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Name: Marcel

Height: 6'3"

Weight: 152 lbs

Age: 23

Race: Human of what would appear to be Italian descent.

Body Features: Marcel is rather tall for a human, standing at a somewhat intimidating 6'3", but appears to be a bit malnourished. He's almost always smiling, having long ago reached contentment with his desert-going life. Strangely, his eyes are a crystalline blue color, uncommon for humans with his type of skin and hair color. Around his eyes were rings of black, marking where he had stayed up too late. Muscular and lean, he's in peak physical shape. Dozens of scars mark his body, though none seem to have marred his face. His hair is frumpy and dark brown. Marcel is lightly tanned, although this appears to be more a product of his environment than of his race. Secretly, there is a tattoo on his abdominal region, though he's shown it to nobody and nobody knows of its existence other than him and a few people from his past.

Attire: Marcel wears a tight black shirt with its sleeves cut off. A fiery X is airbrushed on the front for style's sake. Over this, he wears a loosely fitting jacket to hold his many pieces of equipment. His pants are black and thick enough to avoid tearing in the harsh desert conditions, yet are ventilated enough to prevent him from overheating. His belt has many pockets on it, and there's strap he has on his back to hold his primary weapon.

Powers: Marcel is magnificent at inventing random things. Given the correct materials, he could put together any number of things, including all of the weapons he currently uses. He sees solutions to problems that nobody else does. The largest thing he's ever built was a vehicle for traversing the desert, which he accidentally destroyed when escaping from some bandits. Constructing simple things takes him a minute or two. Constructing anything complex takes from an hour to several days.

Marcel is supernaturally good at close and ranged combat with WEAPONS HE BUILT HIMSELF. With other weapons, he is only average. If he fires a weapon he made himself, it hits harder than if someone else uses it.

Marcel can survive long periods of time alone in the desert without food or drink, but will die if he has nothing to eat or drink for seven days.

Weapons: Seven throwing daggers clipped to his belt, and a punching dagger inside of his jacket. His primary weapon is listed below.

Weapon Name;

Hungry Jackal - A shotgun he keeps with him constantly. The Hungry Jackal loads like a revolver, with a chamber that can be popped out and filled with up to 8 shells. Each shell is made by Marcel personally and requires about 10 minutes to construct. On impact, the shots from this gun become acidic and start eating away at whatever they struck at a rate of one cubic inch per three minutes.

Other shell types can be made for it, but Marcel hasn't figured out how to make anything else yet.

Bio: Marcel spent most of his life on the streets of a rather thriving oasis-city, living off the refuse of society. When he turned ten, his preternatural talent for repairing and building things was recognize by a local guild. He was picked up immediately and learned the tricks of the trade for engineering and design. Concepts for steam engines and oil-powered vehicles were fed to him day in and out by his teachers, who loved his ingenuity and skill. Unfortunately, like most good things, this did not last. Marcel's knack for invention was picked up on by some shady people, who took him away from the guild at the ripe age of 16.

At the ripe age of 19, Marcel appeared back on the streets, a bitter and sad young adult. Whatever happened in this three year period of time is known only to him and the shady characters who took him away from his foster home. There may be others aware of that span of time in his life, but they are surely somewhere deep within the confines of the city he lived on.

Seeking to leave his past behind, Marcel opened up a business repairing and selling mechanical inventions and toys. He was a successful weapons manufacturer and was popular with children because he made many steam-powered toys for them to play with. Citizens of the small town he'd set up shop in were amazed by his knowledge of all things mechanical, which seemed to come to him naturally.

After his business was torched by some bandits, he took up self defense classes and learned how to defend himself using daggers and fists. In addition, he began work on the Hungry Jackal, his main choice for all combat situations where he wasn't forced to use self defense.

Packing up, he built his first vehicle and set off into the desert to become a treasure hunter. He was sick and tired of his weapons and inventions being used by petty criminals and the thieves of cities in towns where he had worked at in the past and wanted to go out and explore the world for himself. Using the tech he had developed, he managed to pull off some small time jobs, including the recovery of a fossil from some bandits and the discovery of an ancient tablet in an old, abandoned temple. Well, partially abandoned. He had to fight off some snake-men to get it, but it wasn't too much of a problem.

After crashing his vehicle in a sand dune a couple dozen miles away from the nearest city, Marcel had crawled from the wreckage to a nearby oasis. He spent most of his time there unconscious before being found by a hunter-gatherer group of desert-dwellers who happened to have a certain gazelle-woman named Oryx among them. They picked him up, treated his wounds, he gave them some ammunition and directions in return, and they dropped him off at the nearest large city.

With Oryx.

The rest, as they say, is history.

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