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Aleric Stockard

0 · 698 views · located in The Infinite Void

a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by Nevermore90

Description

Image
Aleric Stockard
Eye Color: Grey-brown
Hair color: Brown
Height: 6'2
Weight: 185ibs
Accent: Aleric isn't affected by any "Accent," although his vernacular isn't American standard; when he talks to girls, he normally uses "Lass" instead of their name.

Aleric is the picture of perfect physical health in a high-technology setting. He's mostly lean muscle (the kind developed with running and gymnastics, not weight lifting), square-jaw, attractive build-though not through natural design gene treatments, injections, and all other manner of non-surgery went into making Aleric the best looking he could possibly be. He's as strong as a man should be in his prime and just as athletic.

Personality

ImageAleric likes to think of himself as being someone who likes to be secluded, quiet, alone, left alone, not bothered, and unencumbered by the company of others, but just about the opposite is true; he unconsciously yearns for the attention and companionship of other, like-minded individuals. He's a natural caretaker, husbandmen, and confidant. He also enjoys fights and killing a lot more than he would ever admit. Aleric is also a big pessimist.

Philosophy: If the first shot doesn't kill me, you better pray to whatever God you worship the next one does.

Aleric currently lives on the second floor of Gambit's hotel-section.

Equipment

Image7.62STANAG assault rifle

History

Aleric grew up the bastard child of one of the Multiverse's worst misbegotten relationships. Neither of his parents really gave a damn one way or the other as to what he did with himself during the day or whether he made it home at night. The SnC (The parenting nation he grew up in) didn't really give a damn, either, until he was 17, and showed academic potential far surpassing what would be expected from such an unfortunate childhood. He wasn't an attention-getter, didn't like attention, didn't want it-but it found him and thrust itself upon him in a very unexpected way.
One afternoon, shortly after lunch, Aleric was called down to Head-Dean Warrick's office. Never haven gotten into trouble before save a minor scuffle in the ninth grade, this naturally scared the piss out of him. When he arrived, the dean was accompanied by one Sargent Lockerlaker, who offered him a contract for military service. The SnC had encroached on colonies of a bug-like race that was kicking their ass back to SnC's home planet, and they needed a guinea pig for the E.L.F. program (E.D.E.N. project of Longevity and Fertility), which was essentially the second-largest publicity stunt since the SPARTAN2 program went public in UNSC-controlled space.
Aleric (as far as he knows) was the first and only test subject. Everything went so well, he was put on the battlefield and was portrayed as almost single-handedly saving humanity from the bug-monster-aliens. (That wasn't the whole truth, of course, but it was close) Aleric returned to SnC-controlled space for R&R and 6 months of fame in which every man, woman, and child wanted pictures, autographs, or sex. It was great, though he was world-weary and wanted nothing more than sleep after the years he spent on ass-backwards planets eating sawdust and fighting for his life.
Well, it was great until those six months ended, and Aleric was framed for rape, murder, assassination, treason, tyranny, and a slew of other crimes. He was incarcerated in the MAG6, the SnC's worst prison on a bone dry-desert planet and the edge of their colonies. He escaped of course, being the genetically-altered freak-of-science that fought off SnC's impending doom only a year ago. He collected a stripped down version of his old armored suit, a stylish jacket to wear over it, a few guns, and plenty of ammo. Getting off planet was easy, though getting out of SnC space wasn't.

Now Aleric is in Wing City, working security in Gambit's by day and fathering a 13 year old science-freak like himself by night.


Aleric Stockard pushed the bar's entrance door in, guessing that only suicidal SnC soldiers would start a fight in a place who's very mention sent shivers down many one's spine. It had its happy moments, sure, but it was all too well known for attempts at mass murder, zombie attacks, god-on-god war (or... worse), terrible plagues, and bad service. With its... interesting assortment of orderable items, it also served the purpose of helping Aleric obtain some cheap painkillers-addictions are hard to kick.
With a little sigh, Aleric pulled his second-head from off his face and folded the material into a jacket pocket. It looked like flimsy cloth when it was off, but the mesh was bullet-proof-and warm. No longer in the rain (which his jacket protected him from regardless), he could afford to shed a bit of his extra skin. Barrel-down and strapped across his back, an assault rifle bounced gently against his ass as his strolled in, found himself an empty seat, and ordered a likely stupid combination of medication and alcohol.
A small serving robot, as NPCs were cheaper and easier to write for when they lacked any reason to have a personality, shuffled around the endless storage room for "Trimium Patch-ups" and a small bottle of vodka. Rather than physically bring it to him, however, the items (as if by magic but more likely through high technology), disappeared and reappeared on his table. The price-worth of money, at he same time, similarly left his wallet. Life was simple, the vodka burned, and the painkillers but his nerves at ease.

So begins...

Aleric Stockard's Story

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Aleric Stockard shook his head and put his hands down in his lap. "I'm not a soldier anymore, and likely never one was in said empire. I don't know who your parents are, or anything about them. Are you here... alone? Do you have adoptive or foster caretakers?"

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Aleric Stockard immediately brought his arms up, ready to punch if she meant to attack him-but instead her face was buried into his stomach. He lowered his arms and let one awkwardly rest on one of her shoulders in a half-hug. "I'm sorry for you then, lass." He sighed and looked at his Vodka, longing to be alone again because he wasn't in a bar to babysit orphans. Whatever. "Are you hungry?"

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Aleric Stockard sighed. "No, child, I'm not going to buy you a beer." To make a point, he finished it off and set it aside. "What would you like to eat?"

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Aleric Stockard pushed out the chair across the table with him with a foot and tapped in an order to the holographic display. It was a particularly sad shade of blue-purple, he decided, and as it wasn't to his liking, he turned it off after ordering himself a spot of steak fries and ketchup, plus another drink. "Sit, please, lass."

