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Dorian Stoneman

A Spartan III committed to his duties and ready for anything...

0 · 428 views · located in Terra

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

Description

Name: Dorian Stoneman

Call-sign: Dorian-892, Raven

Species: Human (SPARTAN program enhanced)

Ethnicity: American

Age: 25 Years Old

Height: 6'4"

Weight and Body Type: 200 lbs. out of armor and half a ton (1k lbs.) in armor. Stoneman has an athletic build.

Skin color: Not exactly white, but pale skin due to his being in armor the majority of the time.

Hair color: Dark brown.

Eye color: Bright blue.

Hair Style: Short-cropped and brushed to the side, when not wearing his helmet.

Facial Hair: Clean-shaven.

Tattoos/Markings: A few scars scattered across his body and a Spartan-III insignia tattoo on his left forearm.

Facial Features: He's a fairly handsome man with high cheekbones and a nice smile. There are no noticeable marks on his face though, no scars or beauty marks, making him fairly ordinary-looking.

Skills/Abilities: Dorian is a genetically modified and augmented Spartan-III, making him the perfect super-soldier. He is faster, stronger, and has much more mental fortitude than an average human. Apart from the science, he is a natural, and official, arms expert. He loves guns and can take apart most, if not all, human and alien weaponry and piece it back together in perfect condition for firing. He's a fan of learning how to use new and improved weapon systems as well and is an exceptional strategical planner.

{Clothing}

Nine times out of ten, the Spartan is wearing his modified urban-camo MJOLNIR armor. It features a thin energy shield, heads-up-display, and various links to hook weapons and ammunition onto. It also increases his speed and strength a considerable amount even though his natural abilities are already superb. The armor allows him to be in outer space without harm and regulates his body-heat with an advanced layer of gel, which also protects his body from heavy impacts, such as explosions or drops.

If he isn't wearing his MJOLNIR, then he is usually in his dress uniform. A black suit with various ribbons and patches as well as a gold rope falling down his left shoulder.

Personality
Stoneman can be described as a man who loves his job. Even though some of the elements of war are destined to bring a man down, he can't imagine doing anything else with his life. He is eager to go on missions and fight in a battle, though will not carelessly run into danger. He is a thrill-seeker, and loves to use the tools of his trade. Out of the field, he likes to talk to women, wanting to start a family someday. However, he is not exactly opposed to the occasional lustful encounter. He's not exactly a stickler for the law, but he does hold a sense of duty and respect to both his higher ups and those under him. The Spartan is always ready to help out for a good cause, and will do his best to impede trouble.

Equipment
Aside from his MJOLNIR armor, he is usually carrying some form of battle rifle or DMR, a standard M9 pistol, a few clips of ammunition, and possibly grenades. He also always carries his own personal magnum and occasionally a shotgun. Aside from the weapons, he generally carries a small pack with medical supplies and water as well as a small, but sustainable, amount of rations.

So begins...

Dorian Stoneman's Story

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He wasn't one to not follow orders, especially if the individual should make swords out of shards and who knew what else. So indeed, when he was told to move, he rolled out of the way and smoothly hid behind a giant pillar, letting his head peek around to see what would happen.

"Let her have it!"

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Corporal Dorian Stoneman walked easily into Gambit's, flashes of the night before skipping past in his head. What a strange fight it had been. Today he wasn't dressed in his SPARTAN armor, no today he was in his military dress suit - it was completely black with a black tie to match. Several ribbons decorated his left breast and he wore a gold rope from his shoulder to said ribbons. His rank was embroidered on his left shoulder. On his right breast was the name tag of Stoneman, and a badge just below that showed that he was an elite Spartan warrior.

His dark brown hair was short cropped, the top invisible because of the black officer's cap on his said, and he was clean-shaven. He had pretty, light blue eyes that seemed to be very sharp and piercing. He moved with precision, the walk of a military man. Dorian soon found himself at the bar, typing in an order of his favorite treat - lemonade.

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A robotic bartender finally brought the drink to Dorian, setting it slightly in front of him. He didn't assume that there was a military discount, so he simply passed the desired credits over, and they were quickly snatched up by the tender. He lifted the icy glass and took a sip of the sweet glory that is lemonade - few things were tastier than this, at least that was what he thought.

He turned around in his barstool then, slightly eager to be social; if this was going to be where he was going to be stationed for an indefinite amount of time, he wanted to make friends with at least a couple of people. His attention was caught, suddenly, by the Jack of Hearts as he offered his cease fire, in the form of a glass of water. His light blue eyes scanned the room and an easy smile broke out on his face, a small charismatic dimple appearing on his chin, it would be a good day.

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The corporal in his crisp, black military dress uniform stood at attention as soon as the now promoted Major James Draco walked in. He saluted at his CO sat down and said, "Good afternoon, sir! Last night's threat was taken care of, no further details other than the enemy was brought to a stop." He hadn't been expecting the major's presence and once he noticed the change on his armor, he said, "Congratulations on your promotion sir."

