Hellis

[♛] 𝓡equiem. // the rise of soldier.

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_{S O L D I E R. . .E N C A M P M E N T / / Z A L E R A. . . T U N D R A.}

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He noted the smaller girl sway away from him in a way that belied weariness, but with a face that seemed almost like she had smelt something foul on him. Kain wondered idly what all that was about, had she some sort of ability that saw him differently? He would have to ask later, if he found the time.

The smell of food always brought the big man a semblance of peace. Maybe it was becouse his Aeon, eternally angry and all around vocal, went quiet during dinner. The fire was still ever present and but the angry voice seemed to have lost interest for now. Kain breathed out slow, relaxing as he sat down with the others. He sat quietly, and watched. His temperament and his penchant for conflict forced him to remain static and silent. He would watch them, observe what his group of newfound comrades were about. As a fighter, he evaluated the most obvious physical assets they had. Corr was built like a brick house and kain was pretty sure the man could take one hell of a beating should it come down to that. Judging from the way he carried himself, the kind cadence and steady breath, he was to be their shield. Kain had met men like him before, people who had put themselves in the way of bulelts and knives. The good kind of cops for one, had always been his type. He had killed more then a few of them. That thought got the Aeon riled up inside him.

“SINNNERRRRRR” Its voice hissed and crackled like a fire inside his mind. “We… Must ATONE! BURN IT CLEANNNNN!” He started to rise as if to to leave the table early, as the voice was insistent, the aeon clearly angry whit its host and was making keeping calm a rapidly losing battle. Thats when Cameron spoke. IT brought Kain back to reality, and he focused on the man he had seen puked earlier. He was an odd sort, he felt missplaced, like he didn’t belong here at all to Kain. He had none the others quiet confidence or ego. None of the belief in himself. Kain found he pitied him in a way, and disturbingly enough, saw a lot of his old friends in that kind of behavior. Back when they were just kids playing at being gangsters.

Those had been simpler days in many ways. But they hadn’t exactly been good days either. He was about Bruce little lightshow had caught some peoples notice, but not that of Kain, he had been to busy calming his own Aeon from trying to light them both of fire as it was. He remained silent even as Carmen began to speak again, he really didn’t like that woman and the voice inside him agreed wholeheartedly.

“FALSSSSSEEEHOOOOD. MAKE A PYRE, WOOD AND ROCKS AND LYRE. A PYRE FOR THE WITCH.” It hissed, the fire raging inside, wanting so badly to break out and engulf the entire room in cleansing heat.

“That’s new. Are we giving them nicknames now?” Kain mumbled under his breath, gulping another massive helping of food. The internal oven that was his body was consuming calories at alarming an alarming rate these days. The Aeon didn’t answer. It just kept screaming in his head about building a very old fashioned execution platform.In an attempt to ignore both Carmen and his own internal tormentor he focused on Corbyn. He seemed like an ok sort he decided. Not instantly reliable as Corr, he carried himself too much like a leader for Kain to trust him. Authority and Kain did not get along very well after all. Corbyn had apparently introduced himself before Cameron, but Kain had been to distracted by food to take it in then. But Carmen kept talking, seemingly intent on bringing them all into her web. He saw those cogs work behind her ears, putting people in their designated slots for her to better use them later. She was so much like Merc, he could have reached over and extinguished her there and then. His fingers twitched at the thought and he shook it off. Before he couldn't stop himself he spoke.

“No. No you don’t. People like you don’t care." With a small moment of silence for panctuation, he added: "Commander." Kains voice was low. “It doesn’t matter now. If they are dead, they are dead. We are not outfitted to help any survivors. What we can do is to smash whatever is in our way, and see what brought them to close down..”

As he listened to everyone introduce themselves. Corrs comment made him nod. “For those of you that do second guess. I don’t know if you read my files yet. But I do not hesitate.” In fact, that was the problem with Kain. He had not hesitated to put a sparring partners in the infirmary. “It is not in my nature. My name is Kain Bradwell.” He lifted his trench knives and let one of them sink into the table. “My Aeon is Balil.” He opened his eyes, having had them closed this entire time. Those amber browns belied the first emotion to break through his carefully maintained . They were positively feral. “We kill things.” As he said it, fires briefly danced across his skin like small wisps of almost white heat.

