Name: Gunther "Meat" Black
DOB: 04-10-2999 (age: 34)
Home Planet: Fallon II
Nationality: Federated Suns
Vehicle: Rifleman RFL-3N
Physical description:
Gunther Black is of fairly average build, fit but not particularly muscular. He stands approximately six feet two inches (188cm) tall. He has hazel eyes and light brown hair, though it has begun to turn gray, which, combined with his facial features causes him to look at older than he really is. He does not keep facial hair, though is not clean shaven. The only identifying marks are a small scar on his left eyebrow and a scar on his left arm just below the shoulder.
Background:
Gunther's parents run a small business on planet, but Gunther always wanted to be a mercenary mechwarrior to travel to exotic places in the inner sphere and meet exotic people of the inner sphere and blow them up, but he didn't make it very far with parents opposed to the idea and no connections of his own. Meat isn't the smartest person ever, but he is reasonably adequate when it comes to tactics and he is fairly streetwise, but when he attempted to join the Armed Forces of the Federated Suns, he was quickly informed he was prime infantry material. He signed on with the planetary militia instead, managing to impress well enough to make it into the the mech corps as a scout. Eventually he worked his way up to driving a marauder as lance second in what the militia considered a second line unit.
Meat happened upon the hulk of a rifleman (more or less, mostly less), and gave a local salvage crew the coordinates, hoping to make some extra money, but he was able to get the yard's senior tech, who was something of a hobbyist, to convince the owner to let the tech rebuild the rifleman and turn it over to Meat. The arrangement that was finally agreed upon was that he would drive combat mechs for the salvage yard as security of high value finds, drive the salvage mech on low value finds, and otherwise be farmed out to other firms when the yard had no need for him. He mustered out of the militia to pursue this opportunity in a move that didn't win him many friends. Though he had barely scraped by paying for room and board, it was well worth the endless hours when he was finally handed the title to a rifleman put together from parts of at least a dozen mechs and sporting the salvage yard's logo and pint scheme (another stipulation of the contract was advertising and sponsorship to pay for parts).
Now all Meat wants is to get off this dirt ball so he can finally pursue his real dreams.
