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auslosen info
Aug. 5th, 2014 07:23 pmCɪᴛɪᴢᴇɴ Rᴇɢɪsᴛʀʏ
name: AARON HARDING
age: 49
appearance:
He is built like a brick house. Or a linebacker, whichever you find more descriptive. He's somewhere around 6'3", and a couple hundred pounds of muscle, and prosthetics. Those are mostly limited to damage repair -- like a replacement hip, some ribs, and part of the right side of his face. He has short, dark hair, and blue eyes in a heavily-lined face. He also carries a lot of scars, minor and major, with the most noticeable ones being on said right side of his face, and a large, circular scar on his chest. The scar on his face is about the size of three fingers, starting at his chin, climbing up to his eyebrow, and then tapering off to the right. The blow damaged the eye on that side, and while it's been repaired by various doctors, it remains less responsive than the other, with poorer vision, especially in low light.
occupation:
Security Guard slash bouncer for a popular nightclub slash casino. Part time brawler, because a city like this one has to have a version of Fight Club, right?
residence: Here
fix:
Protection. In any capacity. He has to come to someone's defense. Phsycially, if possible, but he's had to settle for verbally, or just looming threateningly over someone's shoulder. Usually a weaker party, or someone who can't do so for themselves.
permissions: HERE
record:
He never knew his parents. He spent most of his life in one of those unfortunate "adoption" situations, with too many children in too little space. It left an understandably bad taste in his mouth, seeing "parents" fall to greed and other children barely scraping by because of them. A lot of them left to join local gangs -- he heard of more than one dying in incidents related to fighting and street wars.
As a result, he signed on with the military as soon as he was able, to fight the gangs he was sure were responsible for so many difficulties. Over time, he rose through the ranks, becoming something of a weapons specialist, occasionally training new recruits, and helping to design new weaponry and the like, when it was offered. After making sergeant in his unit, he seemed to stall out. He didn't take the opportunities for bribery, or other forms of under the table advancement, save where it would allow him to pursue more weapons development. Other than that, he was determined to be in it for the long haul, showing no signs of planning for retirement or transfer. He thought he was making a difference against the various gangs and the like. Thus, there really wasn't a reason for him to. He served with his unit for twenty years, determined to stick with his men until he was absolutely forced to retire.
He met someone, too, during his service. A doctor, one who patched him up repeatedly, by the name of Benjamin Ratchet. Which earned a few raised eyebrows on his part, but, regardless of odd names, they became very close, very quickly.
It was only after a long, drawn-out conflict in one of the seedier parts of the City that he was forced to think about these things. Without his knowledge, one of his men, looking for an opportunity for promotion, tipped off one of the local gang leaders, thinking they could work something out -- the gang took out Harding, the man would replace him.
Harding survived, but barely. His hip was irreversibly damaged, along with his eye, and even after military medics and civilian doctors alike worked on him, he failed to regain full mobility in his leg, or full sight in his eye. Yet, he still wished to serve, in some respect. He applied for positions training new recruits on the firing range, but, in the end, was denied on the basis of limited mobility, despite promises from his superiors. At least, they said it was due to his limited mobility. He always suspected it was due to his stance on bribery and other forms of "unlawful advancement".
Left with no other options, he was discharged, and returned to something like civilian life. Which didn't suit him very well. He drifted between jobs, never finding anything that worked, and having difficulty even being hired. He learned his doctor friend was discharged as well, and tried to stay close to him, in any capacity.
He was finally, after about a year, given the chance to work nights as a security guard for a casino. It's not much, but it pays, and every so often he gets to throw a few punches, usually in defense of someone, which serves him just fine. He's not terribly happy about it all, even after almost ten years on the job.
name: AARON HARDING
age: 49
appearance:
He is built like a brick house. Or a linebacker, whichever you find more descriptive. He's somewhere around 6'3", and a couple hundred pounds of muscle, and prosthetics. Those are mostly limited to damage repair -- like a replacement hip, some ribs, and part of the right side of his face. He has short, dark hair, and blue eyes in a heavily-lined face. He also carries a lot of scars, minor and major, with the most noticeable ones being on said right side of his face, and a large, circular scar on his chest. The scar on his face is about the size of three fingers, starting at his chin, climbing up to his eyebrow, and then tapering off to the right. The blow damaged the eye on that side, and while it's been repaired by various doctors, it remains less responsive than the other, with poorer vision, especially in low light.
occupation:
Security Guard slash bouncer for a popular nightclub slash casino. Part time brawler, because a city like this one has to have a version of Fight Club, right?
residence: Here
fix:
Protection. In any capacity. He has to come to someone's defense. Phsycially, if possible, but he's had to settle for verbally, or just looming threateningly over someone's shoulder. Usually a weaker party, or someone who can't do so for themselves.
permissions: HERE
record:
He never knew his parents. He spent most of his life in one of those unfortunate "adoption" situations, with too many children in too little space. It left an understandably bad taste in his mouth, seeing "parents" fall to greed and other children barely scraping by because of them. A lot of them left to join local gangs -- he heard of more than one dying in incidents related to fighting and street wars.
As a result, he signed on with the military as soon as he was able, to fight the gangs he was sure were responsible for so many difficulties. Over time, he rose through the ranks, becoming something of a weapons specialist, occasionally training new recruits, and helping to design new weaponry and the like, when it was offered. After making sergeant in his unit, he seemed to stall out. He didn't take the opportunities for bribery, or other forms of under the table advancement, save where it would allow him to pursue more weapons development. Other than that, he was determined to be in it for the long haul, showing no signs of planning for retirement or transfer. He thought he was making a difference against the various gangs and the like. Thus, there really wasn't a reason for him to. He served with his unit for twenty years, determined to stick with his men until he was absolutely forced to retire.
He met someone, too, during his service. A doctor, one who patched him up repeatedly, by the name of Benjamin Ratchet. Which earned a few raised eyebrows on his part, but, regardless of odd names, they became very close, very quickly.
It was only after a long, drawn-out conflict in one of the seedier parts of the City that he was forced to think about these things. Without his knowledge, one of his men, looking for an opportunity for promotion, tipped off one of the local gang leaders, thinking they could work something out -- the gang took out Harding, the man would replace him.
Harding survived, but barely. His hip was irreversibly damaged, along with his eye, and even after military medics and civilian doctors alike worked on him, he failed to regain full mobility in his leg, or full sight in his eye. Yet, he still wished to serve, in some respect. He applied for positions training new recruits on the firing range, but, in the end, was denied on the basis of limited mobility, despite promises from his superiors. At least, they said it was due to his limited mobility. He always suspected it was due to his stance on bribery and other forms of "unlawful advancement".
Left with no other options, he was discharged, and returned to something like civilian life. Which didn't suit him very well. He drifted between jobs, never finding anything that worked, and having difficulty even being hired. He learned his doctor friend was discharged as well, and tried to stay close to him, in any capacity.
He was finally, after about a year, given the chance to work nights as a security guard for a casino. It's not much, but it pays, and every so often he gets to throw a few punches, usually in defense of someone, which serves him just fine. He's not terribly happy about it all, even after almost ten years on the job.
