Arturo

From Vast Empire Wiki
Jump to: navigation, search
Arturo.jpg

Arturo Lee
Military Information
Callsign

Arturo

Rank

Petty Officer 2nd Class

Position

Flight Member

Flight

3

Squadron

Nazgul Squadron

Wing

Phoenix Wing

Fleet

First Vast Imperial Fleet

Division

Imperial Navy

Biographical Information
Homeworld

Commenor

Age

26

Species

Human

Gender

Male

Skin Color

Slightly tanned

Height

5'10"

Weight

170 lbs

Hair Color

Light Brown/Dirty Blonde

Eye Color

Light Blue

Scars

Minor scars on hands, arms, and legs

Tattoos

Yellow and black snake coiled around a dagger

Personal Information
Affiliation

Vast Empire

Family
  • Erik Lee (father)
  • Emma Lee (mother)
Profession

Starfighter Pilot


Current Status[edit]

Character Proficiencies[edit]

Characteristics
Characteristic Metier Level
Body - - Body Strength - Body Dexterity - Body Endurance - Mind - - Mind Wits - Mind Perception - Mind Tech - Spirit - - Spirit Extrovert vs #Introvert - Spirit Passion vs #Calm - Spirit #Faith vs Ego 1
Skills
Category Skill Metier Level

Bio[edit]

Appearance[edit]

  • Eyes: Light Blue, bright, with depth
  • Hair: Light Brown/Dirty Blonde, military cut
  • Height: 5'10
  • Weight: 170 lbs
  • Facial Hair: Stubble, but trimmed
  • Languages Spoken: Basic (native)
  • Build: Muscular, physically fit, possesses a coiled, catlike grace
  • Identifiable Markings: Medium-sized tatoo on left forearm; depicts yellow-and-black snake coiled around a dagger
  • Facial Features: Weathered and craggy face, yet somewhat handsome. Has some freckles
  • Other:
    • Lightly-tanned skin
    • Walks and moves with purpose, a slight swagger, and poise
    • All movement is calculated and efficient
    • Prefers loose-fitting civilian garb; hates formal attire
    • Likes darker colors
    • Favorite outfit is black animal-hide boots, dark trousers and shirt, and a very-worn leather jacket
    • Has a deeper-than-usual, but very flat voice

Personality[edit]

Arturo is a man of few words. He prefers to let his actions do the talking for him. He is very calm, methodical, and emotionally steady. He won’t blow up at somebody, but won’t usually be found in a pleasant mood, either. He is reserved, and prefers to have only himself as company, but is not unwilling or unable to make a friend or two. He likes to plan even the most menial of tasks out before executing them, but is fully capable of adapting to circumstance when said plans fail. He is decisive and bold, but not reckless, and weighs all options before making a choice. He is very ethical, and will almost always make the right choice, even when it is the most difficult one. He is driven by a strong internal moral compass, and will not hesitate to speak up when he perceives wrongdoing taking place. Other than that, Arturo will not go out of his way to converse with someone or socialize.

His flaws are an ego that doesn’t take well to bruising, a sometimes overzealous pursuit of knowledge and information, and a lack of real social interaction beyond those persons that are in his immediate presence. He can sometimes overanalyze even a simple problem, and will occasionally just sit and ponder. He also has a very binding sense of duty and commitment, even when he knows whatever cause or project he is working on is not succeeding, which can lead him to go down with the metaphorical ship every now and then.

History[edit]


Part I – One Week Prior to Joining the Vast Empire[edit]


Darkness. Then, a faint crack of light. His eyes slowly opened, seeing but not processing the scene before him. Acrid smoke filled his nostrils. The ringing in his ears slowly gave way to the howling of a klaxon, which sounded klicks distant. The deck he was sprawled on rattled and shook sporadically. Debris, bits of metal, and what remained of the slagged console lay scattered around him. Air faintly whistled past, pressure slowly decreased. He tasted someone’s blood on his lips. His blood. His scalp was red; a small pool of his essence formed where he lie. His eyes adjusted just enough to make out most of this pitiful scene. His body screamed at him in agony when he began to lift himself off the deck, legs refusing to cooperate. His arms slowly pulled him over to the comm controls, which appeared to be the only piece of machinery around him still functioning. He was fading fast; even his sluggish mind told him that. Mustering his last willpower and strength, he managed to activate the vessel’s emergency transponder. Even as the fire burning nearby began to creep towards him, and he began to fall back to the ruined deck, he managed two, choked words into the microphone.

“Help…anyone…”

Then, the darkness returned to claim him.


Unknown Time Later


Eyes opened again. Slowly, his world swam into focus. He was surrounded by men. Some wore white, others black. The white ones wore strange uniforms with…helmets? He couldn’t think straight at all. The ones in black seemed to be doing something to him. A sense of floating. He managed to eke out a non-coherent thought of what it feels like to be dead. He couldn’t feel anything, but his eyes told him he was moving. Then, for a third time, darkness was all he knew.


Unknown Time Later


His eyes shot open, and a room materialized before him. He was in a metallic, well lighted area. He realized he was lying down. He moved to get up without thinking, but couldn’t. There seemed to be some external force preventing this. He couldn’t quite comprehend this though, but stopped trying after he fatigued. He eyed the room closer his time, and noticed a sign above what appeared to be a lift. It read: MEDBAY 3. Suddenly, a man in a uniform appeared before him. The uniformed man spoke.

