Height: 5'11"(1.80m)
Weight: 175lbs (79kg)
Hair: Dark, Greying
Eyes: Green, with a stylish black eyepatch on the left
Apparent Age: Easily mid-50s if he's a day
Position: Owner-operator of 'VT's Vandals' and the Fortress-class DropShip Yperkománto, based out of Galatea City

Callsign: Answers to nothing other than 'Boss' on the field.
BattleMech: V.T. operates an Archer ARC-2R that he affectionately refers to as 'Ree'

The man known as 'V.T.' to his business associates and the seedy underbelly of the mercenary scene was born 'Ven Terrachova', although it's not a name that any but his closest friends know or remember at this point. His employees have certainly never heard it, and could even less get away with using it. Rumor is that once upon a time, the man was a dashing smuggler, riding high on the invulnerability of youth and conquering the interstellar trade routes of the Sphere with his inherited ship, the Yperkománto.

That was decades, practically a generation, ago.

Forced by circumstances beyond his control to take a more direct hand in the ground operations of his unit some decades past, V.T. has expanded the repertoire of his business well beyond simply moving goods, having his fingers stuck well and truly in all parts of the mercenary and smuggling worlds' metaphorical pies. The Vandals accept contracts as any mercenary company would, often using the Yperkománto as their transport especially to allow for the acquisition and sale of goods - preferably high-dollar luxury items - on the side. In lean times, V.T. contracts the Vandals himself, to provide security for his own goods to be transported and sold. The more dangerous the world, the more profitable the shipment. Even in times of war, the rich want their fine cigars and foie gras.

"Grumpy" is V.T.'s usual mood, interrupted by occasional moments of joviality, and he's obviously let himself go as he got older, putting on more than a few spare kilos around the middle. His hair is shaggy and unkempt, the beard around a perpetually-present half-chewed cigar trimmed perhaps once a fortnight, and his clothes chosen for functionality - always covered by the long, black leather duster that at least lets him still feel in his soul that he's a pirate on the interstellar seas, instead of some seedy CEO.

The Vandals have a reputation for taking good care of their MechWarriors, and are known to have maintained a compound on the fringes of Galatea City, complete with a permanent slip at the DropPort, for quite some time now.