In Kains head, Balil was Laughing. “YESSSS KAIN. YES. WE. DO” That, was a bad sign.

Job, Nevada (Supernatural Western/Mystery)

Jacelyn sat, her petite feet dangling of a branch. Below her, Mr Magpie, sat. Mr Magpie was a shaman, much like her only very different. He was Chereoke, far from here and only passing through. He had asked for her to talk to the local Cayote and the tribes it represented. He asked for safe passage on his spirit journey like so many before him. Jacelyn had accepted to speak on his behalf, as the local Cayote God spoke to her quite often. Tricksters were untrustworthy, but Foxes existed back home to so she knew all too well its cunning ways. The First people and their tricksters were no different, and they respected her ways.

“I am done, Owl Who Speaks.” The old man said as he got up. ‘Owl Who Speaks’ was the name the Tribes had given her when she first proved to them her abilities. She held onto that name with a sense of reverence. “Are you sure this is all you need from me?” He inquired.

“Yes, Mr Magpie.” The strange young woman spoke in a faraway voice. “This tree respresented pain for so long, it was beginning to draw bad spirits. With your blessings, it should returnt to bloom come next spring, and bring with it life.” Jacelyn voice wavered, as if trembling with unbidden emotion. “Thank you.”

“No, Owl Who Speaks. It is I who should be thankful. Many of the Pale Folks spit on our traditions, putting up wooden building and brandishing their symbols as if to ward off the rest of the world. They forget the bond we share. You do not. You are like me, a walker of spirits and of the lands.” With that, the old man began to move away from the oak, and with it the city. She watched him go, head tilted much like that of her namesake animal. Then, she breathed in sharply and closed her eyes as seconds later one of said birds landed in the trees branches.

“What news Brother owl” She asked, her voice carrying with unseen winds, dissipating into the etheer like smoke. The owl let out a hoot that carried no more meaning for mortal ears then any other. But to the shaman before it, it carried words and emotions.

“Ah. Yes. The undertaker certainly seems to be busy.” She nodded. “I wonder if it is a sign of things to come.” She began walking towards town and to her Tea House, bare feet seemingly untroubled by the elements. She let out a low whistle as she strolled, seemingly carefree despite her alert eyes and sharp senses. A illusion of folly, to fool those that not yet had woken to the truth of her nation. A deception well nurtured and kept as it afforded her an advantage. She found an alarming amount of lies in this town. Shapes upon shapes, spirits wrapped in secrets and debts unpaid and shackling those bound to them. She found storms within hearts of men, and dead things wearing human guises. Flames and Ice, bound to mortal flesh and hearts carved out or rock and bone. Only Job could allow for such a strange mix of people.

She of course, knew far more the most, her little Tea House was neutral ground, afforded such status by the fact that she helped all, no matter twisted or strange. Under her roof, there would be no violence, only peace.

---

[♛] 𝓡equiem. // the rise of soldier.

I tooknthree different caugh medicines

Mass Effect: Borealis

Drono and Vellios
in
"Punch a Drell, Save a Tree"

Drono spotted Vellios make a beeline for the exit while he himself was headed for the medical bay. His new concoction of fully legal and carefully measured drugs had the discerning effect of not affecting him at all. He wasn't entirely sure it was suppose to work that well, in Drono's world nothing worked that well.

One thing Drono did know, was a sour face. His third or second, depending on his mood, turian looked not all like he usually did. When a natural born sociopath like Vellios lost his casual swagger and confident stride, something was up. Drono, ever the concerned citizen, gave chase. Keeping his distance, he followed the pale looking turian, saying nothing for now, he would find the moment to interject. For now he was just keeping an eye on his crewmate.

Vellios needed to move. Where to, he wasn't quite sure yet and merely kept his relentless clip in his step in order to increase the growing distance. His breathing was shallow and stuck in his throat, a subtle reminder he would run himself ragged at some point. Gradually his pace slowed until he came to a nearby tree far enough from the ship he assumed nobody would hear him breaking his knuckles.

Drono saw him slow down and his own steps followed suit. He stood, waiting for the inevitable. He would punch that tree. No man, drell or turian ever stared at nature that way without punching it.