“You’ve been through hell the past four days, but it looks like you’ll make a full recovery. Consider yourself lucky that we were in a neighboring system when we picked up your distress signal. Your attackers were moments away from destroying your vessel. Unfortunately, it wasn’t salvageable, so we will give you passage to our destination. You should be functional by the time we arrive.”

He noticed the uniformed man took on a thoughtful, then abashed look for a moment, before resuming.

“I forgot to introduce myself to you, my apologies. I am Commander Kemmerick, Executive Officer and Adjutant to Captain Peseda, who commands the Imperial Dreadnought Firebrand. We are part of the Vast Imperial Navy, and the Firebrand is currently en route to the Vectra System, the main base of the Navy. You have three days to think about what you will do when we arrive there, so I suggest you use that time wisely.”

His head was still foggy, and couldn’t fully process what this officer was telling him. The uniformed man took note of his expression of puzzlement, and nodded, then spoke once more.

“I know this is a lot to take in at once for someone in your condition, so rest, and focus on healing. If you have needs or questions, ask for an aide. They should be able to help you."

The officer turned and strode out of the room, but not before pausing, and turning back to face him one more time. Again, he spoke.

“Oh, and one more thing. Good luck to you, traveler.”

And with that, Kemmerick spun on his heel and walked out, leaving nothing else for him to do but submit to unconsciousness once more.


Part II – Three Days Prior to Joining the Vast Empire[edit]


He awoke in the same room as before. He remembered waking up here last time; this was good. He also remembered attempting to sit up last time, and being unable to do so. He slowly propped himself up onto his elbows, then all the way into a sitting position. He noticed two new things about himself- he had bandages covering most of his legs, and he hurt like hell. He also discovered somebody had left a repulsorchair strategically positioned by his bedside, so that he might be able to get into it without assistance. As he attempted to pry himself out of his sitting position, and over to the edge of the bed, a female voice to his right startled him, as did the hand that fell onto his shoulder a second later. He was startled so much, in fact, that he proceeded out of the bed at a faster pace than originally anticipated, and tumbled onto the deck.

The voice had inquired softly, “Need help?”

After he fell out of the bed and lay face-down on the floor in more severe pain than before, both physically and egotistically, he felt the first hand and a second trying to hoist him back into a sitting position. He added his arm strength, and after considerable effort on both of their parts, he was sitting once again, albeit on the floor of Medbay 3. He stared at the floor for a moment, wondering just who in the hell the unknown person was, when he decided to find out. He slowly turned is head to the right, and saw a pair of legs, decidedly feminine. His eyes traveled up the aforementioned legs, only to encounter a stomach, bosom, and finally, the owner of all of the above, a young human woman with a pale face, shoulder-length raven black hair, and the most awkward and embarrassed expression he had ever seen.

She immediately began issuing apologies to him for causing his tumble, and for startling him, but he gruffly waved them off with a shake of his head and a gesture with his hands. She then proffered the chair, and he accepted the invitation, with her help. Seated in the repulsorchair, he turned it around to face her once more. She wore the standard grey medical aide’s uniform of the Imperial Navy, and her nametape read “TRENT, L.”

“Trent?” he croaked. She nodded.

“Lydia. Trent, of course. I’m still a little embarrassed. Sorry about knocking you over before. Is there anything I can do for you, sir?”

He merely stared, or gawked, if you prefer. She immediately began to apologize once more, thinking he had been staring disapprovingly at her. He merely put a finger to his lips, and she quieted once more.

“Water.” It was a command, not a request. She scurried out of sight behind him, presumably to retrieve his beverage. He turned his chair to follow her movement, and he began to mull what had just transpired over in his still slightly-cloudy mind.

That young voice… That face… She’s something every man would dream of waking up to after nearly dying. Perhaps getting my ship getting blown up by those damned pirates wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been…

She interrupted his reverie by holding out a small cup filled with water. He accepted it with an unsteady hand, and greedily drank down its contents. He spoke, less hoarsely than before.

“That’ll be all, Miss Trent. Thank you for your aid. I will call if I require anything further.“

“Certainly, sir. I’ll be in my office, down the corridor. It’s the second left. And, I still feel bad about hurting you further; aides are supposed to make patients better, not worse.”

As she left the medbay, he couldn’t help but think to himself,

You did, Trent. You did.




More To Come!

Service History[edit]

Ranks[edit]

Ranks Start Until Reason for Promotion
Crewman October 25, 2009 October 27th, 2009 Joined the Vast Imperial Navy
Senior Crewman October 27, 2009 November 22, 2009 Passed Aviator's Exam/Joined Nazgul Squadron
Petty Officer 2nd Class November 22, 2009 Present High Level of Activity

Positions[edit]

Joined Vast Empire Navy - October 25th, 2009
Positions Start Until Reason for Change
Nazgul Squadron - Flight Member - Nazgul 11 October 27th, 2009 Present First Squadron Placement

Awards[edit]

Award Date Full Award Name Reason for Award
(=*A*=) October 26th, 2009 Aviator's Award (Distinction) Passed Aviator's Exam with Distinction
[SoA] November 16th, 2009 Star of the Academy Graduated from the Naval Academy in under 3 days with Distinction


&