Name: Alexander "Sandy" Bridge
Age: 31
Gender: Male
Outfit and Rank: Canadian Armed Forces, Lieutenant

Appearance/Photograph: Although he towers over his previous form - and human standards with it - Sandy stands small among his peers. While he appears short and slender among the Kora'ai, his wingspan, larger than most, allows for greater airborne speed and endurance. His hide is pigmented a bright crimson, with flecks of yellowish gold scattered seemingly at random, giving him an unintentionally flashy appearance, though apparently this is fairly common for Drakes. His head lacks anything in the way of natural decoration besides a simple pair of backwards-facing stumps where it is suspected horns were supposed to grow, but never properly formed.

Service Record: "Be good to your mother," Marcus Bridge said as he placed the watch in young Alexander's hand. He was six years old at the time, and didn't really understand that this would be the last time he would ever see his father walk through the door of his home. Perhaps it was the words that drove him to pull through school top of his class. Perhaps it was the undying hope, in spite of the reality, that told him to move on and make a life for himself. Either way, he had a Master's degree in Engineering and a wife of his own by the time his mother took ill and passed on twenty years later. The day his son was born, he swore that he would never leave the same way his own father had.

That was shortly before the arrival of the Kora'ai. Months passed. A year. It eventually seemed that nothing significant would come from the arrival of these creatures.... Sandy was away on a job when the bombs fell and the war began, and the Drakes struck hard in their initial retaliation, razing cities in their wake - including the city where he grew up, where he was determined to raise his son. He booked his way through sky and road to the nearest evacuation centre... To his great relief, his wife had escaped with his two year old son in tow. They were safe this time. But that didn't mean that they would remain so the next time the Drakes saw fit to attack.

It was this that drove him to enlist. His training passed by swiftly, driven by his determination to protect his family, and his personal grudge against the Drakes for ripping his home away from them. It wasn't long before he was sent into the field, where his experience as an engineer allowed him to earn his rank in a matter of weeks. Then, just like that, it was over.

The Kora'ai had slowly been moving out from their landing, claiming more and more territory in that time. The mission was supposed to be simple. To assist the Americans in halting their advance. They put him in a tank. The thing about a race like the Kora'ai, though, is that when you have skin as thick as theirs, every weapon must be armour piercing to really make an impact. And thus, all of their weapons were just that. Sandy never knew what hit him. One moment, he was keeping the heavily vehicle from overheating as the gunner took aim at the advance line. the next, his body was in pieces around him as the vehicle's other occupants made their escape through the newly made hole in the hull. There was no pain. He'd almost wished there was. It would have kept his mind of his promise, made what felt like an eternity ago as he muttered a silent apology with his dying breath.

Other: Sandy left behind a loving wife and a growing son. While he hopes he'll someday be able to see them again, he's not certain they would recognize him for what he'd become. He still carries around his father's wristwatch - though his wrist is now far too large for it - which was recovered with his body.