"So. You gonna punch it or what?" He asked out loud, keeping voice glib and light as he sat down on a stone to watch.

Most individuals jumped at being startled. Vellios threw a blade and as predicted, his talons swung lower at his hip and gripped...air. Blinking for a moment, realization of where he was came into focus gradually. With well practiced ease and some forcefulness in his muscles, Vellios pulled himself back into a stiffen, relaxed stance once more.

"I didn't see you there, Drono. How long have you been standing there?"

Dronos eyes crinkled with mischief. He knew Vellios had forgotten his knives, you didn't follow an armed person so casually otherwise. "Looking for one of these?" He said, waggling his own knife at Vellios. "As for your question. Since you got here. Saw you leave the ship looking like a storm with dementia. What got you all up in a tussle?"

"Issues I'm hoping to resolve and honestly, I'm hoping they are nothing," Vellios glossed over smoothly, his hands braced against his narrow hips and continued to watch Drono.

"Uh huh. And that is why you were about to go all knuckles with a deathwish on that tree." Drono deadpanned, leaning onto his his hands, elbows on his knees. "Things don't just go away. Let me be a reminder of that if you ever question it. Now punch that goddamn tree, I didn't come out here just so you could stiff me on a good Man vs Nature punchout."

"I know that far too well," Vellios commented, his heart continued to pound despite his calm visage across his face. Ever fiber wanted to unleash some hidden fury and energy building within him. No longer focused on talking, he twisted on heel as his talons fisted tightly. His arm swung into a wispy tree with all his force. Knuckles made a hard thunk and the trunk rattled, stilling when the vibration died. Another thunk echoed when his other fist came in for another swipe.

A bit of blue dropped scattered across the ground. A large split edged across the flesh and talon, his blood leaked across the carapace. He didn't stop. His torso jerked back. Again... again... each strike found its mark, leaving more blood in its wake.

Drono flinched inwardly as each punch hit the tree with a resounding 'thunk sound'. "Man. You hit like a cripple. I should know!" Drono said as he got up on the stone. Rolling his shoulders as he eyed Vellios. Standing on the stone had the effect that it let him stare the Turian straight in the eyes.

"Considering I have a rib cast on, that statement isn't far from true." Vellios retorted, ignoring the sting in his torso.

"Yeah. True." Drono said with a chuckle. "Still, you punch like a Turian so one can hardly tell the difference." He shot said turian the biggest, most aggravating shit eating grin in his arsenal.

"And you have weak insults, a blind Krogan could get under the carapace better than you at the rate you're going," Another thunk, harder this time, and an indentation began to form.

Drono raised a single eyebrow at that. He noticed how the punch was harder this time, quite a bit harder. "You are right. I just don't wanna break you too bad, I can't leave Dex with emotional cripple AND a physical one." He raised both eyebrows at that.

"I think that's more her choice, there drell," Vellios reminded him, his fists kept going harder and harder, reality mixing with memories. His breath became faint but determined while he pushed on, his eyes fixed on the tree truck and the mark he was making. Bones seemed to tingle in protest and then gradually became numb, something he didn't care for right this moment.

"I think the tree had enough Vellios, I ain't gonna stand here and watch you break your hands. One, while fun to watch you spiral into violent lala-land, it's completely stupid. Two, Dex would kill me or worse, refuse me private time. Should I just stand here watching you put yourself in an even worse state. 3; Trees don't hit back, where is the challenge in that you pussy."

"Stay out of it, Drono. I'm warning you," Vellios growled.

"What. You gonna hit a cripple?" Dronos voice dropped into a half taunt, half challenge. Something inside him snapped in place. His posture shifted ever so slightly. "Fucking dare ya."

"Drono, as much as I like you, you're a pain in the carapace right now." Vellios snapped then toss his right at the tree, the hook flying pass and instead of stopping... it came right at Drono's chest side.

Drono was prepared for the punch. Not quite the feint however. He managed to pace back half a step, bringing his arms up in a guard. He was smaller, and the turian was a brawler with skills that Drell didn't have. So he stumbled. When he looked back at Vellios there was a snarling grin.

