Quad's Application 3: Memetown
Posted: Thu Jun 16, 2016 2:10 am
Steam name: Quads
Age: 17
Character Name: Halldór Birgir Gunvaldsson
Character Age: 38
Character Corps: ODST
Character Rank: PFC
Planet of Origin: Earth
Personality Description: This Scandinavian has a flare for the drink and smokes - sucking down large amounts of booze and etc after missions as a "celebration" or so he calls it. His sense of sarcasm and humor has no bounds - cracking jokes at what could be considered the worst times. He loves to talk with people, meet them, etc - he always likes to be friends with everyone he meets. In the battlefield he tends to be a sort of unstoppable force at least that's what he likes to call it - being a CQB specialist he is more than happy to get into the face of the enemy, even if it costs him more than a few trips to the medbay. While his performance speaks for itself, he has a strange tendency to SLIGHTLY question orders from time to time - not just accepting things blindly. If he knows it's probably a bad idea to question them outright, he might just make his own decision regarding the matter and act accordingly. Though he respects his commanders authority - he thinks that blind obedience makes a bad soldier and that they should be able to think on their feet and not be a robot when it comes to situations were thinking on your feet can save your life.
Physical Description: Due to his heritage (vikings, strangely enough) he stands at a towering 6'6 - which earned him more than a few jests in his younger years. His face is slightly wrinkled and soft brown eyes compliment his fair skin. His hair is incredibly long, having to actually be braided in the back to fall in line with regulations - and to keep it nicely secured inside of his helmet. He also has a massive black beard to compliment that, it gets itchy now and then and annoys the crap out of him. His body and muscles are taught and his shoulders are sloping with a large amount of tattoo's on his body though they could not be seen with his armor fully on.
Character Bio: Halldór Birgir Gunvaldsson didn't exactly remember his parents, he had two memories of them, one of his father, who was pale and had dark brown hair and an unhappy look upon his face all the time. The other was his mother, he remembered her tan skin, her silky black hair, and the generous and kind smile she wore every day, and that was it, that was all he had to hold onto from his now-gone parents. But why should he even care about them, they were the ones who abandoned him at the door of an orphanage with only a note, telling the nuns his name and to “take good care of him.” Halldór took rather distaste to that letter, even though he kept it above his bed every night in the orphanage, he took comfort in the nuns although he was scarcely religious he liked to talk with them.
Almost everyone – including the nuns, smoked at the orphanage. And Halldór had no problem with this, he liked smoking because it put him at ease whenever he might get his anxiety and therefor did it very often. The night of his 19th birthday, Halldór was outside on the porch, smoking a cigar that one of the nuns had given him for his birthday. He liked cigars as much as cigarettes but didn't get a lot of the good kind so this was a special occasion. The head nun came from the orphanage, telling him that he would receive his inheritance as his parents had asked, and would be let out of the orphanage to find his way in life. He nodded and thanked her, smoking the rest of the cigar and turning he told her that he would be out for the night and would be back tomorrow to get his things, she nodded and headed back inside.
Halldór picked up his old canvas bag from the porch and slung it over his shoulder, walking down the steps he strolled down the quiet streets of the Scandinavian city. Anton arrived at the tattoo parlor, he had struck a deal with the woman there that when he got out of the orphanage she would give him one. He had known her for quite a long time and used to come there when he was younger and watch all the people come in the woman's shop as she was quite good at what she did. He opened the door and was greeted with a smile, she knew what he wanted as he used to talk about the particular tattoo all of the time.
Its was a White Bear, quite the beautiful one in fact - its body twisted slightly in the leaping motion it was in. She, out of request, had taken the design down to save it for him when it came time. Now, Halldór removed his shirt and sat down on the chair - taking the needle to the skin on his back she began to work. Slowly etching the creature into his body - he managed to stop himself from flinching or crying, or both. After some time it was finished, she covered it quickly and told him that he could stay the night, since the next part of their little “Bargain” required that. He accepted gladly and followed her into the back part of her store.
