Post by Sporky on Jul 10, 2010 13:30:03 GMT -5
(Note that the following stats are for Chauncer himself, when he was still a normal soldier. Due to the differing natures of his new bodies, I can't give a single stat for all of them. )
Faction: Republic
Department: Army
Rank:Sergeant
Name: Chauncer Overbeck
Race: Human
Age: 25
Height:6'1
Weight: 344 lbs
Birth place: A farm on Ralltiir
Appearance: Chauncer Overbeck looks well on his way to becoming the 'grizzled old man' stereotype. A thick and pointed brown beard stuck a few inches off his jaw still, groomed and trimmed by the hospital nurses out of respect. When he was 'awake', his gunmetal grey eyes had a piercing gaze despite the bags and dark circles nesting under them from years of bad sleep routines. When not on active duty, Chauncer's head always had a dark green beret-like hat perched atop it, and combat boots almost always adorned his feet. His favorite piece of torso clothing was a murky green jacket, with matching thick pants. Chauncer seemed to have a smoke surgically attached to his mouth, for wherever he went, a small plume of narcotic smoke followed him. Now though, Chauncer lays in a coma in a hospital on his homeworld, Ralltiir. The favored clothes are gone, stripped in favor of a thin hospital gown, and his mouth is void of smokes.
However, he lives on, in a way. A small microchip, with 'CO-1' emblazoned across it and a blinking yellow LED contains a software 'copy' of Chauncer's brain, and serves the Republic in numerous interchangeable bodies.
Personality: Chauncer developed a gruff personality as soon as he was given a leader's rank in the Republic army. He was no-nonsense, and desired results above all else. That personality is still prevalent, despite him having been 'reduced' to being a microchip. He urges all Republic soldiers to 'cut the crap and grow a pair' during battles, firmly believing that the Republic will always come out on top.
Skills: As a soldier, Chauncer's hands shook less than the average soldier's, useful when sniping.
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 4
Intelligence: 4
Speed: 4
Leadership: 4
Unarmed: 4
Melee Weapons: 4
Ranged Weapons: 5
Alignment: +4
Bio:
Runt of the litter
Chauncer Overbeck was one of three boys born to Gregorn and Chaulla Overbeck, two farmers on Ralltiir. Out of the three, he was the smallest, and as a kid, his brother teased him and called him the 'runt'. His parents treated Chauncer as extra special, telling him that he'd hit his growth spurt some day. In one of the schools on the Ralltiir farmland, the other kids also called him runt, though most of his classmates weren't as rough on him as his brothers were. He focused on school, and pulled marks in the upper levels of his class.
The Scrappy
Puberty wasn't particularly kind to Chauncer, either. He remained thin while growing rather tall, ending up looking rather 'lanky'. This earned more teasing and name-calling, with names like 'Pole-boy', 'Quermian wannabe', and 'Too-tall Chauncy' being common. Like most teenagers, Chauncer grew bitter. His bitterness turned itself to a 'scrappy' personality. Fights in the schoolyard and trips to the headmaster's office were common. Chauncer's parents grew concerned and worried that their son would turn to a life of crime. Eventually, they came to a final decision: The military. They signed Chauncer up for the military, and he was shipped off to a Ralltiir outpost shortly after his 17th birthday.
Shipped out and shaped up
The army was exactly what Chauncer had expected. He was constantly berated, constantly told he was inferior. But he wasn't the only one. Every single other recruit had the same treatment. They were all equal. Equally inferior, but equal. Finally, he was just another guy. Just another face in the crowd. In this situation, Chauncer thrived in his own way. He strived to be the best. He focused himself on the training, quickly acclimating to the horrible-tasting food and sleep schedule.
Shot through the heart TOTALLY COOL CHAPTER TITLE
Weapons training was something Chauncer took to quite willingly. He was still a scrappy teenage boy in some regards. Learning how to shoot guns was an awesome idea. Every soldier tends to have their preferences, and Chauncer's assault and sniper rifles. Lending itself well to this preference was the fact that his hands seemed just slightly steadier than his fellow trainees.
What is it good for? Absolutely nothin'!