"Yeah. Yeah. I thought so. Punching like a goddamn granny." He said, he shook his arms out. "Lets see what they teach you kiddies these days." Drono had courage in spades. Self persevation? Not so much.

"Back off Drono, or I will pop that jaw of yours." Vellios glared as he felt the satisfaction of the drell retreat, "I'm having issues as it is and you're not helping."

"And I might be paralyzed for life in a few, so I could give less of a fuck." Drono said as he moved toward the Turians right. "Now quit bitching about what ifs, and back your words up scaley."

'And I could be shot down like a rabid varren at any moment," Vellios mentally commented, the thoughts never reached the air. About the only one that actually knew this tidbit, aside from Dr. T'Vync and other medical professionals, was the one individual that wouldn't accept it (Serena). "Damn it, Drono. Think with your instincts, not your head. We both know it's full of bullshit ideas!"

Vellios figure moved forward, cutting the distance, with his fist crossing over his chest and aimed at Drono's shoulder.

This time Drono was ready, he rolled under the punch, using his smaller stature to his advantage as he took a cheap jab at Vellios ribs. Before dancing away. "My bullshit ideas tend to work." Drono said. He was surprised at the speed with which Vellios punched and moved. He was not gonna last to long in this fight. Cripple or not, he would still be outmatched.

Vellios took the hit, letting the sting wash over him, but he didn't go down. Thankfully it was at the side not damaged as he grunted it off, his face turned toward Drono's cheap jabs followed by his insults. Vellios' left arm raised then popped back on reflex just when Drono started to dance away in an attempt to clip the annoying Drell and catch him off gaurd.

The sudden punch blindsides Drono who was moving in that direction already, taking it squarely on the shoulder he winced inwardly. The Turian could throw a punch all right. Maybe he should't have agitated him so much.

The hit vibrated through Vellios' arm and into his ribs, still stinging, as he gritted his needle like teeth in his jaw. At the moment, he didn't give a shit. All he wanted to do was hit something and release the emotional stress. Vellios' left foot stepped back then to the side, his body twisted on the toes of his right to face Drono's direction.

"What's the point of provoking me? If I break my knuckles, I'll just patch them up like I've done hundreds of time before. You really don't think I've not learn any tricks through hell?" Vellios growled while he moved toward Drono, cutting the distance between them gradually, "Now what do you want Drono? Tell me now before I decide to actually take this fight seriously and fuck us both up."

[]"You are not the only one looking to blow steam off. This is your problem Vellios, you act like you are the only psycho here. Newsflash, there are two of us. And who even broods like that anymore." Drono spat back, not backing off. "You got issues. I got issues. Dex got issues." He lifted his hands in a guard position, readying himself "Grow the fuck up you selfcentered bug."

"I at least got the courtesy to keep it to myself," Vellios retorted, his hands on his hips as he came to a stop just into the Drell's personal zone, "Is that all you have to say? Um? I found a way to blow off steam that didn't hurt anyone but me, and here you are trying to take its flipping place. Are you kidding me or this some twisted need for attention?"

"We are crewmembers now. If you think holding your shit in and dissappearing without a word helps us, you are as stupid as you are crazy. Besides, I told you. You aren't the only crazy person onboard." Drono said, a grin threatening to break out on his face. "I don't know about the others, but If someone keeps randomly dissappearing without a word, I get antsy. You see, I have trust issues. Real bad ones. The bullet in my back bad ones." Drono exhaled. "And that is w- SUCKER PUNCH" He suddenly launched forward, clocking Vellios on the jaw with rather well placed right.

As Drono's fist connected, Vellios' head tilted to allow the blow to impact on the side and lessen the effectiveness. His arm snapped up in almost alien speed, the talon gripped the forearm in a vice grasp. "That hurts. And Drono, you don't have a bullet waiting for you one day. I do."

Without giving the drell a chance to react or digest the words, Vellios' jerked the punching arm down as his knee tried to plant into the middrift of Drono's now exposed belly.The force wasn't held back, intending to send Drono on his back.His grip let go when the knee made contact.

