Player SectionSteam Name: Lone Wanderer
Age: 17
How long have you been Roleplaying? (can be any game): Five years
How long have you been playing Serious GMod RP?: Two and a half years
Character SectionAuthorization(s):*Membership of the ETA, a Basque terrorist group.
*Fluency in Basque and Spanish
*Training/practice in free-running (advanced stamina tied into this)
*03 equivalent hand-to-hand training
*Crude faceplate
*Silenced 9mm (USP match)
*Clip of 9mm ammunition
Name: Michael 'Y' Eloriga
Age: 26
Gender: Male
Affiliation: None
Write a detailed in-canon back-story how your character obtained these authorizations.Michael Janero Eloriga was born in the city of Bilbao, located in northern Spain in the summer of 1992. He was born to a poor Basque family, in the midst of a dwindling culture. Throughout his young childhood, he was taught of his culture, the culture of the Basque. He learned the language, and he learned their history. He learned of significant Basque figures, such as Saint Ignatius of Loyola. He learned of their faith in the Roman Catholic Church, and the communion with his people. All during this time, he grew up in a world where another culture dominated his own. All around him, the common language of Spanish was spoken in public. Although his family and close friends could communicate with him in a language he felt most comfortable with, it was not so with the general populace. He was forced to learn a whole other language, a whole other style, a whole other society. At home, he was an avid follower of the Basque tradition. In public, he was a conformist along with the standards of the entirety of Spain.
As he grew older and older, Michael slowly grew disgusted by how his culture was treated like it was, upset with how it was brushed under the rug by the greater Spanish society. He began to develop a hatred for those who treated his culture poorly. He grew a hatred for the Spanish government, who he felt tossed the Basque people aside to the margins of society. He began to talk to his friends about his feelings, and while some told him it was pointless to act on something so seemingly minor, Michael didn’t share the same view. He decided he would begin to act on his feelings, putting his words into action.
When Michael was sixteen years old, he set out one night; spray can in hand, into the darkness from his home. He slipped through the shadows, creeping across the city towards his intended target, the home of Marcus Rementero, a wealthy business man who was notable for his abstinence from politics, but also for his Basque origins. Michael thought to himself that this man deserved a mark upon his property, a mark of his people. He chuckled to himself as he climbed over the hedges into the property, sneaking across the damp grass. He shook the spray can, popping off the cap before pressing down on the nozzle, going to work on his art.
It didn’t take long to finish his work. He slipped the cap back on, taking a few steps back as he peered through the darkness at the wall where his work was placed. In condenses red lettering, he had written out the word, “FREEDOM”, in all Basque, with a slight sketch of the flag of Navarre at the end. He cracked a slight smile, dropping the can to his side. He began to turn, only to be met by a thick hand grasping his neck, lifting him up as a flashlight shined in his face. He struggled, only to no avail, being brought inside to confront Mr. Rementero. After speaking with him about the damage he’d done to his property, along with Michael’s feelings about Basque sovereignty, Mr. Rementero informed Michael’s parents that he’d be working off the vandalism for the next two weeks at the estate.
What his parents didn’t know was that Mr. Rementero showed a similar view to Michael’s. In fact, he took it to a greater level. Unknown to Michael, Marcus was a member of the ETA, otherwise known as the Euskadi Ta Askatasuna, a Basque independence group operating out of Spain. They were labeled as terrorists by the European Union and the United States. He saw potential in Michael, potential for a new member in their ranks. He slowly began to introduce ideals from the group into Michael’s head, slowly pulling him in. Even after the two weeks of work, Michael often spent time at the estate of Mr. Rementero. He enjoyed the company of those who felt the way he did, with those who understood who he was and where he was coming from. It was the right place for him.
When Mr. Rementero introduced the concept of joining the ETA to Michael, he held almost no hesitation. While he was somewhat surprised about his mentor’s involvement in the organization, he simply put it behind he, honored by the opportunity to enter the group. Michael was nearing his eighteenth birthday by this point. After pulling some strings and getting Michael though a quickened orientation, he was in. He was now an official member of the ETA, even if he was just a recruit. It made him feel proud; he now had a role in the progression of his people. He could now help to raise up the Basque people to where they deserved to be. The Spanish government and their supporters would no longer treat his people like they were nothing, merely components to be added to a mixture. It was time for the freedom of the Basque people, he thought. A freedom for himself.