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He let his salute fall and nodded, the black suit cap on his head not budging, "Thank you sir." Dorian fixed the gold rope on his shoulder a bit and then sat down at the Major's table. He quietly took out a manilla folder from his black jacket, placed it on the table, and slid it over to Draco. "TOP SECRET" was printed in red ink on the front, and Dorian's name was printed on a tab.

"This is my official file, Major," he began to explain, lifting his hand from the folder. "This will give you my test scores, fitness test results, battle accomplishments, and other information of the like, all detailed. I think you will be happy with everything inside; I am a rookie, but I consider myself very capable, sir. Also inside are instructions of how and when to utilize me, not that I think you'll need them, and the permission from Command to promote and demote me as you please."

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Realizing that the Major had uploaded the information into his system, the Corporal took the folder back and slid it into his dress jacket once again. Paperwork was becoming more and more obsolete, in fact, he was ordered to burn the documents if his CO did not keep them for his/herself.

"I'll do my very best to serve under your command, Major. I hope I won't let you down," he finished with a small nod. His curiosity was killing him..."Sir," he finally said after a few moments, "permission to speak freely sir?"

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"Just.." he paused for a moment, trying to phrase his question as delicately as possible. "What the hell happened to you last night? Suddenly you're there, fighting and such with me and Omega, and then you're gone. And then a dragon came. And....I think the dragon turned into you...? I mean...what's going on exactly? ... Sir?"

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"Understood sir...that's really weird, sir," he finished with a slightly embarrassed smile, the dimple on his chin coming into view. Dorian lifted the icy glass and once again brought it to his lips, taking in several gulps of lemonade. He was happy to have this, a moment's rest. He had just come from a Red Zone in the main campaign a few galaxies over, and he was ready for a slightly slower-paced post.

The Corporal set the glass back down and took another look around the bar, happy to see no sign of the fight the night before. This place definitely had a magical tinge about it, whether it was the man with the horn on his head, or the fact that there was no trace of a fight before...it was definitely different than any place he had been stationed before.

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His CO was taking some R&R, and he was alright with that, but he wasn't feeling too sleepy himself. On the contrary, he was pretty wide awake. He turned his chair around and watched the harlequin's antics, a small smile on his face - whatever this being was, it was amusing. He had always appreciated these types of acts as a child, and that feeling hadn't gone away, not even at twenty five years of age. Dorian sipped at his lemonade and watched as he pestered the others.

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His CO was taking some R&R, and he was alright with that, but he wasn't feeling too sleepy himself. On the contrary, he was pretty wide awake. He turned his chair around and watched the harlequin's antics, a small smile on his face - whatever this being was, it was amusing. He had always appreciated these types of acts as a child, and that feeling hadn't gone away, not even at twenty five years of age. Dorian sipped at his lemonade and watched as he pestered the others.

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Corporal Dorian Stoneman walked briskly down the stairs and into the main bar area for the second time that day, or rather this evening. He still had on his black military dress suit, complete with spit-shined shoes, black slacks, jacket, and black tie. A small assortment of accomplishment ribbons were stuck onto his left breast and a gold rope hung from his left shoulder to said ribbons. On his right breast was his name tag, "Stoneman", and right beneath that a decorative pin that told folks he was an elite SPARTAN soldier.

On his head was a black dress hat with his rank embroidered on the front of it. This hid most of his short-cropped, brown hair, all but the sides of his head; he was also clean-shaven, very military of him. His light blue eyes looked quickly around the room, looking for a friendly face, and hoping to maybe have a drink with someone.

After a few moments of looking around, he figured that maybe he should just order himself a drink first. And so Dorian strolled on over to the bar and took a seat, typed in an order for a glass of scotch, and then turned on his barstool, scanning the crowd.

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Corporal Dorian Stoneman walked heavily down the steps in his SPARTAN armor and into Gambit's taproom. He didn't have his helmet with him today, but his battle rifle was locked securely on his back, his m9 and Desert Eagle at either side of his waist. The clean shaven Spartan stepped up to the bar and took the first available seat...right next to Jenny. He looked over at her and smiled before saying, "Good evening," and ordering a scotch.

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The elite soldier looked over at the man who seemed to be guarded by that robotic being. He had on all of his armor, minus his helmet, so he looked over at the blond man and gave a friendly wave, the Corporal's light blue eyes squinting a bit in a smile, "I'd be happy to take you up on that. A Pomona if you could spare it." The Spartan wasn't usually social unless with other military personnel, but tonight was his first night on leave for a couple of months, and he was due for a promotion to the surprisingly high rate of Chief Petty Officer for the valor displayed in his last tour. That was a five-rank promotion all in one, and he was more than happy with it, at just age 24.