Drono saw it coming, exhaled, or rather shouted out and twisted. It hurt like a son of a bitch none the less and the shorter Drell felt his feet lift of the ground from the impact. But, not being robbed of his oxygen, he landed, moved and pushed to the right in a tackle, freeing himself. Dancing away with a wince, he gasped. "Again with the drama. Again with the me, me, me bullshit. You are waiting for a bullet? Motherfucker, I already got mine." He put all his power into the tackle, ready to beat some sense into the brooding Turian.

Vellios gritted his teeth and his mandible twitched in annoyance. He felt the impact of his knee into guts numerous times in the past. Each time, he knew when it hit or didn’t. It didn’t take long for him to realise Drono had twisted the moment his knee shot upward, the end buried into the hard muscle and no gasp had escaped the drell’s lips. The force taken and then shook it off.

Not falling backwards, Drono pushed against his right side. Vellios knew he had to put Drono down and fast before the drell actually pissed him off to the point his patience would be completely gone. When Drono’s shoulder and neck area smacked his side, Vellios’ side jerked to the left and lessen the impact resistance. However, he didn’t completely avoid the tackle. His right arm wrapped about the drell’s head while his hip twisted about, his left knee plowed into the drell’s unprotected side right. Any attempt to wrench away would’ve been meant by a tight, almost suffocating squeeze on the windpipe and the fact Vellios’ other hand took a handful of the drell’s shirt back.

They both would likely hit the ground.

Drono winced as the knee impacted his side. He groaned as there was no avoiding it. A normal person would have given up, a normal person would have realized how badly outmatched he was. Drono however, sucked it up untill he felt a arm around his throat and neck. Whether Vellios had intended to or not, he had just put Drono in a ddt, smashing the Drells face into the dirt. Another groan escaped him and he lifted a shaking hand. "I.. Give.."

Vellios didn't let go. His eyes narrowed and carefully debated on the words being geniune or a lie. Drono, while not a bad individual, had a knack for being an oppotunist. This was a bad combination with insanity, a fact Vellios knew far too well from experience. Cautiously, Vellios spoke in a warning, "If you start up again, I'm going to choke you until you pass out. I don't often take a fight serious and that is why. I don't want to kill you Drono, but I will put you down."

There was no light hearted or playful tone in his words. Just a cold, dead serious warning that seemed to hint of the turian's patience finally being run dry.

"No Tricks. No choking. Got it. Killing bad. Yes yes. You are so very scary. Now, please let me chew some air, dirt is not easy on the palette." Drono groaned, his words muffled by the ground.

Vellios talons released Drono's shirt to check for any hidden blades before he released the drell and flipped him onto his back. Vellios' ribs hurt like hell while he inhaled deeply, slightly out of breath.

" Good, I haven't taken anything that serious since my spectre tryouts," Vellios commented and shook the memory from his head.

"Yeah. Well. You sure rattled my skull." Drono wasn't gonna try anything, he had tested the Turian to his limits, as was his intentions more or less. Perhaps, Vellios would learn from this and understand what Drono had done for him. Or perhaps not. Turians always did seem a bit thick headed. Drono sure had confirmed the Turian had a real meanstreak, but enough control that Drono wasn't too worried. This Turian would not shoot him in his back.

"Sweet moves." Drono groaned as he started to push himself of the ground. "I was outmatched. I don't think I'd be able to take you even when not crippled."

"Only cause I took the fight seriously. Usually, even back on our first mission and the one afterward, I never take them seriously or they would've gotten done. When I set my mind to something, and actually have the drive to get it done, I'm rather dangerous At least that's what Yinso told me," Vellios smirked then recalled the spectre's last words toward him, "If I didn't, you might've won and I would be laughing my ass off at it."

Drono chuckled "Man, if before was you being lighthearted and not serious? We really gotta get you out more often." Drono got to one knee, wobbled a bit then got up to standing. "I am going to get a earful from Dex. I can just tell.."

"I'm not going to volunteer information, are you?" Vellios pipped up, his head turned toward the drell.

"And sign my own death warrant. If asked, I started it. Since you know, I did." He grinned foolishly. "And hey, no broken knuckles."

"Just bruises everywhere and likely my ribs got no benefit from it," Vellios hiss as he cradled his side, then sat upright. His arm reached out and requested aid up, "I think I preferred the tree honestly."