Michael quickly took interest in the first opening for a true position in the ETA; a runner. The runners would take packages to locations or personnel. The runners would deliver information too risky to deliver via phone call, email, or other digital methods. The runners were responsible for making sure things got to where they needed to be, and he felt ready for the job. As soon as the decision was made, Mr. Rementero arranged for Michael to meet with an old veteran of the runners, a man simply who went by the name of, “Y”. ‘Y’ was a middle aged Basque male, who was clearly fit and well trained. As Michael watched on during his first day of training in a small village outside Bilbao, he was amazed at how ‘Y’ could glide across rooftops, spin around corners with grace, and hop of railings and land with a slight swagger in his step. Michael smiled as he envisioned himself doing something like that. On his first jump across a rooftop, Michael landed smoothly, continuing his stride with ease. He jumped a second time, keeping his footing. He smiled with pride as he jumped across a third time, only to be met with a searing pain as he slammed into the cobblestone ground below.
Although it was a tough process to learn, he continued along with his training. He practiced running throughout the countryside to build up his stamina. He stretched out constantly, keeping his muscles relaxed and loose. He did pull-up’s and push-up’s, building his arm strength for gripping edges and railings, working towards being able to climb/pull himself up easier. He practiced turning with speed, while working to avoid sliding and twisting his ankles. And he practiced striding across rooftops, avoiding the terrible fate of falling towards the ground from a misstep, loss of balance, or lack of speed. Although it took many hours of effort and many bruises and sprained joints, he began to get it right.
Along with his efforts towards free–running, he practiced an all too crucial skill for his line of work, a form of hand-to-hand training. His new mentor, ‘Y’, had told him stories of getting into close combat fighting while on operations, with hand-to-hand often deciding the success or failure of the mission, sometimes even life or death. He explained to Michael the importance of proper stances, showing him basic defensive and offensive stances. He explained to him blocking, and the concept of jabbing versus punching. He practiced with Michael, going easy at first. But as Michael went on with his training, he grew progressively more difficult, eventually going at Michael with the strength of the real world.
Finally, after months of training, he was in. He was finally a member of the ETA. However, on the night of his first operation, something went terribly wrong. As he sneaked through the shadows of the Bilbao, a wave of energy slammed through the streets, followed by the sounds of explosions and screams. Strange pulse rounds and explosions echoed through the streets, and lit up the night sky. Alarms sounded, human firearms discharged, and the screams of those who were dead or dying echoed through the entirety of Bilbao. The Combine were here, and the Occupation of Earth had begun.
Michael was lucky enough to blend into the standard populace, and distance himself from the connections to the ETA. He was a newer member, and wasn’t registered or suspected by any government agency. He was registered as a citizen, given a number, and shipped across Europe to City 42 in Istanbul. There, his life would be forever different…
“[Basque]Alright, I’m nearing the drop site. Remind me of where exactly I’m supposed to drop the package, again?” Michael whispered into a small radio in his ear as he walked along a dark, city street.
A slight static emitted through his ear before a response in Basque came through, “[Basque]Drop the package in the trash can, in the back right corner of the gathering room. Then report back to the meet site for further orders” the man said.
Michael took note of the location, looking at a large building located directly in front of him. It was the UCH, or at least the main one in Sector Three. He pushed through the doors at the entrance, looking around briefly before proceeding to a medium sized room, appearing to have been an old cafeteria prior to the occupation. He casually walked through the room towards the back, looking around for a moment before casually dropping an empty Breen’s water bottle into the trash can. He then opened his backpack, pulling out a medium sized cardboard box. It felt heavy, and jiggled a bit when shook. He shrugged, dropping the box in the trash can. He moved a few papers over the box, casually walking out of the building. He walked down the street, taking a few turns before he saw a familiar face, the face of a red-headed woman.
“[Spanish]Hey Michael!” the woman said with a smile on her face, walking towards him. She reached him, wrapping her arms around him. He smiled back, giving her a hug in return, “[Spanish]How are you?”
Michael shrugged, “[Spanish]I’m doing fine, you, Rachel?”
She looked around, shrugging as well, “[Spanish]Well, I’m okay I guess. Just heading to an event over at the gathering center in the UCH. The Worker’s Union is hosting a talk with the organizer there. Wanna come?” she asked.
Michael shook his head, “[Spanish]Sorry, Rachel. Can’t. I’m going to go meet up with some friends of mine” he responded.
Rachel frowned, her arms drooping down, “[Spanish]Oh, well, I guess I’ll see you later then.”