Halldór woke up early, getting off the sleeping woman he quietly put on his jeans and T-shirt, grabbing the canvas bag from off the wall he put on his thin jacket and stepped out into the foggy morning streets. Heading down to the orphanage, as he did he swore he saw flashing red and blue lights, picking up the pace he started to run until the sight came into view. The orphanage where he had grown up in had burned down. Later, it would be determined that since it was such an old building the wiring had been all but stable. And after such wear and tear the wires had heated up enough to catch the flammable insulation and from there it became a firestorm that suffocated those inside during their sleep.
Halldór searched through the wreckage once the police allowed him, finding a half melted safe he reached into the now cooled safe to pull out a fistful of burned dollars - and a slightly burnt passport which he tucked into his bag as he left the remains of his home. Halldór drank himself blind that night, stumbling through the streets of Berlin he found himself at a Marine recruiting post. Going inside he picked a fight with the first big guy at the desk, getting his ass served to him on a silver platter he woke up on the benches of the recruiting office. It was that moment in his life that Halldór was changed, he knew now that he had nowhere to go, and no real purpose in life - and here he was in the Marine Recruiting office.
The decision wasn’t hard, Halldór signed up and was shipped off world to one of the training centers for the USMC. On the first day he was stripped to everything but his undergarments and made to stand in the center of his barracks - a drill sergeant walked down them, barking insults at them before shouting at them to get moving as they were going for a “Run”. That “Run” was in freezing cold rains at night, anyone who fell had to make the whole squad wait for him until he got back up and then they started again - this lasted until they had ran around the length of the grounds twice. They were allowed a hot shower once they got back, then they were sent to sleep as the drill sergeant said. “The weeks that follow this will test you as a person, many will fail, and those who succeed will become Marines.”
The sergeant wasn’t kidding, the next weeks were hell - they would wake up early and sometimes go to sleep two days later. Quite a few dropped but Halldór, who had nothing left to go back to had the drive to continue. He graduated the training as above average and was recommended for the 34th Recon squad - a small squad of special forces members who carried out seek and destroy missions on enemy targets such as power sources, landmarks, food supply, etc. He was accepted into this squad which was lacking members - starting as a PFC in it he started to prove his worth on their first mission. They were sent against an Insurrection position hold up in what seemed to be a viable fortress. A former FOB for the USMC on an Agri-world which was designed to survive the incredibly strong natural disasters which occurred on the planet. Under the cover of night the six man squad entered the storm drains of the large base and began their work.
Halldór was sent with a squadmate to disable their power - since the 34th would do this simultaneously at a designated time, once that happened the outside forces besieging the area would attack at the crippled enemy. They first approached the main generator for the area - under heavy guard they devised a plan, one would distract them quickly while the other would plant the charge underneath - Anton got the short end of the stick in that. Halldór hid around the corner - clearing his voice he started to talk to the man in the room, telling him that he was the new engineer for the place and that he needed to see the engine - the man responded with “What engineer?” as he started to make his way to Halldór position, in which his squad man appeared behind the man and slit his throat quickly.
With the charge placed the man made their way out of the area - moving back to the extract point they were met with guns pointed directly at them. It appeared that the two other members of their squad had been captured by the Insurrectionists and were kneeling down in front of them, the Insurrectionists - ordered them to raise their hands, Halldór instead squeezed the detonator for the explosives the squad had set across the facility - shaking the ground and turning the power off as Halldór and his squad-mate dived for the men - grabbing their weapons quickly with their training in hand-to-hand they had announced the attack which was present quickly with all of the explosions outside. Hauling their squad-mates out of the base through where they came.
Halldór joined the men of the 34th on many missions after that, some successes, other failures. In the end he had been promoted to Sergeant and spearheaded their mission planning, it was at this point where Halldór received a letter with the symbol of the United Nations Space Command. It told him briefly of his selection for the Orbital Drop Shock Troopers and where he was expected to show up for his training should he accept it. Halldór did, and with a light heart passed on leadership of the squad to his second command - and once more set off in a shuttle to somewhere he did not know.
The ODST training was something out of a sick dream, Halldór had been pushed hard before but never like this. He saw fellow trainees, experienced men, die in drop pod exercises. It chilled him to the core and yet he pushed on, a practice he would adopt later was that for every trainee he saw die, he would get one tattoo. He currently has seventeen tattoo’s not including the Bear. After his training he was given the final test, he and rest of his fellow trainees would be assigned a mission on the planet and dropped from orbit. They would be using training rifles which used rubber rounds against other ODST squads, the lowest squad would have to repeat training all over again or if they were VERY bad, cut from the program.
