Writing Liberian accents is pain.
[hider=Tyler, the Doctor]
[b]Name:[/b] Tyler Sacha Cardwell (pronounced SA-SHA), "Doc"

[b]Age:[/b]
[list][*][i]Biological[/i] - 39
[*][i]Actual[/i] - 239[/list]

[b]Ethnicity/Birth Place:[/b] Liberian-Jamaican, Born in Monrovia, Liberia; raised in the US, Jamaica and Liberia

[b]Gender:[/b] Male

[b]Appearance:[/b] [hider=Tyler][center][img]http://s.hswstatic.com/gif/how-dreadlocks-work-2.jpg[/img][/center] Standing at roughly 6 feet tall, Tyler is certainly an imposing figure. When he was younger his form was almost all muscle, this has changed some with age, while still well muscled, his body is beginning to show signs of age, no doubt 200 years of cryostasis have contributed to some atrophy. His locks, when untied, reach just shy of halfway down his back and show little signs of graying.[/hider]

[b]Personality:[/b] Tyler is a pragmatist. He was raised by strict parents with very real financial restraints, as such, he was taught young to remember he was blessed to have what little he was given, and that it would be a sin to waste any of it. Although his religious views may have changed with time, the ideology that waste and needless consumption are bad things have stayed with him. He is easily consumed by his work and adopts a very serious persona while chipping away at a project, even having the tendency to fill his idle time with busy work simply to avoid having nothing to do. He very easily represses any stress he may feel with a smile and has a tendency to lean toward isolationism. While he is a generally warm person, he uses work as a mechanism to avoid the dangers of companionship. He holds a belief in many old world forms of medical diagnoses and would best describe his personality as the temperaments [url=http://www.finallyalive.com/describing-the-supine-temperament/]Supine[/url] and [url=http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Four_temperaments#Phlegmatic]Phlegmatic[/url].

[b]Biography:[/b] Tyler was born in Monrovia on August, 1st of 1990. Fortunate timing, his birth was exactly one month before the fighting of the First Liberian Civil War reached the city, and by August, 15th, his Jamaican father was able to arrange an escape from the country for himself, his newly wed wife, and his baby son. It took negotiations, but the young family was able to flee 5 days before September, the assassination of Samuel Doe, 5 days before fighting broke out in the streets of Monrovia and more armed conflict. Once the family settled, living with Tyler's fathers extended family in Jamaica, thankfully the rest of his first year of life was relatively peaceful. Growing up in the Caribbean exposed Tyler to the cultures of the world, in the form of tourists, dangers, such as hurricanes and a general lack of infrastructure in the country, and the wonders of the beautiful island. All of this was tempered by love and a strict upbringing from his parents, as well as a strong sense of duty instilled in him by his religious relatives.

While considering Jamaica a home, Liberia was also where half of his family lived, Jamaica may have been his father country, but Liberia was Tyler's motherland. That's why in 2005, at the age of 14, Tyler and his family moved back to Monrovia after the end of the Second Liberian Civil War and the first democratic election in the country's history. This shift, from veritable island paradise, to war torn city, greatly affected the young Tyler's perspective. Where in Jamaica he was more prone to loud outbursts, and tempered his chores with play time, the sudden culture shock of being exposed to what was literally a new country and new side of his family to him made him much more reserved. He began dedicating more of his time to the welfare of his family, and his country in general, becoming almost obsessed with community service whenever he wasn't utilizing whatever schooling was available.

At University age, he utilized a scholarship and dutifully attended the University of Liberia, it was there that he discovered his interest in medicine. After earning his Bachelor's from the African university, he received another scholarship that allowed him to attend medical school in America. Although his scholarships were full, their conditions left little room for error, combined with his already reserved and serious nature-- his secondary education was always the priority, he found little time for socialization. Still, by the age of 28, Tyler had earned his degree, although his specialties (General practice, Tropical medicine, Cardiology and Hematology), would mean another 8 years of residency and fellowships. This time was spent island hopping, taking advantage of his Jamaican citizenship, he spent his residency exploring the Caribbean, receiving training from some of the best doctor's in the field in Cuba, and actively practicing in some of the more remote regions of the islands. While still almost always 'at work,' this was the first point in a long time in Tyler's life he had received a real break from the constant focus on service to others, it was during this period that he made the discovery that he hadn't been living for himself since he was a young boy in Jamaica.

