotic being by any number of measures to be sure, few if any can honestly claim to be familiar with precisely what race he hails from. All that can be for certain is that if he's not a noble specimen of his race, then the Galaxy is in for a sure treat when they finally begin to filter through...

His height is an unimpressive 5'5", and his build indicates an athletic but far from professional armsmen stature.

A hefty sized, and decidedly alien, looking blaster pistol is slung in an over-the-shoulder holster; A very atypical draw for most gunmen. The handle barely clears the bunched hood of his Flight-suit, or the baggy collar of the All-Temperature Cloak hanging from his shoulders like some regal symbol of unrecognized nobility. Even his stance is strangely arrogant, despite the lack of pomposity and decorum.

From beneath the mantle of his cloak, a bandolier stretches from his right shoulder to belt-buckle. Five mundane and ancient looking daggers line it's length. The left sleeve of the flight suit has been trimmed back completely and sealed to his shoulder, revealing his entire arm to be a cybernetic limb. No synth-flesh lines it's exterior, and it's riddled with all sorts or metalic plates and LED's. A Baracer Computer of sorts appears to have built into the forearm, but beyond that little else looks out of the ordinary for such a crude prosthetic.

The Utility belt also has a drop-slung thigh-strap suspended from it, lined with extra Power Packs (presumedly for the strangely oversized and alien looking weapon perched upon his shoulder). Black utilitarian Repulsor Boots finish off the mans attire.