Michael nodded slightly, watching Rachel walk off, “[Spanish]Damnit! I mess up everytime!” he mumbled as he shook his head. He sighed, running his hand through his hair. Rachel was the only one he truly cared about in the world of the Occupation. Coming from Bilbao herself, she made him feel like there was something worth it in the world. He smiled as he watched her stride off, giving a quick prayer for her prolonged safety as he walked off towards the meeting site.
As he rounded the corner, he saw a man leaning outside a doorway, and approached him. The man stepped in front of Michael, crossing his arms. Michael gripped his left sleeve, yanking it up to reveal a tattoo of a snake wrapped around an axe. The man nodded, stepping aside as Michael walked through the doorway into the room. Inside, three man sat around a dimly lit table, smoking and talking…
“[Basque]-and I really think that this will make a name for us in this city. We gave them chances to heed our warning, and they treated it as a joke.
Now they feel the power we hold” and older male said. Along the other side of the table, two other men sat next to each other. One was an older version of Mr. Rementero, the other an unknown male. Michael approached the group, raising an eyebrow as he listened in…
“[Basque]But what about innocent lives? Did you never consider those who aren’t deserving of such a fate?” Mr. Rementero said with concern. Michael rubbed his forehead, stepping closer.
“[Basque]Necessary extras to a needed cause” the first man said.
Michael stepped forward into the light, “[Basque] The package has been delivered, sir” he said, looking around.
“[Basque]Ah, excellent. Now we wait…” the first man said.
Michael looked at Mr. Rementero’s concerned expression, then back to the first man, “[Basque]If I may ask, what were you discussing as I entered, sir?” he asked with some concern as well.
The first man stood up from the table, turning to face Michael. He placed an arm on his shoulder, removing the cigar from his mouth, “[Basque]My boy, it is time we take the next step in our process towards our freedom. The package you delivered today, it will make history for us, history for all of humanity” he stated.
Michael raises an eyebrow, still clearly confused. The old man retracted his arm, setting his cigar down, “[Basque]The package you delivered, my boy, was the tool we shall use to send a shockwave through the ranks of the Union.”
“[Basque]Quite literally, I might add” the second male chimed in.
Michael looked over towards Mr. Rementero once more, then back to the first older male. He paused for a few moments, putting the pieces together. His eyes jerked open as he realized what it all meant…
“[Basque]A bomb!? You had me put a bomb in there?!” he said, his face filled with terror.
The old man nodded firmly, “[Basque]Indeed, my boy, and it must be done! This is only the first step in our path towards success!” he exclaimed.
Michael’s eyes jerked open wider as he remembered what Rachel had told him. He then pushed the old man aside, breaking into a run for the door. The old man shouted, “[Basque]Kras, don’t let him get away!”, only for Michael to slide past the large man and hop over the railing. He spun around the corner, breaking off into a sprint down the streets. He rushed past casual civilians, putting all his energy into reaching the UCH before time ran out.
As he reached the entrance, two units stood in front of the door. He rushed up the stairs, breathing heavily. The one unit extended his arm to hold Michael back; “[Spanish] Listen, you must let me in. There’s a bomb inside the-“
A loud explosion echoed through the streets of City 42 as an inferno of flames engulfed the lower left side of the UCH, blowing out the windows and doors. The front doors burst open as a surge of flames leaked out from inside. Michael was tossed back down the stairs, a terrible pain engulfing the entire left side of his face. The units near the doorway shared similar fates, although their entire bodies appeared burnt along the back. Michael pulled himself weakly off the ground, limping up the stairs towards the burning interior of the UCH. He weakly mumbled Rachel’s name as he stumbled along, only to be grasped by a unit.
“[Spanish]Listen to me, you’re going to be alright! You need to come with me right now! Come on, let’s go!” the unit said, as Michael faded to darkness…
Michael starred off into the sunrise with sadness as he stood along the bridge. It was nearly two months after the explosion. Rachel, along with thirteen other citizens, was killed. Four units died as well, along with three civil workers and their organizer. Michael came out alive, but suffered a terrible burn along the left side of his face, leaving a permanent scar. But the scar inside of him could not be healed. Those who he trusted most had betrayed him. Those who he thought understood him used him as a tool.
Michael pushed open the door to ‘Y’s workshop with despair. He set down his backpack, slumping down in an old blue chair. ‘Y’, who was sitting along a table reading some old novel, walked over to Michael, concern in his eyes, “[Basque]How you holding up there, kid?” he asked with care.
Michael sighed, looking towards ‘Y’, “[Basque]I don’t think I can do it any longer.”
