Rhosgobel has always been very quiet and very curious, prone to inadvertently putting people off due to their people-watching habits. They don't know when enough is enough when it comes to boundaries, and they don't appear to be changing that anytime soon when they see no purpose in it. As long as they're able to garner information from their endeavors, it's good enough for them.

They put up a steely, silent front to most people, with verbal conversation with them being incredibly rare if not almost impossible. They have few interests outside of hunting, and every aspect of their character shows that- it's all they can ever seem to talk about. They're almost incapable of small talk, and will go straight into the weaponry discussion if prompted into a conversation that they can't escape. Typically, it weirds their partners out enough to just leave them alone for the time being.

Deep down, though, now that they've been exiled from both the company and most of society as a whole, they're terrified of just what they're going to do next. Without the very thing that they were born and bred to do, what are they? Nothing? They lack the support network and clear view of the future that they once had, and they'll stop at nothing to keep anyone from finding out. They give off the aura of someone who cares for nothing, when in reality, all they want is a group of friends to laugh at shitty movies with.

Hammerspace Arsenal

Rhosgobel's entire body acts as a pocket dimension, within which they can store just about anything. Items placed in this pocket dimension are frozen in the exact state they were put there in until removed, and can only be removed by Rhosgobel themself. Rhosgobel can also use this pocket dimension to craft their own weapons, made of their own living tissue.

???

Rhosgobel's tail and left leg act as living tentacles, with their hair and arms capable of turning into these tentacles as well. They operate as normal mouths, capable of speech and other necessary functions, as well as serving as ports into Rhosgobel's pocket dimension.

???

Capable of shifting into an eel-like draconic form. Further research is required.

Growing up on an off-planet "education commune" run by the shady megacorporation Perseus Enterprises, Rhosgobel was created and raised from birth to act as a perfect monster hunter. Unfortunately, being pigeonholed into a single career knocked their life plans right off track, having wanted to act as a mecha pilot as opposed to a hunter their entire life.

After their sole friend from the commune was selected to serve as a mecha pilot, leaving them behind, Rhosgobel then dedicated their time to nothing but training. Being left behind meant they must have done something wrong, right? In time, though, that self-hate turned into bitter rage, and they channeled this rage when shipped to the same planet to work under one of Perseus Enterprises' many monster hunting firms. However, after controversy surrounding their origins cropped up, Perseus quickly revoked their hunter title and erased all of their legal documentation, effectively classifying them as the same thing as the monsters they previously hunted.

Currently, they're just trying to stay afloat.

About

Rhosgobel didn't mind the lack of "traditional" parenting.

No one in Perseus Enterprises Educational Commune #291-HP knew their biological parents. It was just the way things worked for as long as anyone had known- Why get your information from a fractured retelling when you could receive everything you needed to know direct from the source? As such, no one questioned when she was unceremoniously dumped into the classroom, introduced, and given a seat. Rhosgobel grew up among peers of almost identical age, worldview, and aspirations, a cocktail designed to prepare her for her "destiny."

The key difference between her and the rest of her class, however, was the secondary training. Being less so "born" than "created in a lab," her schooling extended beyond what her classmates knew. The end-goal of her life was planned out for her before she could even walk, a well-oiled killing machine designed for ground combat against the monsters that had formerly taken teams of men days to put down. No one asked just where she went after school, of course. The sounds from the engineering complex across the row sounded so similar to mech drills that it was almost impossible to consider anyone else causing such a ruckus, much less a child. Of course she always placed first in tactical exercises- she was always so studious, anyways! (It'd explain the thousand-yard stare.)

As her schooling went on, the strict daily itineraries got looser and looser. A sense of duty had been drilled into her since birth, and after all those years, there was almost no chance of her even considering going against what she'd been taught. With this newfound free time, however, she decided to take up more social endeavors. Forming a close relationship with a classmate, the two of them would while away the time talking about just what their futures had in store for them. Like any good Perseus girl, the two shared an idolization for the Pilots, deployed off-planet to clear out pest-ridden planets of their woes. You couldn't walk two steps without seeing a mech or their pilot plastered on some billboard, statistics on their active piloting time and current count of kills updated by the second so everyone knew just how hard they were working. Everyone- everyone- wanted to be a pilot.