Finally, after two and a half years, Chauncer Overbeck was a full-fledged Private in the Republic Army. Drinks were consumed, fights were had, noses were bloodied. It was a time of celebration. The Republic was going through a time of relative peace. The army wasn't really needed apart from the odd small terrorist group or pirate that got way out of hand now and then. When not on active duty, Chauncer frequented Pantolomin, loving the luxury cruises and "loose" women.
It's a trap!
For all their hype and image, the amount of idiotic pirates in the galaxy is amazing. Such was the case with a pirate captain named Chyaku Norisu. This pirate had been raiding Republic supply flotillas transporting supplies to Gargon. But apparently this pirate was either too stupid or too full of himself to not fear Republic retribution, even after the Holonet announced that the Republic considered him a threat.
Password: Kylah
RP Sample:
Then:
"Everyone into the house! Move move move!"
Boots thundered up the wooden steps, and into the run-down farmhouse, under the watchful eye of their sergeant. The mission had gone down the drain, they'd been on the run since midday. Now they were hole up in some middle of nowhere farmhouse waiting for an evac. They gathered around Sergeant Overbeck, who was lighting another cancer tube. Overbeck scratched at his chin stubble before giving his men the death glare. "Whadddya waitin' for, an engraved invitation? Get upstairs! Find a room and fortify it! Evac's comin' any hour now! Pool magazines and dig in!" The barked order and glare were all the grunts needed, and again the thundering of boots on stairs was heard, a lone pair tromping upstairs about a minute later.
Now:
The ground trembled underneath the four stomping feet of the towering black war machine. Underneath it scrambled Republic soldiers of all shapes and sizes, from humans carrying rifles to Sullustans wielding heavy pistols to the odd Verpine here and there. "Keep together! Get inside the fortress and capture that comm. center!" came the voice of Chauncer Overbeck, now much louder and with a metallic flange to it. Suddenly, a dark shape tore down through the atmosphere, a bulk freighter that had no doubt been modified to carry thousands of troops. Thousands of troops too many for his squad. With a metallic whir, the 'doors' of his thermite bomblet launchers opened. "I'll see peace if I have to hunt down every last one of you frakking bastids!" roared the mechanized sergeant, assaulting the bulk freighter with a volley of bomblets. They hit their mark, the thermite burning through the freighter's hull and sending it and its crew crashing down to the planet's surface.
Faction: Republic
Department: Army
Rank:Sergeant
Name: Chauncer Overbeck
Race: Human
Age: 25
Height:6'1
Weight: 344 lbs
Birth place: A farm on Ralltiir
Appearance: Chauncer Overbeck looks well on his way to becoming the 'grizzled old man' stereotype. A thick and pointed brown beard stuck a few inches off his jaw still, groomed and trimmed by the hospital nurses out of respect. When he was 'awake', his gunmetal grey eyes had a piercing gaze despite the bags and dark circles nesting under them from years of bad sleep routines. When not on active duty, Chauncer's head always had a dark green beret-like hat perched atop it, and combat boots almost always adorned his feet. His favorite piece of torso clothing was a murky green jacket, with matching thick pants. Chauncer seemed to have a smoke surgically attached to his mouth, for wherever he went, a small plume of narcotic smoke followed him. Now though, Chauncer lays in a coma in a hospital on his homeworld, Ralltiir. The favored clothes are gone, stripped in favor of a thin hospital gown, and his mouth is void of smokes.
However, he lives on, in a way. A small microchip, with 'CO-1' emblazoned across it and a blinking yellow LED contains a software 'copy' of Chauncer's brain, and serves the Republic in numerous interchangeable bodies.
Personality: Chauncer developed a gruff personality as soon as he was given a leader's rank in the Republic army. He was no-nonsense, and desired results above all else. That personality is still prevalent, despite him having been 'reduced' to being a microchip. He urges all Republic soldiers to 'cut the crap and grow a pair' during battles, firmly believing that the Republic will always come out on top.
Skills: As a soldier, Chauncer's hands shook less than the average soldier's, useful when sniping.
