Post by SORYN HAWKE on Aug 5, 2013 6:34:45 GMT -5
SORYN CAREDON HAWKE
AGE: Thirty Six
GENDER: Male
NICKNAMES: N/A
MEMBER GROUP: Alliance
BRIEF HISTORY:
Born in 2481 on Persephone, Soryn Hawke was seemingly destined for a life within the Alliance government. Having a father who captained a ship in the Alliance Navy, and a mother who worked as a political aide, it was a good enough expectation as any others. So it came as absolutely no surprise when Soryn enlisted the moment he came of age. It was a simple choice for him, as he had nothing but respect for the government which kept his planet and their neighbors safe, and joining up with the military allowed him to honor both his debt to society and the work of his parents.
For several years, Soryn drifted across Alliance space in quiet service. Aside from minor scuffles with smugglers and pirates, he saw little action; as a ground pounding enlisted man, there was little call for his skills, as most action against scum tended to take place in space. Around the year 2503, four years after enlisting, Soryn applied to Officers School in an attempt to earn a commission. It was his hope that having a higher rank might grant him more responsibility, and therefore more action... something which the young soldier was craving. As good as a universe without conflict was, it just wasn't very exciting. To his excitement, Soryn found himself accepted, and began taking the courses necessary to earn his bars. Upon his completion of his training, Soryn found himself in possession of a shiny new commission and some brand new orders: assist Alliance Naval forces in maintaining surveillance on recently disruptive border planets.
For three years, Soryn did his duty, finding the life of an officer much more fulfilling then an enlisted man. Though he still felt the desire for something more... unstable, the ability to have more of an effect on larger affairs was satisfactory enough to keep him calm. However, things were beginning to change. The border planet situation had gradually begun to deteriorate, until they up and seceded entirely, declaring themselves Independent of the Alliance. Alliance brass wasn't able to abide by such blatant disrespect, and in 2506, war was declared by both factions. Soryn was immediately thrust into the fray, given command of a platoon of Alliance soldiers and assigned to the front lines. To his credit, the relatively inexperienced Lieutenant took to the new situation quickly, relishing the utter chaos the 'Verse had descended into. He finally had his conflict.
They say true men are forged in the fires of war, and Soryn was no exception. Time and time again, Soryn and his men were brought up against the Independent forces, and each time they came out on top, beaten but still breathing. As the casualties of the conflict began to mount, Soryn found himself gaining recognition from his higher ups, and his road to glory began in earnest. Victory after victory began to be attached to his unit's name, and by the Battle of Du-Khang, Soryn had earned himself the rank of Captain, and the command of his entire company, while his men earned themselves a place on the vanguard against the Independents stationed there. He earned much fame amongst his fellow officers during that siege, becoming one of the first soldiers to cross the Independent lines after Alliance armor managed to dislodge the main concentration of enemies.
It wasn't until the Battle of Serenity Valley that he truly earned the renown that has followed him since. Faced with one of the largest forces assembled by the Independents during the war, Soryn and the rest of the Alliance military were sent into a conflict that many saw as being suicide. Indeed, Soryn himself believed he wouldn't survive to the end, such were the odds stacked against them. Over the course of the battle, Soryn watched as hundreds of his comrades died, slain attempting to remove the Independents from their entrenchments. As the battle went on, Soryn found himself gaining command of depleted companies, their previous commanders killed in battle. Such were the losses sustained by both sides that Soryn eventually found himself a member of General Wilkins's cadre of senior officers.
As the battle came to a close, General Wilkins launched a masterful flanking maneuver, spearheaded by Soryn's companies. The successful strike drove hard into the side of the Independent lines, cutting off several enemy units and eventually, leading the Independent High Command to declare their surrender. However, at the end of the battle, Soryn was hard pressed to consider it a victory. When the smoke cleared, and the casualties were added up, the dead and wounded totaled up to over five hundred thousand.