‘Y’ nodded, stuffing his hands into his pockets, “[Basque]I know /exactly/ how you feel” he said as he gestured to his aging body. He limped over to his table, slumping down back in his chair. Michael stood up, walking over to ‘Y’. He looked down at him.
“[Basque]I’m going to the Outlands” Michael said sternly.
‘Y’ nodded, setting down his book, “[Basque]That’s a dangerous journey, you know” ‘Y’ said.
Michael nodded firmly, crossing his arms. ‘Y’ smiled, chuckling slightly, “[Basque] I remember when you were just a boy, so confident”.” ‘Y’ sighed, walking over to a cabinet, pulling out a black backpack. He tossed it on the table, opening a few of the zippers. He withdrew a USP match with a silencer, a single clip of ammunition, a Kevlar vest, and a pre-war map. Michael looked up to ‘Y’, raising an eyebrow.
“[Basque]You’ll be needing a lot more than just what I taught you, my boy. Besides, I’m too old for this stuff anyways. I think it’s time I retired!” he said with a smile. Michael nodded as ‘Y’ packed the things back into the backpack. He then extended it to Michael, nodding.
“[Basque]It’s time you took on a name, I do believe Michael. After all, you did finish you first mission two months ago. What do you think you’ll pick?”
Michael thought to himself for a moment, seeing a crude metal faceplate along a junkpile on the base of the workshop. He grabbed hold of it, looking at it before looking up...
“[Basque]Call me ‘Y’.”
What will these authorizations give your character in regards to perks or defects?Perks*The terrorist background, along with his ethnic background will create a rather different character from what most are on the server. While he clearly dislikes the Union, he clearly didn't like the previous governments on the planet prior to the occupation due to the choices he made. So, given that factor, that aspect will allow me a wide range of possibilities to choose from, rathering than being labeled as a 'dark' or 'white' knight.
*The free-running ability and hand-to-hand training mainly provide a set of skills that a character like him would use. The background describes why he needs the skills he does to the extent he has them, and I'll be using them in a same general manor in the story, unless he develops to a stage where it's used for more than just supply running and such.
*The language portion will allow me to, again, make a new kind of character. Not to many people have characters that don't speak English here, and it's obvious that it's because it's a english speaking server. But clearly, not everyone in the world speaks english. See extra notes for details on this barrier.
*The equipment listed is to provide some materials needed for this character. The mask provides a mystery element to him. The weapon, well, it's a gun. It's used for defense or attacking. Kevlar is used for defending against mainly bullets.
Defects*The fact he's a past terrorist makes getting caught by the CCA for anything extremely risky. Any connection/hint/tip they could get that he was one would not end up too well for him.
*Hand-to-hand training isn't like that of a top unit or a martial expert, and H2H isn't useful against guns. Also, he obviously can't freerun across gaps that are super large, and he can't just climb up buildings with ease.
*The mask makes it difficult to eat, drink, and breathe. Also could easily get uncomfortable. The weapon also isn't fully silenced, and not useful against many/heavily armored targets. Also, there's only 13 rounds left.
*He speaks very limited English, so that's a massive challenge in itself.
What do you plan to do with these perks/defects?*I plan on making a new character for me. I haven't had a non-English speaking character. Haven't had a character who's had this kind of background before. And I'd like to use this as an opportunity to do a wide variety of things.
Will anyone else need these auths? (If so, list OOC and IC name(s))None.
Which server does this apply for?Outlands
Extra Notes (optional):Extra Notes (optional):
I speak a conversational level of Spanish, and while I have many relatives that speak Basque near fluently, I don’t myself. Now, I know knowledge of the languages is probably key to having the auths, but I don’t think typing out everything he says in Spanish/Basque is not something that’s really helpful for IC, or OOC for that matter. They’d need to go to google translate or something to figure it out for just OOC, and that’s a waste of time (besides, Basque uses different sentence structure then romantic languages, so GT messes it up really badly). So, my idea for making it easy for people to understand what was going on OOCly was by simply stating something along the lines of [Basque] or [Spanish] before speaking, so they know it’s in a different language.
An example of this would be, Michael Eloriga says: “[Basque] Hello there, I’m Michael.”
Post Auto-Merged: March 15, 2013, 12:11:56 AM
Edit #1: Tried to add something to the 'extra notes' section, but it looks like it didn't do it right, so it's added.
Edit #2: I'm dumb and forgot to add the fact he speaks the two languages to the auth part. I erased that part fro mthe word document and it wouldn't undo
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