Post by fappy on Jan 14, 2024 2:03:34 GMT
Name: Leyland Kelly
Age: 21
Gender: Male
Birthplace:
Minneapolis, Minnesota
Faction:
The Titans
Rank:
Lieutenant Junior Rank
Appearance:
Physically modest, barring his less than average height of 1.7 meters, Leyland possess wind-scarred skin, brown pupils, generic black hair kept without concern, and callow cheekbones; neither long limbed nor stubby, his build of the kind hardly recalled by those fishing for a symbol of handsomeness. Leyland’s fingers accent the proportion of his limbs, slender, with nails chewed to the quick, a nervous tick developed during those youthful years where fears are quenched through quirky outlets.
His typical garb bares the crest of slovish humility: olive fatigues, neutral colored undershirts, steel toed boots, and, on occasion, a bombed-out parka.
Personality:
Upon arriving to the ranks of his present company, Leyland was a cocksure child, averse to instinct, prone to discipline; garnering derision from higher ups became a habit. Trial and error, time wiping away that boyish frivolity and leaving the template for a confident, restless spirit.
Presently, he’s a work in progress. Improvements have been gradual, no longer does he mock higher rank, or start fights for the sake of fun. Cocksure still defines his temperament; even then, he’s adapted to a team-oriented environment, and goal oriented to a fault. In the pilot’s role he’s a steady hand, a calm mind - call it the drive to satisfy an urge to be of use somewhere.
History:
A ruddy watering hole on 9th & Hennepin, marked without a sign. Leyland’s stomping grounds, owned by his parents, two sweet and carefree individuals largely removed from their children’s lives. The three boys lived upstairs, raised by an aunt til each of them were of age to assist in tending bar. Leyland was the eldest, a wild eyed child, constantly picking on his younger siblings; comeuppance came, as Leyland proved to be the least endowed physically.
He struggled to find his honeycomb. Leyland ran his mouth every second he could, often without thinking. So it goes. Discipline came and went. Refusing the serviettes fate, Leyland tussled, and ran rampant in the streets. His parents were too busy to mind. So long as he avoided trouble with the law.
The law, however, had their say. Leyland committed a series felonies over the years: at age 12 breaking and entering, arson at age 14, and finally an assault charge at 16, the years between wasted in juvenile detention facilities, boarding schools, and countless hours courtroom hearings So long as he didn’t go to prison. Excuse expounded, his parents groveled, “so long as he’s alive”, “so long as he’s still with us”.
Leyland adopted a carefree attitude, incentivized by the state to improve, not enough to their standards, but enough to function freely for a few years before the option of military service fell into his lap. Objectively it was the only path he had left to follow. The stories of the war couldn’t dissuade him from his choice. On some level he understood that the world would go to oblivion, one way or another, and he wasn’t helping by living an oafish life.
Anyone could tell just how rough it was going to be for him those first few months. He persisted, despite the constant shitkicking; he learned, despite the intentionally drawn derision from those baring superior rank, accepting their criticism with a grain of salt and pithy remarks. Gradually, remarks were beaten out of Leyland. All that was left was a template.
And on that template was built an exceptional specimen of dogged endearment. For every boyish trait still hanging on, there were new structures, new facets, idealistic in composition, built to fit the old vacant slots once inhabited by nasty vices. So it goes. He shot up ranks quickly, although for a while the dream of hitting anything above ensign came at at a considerable price. Endless missions, it seemed, his life balanced atop a kite string untethering on both ends.
Recently returned to service after spending some time out with a gruesome knee injury, Leyland has never been more sure of himself. He hopes the tides of war have turned, a sick joke, stemming from some urge to rid himself of any negative inclination. So it goes.
RMS-117 Galbaldy Beta High Mobility Type
Prototype High Mobility Mobile Suit
Height: 19.0 Meters
Standard Weight: 36.3 Tons
Power Output: 1507 KW
Armor: Titanium Alloy Ceramic Composite
Main Weapon (Melee): 1x Beam Saber
Main Weapon (Ranged): High Mobility Booster Pod (Contains 1 Missile Pod, 1 Prototype Beam Smart Gun)
Note: Due to its experimental nature, the Prototype Beam Smart Gun is prone to overheating with repeated use. Additionally, its effectiveness decreases during sustained fire. Can fire from Booster Pod or be handheld.
