Description
NAME;;
Eric Marshall Saunders
AGE;;
36
GENDER;;
Male
SIDE;;
Saint.
OTHER;;
- Knowledgeable about many useful areas, such as weaponry, explosives, intelligence gathering, warfare, logistics and the fundamentals of warfare.
- Typically carries a small switchblade with him.
APPEARANCE DISCRIPTION;;
Eric is fairly short for a man, at only 5'5 ft. Well muscled, and quite attractive. Fairly thick, brown eyebrows and combed brown hair and a rough brown soulpatch on his chin. Brown, deep eyes and short eyelashes. A rather thick, blunt, powerful face. Typically wears a snappy black dress suit and pants. Usually wears a clean white undershirt. Pretty much exactly the same as the above picture.
Personality
PERSONALITY;;
Eric has never been a laid backperson. He was a small child and developed a very strong self-preservation instinct. He's never truly relaxed, always looking behind him and keeping his guard up. Even while dealing with his friends and allies in the "Class of '13", Eric is a competent and cautious spy through and through. Though this attitude is obviously well-suited for his unique business, it leaves him with a short fuse and he frequently overreacts. Even his collegues at work dislike his attitude, and he frequently snaps, yells and screams at those around him for a slight mistake or problem.
Eric has never really doubted his loyalty to the Resistance. After his service in the Intelligence branch of the Armed Forces, Eric put all his considerable drive and determination into benefitting the Resistance. Despite the incrediable danger he is in every day at his job within the Peacemakers, Eric continues to smuggle whatever he can to the Resistance. However, he is more than slightly nervous at his job. He sweats and shakes during his job, particularly when speaking to his superiors.
Through his service in the Intelligence Division, Eric has become an expert at reading people's reactions and body language. Because of this, he is normally able to tell people's intentions quickly and react acordingly. This sometimes means he becomes impatient or agitated when dealing with people.
Among the Resistance, Eric is his typical self. Though he is dearly commited to the movement, Eric remains cautious among his comrades in arms. He deals quickly and imperonally with the leaders and members. However, he harbors a deep respect and liking of fellow freedom fighters. But, if someone could get past his facade, they would discover a determined, driven, caring and knowledgeable man.
History
HISTORY;;
Born and raised in the Megacity, Eric was never seen as a future freedom fighter. He was short, and frequently picked on by the bullies around him. Though this activity was not unusual in this new world, Eric was one of few who considered it wrong. As he grew Eric became a conformist like everyone else, absorbed by the allure of corporate whores and money. After graduating from a good high school, Eric joined the Army as an infantryman. He was singled out for his high intelligence and cautious nature.
Finishing his basic training, Eric was promoted to Corporal and joined the Intelligence Division. He served as an officer for the next six years. He primarialy investigated potential Resistance movements outside of the City, breaking up several. After being stabbed in the calf during an operation among a small group, mostly teens, Eric was honourably discharged from the service. At the age of 25, he pursued an education at a large University, majoring in Law.
As he learned more and more, Eric began to doubt the system in which he had grown up, and which for so many years he had helped. After securing a job with the Peacemakers, he began his one man crusade against authority. Only after he met the leaders of the Class in a darkened alley did he truly become a freedom fighter. Now, he smuggles whatever he can to the "Class of'13" guns, information, and whatever he can find, while feeding what false information he can to the Peacemakers.
So begins...
Quickpaw Hurojo awakes after having been asleep for several years. Around the area was only void. It was empty. Dark. Cold. "Where... where have the spirits placed me?" He started patting his body all over; ensuring that he was corporeal. "Not dead; that's a plus." Though there was no time to lose. If he was corporeal, that likely means that he could return to the world he knew, and hopefully return to his king. He began running, hoping to find an exit to this ethereal obscurity.
Sibael Rhodwyn looked around, finally staring one of the strangers in the face, "I don't remember you. Any of you, to be frank."