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Dorian Stoneman smiled and stood up from the barstool he was seated at to walk over to the business owner. It was truly a bit of a surprise to have been invited to take a seat alongside the man - the Spartan was no stranger to jeering, snide remarks, and even death threats from civilians. Sometimes being a warrior brought down some harsh criticisms on a person's head, and this one was no exception. That's why when he was asked over, he approached semi-cautiously, eyeing the robot a bit but holding out his hand to the man when he got there. "The name's Corporal Dorian-892, it's a pleasure to meet you, thanks for the drink." He spoke a bit rigidly, obviously a little too used to the hard life of an all-purpose war machine, but easily enough to pass as a human being. As an afterthought he added, "Fancy contraption there."

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Dorian Stoneman smiled and took a seat at after the handshake, giving the mechanized soldier another look-over, this time in an appreciative manner. "She looks and sounds like quite the masterpiece. I've heard of them actually, the new A-12 units. I was heading a platoon, campaigning on a star system a few neighborhoods down, and some of the marines under me were saying that they had some robotic help on their last tour. And since your claiming it, I guess I've just met Mr. Malachite - it's a pleasure, sir." The drink was set in front of the Spartan and he dipped his head in thanks to the bartender and immediately took a sip. It was delicious. Dorian set the drink down and returned his gaze back to the business-owner, "Thanks again for your work and your hospitality. Not too many people here are happy that I take my leave here in Gambit's, but it's too interesting of a place." He laughed a bit and picked a splinter of wood from the bar, idly tossing it to the floor.

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Dorian Stoneman nodded along, looking thoughtful, "You're right about that, the Aschens don't care too much for your units - especially in the hands of the UNSC." He looked at David apologetically and offered a sympathetic shrug, "Afraid I can't tell you that. Civilians need special authorization, a code is required, yada yada, yada yada. That information could lead you to my own headquarters, people of worked with, missions I've taken care of, et cetera. And as for me and the Aschens...well...they like to take me in for bickering sessions every now and again." The corporal laughed, though the topic wasn't very comical at all, "It happens from time to time, they try to evict me from their territory, and every time my CO has to come in to release me. Politics, I could live without them...I just try to do my job and not engage in open warfare with the Aschen; though honestly, I can see that happening in the near future anyway." He sighed wearily, as if he'd been taken in enough times that it seemed routine. His head turned immediately, as if on impulse, to the source of the loud noise of a hand slapping a surface, inspected the woman, and brought his eyebrows together. She didn't seem too pleased.

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Dorian Stoneman walked down the stairs and into the bar for the second time that day, this time a weary look on the 24-year-old's face. He wore his urban-camo SPARTAN armor, just as before, but this time he had his helmet under his arm as well. He was a clean-shaven man with short cropped brown hair and light blue eyes. There was a certain kind of rigidness to everything he did, the hard and disciplined life of an elite soldier.

The newly promoted Chief Petty Officer (E7) stepped into the taproom and took a look around, hoping to find a friendly face to speak or drink with. He was feeling social, still relatively happy over his new promotion - though a small battle ordeal had just left him winded and ready to relax.

He walked on over to the bar and took a seat, still looking out for any potential acquaintances, and ordered a scotch. Alcohol probably wasn't the best thing for him right now, but it sounded good, and he was on leave anyway, no one would find out, or even care really. A few people left the bar and his armored shoulders slumped slightly as the chances of getting a good conversation along with his drink were slimming.

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Dorian Stoneman watched as the last of the patrons left and sighed inwardly, 'there goes my conversation.' But he politely waved back at the young man and then fell back to waiting for his drink. He had had a bit earlier, but had to leave for an emergency, so he was more than ready to pick up where he left off.

As he waited, the CPO happened to catch a glimpse of the nearby cat. It drank some kind of...juice, more than likely, from a bowl, seemingly very content with its life. Not really expecting the cat so much as to turn its head his way, the Spartan said to it, "Well, looks like it's just you and me tonight. So much for the thrilling and fantastical Gambit's."

He finally got his drink from the bar, toasted it to the feline, and then began to sip at it.

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Chief Petty Officer Dorian-892 strolled into Gambit's with a hard look on his young face. He wore his urban-camo SPARTAN armor today, minus the helmet, and had a battle rifle locked onto his back. An M9 pistol hung on the armor of his right leg, and a couple of grenades clung to the left of his waist. In a split second he noticed the Navy working uniform, and as he passed the young lady, he nodded and said in greeting, "Petty Officer."

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The CPO looked over at the man who had spoken to him, and it looked like he was going to give a bitter reply, but he suddenly shrugged, smirked, and answered, "Yeah, might as well be. Good idea, turbo." With that, he switched his attention back to one of the touch-screens on the bar and typed in an order of soda and fries, all the while still standing, very aware that the combined weight of his body and armor could bust the barstool.