Post by Ian Devson on Aug 3, 2014 4:10:10 GMT -5
Name:
Ian Devson
Rank:
Private First Class
Assignment:
Rifleman
Section:
1st Squad, 2nd Fireteam
Age:
20
Height:
5'5"
Weight:
150 lbs
Years of Service:
Two
Injuries Received in the line of Duty:
Dislocated shoulder, Third degree burns on his back.
Character's Kit:
M68C9 Assault Rifle on a three point sling with a Trijicon ACOG Red Chevron 4x32
M201 Tactical Shotgun with attached Surefire 6P Flashlight below the barrel
A21 Tactical "Marauder" Armor
One M2 Smart Grenade
Frame:
Ian has a pretty standard frame as things go, he has recently lost some muscle mass from his extended stay in sick bay. His black hair is neatly trimmed into a smart crew-cut leaving it free and clear from his face and eyes. His eyes are a dark brown that are often, when not hidden behind his helmet's visor, are sparkling with some unknown mirth or joke from behind his not quite regulation glasses. When he smiles his teeth are slightly stained from years of drinking coffee and slightly crooked. The rest of his face seems weathered like tanned leather from the weather over the years.
Personality:
Ian has taken to military life like a fish to water. Having always been a good young man with a unique moral compass, he fits right in with the brotherhood that formed around him. Quick with a smile and wave he will be inclined more often than not invite you to join him in the mess hall to share a cup of coffee or a meal. Having only been in two combat rotations he is still some what optimist with a hopeful eye to the future. Ian is also slightly empathetic, reading people with ease, this some times will lead him to pester someone that he perceives or suspects might be in some kind of emotional turmoil in an attempt to help them.
When in the field though his personality takes a dramatic shift from the genial kind-hearted man to a well-oiled point man. As soon as the lead and the shrapnel start flying his language becomes colorful and frankly would put a sailor to shame. He will often take strides to protect the com gear on his back as well when the shooting starts, he knows how much it hurts when those puppies start to burn. He will follow his commanding officer to the depths of the pit and back if he was asked to, knowing that a good leader would shoulder the brunt right there with his men. He slightly resents being striped of Radio operator status though being trained for it. but is still a good soldier and follows orders.
History: Ian was born to two military parents working on the space docks of Mordia. As a navy brat he grew up underfoot of the other dock workers and pilots. His mother being a propulsion expert attempted to teach him how to help maintain the engines of the vessels that would keep docking at the port. Needless to say she was not quite successful at this endeavor. His father on the other hand worked on maintaining and upgrading the small fighters that came along with the goliath cruisers and carriers. His father would often take him out on shakedown flights for these smaller craft. All in all he had an amazing childhood with loving parents.
Ian attended his school years in on base schools, often having to take a shuttle from the space docks down to the base on Mordia, rising early each day to travel to the planet's surface. Shortly after graduating high school he came to the decision to in fact join the military himself. He spent one more month living with his parents, taking time to say his good-byes to the station where he had spent the first eighteen years of his life. After that final month was up, Ian took a shuttle down to the surface of Sisyphus for the last time to talk to the recruiter on base and ship off to basic training.
Ian spent the first year of military service between basic training and AIT, swiftly becoming extremely proficient rifle man scoring above average on his marksman exam. Having only seen combat twice before applying to drop school and requesting a transfer to the Drop Corps after his injury. His first military engagement was with an ambush by radical guerrillas looking to ad a few more notches to their guns. The engagement was quickly quelled at the quick reaction of the squad who quickly pushed back the attack suffering only minor injures and taking several captives. Ian's second taste of action was soon to follow his first and, significantly different though. He was a part of a convoy with a mission to take the enemy combatants to bunker deep in the hills from where they were currently. During the transportation to the facility the convoy was attacked and disabled forcing the troopers to dismount. Once on the ground they were attacked from all sides, a much larger and more organized force than when they had captured the guerrillas. (shall continue into the Sample RP is a good launching point)
After the incident with the convoy he was transferred to the Drop Corp and moved into infantry position.
