Post by Marshall Dean Sauveterre on Dec 26, 2011 0:55:28 GMT -6
Tell us about yourself, if you please.
Name/alias: Rora
Age:19
How long have you been RPing? Four years
Do you have any other characters on the site? Yes: Avery Faulkner, Kayleigh Hawkins, and Zackary Merricks.
Your character: bare bones.
Name: Marshall Dean Sauveterre
Age: 36
Location: Stella’s Freedom Headquarters—Chicago, Illinois
Immune or Carrier? Immune
Skills: Hyperhemostasis, Shadowcloak
Status: Single
Face Claim: David Boreanaz
Picture:
Brief appearance description: Marshall has dark hair, which is always sticking straight up and spiky. He keeps it short out of habit—he honestly couldn’t imagine having long hair, ever. His eyes are a rich brown color, and always warm. He usually sports a bit of stubble along his jaw and above his lip, but never anything more than a five o’clock shadow. On his upper back, near his right shoulder, he has a tattoo of a swooping eagle; this is usually covered up by his clothing. He stands tall at 6’1”, and is very well-built from years of intense, military-style workout drills. Despite his well-muscled figure, he’s also surprisingly quick and light on his feet.
Marshall’s attire is very plain, usually consisting of a white tee shirt, blue jeans, and a pair of sneakers he scavenged from an abandoned shoe store. During the colder months, he swaps the tee shirt for a white long-sleeve shirt, and will don his old Green Beret jacket—an old, army-green thing with his name on it, heavily decorated from his years of service. He always wears his dog tags securely around his neck—these and his jacket are the two things from his past he refuses to part with under any circumstances.
Let's really get inside their head...
Personality: Marshall is a man who tends to play things close to the vest. He doesn’t care much for divulging personal information—few in Stella’s Freedom know any more than the basic details about his past, despite the fact that he’s been there for nearly six years now. He sees what’s happened in his past as his cross to bear, and doesn’t want any else to feel burdened, or forced to pity him. He saves his brooding on his past for nights, when he’s alone in the small room he’s slept in for the past six years, and even then, he prefers not to dwell on it. Despite his reservation, he’s not unfriendly. In fact, Marshall has a very easygoing manner and pleasant temperament. He’s always patient and willing to help out, especially with training the new recruits. His smiles come easy—he likes to joke and laugh; he finds it better than moping around and dwelling on his past. His patience seems to have no limit; not once in the history of Stella’s Freedom has he completely snapped. He has gotten into arguments and raised his voice, but never anything more than that.
Though being in a leadership position originally was something that made Marshall uncomfortable, after six years leading strikes against Infected dens, Marshall is fine with being a position of authority. He can be a bit harsh sometimes, particularly while training recruits, but he is only harsh because he wants everyone to become the strongest, fastest, and best they can be. He knows that the better they are, the more chance they have for survival out on the streets of Chicago. Though he can be a bit demanding, he is a democratic leader, and willing to listen to those under his command.
Marshall’s opinion on the Infected is a mixed opinion. He doesn’t like them for the monsters they’ve become, and thinks that killing them is giving the human race a better chance for survival and recovery. At the same time, he pities them, to some extent. He realizes they were once humans, and that if there’s any small sliver of humanity left in them, it must be hurting, having to kill all these people. His pity for them is part of why he likes the idea of Stella’s Freedom—they’re freeing the Infected from the existence they’ve been forced to live.
Normally, Marshall will keep his cool, no matter what the situation. There are two things, however, that will cause him to lose his calm. One of those is if he finds himself forcibly or accidentally separated from his scouting team. During these situations, he can keep a cool demeanor, but his mind is always whirring with worry and mild panic. The longer he is separated from his group, or the more dangerous the situation gets, the more he worries. The other situation that will make him lose his cool is if anyone in his scouting group is lost, injured, or killed. He feels personally responsible, and will brood for days on end in this case.
Likes: Running
Cold weather
70’s era rock
Apples
Traveling
Spicy food
Birds of prey (particularly eagles)
Dislikes: Hot, humid weather
Techno music
Grapefruit
Sitting still for long periods of time
Being nearsighted
Rodents
People who give up too easily
Strengths: Hand to hand combat
Marksmanship
Physical strength, speed, and endurance
Leadership
Weaknesses: Abandonment issues
Occasional broodiness
Nearsighted (though he wears corrective lenses)
Can be harsh while training
Fears: Being abandoned by Stella’s Freedom
Losing a teammate on a raid
Winding up helpless in a dangerous situation
Family:
Father: Ethan Rémy Sauveterre (Infected)
Mother: Rachel Michelle Sauveterre (Deceased)
Sisters: Bethany Sabrina Sharrow (Infected), Lexa Nicole Sauveterre (Infected)
History: Marshall was born the second child and only son of Ethan Sauveterre, a first-generation American citizen whose parents hailed from France, and his wife, Rachel, a native of Colorado. Marshall and his sisters were raised in the small town of Castle Rock, Colorado—about half an hour from Denver. The Sauveterres weren’t rich, due to Ethan’s flighty nature when it came to jobs, but they made ends meet enough so that they could get by. Marshall learned from an early age he couldn’t always get everything he wanted, and that sometimes, he had to make sacrifices. By the time he was five, it was practically bred into him.