"Yes. But that is because you have a irrational hatred for nature, I am sure." Drono said as he helped pull Vellios up to his feet. "Sorry about the ribs. Thanks for not cracking my spine. It has enough problems as is."
"It was tempting, but considering I might end up killing you doing that... I thought better of it. Your corpse would've hard to hide," Vellios joked as he came to stand, then sighed, "Now I have to patch myself up... again. I don't look forward to this and really don't want to come out here to punch another tree."

"Could punch Tonka. The result would be the same in regards to your knuckles, plus the benefit of me getting to watch you get ragdolled around by a Irate Krogan." Drono laughed slightly. For a person who gotten his ass handed to him, he was incredibly upbeat. Truth was that all the pain got his mind of the real pain. "And are you kidding me. To a Turian, I am like... pocket sized. My body would be easy to hide!"

"Tonka might try to gloat me into breaking my hands before getting pissed. Why do you think I get alone with Krogan's so well?" The turian pointed out.

"Becouse you make the same kind of faces when confused?" Drono quipped. "No but seriously. Who doesn't get along with Krogans. Aside from you know, everyone. I think It is time we head back. If anyone asked, you saved me from a angry sentient tree."

"Will do," Vellios nodded then wrapped his arm around the drell's neck, his weight leaned against Drono on their way back toward the ship.

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 1 (Completed)

Added

Job, Nevada (Supernatural Western/Mystery)

Heads up. I won't be posting at that kind of pace. I believe in taking my time and plan posts out properly. So it will likely be a post a week.

Job, Nevada (Supernatural Western/Mystery)

Damn. That is rapid fire posting.

Mass Effect: Borealis

@Fallenreaper I will try and grab you when I get home from work and We'll finish it up.

Foreign Legion [First Contact/Uplift/Military Sci-Fi]

s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/a3/b..

Name: Joseph “Yxan/Axe” Hedberg
Age: 37
Gender: Female
Ethnicity/Nationality: American
Former Unit: Master Sergeant, United States Marine Corps. Master Sergeant, Marine Force Recon
Role: Grenadier

Physical Description:
at 6 foot even, Joseph is relatively tall. HIs hair is a dirty dark blonde and his blue the same startling blue of his Yazidi father. He is in not entirely in top shape compared to some of the SOG, owing mainly to his time as instructor rather than an active combatant the last 3 years.His features are sharp, even handsome if you don’t mind the facial scars from a Roadside IED.

Skillset:
Asymmetrical Warfare and Tactics
Quick Thinker
Demolition and Sabotage
Intelligence Gathering
Training of Paramilitary Assets
Proffecient Marksmanship
CQC
Stealth/Recognizance
Breach And Clear operations
Exceptional Grenadier Skills (Underslung grenade launchers, rpgs and mortars).

History:
Josef "Axe" Hedberg was born to a A swedish father and a Yazidii Iraqi father. Josefs father was Mallah Haqua Mussain, who fled the persecution towards his people at the hand of extreme elements of the local Sunni militia as a child and ended up as one of many refugees in Sweden. Due the difficulty a foreign last name Hedberg. He grew up to become a ambulance driver. His mother, Josefin Lindfors was a first responder who met Mallah when they worked together. Josefs childhood was describes as one of strict parental control from both sides of the Family, but ultimately one of love and care. He was a fairly unremarkable child but for one thing: He was devilishly sharp.

At early age, Joseph proved himself to be a problem solver, who possesed both charisma and a modicum of physical prowess. Something of a player as he grew older, his interests often had him butting head with more troublesome elements for the sake of his own ego. His father, growing a bit exasperetated at his sons inability to take his own life seriusly sat him down and told him he either find a job or commit to something before he had thrown his natural talents away.

It might have been out of spite, as his father was a pacifist, or because he instinctively knew that only the army could give him the discipline he needed. in. It turned out that his quick thinking, his unorthodox approach to things and his cool head was something command cherished. He took to it as fish in water, and would quickly catch the eye of the General responsible for the SSG, the swedish special operations unit. At the age of 23, he was recruited into their ranks and sworn to secrecy. During his time with the SOG, he saw action primarily in the Middle East. After a close call with IED, he was set primarily on help train the Kurdish Pashmerga. He left that mission one year prior to Centurion.