Despite his own personal reservations, Soryn found himself lauded by the Alliance military. For his service during the battle, Alliance brass showered him and his fellow officers with medals, applauding their victory and screaming the story of their success across all of their planets. Soryn himself questioned the praise silently, but kept quiet. After all, the Alliance had proven victorious, despite taking nearly 300,000 thousand casualties in the process. They had earned the chance to embellish and place their officers on pedestals. The civilians back home, they needed that boost after the years of conflict.
Even if some of that news were outright lies at worst.
In the aftermath of the war, many of the veterans left the Alliance military, the enlisted mustering out and several officers turning in their commissions. Soryn was amongst this number, having changed greatly in mindset from the way he thought at the beginning of the war. Though war had brought the excitement he had craved, it had also brought pain and suffering to millions throughout the 'Verse. Peace had been hard won, and Soryn had no desire to see another war happen. Which was precisely the reason why he accepted a position with the post-war Federal Marshals.
It was an easy decision, to join the Marshals. Having served in an attempt to reunify the 'Verse, it was only natural that he'd want to serve in an attempt to preserve this unification. Since the war, he's served alongside the Marshals, and has earned himself a position acting as an independent agent. His present mission?
Track down potential seditious elements and ensure any threat they pose is eliminated.
FACE CLAIM: Sam Worthington
EYE COLOR: Blue
HAIR COLOR: Brown
OTHER FEATURES: Of particular note are the Maltese crosses tattooed on several places on his body, one on the left side of his chest, one on the back of his neck, and one on the back of his left hand.
GENERAL: Soryn is a career soldier, and takes his job seriously. When he is given a mission, he completes it to the letter, and leaves no room for error. He is efficient, accomplishing every objective given to him without complaint. He is a professional, and it shows. However, on a personal level, he is a cheerful and care free man. He enjoys his off time as much as the next man, and has a tendency to spend it doing any of his hobbies. Unlike many within the Alliance military, Soryn doesn't bare any particular bad will towards those who fought on the side of the Independents. As far as he is concerned, they were simply misguided and unaware of the true nature of things. After all, the Alliance is the best thing for everyone. They just happen to be horribly misrepresented.
WEAKNESSES:
- Blind Loyalty - He works for a corporate authoritarian regime which almost certainly couldn't care less about the common man. Soryn can't see that he fights for that which could be considered the 'wrong' side.
- Over Confident - Though he's been proven right on many an occasion that the Alliance will always prevail, someday, sometime, this might not be the case... and Soryn might find himself in a situation he has absolutely no way out of.
- Opininated - Stop talking? Where's the fun in that? Soryn isn't exactly known for keeping his mouth shut. If he has something to say on something, he's going to say it, regardless of the desires of those around him. If you're being a complete moron, he's going to call you out on it. For the most part, this is harmless... but one of these days, he might just say the wrong thing to the wrong man, and with his over confidence already proving to be an issue... well, things might blow up in his face.
STRENGTHS:
- Exceptional Combat Training - He didn't make it through the war and out of the Valley in one piece because of luck.
- Utter Dedication to His Cause - Never give up, never surrender; Soryn will fight until the last enemy of the Alliance gives up or dies.
- Small-Unit Tactics - If there's one thing Soryn is good at, its killing things in new and interesting ways. If there's two things he's good at, its killing said things, but also devising a plan to do so. For all the skill at arms a man might possess, he's sure to fall if he can't put those skills into practice, something Soryn realized fast. His ability to quickly assess a situation and create a plan involving either only himself or a squad of fellow Alliance troops has saved his life time and time again, and seen him promoted for it.
RP SAMPLE
William Castigan was not a happy man.
For what had seemed like centuries, he had led the garrison of Castle Markoth, on the Valterran border with the Eldenar Wilds. It was a rather dull posting, and he knew full well that his assignment there meant he would never find himself advancing within the ranks beyond the point he had reached. Valterra didn't care about some border fort. With the situation between the kingdoms deteriorating before the eyes of everyone, Markoth was getting less and less supplies as the convoys were diverted to the front lines. If it wasn't for the merchant who made the trek from the capital to the fort every other week, William would be sure that his superiors had forgotten all about him and his men.