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Aleric Stockard looked down at her again. She got into a chair he hadn't pushed out. Maybe she didn't understand the cue? Regardless, it gave him a footrest. "What is your name, lass?"

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Aleric Stockard put a comforting arm around her, which was enough for her shoulders/upper body. "Stockard. Eh... Mr. Stockard." He offered her a tiny smile but she wasn't looking.

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Aleric Stockard squeezed her shoulders as gently as he possibly could. "Eleesa, I'm not going to hurt you, okay?" He sighed and let the smile drop.

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Aleric Stockard had brown hair and eyes. His jaw was squarish and in general he was built to look strikingly "Manly." Surgery was (sometimes) a beautiful thing-along with biochemical engineering and the like. His arm slid off of her. "Okay?"

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Aleric Stockard shrugged. "Not particularly happy, lass. I used to be a kid, like you. But then I was... drafted into the military-well, a military, and fought a lot of people." He sighed and watched as the ordered items appeared on the table. He failed to notice she lacked a drink when he handed her her food and took a sip of his own. "I was really famous after I was done fighting, but then some asshole-" children would experience expletives eventually. Why wait? "-told a big lie and I was put in prison for it."

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Aleric Stockard pushed the bar's entrance door in, guessing that only suicidal SnC soldiers would start a fight in a place who's very mention sent shivers down many one's spine. It had its happy moments, sure, but it was all too well known for attempts at mass murder, zombie attacks, god-on-god war (or... worse), terrible plagues, and bad service. With its... interesting assortment of orderable items, it also served the purpose of helping Aleric obtain some cheap painkillers-addictions are hard to kick.
With a little sigh, Aleric pulled his second-head from off his face and folded the material into a jacket pocket. It looked like flimsy cloth when it was off, but the mesh was bullet-proof-and warm. No longer in the rain (which his jacket protected him from regardless), he could afford to shed a bit of his extra skin. Barrel-down and strapped across his back, an assault rifle bounced gently against his ass as his strolled in, found himself an empty seat, and ordered a likely stupid combination of medication and alcohol.
A small serving robot, as NPCs were cheaper and easier to write for when they lacked any reason to have a personality, shuffled around the endless storage room for "Trimium Patch-ups" and a small bottle of vodka. Rather than physically bring it to him, however, the items (as if by magic but more likely through high technology), disappeared and reappeared on his table. The price-worth of money, at he same time, similarly left his wallet. Life was simple, the vodka burned, and the painkillers but his nerves at ease.

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Aleric Stockard didn't consider himself particularly burly, and only possessed one rifle on his person, which he unlimbered and set aside. So far, he had met two girls in the bar-one which rather quickly found him upstairs and one was an orphan but fell asleep before he could offer her dinner-but thusfar was failing to achieve intoxication. Painkillers were a plenty, at least.

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Aleric Stockard finished his drink off quickly, ordered another one, and sat with his face in his hands and the rifle on the table. he sighed and tried to ignore the other two patrons.

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Aleric Stockard came downstairs slowly, his jacket unbuttoned and his assault rifle (which was unloaded due to his slightly foggy state of mind. Last night was a blur) bounced lower on its lanyard than it had any right to. His "Second face," a mesh-mask of bullet-resistance that saved his life from more explosions than he cared to say, was folded in a jacket pocket. The rack of ammunition, his knife, and a pistol showed rather dominantly along his chest and sides.
It was several steps into the bar before Aleric noticed Eleesa. He walked over to her for two reasons: One, he was going to ask her to apologize for falling asleep before eating the dinner he had purchased for her, and two to ask if she was hungry again because he still felt kinda bad about scaring her to hell.

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Aleric Stockard looked down at her, put a hand on her shoulder, and looked up at Mr. Meep. "Can I help you, sir?"

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Aleric Stockard looked down at Eleesa. Ignore the Meep/Landon thing, then... "Are you alright, lass?"

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Aleric Stockard tried to (politely) turn Eleesa away from Landon. He didn't like the fellow very much, and it was a bit past his usual dislike for most people. "Would you like something to eat, lass? Don't fall asleep this time, please."

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Aleric Stockard let go of her and started walking towards an empty booth. "Would you like the same thing as last time, Eleesa?" He slid into the seat and (for once) didn't order alcohol, although he did order painkillers-of a lower magnitude.

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Aleric Stockard

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Aleric Stockard tapped in an order for fish and chips. "Sit, please." He offered her a small smile, though he couldn't manage a comforting expression. "Are you alright?"

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Aleric Stockard looked at her seriously. "Are you in pain? Did the man over there hurt you?" He pointed with one hand and slung the rifle around with the other. When he realized it was empty, he pulled the hand back and slid a new magazine in.

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Aleric Stockard leaned forward and put his hand on her shoulder again. "Eleesa, did he hurt you?" His voice was serious, murderous, and he didn't have the patience for her to not give him a yes-or-no answer.

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Aleric Stockard leaned back, a bit relieved, but wondering why the hell he cared so much. The food arrived, his fries and her fish/chips. He pushed her plate over and started to eat without saying anything else.

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Aleric Stockard was silent for a few minutes, enjoying the fries before they were cold. "Is anything else wrong?" he eventually asked, but then she- (whatever her exit is)

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Aleric Stockard looked around the bar silently, an empty basket on his table. He noticed the SPARTAN, eyed her armor, and tried to think of something witty to say about it. He sighed, and got to thinking... which was unlikely

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Aleric Stockard looked over his shoulder to make sure she was looking at him. He shrugged. "Probably not, ma'am."