Jacen Moore

An ex-alliance member who joined the FBI during the attack on Perry Station.


Physical Bio

Age: 24

Date of Birth: June 28th, 1914

Height: 6’ 1”

Weight: 160

Blood Type: AB-


Level: 3

Hp: 24

AC: 15

Defenses: Fort 16 – Ref 18 – Will 16 -

Attributes: Str-10 (2) Con-11 (2) Dex-14 (4) Int-14 (4) Wis-12 (3) Cha-18 (5)

Pilot Status: 3 Kills

Action Points: 6

Passive Insight/Perception: 14

Speed 6


Bluff – 7 (12)
Diplomacy – 7 (12)
Drive – 2
insight – 2
Intimidate – 7 (12)
Perception – 2
Pilot – 4 (8)
Stealth – 4
Streetwise – 2
Thievery – 5 (9)

What’s funny about people in New York, they’re always one of two types. You can narrow it down by how much green’s in their bank accounts, or what country their grandaddy came from, but there’s still just two types, really. There’s the honest, and the dishonest. Reason there’s so many of the second’s because they tend to kill the first.
Me, I’m dishonest. Been dishonest since I was old enough to know how. When I was four I jacked some rich snob’s wallet, the dumb sucker didn’t even notice. I got the shit kicked out of me by some bastard down in Queens, and he took it. That’s when I realized there were other dishonest scumbags with even less morals than myself.
I ain’t some dumb sunovabitch who’d die without someone to steal from, neither. When I went to school, the teachers said I was real smart. Scored higher than all the other kids on the tests, and that was even without cheating. Sometimes it’s just easier to pretend you’re dumb than take on the responsibilities that come from bein’ smart. Part’a being dishonest.
When I was twelve, long after my daddy got shot up by the cops, I found my way to the ‘family business.’ This world-wise fella approached me at Tony’s joint down in Manhattan, told me he’d worked with my daddy. Asked if I needed work. Course I needed work, so I went with him. Didn’t bother me or surprise me to find out he was with the Italian mob, Falcone’s family.
After running some cons under their ‘protection,’ someone up top decided my talents were being wasted. I was put in charge of a racket gang, hitting up the local shops. That wasn’t my calling, though, and soon I convinced ‘em that I was best off with somethin’ more… subtle.
Falcone called me up personally one night. I mean, no joke, the guy calls me up. Falcone. Anyway, he wants me to do this real special job for him. Turns out his old business rival, some guy named Angelino, or somethin’, is runnin’ something BIG. Falcone wanted me to figure out what, and if necessary put a cap in the bastard’s head before he could screw things up.
I got to the rendezvous where Falcone said Angelino’s men would be, and was greeted by a group of Nazis and Russians. Load of bullshit, I was thinkin’, till they tell me I’m in the right place. I got one whiff of what was goin’ on right then, and called up my boss, who told me to do whatever I can to stop these punks. Say what you want about us Italians, when we make our home we’re loyal to it, that goes for America same as anywhere. So when it turns out this skin-flint wants to get in bed with these scumbags to hit our country, we decide its best to remove him.
Next thing I know, I’m workin’ with the FBI. That’s fine, they ain’t after me now and maybe I can use this as leverage to buy some heat off my family. At any rate, I’m not about to let the slimebag traitorous rat-droppings run our country into the dirt.

Jacen Moore

Borders of the Sky Manic_Oppressive