When the day finally came, only Rina got the keys.

It didn't come as much of a hit at first. Even if Rhosgobel was stuck as a ground hunter, there was still the fact that Rina, her closest friend for as long as she could remember, had made the big leagues. It was no fault of Rhosgobel's that she couldn't make the cut- she must've slipped up along the way, been slightly below PE's strict standards and tossed into the shadows. She may have beat herself up over it for a while, but in the end, there was nothing to be done about it. Her scores couldn't be changed, she couldn't go and steal one of the mechs (she didn't even have the proper training to pilot one), she could only pipe down and take her lot.

(She never did learn that she was never even considered.)

She'd support her from the sidelines. What else was there to do? With the difference in vocation, they hardly saw each other after that, the closest they came being nothing but a passing smile and wave. Just like before, they were at the tops of their classes, a small comfort- that was, until, Rina was deployed. Rhosgobel was used to solitude. She was never excessively social. Why, then, did this feel like the nail in the coffin?
She'd been abandoned. That was all there was to it.

It was another few years before Rhosgobel was deployed. By the time Rina abandoned her took on her first assignment, Rhosgobel was already done with her training- there was just more demand for pilots than ground hunters. Of course there was. Everyone loved seeing some grand hero in a giant robot fighting off whatever monster of the week was wrecking their town. Perseus needed hunters for their new on-planet firm, nothing so flashy as piloting but definitely enough to deal with the small fry, and Rhosgobel eagerly accepted. Anything to get away from the bittersweet memories of the Commune.

Not as many of the hires were Perseus as she'd expected. It was a good chunk of locals with some combat training, bundles of ulterior motives and a lust for recognition in a field where the spotlight never seemed to budge. That wouldn't be a problem, of course. She could move it by force.

Rhosgobel was the only constant on the firm. Everyone else came and went, whether due to injury or simply cracking under the pressure- and, even though some of them might not have admitted it, feelings of inferiority. No one else could get a hit in with Rhosgobel on the same job. Even though it might've taken the weight off of their shoulders, it also cut out a chunk of their paychecks as well. It just wasn't worth it to hang around when there were other firms in the area with better pay and less chance of being outdone by some weird deer-person.

It didn't matter to Rhosgobel. She knew she did her job well, and that was all she needed to keep going. She'd stick with the job for as long as she could, and, ideally, quit when she died. No exceptions. She'd found herself right where she wanted to be, and she wasn't giving up that spot for the world.

Unless, however, it were to be taken by force. More firms meant more eyes on her, and more eyes on her lead to more questioning on just where she got all of that talent from. Flashes of sleek, oily flesh underneath her uniform and the way she pulled heavy weaponry out of seemingly thin air sparked rumors, and rumors sparked a fear of the unknown. If she could tear apart the goliaths wrecking their homes that easily, imagine what she could do to an average human. The more people learned about her and her origins, the more they noticed the resemblance she bore to the monsters she was so dead set on fighting- and there was one conclusion that was settled on. It was all a front. She was a wolf in sheep's clothing, and one day, she would snap.

Perseus Enterprises came up conveniently quiet when asked just why they'd allowed a monster in the ranks of humans.
It was no trouble, though. She'd been taken care of already.

Kicked out of the only family she'd ever known, any hope Rhosgobel may have had for the future was quickly dashed. All of her seething rage towards Rina and her abandonment came back a hundredfold, and there was only one way she knew to vent her frustrations- sheer violence. Jumping through a series of hoops with what she'd obtained on her jobs and various "borrowed" electronics, Rhosgobel now makes a living carrying out hits for just about anyone who needs them. She doesn't have much use for the money, moving between the houses of her contractor and an unlucky stranger, but it's a comfortable cushion- she's in it for the thrill, after all.

Enjoys Food Network cooking shows.

Prefers their eggs raw.

Listens to Avril Lavigne. Frequently.

The mask doesn't actually do anything- It's just a comfort item.

A bit of a sucker for cuddles.

Talks in their sleep.