Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Desmond Carter

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NAME: Desmond Carter

FACTION: New Republic

RANK: Intelligence Staff Sergeant

SPECIES: Human

AGE: 26

SEX: Male

HEIGHT: 6’1”

WEIGHT: 174 lbs

EYES: Blue

HAIR: Black

SKIN: White

FORCE SENSITIVE: No.


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STRENGTHS:
Special Forces Training: Carter has been trained the best he possibly can be through the New Republic’s Commando Program. Capable to surviving on his own in harsh climates, close quarters combat, marksmanship, triage and basic medical practices, squad and platoon level tactics, as well as versed in the gathering of intelligence and how to exploit it.
SIS Slicer Training: Few computers and security systems can stop this man due to extensive training, practice, and familiarity.
Skeleton Key: As with security systems, there few electronic doors which he cannot open. Either through the use of slicing or more brute force tactics he is likely to open any but the most secure of doors. This mainly applies to electronic or mundane portals.
Crack Shot: Putting his training to use Carter is capable of amazing feats of marksmanship. Excelling at both long and short range engagements.

WEAKNESSES:
Ruthless: While useful as a soldier, Carter will do anything in his power to complete a mission, but will also go above and beyond. He is more likely to kill or maim a surrendering opponent than risk being deceived. Outside of combat he will break bones in seemingly minor scuffles, or go for blood when there should only be bruises.
Violent: In his eyes violence is the only way to solve a problem. Unless directed by a superior he is likely to take the option of violence over diplomacy.
Terrible Pilot: Behind the wheel of a starship or tank, it is all the same to this soldier. He has no skill, nor any interest in learning. Leave the flying and driving to others.
Vice: When deployed Carter has been known to smuggle a few bottles of liquid vice with him. He imbibes liberally when he feels he will not be caught. Outside of combat he is a heavy drinker, casually getting drunk for no reason at all. He has nothing to run from, or be ashamed of. He drinks to drink, and often more than he should.

APPEARANCE:
Carter appears as slightly above average height as well as physically fit. A stern nose divides two humorless eyes, punctuating the straight-laced demeanor he seemed to always bear. Short, professional, black hair sat atop his head which contrasted against the light stubble, the product of infrequent shaving.

He is commonly seen in standard issue Commando battle dress with a helmet and facemask or a traditional fatigues bearing a maroon beret. At his side rests a durable, military grade, datapad and a set of cables which are used to direct electricity from a rather large energy pack. A hammer, in a sense, if finesse does not work, though it might serve another purpose than just opening doors.

BIOGRAPHY:
Born on the planet of Dorsis to a military couple Carter learned indepence early on. Shuffled from one station or planet to another throughout the course of his youth rarely seeing one parent or the other. As a kid he was no stranger to trouble, running with the local gangs of various planets before eventually finding his calling in the realm of slicing. There was no formal introduction, no mentor, just a datapad and a desire for some easy cash.

Using the credits he could scrounge this military brat procured himself the best modifications he could find, meager they may be. His skills advanced through the years, luckily avoiding any confrontations with law enforcement until the age of eighteen. Now independent and on his own he took a major slicing job for a larger client, willing to test his skills on more than just locked doors and simple systems.

His skill, or lack thereof, is what landed him in a courtroom filled with disappointed parents and the cold hard gavel of law. The man was offered two options. Prison or service. He chose the one he considered to be the easiest. His future, from then on, was marked with muddy footfalls and long marches. A soldier of the Galactic Alliance. While not exceeding what was asked of him he performed his duty to the letter, earning sergeant stripes before the fall of the Alliance.

When the final cry was given and the core shattered he remained in waiting, patiently. When a new flag flew the half-starbird he was familiar with he joined up. The New Republic, then still calling themselves the Remnant, had returned to the core and brought with them the promise of peace and prosperity. While the ideals were worthy, Carter truly craved the military life he had grown attached to in some way. War was war, terrible, but these were experiences he would yet not give up.

If there was a fight to be fought he would fight it.

In the service of the New Republic he fought insurgents and criminals, and upon his recruitment into the Commandos earned the rank of Staff Sergeant. Trained in the methods of intelligence gathering Carter has put his slicing skills to use once more, though honing them through SIS courses and practice.

Graduated and bearing the maroon beret of the Commandos he stands ready, rifle in hand, to attack any enemy of the Republic.


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