Fuzzybootz
HeatPlayer Name: Rawk
Character Name: Gavon TreVayne
Character Age: 37 (b. Oct 15, 2179)
Character Gender: Male
Appearance: 6’1, 225lb lean muscle, olive skin, neatly combed dark hair and trimmed beard, showing streaks of gray. When not dressed in the standard navy blue ARK Security uniform, he prefers simple t-shirts, slacks, and boots. Although he always carries a sidearm and his bowie knife, whether concealed or otherwise.
Profession: Chief of Security
Nationality: European Confederacy
Bilingual: Russian/English
Strengths:
- Small Arms Specialist (ranged & melee)
- Close Quarters Combatant (primarily in defensive/take down/disarming techniques)
- Cold weather adaptation (inherent in his Russian lineage)
- Attention to detail/sizing up certain individuals
- Crowd Control
Weaknesses:
Has a rather soured outlook regarding AIs, and would much rather rely on human intuition and skills. Uncompromising when enforcing a law that some might consider unfair, impeding on personal rights, or perhaps a conflict of interest.
Personal Effects:
- Duffle bag of civilian clothes
- Two modified Trak Kingmaker IV handguns
- Bowie knife (gift from his father, more or less a prized possession)
- A media card full of 20th Century Jazz & Blues recordings (Something he confiscated during his time with The Brotherhood.
Bio:
“If you’re really up there God, just as you’ve been preached about countless times enough over the years for me to have listened, then I promise to turn things around once and for all. I know I’ve been a mudak, made wrong choices, but I’m not doing this for myself anymore…”
Gavon peaked around the corner of the large steel pillar he’d been huddled behind for the last hour during the firefight, catching a glimpse of his former comrades armed to the teeth, intent on ending the female Relief Soldier’s life -and his- to preserve their own sadistic lifestyle. There were four of them, one with a pistol pressed firmly against the girl’s temple, she couldn’t have been any much older than eighteen and damn sure she didn’t expect this to happen. Or maybe she did? Either way, he could see the fear in her eyes, a life that was ending even before it really began. It was hard enough for him to believe that he’d fallen in with such psychopaths, but equally understandable to a degree considering the world they were thrust into, and the lengths people had to go to survive in a wasteland...
-----------------------------
Russia, the once capital of the European Confederacy, had been torn down to essentially nothing after the Third World War, leaving its people and those surrounding countries, to pick up the pieces of their life and pride. Gavon only received these as stories, passed down through a generation or two, trying to picture in his own head what his homeland must have been like before war came to rear it’s ugly face and spit blood on civilization. His father went off to help in the war efforts, his whereabouts never revealed, and mother, a school teacher, assisted in rebuilding the educational infrastructure that was so desperately needed. Fortunately for Gavon, aside from his native Russian, he was taught to read, write, and speak in the English language, as that had been more or less the universal tongue and would serve him well.
To eke out a life from the ashes of a once proud legacy was anything but simple, and the difficult choices had to be made in order to preserve what was left, to rebuild something out of literally nothing, and hold on to the hope that one day you would put all of the chaos behind you. Either by means of a one-way ticket out, perhaps to another stabilized nation, or from a bullet to the head. Gavon was born and raised in a wasteland that looked like a hopeless case, a place nothing good could ever come from again, and yet he held onto the values passed from his parents:
Work hard, stay true to your homeland and protect it’s people, and have faith in the One who creates rather than destroys.
As time passed during the adolescent years however, his values and beliefs wavered greatly, and more out of necessity he fell in with a group who promised greater things than he’d ever had. The Solntsevskaya Brotherhood, a name derived from a Russian mafia of the twentieth century had been one of the major factions who recruited and labelled themselves as “Resistance Fighters”, when in fact they were no better than vicious street thugs. Stealing illegal technology, weapons, and supplies -ripped either from opposing gangs or from relief convoys sent down to assist in rebuilding and revitalizing- only to have their goods sold on the black market to other gangs and corporations waging their own civil wars. The Brotherhood took no sides, but rather reaped the benefits from whoever had the means to pay.
Even as he learned several useful skills and trades through his teenage years such as armed and unarmed combat, guerrilla tactics, and negotiations through intimidation and blackmail, he just didn’t see a future in taking from a society who was already buried in shit and piss. In his early twenties, as relief convoys began hiring additional protection for their goods, the gangs found it increasingly difficult to overrun them, and Relief Soldiers began pressing down hard on their assailants. Gavon saw the potential of joining such a faction of people who’s sole purpose was to help, not hurt those nations who needed the means to a better future. A life of crime at the expense of the innocent was no life he’d ever intended, and the opportunity finally came to prove where his loyalties lay.
-----------------------------
“I’m doing this for the people and values I swore to my sem'ya I’d protect…”
He slid the ammo magazine out from the modified handgun gripped tightly in his hand, doing a quick ammo check, before clicking it back into place and sliding the next bullet into the chamber.