Halldór stepped into the iron coffin known as the The Single Occupant Exo-Atmospheric Insertion Vehicle (SOEIV), strapping himself in he gripped the controls as the counter hit zero. His stomach felt like a thousand butterflies exploded inside of his as the pod began to shake, steering it downwards he found part of the training area he wanted to land in - a piece of flat land in a clearing. Activating his parachute he slowed above the area before activating the forward thrusters and slamming into the ground, the explosives came out on the door and it flew into the trees - Halldór stepped quickly and raised the M90 CAWS he had chosen - crouching down he started to make his way into the forest as he was out in the open. He heard two other pods crash down - one had lost balance and soared into the nearby marsh, cursing as he ran A Halldór came across the pod sinking into the bog - putting his M90 on the ground he sloshed into the waters and pulled the emergency release - blowing the pod off he hauled the man from the sinking bog and laid him on the ground.
Halldór had a look of shock on his face as he saw the man was not on his team, that shock was only doubled when the man opened his eyes and shot Halldór in the chest with the rubber bullet - he stumbled back before falling down and hitting his head against the ground - knocking himself out. Halldór woke up with the Drill Sergeant shining a light in his eye - Halldór blinked quickly and asked what had happened. The DI explained that what the soldier had done was disgusting, telling him that he had sent the man back to basic himself and what Anton had done was an honorable thing, even if he had gotten himself shot. And what that meant was Halldór's chest looked more like a Picasso painting than anything else with a mix of reds, purples, and blues. Nonetheless he was cleared fit for duty the next morning and released to his graduating ceremony.
The ceremony was short and to the point - that many men you see here would most likely will never see again. Halldór knew the feeling well as he packed up his things once more, putting on his service cap he strode from the barracks to the waiting shuttle - climbing inside he rested his back against the seat and stared out at the ground below as they took off, opening a small journal the DI had given him he took his pen and began to write. “Day 1 on the job”
How did you hear of this Roleplay & Community? Through the power of friendship and twenty pounds of sweet Mexican black tar.
Age: 17
Character Name: Halldór Birgir Gunvaldsson
Character Age: 38
Character Corps: ODST
Character Rank: PFC
Planet of Origin: Earth
Personality Description: This Scandinavian has a flare for the drink and smokes - sucking down large amounts of booze and etc after missions as a "celebration" or so he calls it. His sense of sarcasm and humor has no bounds - cracking jokes at what could be considered the worst times. He loves to talk with people, meet them, etc - he always likes to be friends with everyone he meets. In the battlefield he tends to be a sort of unstoppable force at least that's what he likes to call it - being a CQB specialist he is more than happy to get into the face of the enemy, even if it costs him more than a few trips to the medbay. While his performance speaks for itself, he has a strange tendency to SLIGHTLY question orders from time to time - not just accepting things blindly. If he knows it's probably a bad idea to question them outright, he might just make his own decision regarding the matter and act accordingly. Though he respects his commanders authority - he thinks that blind obedience makes a bad soldier and that they should be able to think on their feet and not be a robot when it comes to situations were thinking on your feet can save your life.
Physical Description: Due to his heritage (vikings, strangely enough) he stands at a towering 6'6 - which earned him more than a few jests in his younger years. His face is slightly wrinkled and soft brown eyes compliment his fair skin. His hair is incredibly long, having to actually be braided in the back to fall in line with regulations - and to keep it nicely secured inside of his helmet. He also has a massive black beard to compliment that, it gets itchy now and then and annoys the crap out of him. His body and muscles are taught and his shoulders are sloping with a large amount of tattoo's on his body though they could not be seen with his armor fully on.
Character Bio: Halldór Birgir Gunvaldsson didn't exactly remember his parents, he had two memories of them, one of his father, who was pale and had dark brown hair and an unhappy look upon his face all the time. The other was his mother, he remembered her tan skin, her silky black hair, and the generous and kind smile she wore every day, and that was it, that was all he had to hold onto from his now-gone parents. But why should he even care about them, they were the ones who abandoned him at the door of an orphanage with only a note, telling the nuns his name and to “take good care of him.” Halldór took rather distaste to that letter, even though he kept it above his bed every night in the orphanage, he took comfort in the nuns although he was scarcely religious he liked to talk with them.
