Alexander Dubois
Character
Work in Progress, please excuse me while I tidy it up, add more fluff, and finish this.
"Is a man not entitteled to the sweat of his brow? No, says the Emperor. No, says the Senator. No, says the CEO. To the abyss with all of them."
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Name : Alexander - Jean Dubois
Species : Human
Gender : Male
Age : Fifty-Six
Homeworld : Metellos
Current Residence : Metellos , Moribedo District
Current Affiliation : Union / Extremist Political Group
Current Occupation : Activist / Factory Worker
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Height : 5'7'' / 170 Cm
Weight : 110 Lb / 50 Kg
Hair Color : White
Eyes Color : Green
Force Sensitivity : Negative
Physical Appeareance :
The harsh life in the slums of Metello have did little for the health, and well-being, of Alexander. The backbreaking labor, day in and day out, coupled with the inhumane working hours, have beaten his body into submission time and time again. He is barely above being nothing more than a walking bag of bones and skin, neither muscle nor fat on his body. The lack of a proper diet and limited access to medication have stifled his growth during puberty and his early adult life.
Suffering from a melanin deficient in his hair, alongside the stress caused by his lifestyle, have led his hair to whiten completly early in his life, in his late 20’s, and his complexion to suffer. His green eyes frantically move around his surroundings without stop and his feet are always hitting the floor rhythmically, in an attempt to not fall asleep on the ground. His wardrobe consist of cheap clothes, most old and tore, but he is most commonly seen in one outfit he takes great care of. A dark red, close-fitting, and long sleeved tunic with a stiff high collar, reaching down to his waist, accompanied by whatever pair of jeans and footwear he could find.
Mental Attributes :
While life in the slums of Metello have systematically destroyed his body over the decades, it has done nothing to harm his mind and will, but quite the opposite, strengthening them continuously.He has become proud and infatuated with himself over the years, not even an ounce of fear for torture, or death, flowing through his veins, his ideals and his ego more precious than life itself to him. His ideals, that of a world where the corrupt and incompetent are hanged and men reap entirely what they sow, have forged a sense of superiority over his peers, jealousy and spite against his superiors. Despite that, he is not a naïve fool, he knows when kissing another’s boot is needed to forward his dreams and will not shy from doing so. Neither forgetful nor forgiving, he will take his rivalries with him to the grave, if he is unable to send his enemies in first.
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Biography :