Sample Roleplay:
Ian could hear the Sarg shouting, but the words were drowned out by several very loud very sudden explosion that rocked the Lion, knocking Ian from his seat and into the prisoners that they had kneeling in the aisle between the rows of seats. Blinking dazed Ian looks around seeing the sudden look of excitement of the faces of the prisoners. Ian scrambles to his feet and back into his seat, leaving his weapon hanging from his harness. Ian pulls up his left forearm looking at the screen as his right hand flies over the pad pulling up the frequency for his commanding officer in the other Lion.
" Come in this is Wolf-seven, Wolf-actual, do you copy?"
Ian is greeted by silence, no static, no response....Just nothing.
"This is wolf-seven. Wolf-actual do you Copy?!"
Shaking his head and keying back to Line of sight communication "Sarg the Coms out!" His hands now instinctively going for his weapon, fitting into the familiar grove or the rifle. He can hear the sergeant calling out again "The vehicle is disabled. Everyone out!" Ian watched as the other men of his squad grabbed the prisoners by the backs of their shirts and hauled them out of the transport. He was the last man to scramble free of the transport, but before he could get free he tripped on the lip near the door sprawling out and onto the ground jarring his shoulder. Once again greeted by the thunderous voice of his sergeant "Devson! On your feet!" trying to push himself up and finding that his left arm is limp where it sits and starting to panic.
"Sarg! Sarg! My arm ain't working!"
Ian starts to kick his feet under him in the dirt trying to gain leverage to get himself up. Swearing under his breath the sergeant he hauls Ian to his feet pointing to a ditch where the other men in his squad are "Get ov---" but he is cut off as the transport erupts behind them knocking Ian back to the ground and sending shrapnel flying into the communications unit on his back and severing some of the connections that the Plate starts to fizzle and ignite burning Ian's back who is now screaming out in agony. The sergeant had stumbled forward a few paces and suffering a few lacerations, starts to haul the screaming Devson to the ditch swearing colorfully. Ian soon blacks out as the back piece is pried off of his back.
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(I am sorry if it has some grammatical errors, was falling asleep)
Ian Devson
Rank:
Private First Class
Assignment:
Rifleman
Section:
1st Squad, 2nd Fireteam
Age:
20
Height:
5'5"
Weight:
150 lbs
Years of Service:
Two
Injuries Received in the line of Duty:
Dislocated shoulder, Third degree burns on his back.
Character's Kit:
M68C9 Assault Rifle on a three point sling with a Trijicon ACOG Red Chevron 4x32
M201 Tactical Shotgun with attached Surefire 6P Flashlight below the barrel
A21 Tactical "Marauder" Armor
One M2 Smart Grenade
Frame:
Ian has a pretty standard frame as things go, he has recently lost some muscle mass from his extended stay in sick bay. His black hair is neatly trimmed into a smart crew-cut leaving it free and clear from his face and eyes. His eyes are a dark brown that are often, when not hidden behind his helmet's visor, are sparkling with some unknown mirth or joke from behind his not quite regulation glasses. When he smiles his teeth are slightly stained from years of drinking coffee and slightly crooked. The rest of his face seems weathered like tanned leather from the weather over the years.
Personality:
Ian has taken to military life like a fish to water. Having always been a good young man with a unique moral compass, he fits right in with the brotherhood that formed around him. Quick with a smile and wave he will be inclined more often than not invite you to join him in the mess hall to share a cup of coffee or a meal. Having only been in two combat rotations he is still some what optimist with a hopeful eye to the future. Ian is also slightly empathetic, reading people with ease, this some times will lead him to pester someone that he perceives or suspects might be in some kind of emotional turmoil in an attempt to help them.
When in the field though his personality takes a dramatic shift from the genial kind-hearted man to a well-oiled point man. As soon as the lead and the shrapnel start flying his language becomes colorful and frankly would put a sailor to shame. He will often take strides to protect the com gear on his back as well when the shooting starts, he knows how much it hurts when those puppies start to burn. He will follow his commanding officer to the depths of the pit and back if he was asked to, knowing that a good leader would shoulder the brunt right there with his men. He slightly resents being striped of Radio operator status though being trained for it. but is still a good soldier and follows orders.