Though he hated to admit it, being a career soldier and all, William had been nursing thoughts of rebellion in his little fort. The men he led, they were all loyal to him, and just as annoyed with the lack of attention from their commanders. It wouldn't be difficult to convince them to go renegade, claim the fort for themselves, and go outlaw. For the most part, they'd all go willingly. With the tensions of the kingdoms being at the forefront of the mind of the Valterran elite, they wouldn't bother to take back the fort, and even if they did, they would send a token force at best. It would be practically foolproof.
But that was just the passing ideas of a man who was bored. William wouldn't betray the oath he took, no matter how much he was tempted to do so. He was an honorable sort, despite the scenarios that played out in his mind. It was how he had made it to the rank of Captain in the first place.
Despite rarely getting any orders, William still kept himself busy. Since his posting, he had taken up painting to pass the time, and had managed to actually become quite skilled at it. With inspiration in the form of the wilds which sat just outside the fort's walls, it was no wonder his renditions of forestry were actually not half bad. He had even managed to convince the lone merchant who made the trip to the castle to purchase some of his works for trading. It didn't get him much, but it allowed him to say his hobby made him money. Not many people could say that these days.
Especially not lonely border guard captains.
It was a painting that he was working on as he thought his faux treasonous thoughts, a half-finished painting of a pool of water surrounded by trees, something which was inspired by one such pool he had stumbled upon once on patrol. He hadn't been able to go out that far in recent days, much to his disappointment, due to a series of sightings of creatures that far in the woods. Though he had disliked giving the order to stay closer to the fort, William knew he had had to do it, if only to keep his men from being stupid. For the most part, however, it wasn't affecting his work too much; as far as his memory could tell, the painting was coming out quite nicely.
As he dipped his brush into paint to continue, William was interrupted by an extremely loud noise from outside of his building. Startled, William lost the grip on his brush, and it fell onto the canvas he was working on, splattering paint across the image. William's mode darkened quite quickly at this. He had spent a decent amount of time on this painting, and to have it ruined by the incompetence of one of his men was quite angering. He left the brush on the canvas, and stood up from his desk, intent on figuring out which bastard member of his guard had screwed up.
However, before he even get halfway across the room, yet another loud noise from outside the building hit his ears, this time easily identifiable as an explosion. William's nerves shot straight up as he realized that he could also hear faint screams from outside as well. He sprinted the last few feet to the door, kicking it open to emerge into the hallway. He was greeted by the frightened yells of one of his soldiers, Korvaun, who was standing about halfway down the hall, firing a crossbow out of a shattered window. William stepped out into the hall, and called out to Korvaun. "Korvaun, what the hell is happening?!"
The soldier turned to face William, his eyes wide with fear. He opened his mouth to shout out, but before he was able to form the words, Korvaun burst into flames before William's eyes as a ball of fire came rolling through the window. The blast from the fire sent William flying down the hallway, before he landed on his back about twenty feet away from his study's door. Groaning in pain, the captain managed to stagger to his feet, before looking down the hall to see what had happened to his comrade. Where Korvaun had been mere seconds before was a burning, blackened humanoid figure, laying on the ground.
Horrified of the sight, William turned away, in order to head down the hallway towards the stairs leading outside. Before he made it halfway down the hall, however, he heard a quick bang and a scream, before seeing a body tumble down the stairs, a sword embedded through its chest. Skidding to a halt, William reached to his side to draw his sword, but realized with fright that he had left the blade within his study, laying next to his desk. Hearing the sound of armored boots snapping against the stone steps, William did the only thing he could think of.
He ran back to his study.
Throwing the door shut as he ran into the room, William put the lock bar into place, before crossing the room to unsheathe his sword from its scabbard at his desk. Though he doubted it would be of much use against whatever it was that had incinerated poor Korvaun, William took comfort from the weighted steel in his hand, and decided that it would be more than enough to take on whoever had killed the soldier in the stairway. As for the fire... his room was in the keep. The entire keep was made up of rather sturdy stone. No fire would reach him within his room. Even if the rest of the garrison died from whatever it was that was happening, William was sure he would survive.
Boom.