“...and I intend on keeping that promise...”
With a smooth and effortless roll to the side, he kept low behind a table tipped over, and fired off several rounds, the first hitting the man next to the girl, which knocked him off balance, giving her the opportunity to disarm the guy and finish him off with his own weapon. The other bullets went wide, a few hitting non-vital body parts and scattering their ranks. Curses were screamed out in Russian, English, and some other unknown language, as bullets flew in both directions, one of which nailed Gavon in the shoulder causing him to fall backward. The firefight alerted nearby Relief Soldiers, who charged in and swept up what was started, and in the end, three assault rifles were aimed at the lone man laying on the ground with a bullet in his shoulder and a wry grin across his lips.
“Who the hell are you?” The girl asked him, flanked by her team, as she wiped sweat from her brow.
“Just a nobody trying to get the fuck out of this place...”
In the years following, due to his heroics and sacrifice, Gavon was part of the Relief Convoy, assigned as a soldier tasked with protecting the ships, it’s cargo, and delivery of goods. A position he grew to love, embrace, and would die for. That female soldier he saved? As fortune would have it, they grew close and married a few years after, working together to recruit more to the relief cause while maintaining a personal life. The idea of children had come up several times, but they both knew their duty came first and accepted it all the same. When the Genesis Project rolled out publicly, relief efforts turned into riot control, and soldiers were needed in every capacity to keep the peace. Gavon was eventually given the opportunity to become the Vitae’s Head of Security, based on his combat skill set, loyalty to team, and leadership qualities.
The day came, however, where his life would take an unexpected turn, when the bullet of a sniper passed through his armor, piercing his heart, before exiting through his back. Gavon instantly fell, his wife Natalie rushing to his side, and her screams for help fading as all went dark. His body was carried away by the medical AI units , sustaining his life through temporary means while they transported him to the Vitae -an Ark that would become his new home- in hopes of saving his life and retaining a great asset. On board the Ark, they quickly went to work, replacing his damaged human heart with a newly developed artificial unit, and allowing him the time needed to rest and recover while his new robotic heart adapted to its host.
Natalie, who was assigned as Security Chief on the Vitae until her husband’s full recovery, began structuring the department for additional personnel, amassing a loyal group of men and women who would serve as the ear, eyes, and law onboard the Ark.
A responsibility she knew Gavon would uphold with his life.
-----------------------------
Code Word: p1n3@ppl3
Character Name: Gavon TreVayne
Character Age: 37 (b. Oct 15, 2179)
Character Gender: Male
Appearance: 6’1, 225lb lean muscle, olive skin, neatly combed dark hair and trimmed beard, showing streaks of gray. When not dressed in the standard navy blue ARK Security uniform, he prefers simple t-shirts, slacks, and boots. Although he always carries a sidearm and his bowie knife, whether concealed or otherwise.
Profession: Chief of Security
Nationality: European Confederacy
Bilingual: Russian/English
Strengths:
- Small Arms Specialist (ranged & melee)
- Close Quarters Combatant (primarily in defensive/take down/disarming techniques)
- Cold weather adaptation (inherent in his Russian lineage)
- Attention to detail/sizing up certain individuals
- Crowd Control
Weaknesses:
Has a rather soured outlook regarding AIs, and would much rather rely on human intuition and skills. Uncompromising when enforcing a law that some might consider unfair, impeding on personal rights, or perhaps a conflict of interest.
Personal Effects:
- Duffle bag of civilian clothes
- Two modified Trak Kingmaker IV handguns
- Bowie knife (gift from his father, more or less a prized possession)
- A media card full of 20th Century Jazz & Blues recordings (Something he confiscated during his time with The Brotherhood.
Bio:
“If you’re really up there God, just as you’ve been preached about countless times enough over the years for me to have listened, then I promise to turn things around once and for all. I know I’ve been a mudak, made wrong choices, but I’m not doing this for myself anymore…”
Gavon peaked around the corner of the large steel pillar he’d been huddled behind for the last hour during the firefight, catching a glimpse of his former comrades armed to the teeth, intent on ending the female Relief Soldier’s life -and his- to preserve their own sadistic lifestyle. There were four of them, one with a pistol pressed firmly against the girl’s temple, she couldn’t have been any much older than eighteen and damn sure she didn’t expect this to happen. Or maybe she did? Either way, he could see the fear in her eyes, a life that was ending even before it really began. It was hard enough for him to believe that he’d fallen in with such psychopaths, but equally understandable to a degree considering the world they were thrust into, and the lengths people had to go to survive in a wasteland...