This reprise and period of self-discovery didn't last long however, at the request of aging family, he spent the last few years of his cardiology/hematology fellowship in Monrovia, taking care of aging family. This would continue until, at the age of 35, Tyler decided to actively make a change in his life, and being aptly qualified, he joined Médecins Sans Frontières, to put his skills to use in the region as a whole. While still acting under the scrutiny of a traditionalist family, and using his work to fill up his void of a social life, he found the exciting and morally rewarding life fun, and he was happy. He even found, in his fellow doctors, companionship and romantic relationships. This, of course, was until the plague got really bad. Médecins Sans Frontières were among the first response groups when it came to aid and attempted medical treatment, with Tyler on the front lines. He was exposed to the plague first hand, and saw the chaos it created-- someone like him, an overqualified doctor who had come into close contact without dying-- was invaluable, NASA contacted him about volunteering, having seen his colleagues die, and knowing his family was slowly dying, he went, having nothing left on Earth.

[b]Old World Profession:[/b] Doctor; As a seasoned medic with Médecins Sans Frontières, Sacha is used to working efficiently with minimal or no equipment to treat severe injuries and ailments, working on or around battlefields has hardened him to the stresses associated with working in war-zone, and frequent under-financed work has also driven him to become quite resourceful when faced with injuries and dangerous situations.

[b]Other:[/b] Has experience with the use of stealth on a battlefield.

[b]Sample Post:[/b]
Gritty coughs came out of the phone speaker before that familiar, accented voice filled his ears, "I've been here my whole life, child..." it was the voice of his mother, a voice that held memories both good and bad, but in this moment, hearing her like this, with where he was headed, filled him with nothing but an incredibly potent sense of dread.

Absolute loss.

"Ma," Tyler began, he ran another red light while doing so, he was behind schedule, and he definitely didn't intend on being late for a [u]space shuttle[/u], there really weren't any other drivers to be worried about anyway, police even less so, "It'll be just like when I was a kid, just leave the city for a little bit and then come out when things cool down."

An uncomfortable pause. Tyler turned onto the freeway, just like the streets-- deserted. He was pretty sure the GPS still worked-- where were the other volunteers? Already there? He applied pressure to the peddle, he didn't need to pay attention to his speed, the freeway was desolate. In the distance he could see the rising structure that was the launch pad, the last week had been nothing but simulations and briefings. He was definitely ready for whatever came next, but that didn't stop the anxiety, Tyler supposed that was natural, 20 years of medical experience and he was about to become a human Popsicle in space. The exit would be coming up shortly...

His mother broke the silence. "We should have stood by our city..." More coughing. It was early stages of the plague. All he could do was identify it-- he couldn't help her, his mother, the woman who birthed him--

"Maybe we should have..." Tyler agreed idly, yawning unintentionally. He slowed down the generic rental as he approached the exit. He could see the spacecraft on the launchpad in the distance now, it was visually impressive. As well as intimidating. He drove slow as the car made it's way to the space center, the vehicle making the only sounds in the still dawn. As he chipped away at the distance between himself and the space center, he realized that this was probably his last opportunity to talk to her, his father and colleagues were dead and his family scattered, he had already made his peace and done his crying... But this? This was something more profound.

This was the last conversation of his old life.

"T-- you couldn't have stood!"

This got a chuckle out of him, "I know, Ma."

Another coughing fit, she sounded wearier after each word, "Still... I will stand by my city now... as your father does for his.."

"Yeah, Ma. Do it for me, too."

"S-such a good boy." She was wheezing with each breath now, she would pass out soon. "Finding the cure... so we can all be t-together... m-my son the doctor..." her voice trailed off. She had no clue what NASA actually wanted him for, she just assumed he was working hard for a cure, he didn't have the heart to tell her to abandon hop on her deathbed.

[i]Didn't have the heart to tell her that he had failed.[/i]

"Ma?" worry filled his speech, he could see NASA scientists rushing toward his car to greet him, he would have to go soon, and she may have minutes of life-- or at least consciousness-- left, maybe even seconds. "Mom!?"

"Mmmm?" She was lackadaisical, nonchalant. She was almost out-- so much left unsaid, so many issues left unresolved-- and he had-- MAYBE seconds left. The car came to a stop in front of the Space center. He'd be lulled into unconsciousness in a manner of minutes too, the difference is that he'd only be gone for 50 years, she'd be gone forever.

"I love you, Ma."
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