History: Ian was born to two military parents working on the space docks of Mordia. As a navy brat he grew up underfoot of the other dock workers and pilots. His mother being a propulsion expert attempted to teach him how to help maintain the engines of the vessels that would keep docking at the port. Needless to say she was not quite successful at this endeavor. His father on the other hand worked on maintaining and upgrading the small fighters that came along with the goliath cruisers and carriers. His father would often take him out on shakedown flights for these smaller craft. All in all he had an amazing childhood with loving parents.
Ian attended his school years in on base schools, often having to take a shuttle from the space docks down to the base on Mordia, rising early each day to travel to the planet's surface. Shortly after graduating high school he came to the decision to in fact join the military himself. He spent one more month living with his parents, taking time to say his good-byes to the station where he had spent the first eighteen years of his life. After that final month was up, Ian took a shuttle down to the surface of Sisyphus for the last time to talk to the recruiter on base and ship off to basic training.
Ian spent the first year of military service between basic training and AIT, swiftly becoming extremely proficient rifle man scoring above average on his marksman exam. Having only seen combat twice before applying to drop school and requesting a transfer to the Drop Corps after his injury. His first military engagement was with an ambush by radical guerrillas looking to ad a few more notches to their guns. The engagement was quickly quelled at the quick reaction of the squad who quickly pushed back the attack suffering only minor injures and taking several captives. Ian's second taste of action was soon to follow his first and, significantly different though. He was a part of a convoy with a mission to take the enemy combatants to bunker deep in the hills from where they were currently. During the transportation to the facility the convoy was attacked and disabled forcing the troopers to dismount. Once on the ground they were attacked from all sides, a much larger and more organized force than when they had captured the guerrillas. (shall continue into the Sample RP is a good launching point)
After the incident with the convoy he was transferred to the Drop Corp and moved into infantry position.
Sample Roleplay:
Ian could hear the Sarg shouting, but the words were drowned out by several very loud very sudden explosion that rocked the Lion, knocking Ian from his seat and into the prisoners that they had kneeling in the aisle between the rows of seats. Blinking dazed Ian looks around seeing the sudden look of excitement of the faces of the prisoners. Ian scrambles to his feet and back into his seat, leaving his weapon hanging from his harness. Ian pulls up his left forearm looking at the screen as his right hand flies over the pad pulling up the frequency for his commanding officer in the other Lion.
" Come in this is Wolf-seven, Wolf-actual, do you copy?"
Ian is greeted by silence, no static, no response....Just nothing.
"This is wolf-seven. Wolf-actual do you Copy?!"
Shaking his head and keying back to Line of sight communication "Sarg the Coms out!" His hands now instinctively going for his weapon, fitting into the familiar grove or the rifle. He can hear the sergeant calling out again "The vehicle is disabled. Everyone out!" Ian watched as the other men of his squad grabbed the prisoners by the backs of their shirts and hauled them out of the transport. He was the last man to scramble free of the transport, but before he could get free he tripped on the lip near the door sprawling out and onto the ground jarring his shoulder. Once again greeted by the thunderous voice of his sergeant "Devson! On your feet!" trying to push himself up and finding that his left arm is limp where it sits and starting to panic.
"Sarg! Sarg! My arm ain't working!"
Ian starts to kick his feet under him in the dirt trying to gain leverage to get himself up. Swearing under his breath the sergeant he hauls Ian to his feet pointing to a ditch where the other men in his squad are "Get ov---" but he is cut off as the transport erupts behind them knocking Ian back to the ground and sending shrapnel flying into the communications unit on his back and severing some of the connections that the Plate starts to fizzle and ignite burning Ian's back who is now screaming out in agony. The sergeant had stumbled forward a few paces and suffering a few lacerations, starts to haul the screaming Devson to the ditch swearing colorfully. Ian soon blacks out as the back piece is pried off of his back.
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(I am sorry if it has some grammatical errors, was falling asleep)