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 4
Intelligence: 4
Speed: 4
Leadership: 4
Unarmed: 4
Melee Weapons: 4
Ranged Weapons: 5
Alignment: +4
Bio:
Runt of the litter
Chauncer Overbeck was one of three boys born to Gregorn and Chaulla Overbeck, two farmers on Ralltiir. Out of the three, he was the smallest, and as a kid, his brother teased him and called him the 'runt'. His parents treated Chauncer as extra special, telling him that he'd hit his growth spurt some day. In one of the schools on the Ralltiir farmland, the other kids also called him runt, though most of his classmates weren't as rough on him as his brothers were. He focused on school, and pulled marks in the upper levels of his class.
The Scrappy
Puberty wasn't particularly kind to Chauncer, either. He remained thin while growing rather tall, ending up looking rather 'lanky'. This earned more teasing and name-calling, with names like 'Pole-boy', 'Quermian wannabe', and 'Too-tall Chauncy' being common. Like most teenagers, Chauncer grew bitter. His bitterness turned itself to a 'scrappy' personality. Fights in the schoolyard and trips to the headmaster's office were common. Chauncer's parents grew concerned and worried that their son would turn to a life of crime. Eventually, they came to a final decision: The military. They signed Chauncer up for the military, and he was shipped off to a Ralltiir outpost shortly after his 17th birthday.
Shipped out and shaped up
The army was exactly what Chauncer had expected. He was constantly berated, constantly told he was inferior. But he wasn't the only one. Every single other recruit had the same treatment. They were all equal. Equally inferior, but equal. Finally, he was just another guy. Just another face in the crowd. In this situation, Chauncer thrived in his own way. He strived to be the best. He focused himself on the training, quickly acclimating to the horrible-tasting food and sleep schedule.
Weapons training was something Chauncer took to quite willingly. He was still a scrappy teenage boy in some regards. Learning how to shoot guns was an awesome idea. Every soldier tends to have their preferences, and Chauncer's assault and sniper rifles. Lending itself well to this preference was the fact that his hands seemed just slightly steadier than his fellow trainees.
What is it good for? Absolutely nothin'!
Finally, after two and a half years, Chauncer Overbeck was a full-fledged Private in the Republic Army. Drinks were consumed, fights were had, noses were bloodied. It was a time of celebration. The Republic was going through a time of relative peace. The army wasn't really needed apart from the odd small terrorist group or pirate that got way out of hand now and then. When not on active duty, Chauncer frequented Pantolomin, loving the luxury cruises and "loose" women.
It's a trap!
For all their hype and image, the amount of idiotic pirates in the galaxy is amazing. Such was the case with a pirate captain named Chyaku Norisu. This pirate had been raiding Republic supply flotillas transporting supplies to Gargon. But apparently this pirate was either too stupid or too full of himself to not fear Republic retribution, even after the Holonet announced that the Republic considered him a threat.
Password: Kylah
RP Sample:
Then:
"Everyone into the house! Move move move!"
Boots thundered up the wooden steps, and into the run-down farmhouse, under the watchful eye of their sergeant. The mission had gone down the drain, they'd been on the run since midday. Now they were hole up in some middle of nowhere farmhouse waiting for an evac. They gathered around Sergeant Overbeck, who was lighting another cancer tube. Overbeck scratched at his chin stubble before giving his men the death glare. "Whadddya waitin' for, an engraved invitation? Get upstairs! Find a room and fortify it! Evac's comin' any hour now! Pool magazines and dig in!" The barked order and glare were all the grunts needed, and again the thundering of boots on stairs was heard, a lone pair tromping upstairs about a minute later.
Now:
The ground trembled underneath the four stomping feet of the towering black war machine. Underneath it scrambled Republic soldiers of all shapes and sizes, from humans carrying rifles to Sullustans wielding heavy pistols to the odd Verpine here and there. "Keep together! Get inside the fortress and capture that comm. center!" came the voice of Chauncer Overbeck, now much louder and with a metallic flange to it. Suddenly, a dark shape tore down through the atmosphere, a bulk freighter that had no doubt been modified to carry thousands of troops. Thousands of troops too many for his squad. With a metallic whir, the 'doors' of his thermite bomblet launchers opened. "I'll see peace if I have to hunt down every last one of you frakking bastids!" roared the mechanized sergeant, assaulting the bulk freighter with a volley of bomblets. They hit their mark, the thermite burning through the freighter's hull and sending it and its crew crashing down to the planet's surface.