Psychological Profile:
Exceptional sharp and quick thinking, Josef is noticably perceptive and intelligent. Having passed several of of the tests with contemptuous ease, and seemingly always looking for a challenge he makes for a excellent grenadier who have to consider carefully where he lay down fire due to the explosive nature of his weapon. Having seen action in Afghanistan and Northern Iraq, he is well versed in integrating and fighting alongside local forces and working with local authorities to single out and take out High priority targets. Due to his natural charisma, this part of the job seemed to come easily to him.

Equipment:
- M32 MGL
- HK416
- M1911A1
- Personal Belongings
- Fireaxe (For breaching and… other uses)
- Mora Kniv (swedish combat knife)

Foreign Legion [First Contact/Uplift/Military Sci-Fi]

Name: Joseph “Yxan/Axe” Hedberg
Age: 37
Gender: Male
Ethnicity/Nationality: Swedish/Yazidi Kurd
Former Unit: Sergeant, Swedish Paratroopers, was recruited and promoted to Lieutenant, Särskila Operations Gruppen.

Role: Grenadier

Physical Description:
at 6 foot even, Joseph is relatively tall. His hair is a dirty dark blonde and his blue the same startling blue of his Yazidi father. He is in not entirely in top shape compared to some of the SOG, owing mainly to his time as instructor rather than an active combatant the last 3 years.His features are sharp, even handsome if you don’t mind the facial scars from a Roadside IED.

Skillset:
Asymmetrical Warfare and Tactics
Quick Thinker
Demolition and Sabotage
Intelligence Gathering
Training of Paramilitary Assets
Proffecient Marksmanship
CQC
Stealth/Recognizance
Breach And Clear operations
Exceptional Grenadier Skills (Underslung grenade launchers, rpgs and mortars).
Krav Maga (Decent)
FLuent in Arabic, Persian, Swedish, English and Kurdish. Knows a bit of German and French.

History:
Josef "Habibi" Hedberg was born to a A swedish mother and a Yazidii Iraqi father. Josefs father was Mallah Haqua Mussain, who fled the persecution towards his people at the hand of extreme elements of the local Sunni militia as a child and ended up as one of many refugees in Sweden. Due the difficulty a foreign last name Hedberg. He grew up to become a ambulance driver. His mother, Josefin Lindfors was a first responder who met Mallah when they worked together. Josefs childhood was describes as one of strict parental control from both sides of the Family, but ultimately one of love and care. He was a fairly unremarkable child but for one thing: He was devilishly sharp.

At early age, Joseph proved himself to be a problem solver, who possesed both charisma and a modicum of physical prowess. Something of a player as he grew older, his interests often had him butting head with more troublesome elements for the sake of his own ego. His father, growing a bit exasperetated at his sons inability to take his own life seriusly sat him down and told him he either find a job or commit to something before he had thrown his natural talents away.

It might have been out of spite, as his father was a pacifist, or because he instinctively knew that only the army could give him the discipline he needed. in. It turned out that his quick thinking, his unorthodox approach to things and his cool head was something command cherished. He took to it as fish in water, and would quickly catch the eye of the General responsible for the SSG, the swedish special operations unit. At the age of 23, he was recruited into their ranks and sworn to secrecy. During his time with the SOG, he saw action primarily in the Middle East. After a close call with IED, he was set primarily on help train the Kurdish Pashmerga. He left that mission one year prior to Centurion.

Psychological Profile:
Exceptional sharp and quick thinking, Josef is noticably perceptive and intelligent. Having passed several of of the tests with contemptuous ease, and seemingly always looking for a challenge he makes for a excellent grenadier who have to consider carefully where he lay down fire due to the explosive nature of his weapon. Having seen action in Afghanistan and Northern Iraq, he is well versed in integrating and fighting alongside local forces and working with local authorities to single out and take out High priority targets. Due to his natural charisma, this part of the job seemed to come easily to him.

Equipment:
- M32 MGL
- HK416
- M1911A1
- Personal Belongings
- Fireaxe (For breaching and… other uses)
- Mora Kniv (swedish combat knife)