Almost everyone – including the nuns, smoked at the orphanage. And Halldór had no problem with this, he liked smoking because it put him at ease whenever he might get his anxiety and therefor did it very often. The night of his 19th birthday, Halldór was outside on the porch, smoking a cigar that one of the nuns had given him for his birthday. He liked cigars as much as cigarettes but didn't get a lot of the good kind so this was a special occasion. The head nun came from the orphanage, telling him that he would receive his inheritance as his parents had asked, and would be let out of the orphanage to find his way in life. He nodded and thanked her, smoking the rest of the cigar and turning he told her that he would be out for the night and would be back tomorrow to get his things, she nodded and headed back inside.
Halldór picked up his old canvas bag from the porch and slung it over his shoulder, walking down the steps he strolled down the quiet streets of the Scandinavian city. Anton arrived at the tattoo parlor, he had struck a deal with the woman there that when he got out of the orphanage she would give him one. He had known her for quite a long time and used to come there when he was younger and watch all the people come in the woman's shop as she was quite good at what she did. He opened the door and was greeted with a smile, she knew what he wanted as he used to talk about the particular tattoo all of the time.
Its was a White Bear, quite the beautiful one in fact - its body twisted slightly in the leaping motion it was in. She, out of request, had taken the design down to save it for him when it came time. Now, Halldór removed his shirt and sat down on the chair - taking the needle to the skin on his back she began to work. Slowly etching the creature into his body - he managed to stop himself from flinching or crying, or both. After some time it was finished, she covered it quickly and told him that he could stay the night, since the next part of their little “Bargain” required that. He accepted gladly and followed her into the back part of her store.
Halldór woke up early, getting off the sleeping woman he quietly put on his jeans and T-shirt, grabbing the canvas bag from off the wall he put on his thin jacket and stepped out into the foggy morning streets. Heading down to the orphanage, as he did he swore he saw flashing red and blue lights, picking up the pace he started to run until the sight came into view. The orphanage where he had grown up in had burned down. Later, it would be determined that since it was such an old building the wiring had been all but stable. And after such wear and tear the wires had heated up enough to catch the flammable insulation and from there it became a firestorm that suffocated those inside during their sleep.
Halldór searched through the wreckage once the police allowed him, finding a half melted safe he reached into the now cooled safe to pull out a fistful of burned dollars - and a slightly burnt passport which he tucked into his bag as he left the remains of his home. Halldór drank himself blind that night, stumbling through the streets of Berlin he found himself at a Marine recruiting post. Going inside he picked a fight with the first big guy at the desk, getting his ass served to him on a silver platter he woke up on the benches of the recruiting office. It was that moment in his life that Halldór was changed, he knew now that he had nowhere to go, and no real purpose in life - and here he was in the Marine Recruiting office.
The decision wasn’t hard, Halldór signed up and was shipped off world to one of the training centers for the USMC. On the first day he was stripped to everything but his undergarments and made to stand in the center of his barracks - a drill sergeant walked down them, barking insults at them before shouting at them to get moving as they were going for a “Run”. That “Run” was in freezing cold rains at night, anyone who fell had to make the whole squad wait for him until he got back up and then they started again - this lasted until they had ran around the length of the grounds twice. They were allowed a hot shower once they got back, then they were sent to sleep as the drill sergeant said. “The weeks that follow this will test you as a person, many will fail, and those who succeed will become Marines.”
The sergeant wasn’t kidding, the next weeks were hell - they would wake up early and sometimes go to sleep two days later. Quite a few dropped but Halldór, who had nothing left to go back to had the drive to continue. He graduated the training as above average and was recommended for the 34th Recon squad - a small squad of special forces members who carried out seek and destroy missions on enemy targets such as power sources, landmarks, food supply, etc. He was accepted into this squad which was lacking members - starting as a PFC in it he started to prove his worth on their first mission. They were sent against an Insurrection position hold up in what seemed to be a viable fortress. A former FOB for the USMC on an Agri-world which was designed to survive the incredibly strong natural disasters which occurred on the planet. Under the cover of night the six man squad entered the storm drains of the large base and began their work.
