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Darien Ziplon


 Character summary


Name: Darien Ziplon
Aliases: Doctor Ziplon, Doc, Dar, "That Crazy Bastard down in Medical"
Age: 51
Birthday: Oct. 20
Birth planet/birthplace: The Border, Catequil Secundus, Scottish Background
Species: Bobcat Feline
Gender: Make
Role on the Dauntless: Chief Medical Officer

 Appearance




Height: 5 foot 10 inches
Weight: 231 pounds
Build: Endomorphic, Powerful build, strong arms and legs with a strong grip
Eye color: Silver-Gold
Fur color: Deep Charcoal grey with light grey and white patches
Personal clothing style: Professional, favoring monochrome colors of black, white and grey, tends to be fine style, button up shirts, long sleeves, dress pants and professional style boots and shoes, likes to wear long coats. His medical outfits are colored black or grey, scrubs, lab coats and all.

 Psychology


Sexual orientation: Aromantic and Asexual Flux (Ask me if you're unsure)
Relationship status: Single, Divorced Wife, 4 kids
Personality: Gruff, too the point, professional. Former Alphabet Security Force Corpsman making him very in the moment. Trying to talk about his time in Alphabet will get your ear talked off about how he kinda misses it, the regimented schedule and all. Working Privately is okay and all, but he kinda misses the military life. He runs a tight Medical Bay, and will get in anyones face who tries to overrule his orders to any other medical staff he has on hand. "I don't try and tell you how to "role here" do I? Don't try and tell me how to keep you alive." Tends to be shouted, spittle flying if someone tries to tell him or his medical crew how to do their jobs.

Despite this, he'll be the first one to order someone to grab a fifth of scotch and join him at a table to relax. He's not mean, he's just very devoted to his calling of being a doctor.
Likes:
A well maintained work station and lab
Good company and good drink
Healthy and safe friends

Dislikes:
People who try and tell him how to do something he knows perfectly well how to do
Someone getting hurt, be prepared to get chewed out if you hurt yourself badly
Someone ignoring medical orders. "I told you to rest! Not pick up a 210 pound gas cylinder!"

Flaws:
Can get super focused on a problem, real or other wise and obsess on it to his detriment
If presented with a medical anomaly or quandary, something that doesn't make sense medically he will work until collapse to fix it or understand it
Can fly into rants and angry torrents of word and gibberish if sufficiently angry enough about something
Has a tendency sometimes to take to drinking when angry, or overwhelmed.


History


Background: Born and raised in the border worlds. Catequil Secundus is a pretty good place. Cities are well built, little wild west at times, old Terra movies about old urban city action is pretty much basic day to day on Catequil Secundus and the other colonies and space stations there abouts. Fun thing is you don't need a transit paper to go from surface to station most times. I mean why bother when everyone is beholden to a MegaCorp or the UNC anyway. 

It's here that Darien got his start. Rough and tumble neighbourhood where everyone was either Corp, Gang or a Numberless vagabond. Blockwars happened frequently often between corps, sometimes the gangs got in it. Darien was different. He turned down every gang that tried to get his hand in. He refused every attempt. Young blood like him, be great for any gang. He worked hard, got his education, and in his college years, applied for and received a tuition with Alphabet, entering their Medical University, working to become a General Practice, and Trauma Doctor. It was a long time at the University, and a long time in hospitals and clinics until he got his Bachelors. And then Alphabet threw him a wringer. They pulled him out of his final class with 3 minutes to spare in the day, marched him into a Alphabet Security Force office, told him they had eyeballed him since he started his education and wanted him in the SF. At the time he was aan impressionable young lad. And wanted to give back to the Corp that had helped him get this far. So he signed up, and he started a new education as a field corpsman, combat medic, on the field, in the mud up to his arms in blood and guts. That's what he was told.

After another year of education and bootcamp, he joined a company, and became their corpsman. There was abit of hazing, but he earned his spot. And in his first deployment, made a name for himself. When their commanding officer for hit on the front lines during a workers rebellion. Man got hit by a round, almost took his arm off near the neck. Darien had charged out despite everything, slammed an anaesthetic hypodermic into the mans other arm then dragged him into cover, binding him up. They called him "Charger" after that. For charging into fire to safe someone.