-----------------------------
Russia, the once capital of the European Confederacy, had been torn down to essentially nothing after the Third World War, leaving its people and those surrounding countries, to pick up the pieces of their life and pride. Gavon only received these as stories, passed down through a generation or two, trying to picture in his own head what his homeland must have been like before war came to rear it’s ugly face and spit blood on civilization. His father went off to help in the war efforts, his whereabouts never revealed, and mother, a school teacher, assisted in rebuilding the educational infrastructure that was so desperately needed. Fortunately for Gavon, aside from his native Russian, he was taught to read, write, and speak in the English language, as that had been more or less the universal tongue and would serve him well.
To eke out a life from the ashes of a once proud legacy was anything but simple, and the difficult choices had to be made in order to preserve what was left, to rebuild something out of literally nothing, and hold on to the hope that one day you would put all of the chaos behind you. Either by means of a one-way ticket out, perhaps to another stabilized nation, or from a bullet to the head. Gavon was born and raised in a wasteland that looked like a hopeless case, a place nothing good could ever come from again, and yet he held onto the values passed from his parents:
Work hard, stay true to your homeland and protect it’s people, and have faith in the One who creates rather than destroys.
As time passed during the adolescent years however, his values and beliefs wavered greatly, and more out of necessity he fell in with a group who promised greater things than he’d ever had. The Solntsevskaya Brotherhood, a name derived from a Russian mafia of the twentieth century had been one of the major factions who recruited and labelled themselves as “Resistance Fighters”, when in fact they were no better than vicious street thugs. Stealing illegal technology, weapons, and supplies -ripped either from opposing gangs or from relief convoys sent down to assist in rebuilding and revitalizing- only to have their goods sold on the black market to other gangs and corporations waging their own civil wars. The Brotherhood took no sides, but rather reaped the benefits from whoever had the means to pay.
Even as he learned several useful skills and trades through his teenage years such as armed and unarmed combat, guerrilla tactics, and negotiations through intimidation and blackmail, he just didn’t see a future in taking from a society who was already buried in shit and piss. In his early twenties, as relief convoys began hiring additional protection for their goods, the gangs found it increasingly difficult to overrun them, and Relief Soldiers began pressing down hard on their assailants. Gavon saw the potential of joining such a faction of people who’s sole purpose was to help, not hurt those nations who needed the means to a better future. A life of crime at the expense of the innocent was no life he’d ever intended, and the opportunity finally came to prove where his loyalties lay.
-----------------------------
“I’m doing this for the people and values I swore to my sem'ya I’d protect…”
He slid the ammo magazine out from the modified handgun gripped tightly in his hand, doing a quick ammo check, before clicking it back into place and sliding the next bullet into the chamber.
“...and I intend on keeping that promise...”
With a smooth and effortless roll to the side, he kept low behind a table tipped over, and fired off several rounds, the first hitting the man next to the girl, which knocked him off balance, giving her the opportunity to disarm the guy and finish him off with his own weapon. The other bullets went wide, a few hitting non-vital body parts and scattering their ranks. Curses were screamed out in Russian, English, and some other unknown language, as bullets flew in both directions, one of which nailed Gavon in the shoulder causing him to fall backward. The firefight alerted nearby Relief Soldiers, who charged in and swept up what was started, and in the end, three assault rifles were aimed at the lone man laying on the ground with a bullet in his shoulder and a wry grin across his lips.
“Who the hell are you?” The girl asked him, flanked by her team, as she wiped sweat from her brow.
“Just a nobody trying to get the fuck out of this place...”
In the years following, due to his heroics and sacrifice, Gavon was part of the Relief Convoy, assigned as a soldier tasked with protecting the ships, it’s cargo, and delivery of goods. A position he grew to love, embrace, and would die for. That female soldier he saved? As fortune would have it, they grew close and married a few years after, working together to recruit more to the relief cause while maintaining a personal life. The idea of children had come up several times, but they both knew their duty came first and accepted it all the same. When the Genesis Project rolled out publicly, relief efforts turned into riot control, and soldiers were needed in every capacity to keep the peace. Gavon was eventually given the opportunity to become the Vitae’s Head of Security, based on his combat skill set, loyalty to team, and leadership qualities.
The day came, however, where his life would take an unexpected turn, when the bullet of a sniper passed through his armor, piercing his heart, before exiting through his back. Gavon instantly fell, his wife Natalie rushing to his side, and her screams for help fading as all went dark. His body was carried away by the medical AI units , sustaining his life through temporary means while they transported him to the Vitae -an Ark that would become his new home- in hopes of saving his life and retaining a great asset. On board the Ark, they quickly went to work, replacing his damaged human heart with a newly developed artificial unit, and allowing him the time needed to rest and recover while his new robotic heart adapted to its host.
Natalie, who was assigned as Security Chief on the Vitae until her husband’s full recovery, began structuring the department for additional personnel, amassing a loyal group of men and women who would serve as the ear, eyes, and law onboard the Ark.
A responsibility she knew Gavon would uphold with his life.
-----------------------------
Code Word: p1n3@ppl3