Current
I won't bring my own beer, but I will bring da muthafuckin' ruckus.
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7 yrs ago
Fuck. It's been a while since I've been pissed off. Usually, I just get sad, so this is a welcome change of pace.
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7 yrs ago
Paul Baribeau is my favorite person ever.
7 yrs ago
Wow. Woman Beating Jackass won against a guy from a completely different sport. Is he proud of that?
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7 yrs ago
"Personality, I mean that's what counts, right? That's what keeps a relationship going through the years. Like heroin, I mean heroin's got a great fucking personality."
Character Personality: Before he was crippled and left for dead, Thomas was bright, optimistic, and charismatic. He was the very picture of a good solider, a good leader. Afterwards, he became jaded and bitter. Upon visiting him in the hospital, his own mother called him a grumpy cynic. However, that isn't to say that Thomas is all bad. He's not yet lost his ability to give a damn, and while he may not be open, he can be friendly. This is especially true concerning Aileen Faraday, his oldest acquaintance, best friend, and violent rival. Thomas, like his friend, is headstrong and has a tendency to see his way as the only way.
Aileen once described Thomas like this; "He's the kind of guy who will do any favor you ask him, even if he'll complain and call you a jackass the whole time he's doing it."
Character Background: Thomas was born on Luna, into a family that claimed to be the moon's first settlers, back before the Bulwark Crisis. They certainly had the wealth to back it up, too. They owned a massive hydroponic dome, capable of growing food far faster than the moon's rocky, post-terraformation soil. Despite having a path clearly set for him, Thomas denied his considerable inheritance and joined the Army.
In the military, he proved to be a tactical genius. His squad was extremely effective, and he performed especially well upon receiving the soldiers who would come to be his closest comrades, including Aileen Faraday. He was promoted rapidly, and given command of more and more soldiers. Despite the rapidly inclining pressure, Dunn and his soldiers performed exceedingly well. Or, at least, well until a disastrous battle which left him severely wounded and most of the combined human forces on-ground dead. 150 people survived that battle. Only three from Dunn's unit, one of whom was MIA, one of whom was himself.
At a hospital on Earth, Humanity's golden boy was fitted with a prosthetic leg and a hip replacement, with the hopes of putting him back in command ASAP. Unfortunately, a genetic condition caused his body to reject the prosthetics, causing constant aches and a noticeable limp. Now that he was of no use as a soldier, the military offered him a position in the higher brass. He declined, using various strong words. Depending on the account, he may have also used his currently-disengaged prosthetic and struck the messenger.
With his former dream career out the window, Thomas decided to use some of his family's considerable wealth to educated himself in medicine. As it turned out, he was something of a savant. He became a doctor in record time, with a specialization in emergency trauma medicine. Then, for kicks, he studied emergency surgery as well.
Now one of the most skilled medical specialists in Human-space, the military cautiously offered him a position as a base-side doctor. To their surprise, he accepted with little hesitation.
Curio: -Cane: Thomas has a straight, black, no-frills cane that he needs to walk properly. With it, his limp is almost unnoticeable, and he can walk at a normal speed. Without it, he very clearly struggles to move at about 3/4 normal speed. -Pistol: Not one for attaching sentimentality to inanimate objects, Thomas scrapped the pistol that he used in his old military career. He now carries an advanced civilian model, likely of higher quality than the current military standard issue.
Appearance: Thomas has blonde hair, blue eyes, and a strong jaw. The quintessential soldier, formerly. Time and bitterness have prematurely aged his face. His are perpetually tired looking, and a scowl permanently adorns his face.
I'll admit, that post was a bit underwhelming. I'll try and make sure the next one has more substance.
I think I may be focusing on the NPC's too much, because it feels like I don't have Thomas's personality really nailed down. I'll try and work on that.
"Edouard." Felix said, breaking the relative silence that had come over the partisans. Seated in various places around the front room of the old farm house, the Partisans had been acting much like the Americans. They kept to themselves, speaking in hushed tones. Thomas and Edouard had been talking, and Thomas was practicing his French, with mixed results.
"Sir?" The Frenchman turned to face his leader, and raised an eyebrow.
"You and Thomas go talk to some of the Americans, figure out the food situation." Felix ordered, not looking up from the map. Edouard sighed, standing up. Thomas followed suit. "Oh, and try to be friendly. They seem divided enough as it is. We don't need them angry at us, too."
"You're ordering us to make friends?" Thomas asked.
"Essentially."
After some deliberation, Edouard and Thomas approached the two Americans handling MRE's.
"Hello!" Edouard said, almost painfully genial and approachable. Thomas wondered if Felix had ever considered espionage. Edouard would make a good spy. "My name is Edouard, and my compatriot here is Thomas." Thomas nodded.
"Hello." He said, simply. He looked at the Americans. The massive black man, and the considerably smaller woman. An odd pair, to be certain. "Are you two in charge of food?"
"Right. Our leader, Felix, was wondering if you might be able to get us some food." Edouard explained. Thomas noticed that Edouard's accent almost vanished when he spoke. "Or, if not, we were wondering if you knew anyone who could."
Did I say tonight? It's 3:42 in the morning. My bad, poor time-management. I'll see how things go tomorrow. In the meantime, I'm totally cool with being skipped over. It can be assumed that Declan is doing what most every other soldier in the unit is doing, and complaining about how much it blows.