What followed were several years of Security Force work. Rebellions, defense actions, open conflict between MegaCorps. He was on the front line when Alphabet had hit an OmniCorp stronghold with a nuclear bunkerbuster to end the conflict. And got to see it first hand. He'd later chewed out a General for putting his unit on the front and not telling them about the drop. And when the General had chewed him back it'd been interesting much later when the General had been brought into Darien's medical tent with a chest wound. It's said to this day that the screams of the general when Darien worked on him without painkillers is still ingrained in the Security Forces minds.

He started to get a little jaded and angry after that. And it took only a few more years for him to request and get his honorable discharge. He took his walking papers. A few bits from his time there, and left. Got a ship out. And somewhere along the way, got wind of the Dauntless. Recruiting or somesuch, he signed on. And made his home in the Medical Bay. And that's where this story begins...right?...Right? 

Motivation: Forget and get faraway from the Alphabet controlled Border regions for a little while. But damned if he's going to try and stop being a Medic. "Motivation? I've got your motivation right here ya daft feck. You wanted a medic, and you got a medic. Don't worry about my problems. You just worry about if I can do the job, and damn it lad, I can do the job!"

Skills and talents


Space travel:
A fair knowledge of space travel, having moved around alot with the Alphabet Security Force. Going from one hot spot to another planet side and on the colony stations
Hasn't the first idea how to pilot anything though, or the ins and outs of an engine or the mechanical aspects of a ship.

Combat:
A former Corpsman, means he was on the front lines with the Security Force and is no stranger to fighting.
A steady hand with a scattergun and a pistol, ranked sixth in his unit with a handcannon
No stranger to blood and death, having seen plenty of it after 18 years with the ASF

Utility:
Very well educated, having the basic education, but also Masters and PHDs in Medicine, Trauma and Triage Medicine
A fairly accomplished gardener, if he only had the room for it
Encyclopedic knowledge of all things Medical

Other:
A love for playing cards, Poker, 100 Points, Blackjack, but only among friends


Gear and possessions 

On person:
Alphabet Security Multi-Purpose knife
Alphabet Munitions Division .50AE 9 round Handcannon Pistol
Medical Bag with First Aid, Trauma and Triage materials


In quarters/storage:
ASF Corpsman grade combat vest, no badges anymore, but it's clearly former MegaCorp gear
Alphabet Munitions Taurus Judge Mk. 3, Yes a big revolver, that can be quickly refitted with cartridge container that can fire anything from 4 ball bird shot to big hefty Casull rounds that can bring down Terran Kodiak bears, it's not about how big it is, it's if you can touch the walls kids
92 heavily rusted and patina-ed dog tags, in the oval shape of the Alphabet Security Force unit style. Will get very sad and then very angry if anyone asks about these, yes he leaves them out in the open, doesn't mean he wants to talk about them.

Hayden nodded and got to his feet, the quartet falling back down the alley a short ways, trying to find a way inside. Hayden slung the big Bren from his shoulder and reaching down brought up his Hi-Power checking it quickly and pulling his tomahawk as well. They drifted back and as they went he tried to peek into windows, finding many of them boarded or barred over the inside of the first floor some of the rooms seemed purposefully filled with out furniture. He grumbled softly as they went, then bumped into Sean. Hayden stumbled and peered around, "Fuck, of fucking course." He nodded and slips around in front of Sean, "Get ready boys and girls..." He hissed. They waited, the militants babbling away to each other.

They were almost on them when Hayden threw himself forward, picking up the one in the lead, carrying him across to the other side of the alley bodily carrying the woman on his shoulder, until with a crunch and something breaking in the woman's hip he'd slammed her against the alley wall. He's too busy wrestling with her to look over his shoulder. He grunts but gives no room as the woman slams her head into his lips, and he can feel something pop as his lip splits. Keeping his finger off the trigger he brings it up and gives the woman a pistol whip upper cut. Rattling her.

A first swing slaps her gun from her hands. A hand numbed by the blunt end of the tomahawk blade smacking into it. Hayden staggers back as he gets a knee to his stomach. The woman fighting like some feral animal. And that's about when things go Red and White for Hayden. His mouth opening in a silent berzerker growl. Nose of the pistol to the womans cheek, knowing her back, and with a crunch the pointed blade of the tomahawk hits her in the temple. He then sweeps her feet, and that's where they find him, hammering away at the woman, eyes unfocused, mouth open in a silent animal like snarl as again the tomahawk falls, splitting something else. And again, another crunch....and again....and again...

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