Halldór was sent with a squadmate to disable their power - since the 34th would do this simultaneously at a designated time, once that happened the outside forces besieging the area would attack at the crippled enemy. They first approached the main generator for the area - under heavy guard they devised a plan, one would distract them quickly while the other would plant the charge underneath - Anton got the short end of the stick in that. Halldór hid around the corner - clearing his voice he started to talk to the man in the room, telling him that he was the new engineer for the place and that he needed to see the engine - the man responded with “What engineer?” as he started to make his way to Halldór position, in which his squad man appeared behind the man and slit his throat quickly.
With the charge placed the man made their way out of the area - moving back to the extract point they were met with guns pointed directly at them. It appeared that the two other members of their squad had been captured by the Insurrectionists and were kneeling down in front of them, the Insurrectionists - ordered them to raise their hands, Halldór instead squeezed the detonator for the explosives the squad had set across the facility - shaking the ground and turning the power off as Halldór and his squad-mate dived for the men - grabbing their weapons quickly with their training in hand-to-hand they had announced the attack which was present quickly with all of the explosions outside. Hauling their squad-mates out of the base through where they came.
Halldór joined the men of the 34th on many missions after that, some successes, other failures. In the end he had been promoted to Sergeant and spearheaded their mission planning, it was at this point where Halldór received a letter with the symbol of the United Nations Space Command. It told him briefly of his selection for the Orbital Drop Shock Troopers and where he was expected to show up for his training should he accept it. Halldór did, and with a light heart passed on leadership of the squad to his second command - and once more set off in a shuttle to somewhere he did not know.
The ODST training was something out of a sick dream, Halldór had been pushed hard before but never like this. He saw fellow trainees, experienced men, die in drop pod exercises. It chilled him to the core and yet he pushed on, a practice he would adopt later was that for every trainee he saw die, he would get one tattoo. He currently has seventeen tattoo’s not including the Bear. After his training he was given the final test, he and rest of his fellow trainees would be assigned a mission on the planet and dropped from orbit. They would be using training rifles which used rubber rounds against other ODST squads, the lowest squad would have to repeat training all over again or if they were VERY bad, cut from the program.
Halldór stepped into the iron coffin known as the The Single Occupant Exo-Atmospheric Insertion Vehicle (SOEIV), strapping himself in he gripped the controls as the counter hit zero. His stomach felt like a thousand butterflies exploded inside of his as the pod began to shake, steering it downwards he found part of the training area he wanted to land in - a piece of flat land in a clearing. Activating his parachute he slowed above the area before activating the forward thrusters and slamming into the ground, the explosives came out on the door and it flew into the trees - Halldór stepped quickly and raised the M90 CAWS he had chosen - crouching down he started to make his way into the forest as he was out in the open. He heard two other pods crash down - one had lost balance and soared into the nearby marsh, cursing as he ran A Halldór came across the pod sinking into the bog - putting his M90 on the ground he sloshed into the waters and pulled the emergency release - blowing the pod off he hauled the man from the sinking bog and laid him on the ground.
Halldór had a look of shock on his face as he saw the man was not on his team, that shock was only doubled when the man opened his eyes and shot Halldór in the chest with the rubber bullet - he stumbled back before falling down and hitting his head against the ground - knocking himself out. Halldór woke up with the Drill Sergeant shining a light in his eye - Halldór blinked quickly and asked what had happened. The DI explained that what the soldier had done was disgusting, telling him that he had sent the man back to basic himself and what Anton had done was an honorable thing, even if he had gotten himself shot. And what that meant was Halldór's chest looked more like a Picasso painting than anything else with a mix of reds, purples, and blues. Nonetheless he was cleared fit for duty the next morning and released to his graduating ceremony.
The ceremony was short and to the point - that many men you see here would most likely will never see again. Halldór knew the feeling well as he packed up his things once more, putting on his service cap he strode from the barracks to the waiting shuttle - climbing inside he rested his back against the seat and stared out at the ground below as they took off, opening a small journal the DI had given him he took his pen and began to write. “Day 1 on the job”
How did you hear of this Roleplay & Community? Through the power of friendship and twenty pounds of sweet Mexican black tar.
