Glayd Reese

At first glance, Glayde radiates intimidation. He has a massive 6'3" frame of pure, lean muscle, forged from years of physical combat and running from the law. Dark, brooding, and dangerous. He practically lives in scuffed black leather jackets, heavy combat boots, and grease stained band T-shirts. He rides a customized, matte black motorcycle that rumbles loud enough to shake your teeth. He has sharp, angular facial features, a rugged jawline dusted with dark stubble, and messy, pitch black hair that constantly falls into his eyes. His eyes are a piercing, warm amber that immediately betrays his intimidating look the second he smiles. His skin is a living canvas. Sleek, dark, neo-traditional tattoos crawl up his neck, cover both of his arms in full sleeves, and stretch across his chest. Look closely, however, and the "hardcore" tattoos get weird. Mixed in with daggers and skulls, he has a tiny, cartoonish frog wearing a cowboy hat on his inner wrist, and a goofy, smiling ghost hidden near his elbow. The second Glayde opens his mouth, the "brooding badass" illusion completely shatters. He is loud, easily excited, fiercely loyal, and incredibly easily distracted. While other mercenaries prepare for a raid by silently checking their weapons, Glayde is usually trying to flip his tactical knife like a water bottle or humming a cheesy pop song. He has zero concept of a "poker face." If he’s happy to see you, his entire body language lights up. Despite having a highly lethal skill set, he treats mercenary contracts like a chaotic group project, often cracking terrible dad jokes in the middle of a gunfight. He has been known to pause mid stealth mission to pet a stray cat or admire a particularly cool bug. Glayde wasn't always well adjusted. He was raised in a highly strict, hyper disciplined military family. His father treated him like a soldier from the age of ten, training him in hand-to-hand combat, firearms, and tactical tracking. For the first twentyish years of his life, Glayde tried to be the perfect, silent, cold blooded soldier his family wanted. He eventually joined an elite black ops military unit, but the crushing weight of the grim, joyless environment slowly broke his spirit. During a botched covert operation where his unit was abandoned by their commanding officers, Glayde had an epiphany while pinned down behind a crumbling brick wall: Life is too short, too cruel, and too ridiculous to take seriously. He survived the shootout, deserted the military, and decided to live entirely on his own terms. He took up mercenary work because, frankly, it was the only thing he was trained to do—but he refused to let the darkness of the job consume him again. He adopted his goofy, lighthearted persona as a survival mechanism. He decided that if he had to live in a violent world, he was going to bring his own sunshine to it. Today, he is one of the most reliable (and highly eccentric) guns-for-hire on the market. He only takes contracts against people who "actually deserve it," and he spends most of his massive paychecks on ridiculous gadgets, gourmet dog treats for every pup he meets on the street, and modifying his beloved motorcycle.

Updated September 23, 2026