Around the time he turned five, his father left the family very suddenly. As it turned out, Ethan Sauveterre was as flighty with women as he was with working. He had several affairs on the side, and when one of them got pregnant, they ran off together, leaving Rachel to raise Marshall and his two sisters by herself. Now a single mother with three children and bills to pay, Rachel took a second job, which meant she was almost never home. Bethany, the oldest, became a second mom despite being only nine years old; Marshall and Bethany developed a close relationship. Marshall was now, at the tender age of five, the man of the house—and while he never let on, he took his dad’s leaving very hard. For three years, he was terrified that his mother was just going to leave, too, and it would be him and his sisters all on their own.
Years passed. Marshall made it through school with good marks—not top notch, but enough to get him into a decent university. Money was still tight for the Sauveterres, however, so college was far in the back of Marshall’s mind. Instead, he focused his energy into finding a job to help his family stay afloat—his mother, now a thin, frail shell of the woman she used to be due to a series of reoccurring panic attacks, could only stand to work one job anymore. His older sister, Bethany, had moved out, gotten married, and had a family of her own to support, and his younger sister Lexa was still in high school. After graduating high school, Marshall got a job as a waiter—the hours were long, the customers were rude, and the money wasn’t the greatest, but it was enough to get by. And as much as he detested it, he stayed at this job for two and a half years after he graduated.
When he was twenty, however, a chance encounter at the restaurant changed the course of his life. He was working when a group of people came into the restaurant—a group of Green Berets, to be precise. He was sent to wait on their table, and while he was serving them, he got to talking to them. In addition to talking, and hearing the information they had to give him, he observed. He liked the camaraderie between the Green Berets. He liked the idea of being part of something that required so much cooperation between people, of something that could do so much good. As soon as he got home, he was online, looking into joining the Green Berets himself. Not only did he like the idea of it more and more the more he read, but he realized that the benefits he would receive as a Green Beret would help support his family. His decision was made. By the time he was twenty-one, he had made his way into basic training.
It was there that Marshall thrived. He knew he had finally found what he was supposed to be doing with his life; he was meant to be a soldier. There was discipline, order, security—things that he had lacked in his childhood. And so, he passed basic training with flying colors and became a Green Beret.
Shortly after joining the ranks of the Green Berets, Marshall found himself shipped off to Venezuela, a ravaged war zone run by hostile drug lords. In addition to fighting off the insurgents that were insistent on running the American troops out, Marshall spent a fair deal of his time delivering supply packages to the citizens, particularly the ones who had been displaced by the war, or those who had lost their homes. He learned to count his blessings during these supply deliveries—the little they had made the little that Marshall’s family had seem like riches.
After nearly five years on and off in Venezuela, the fighting stopped, and Marshall was re-stationed in the United States. By this time, his mother had stopped having panic attacks and could work more regularly—and was even seeing someone. His sister Lexa was engaged, and his other sister Bethany had a three-year-old boy and was expecting another soon. Marshall doted on his little nephew, who declared that he wanted to grow up to be just like his uncle. Marshall felt as though his life had finally turned around.
And then, when he was twenty-six, the Virus hit.
Marshall was called back into active duty almost as soon as the Virus crossed the state lines of New Jersey. Seeing as the Virus was spreading rapidly up and down the East Coast, Marshall’s entire unit was shipped out to D.C.—a place he had never been before. He would have enjoyed the opportunity more if the entire tri-state area hadn’t been disintegrating into mass panic and chaos as more and more people became infected. He expected to be sent out almost immediately—but instead, he was sequestered in a government building in downtown D.C. for almost two weeks. Every day, he found himself trapped in a repetitive routine: get up, have breakfast, get dressed, and then, be lead into the basement of the building to stand in a containment chamber for most of the day. The days went on, and as they did, more and more of his unit disappeared, until it was only him and four other men. Finally, it dawned on Marshall what was happening—his unit had been exposed to the virus. Those who had become infected were removed and left to their fate, and those who survived—the Immunes—were kept.
After the “screening process”, Marshall and the four other survivors found themselves placed in a new unit with a handful of other survivors and sent into the middle of the chaos to look for survivors. By now, the Virus was spreading rapidly, despite the best efforts of both the military and the country’s best and brightest scientists. As the Virus spread further and further, Marshall’s unit was sent further and further out, to look for survivors and to evacuate communities that the Virus hadn’t reached yet. Their efforts, unfortunately, proved to be in vain. The number of Infected skyrocketed, and by the end of the year, the Virus had spread through the entire country.
Marshall and his unit continued to wander, however, offering whatever assistance they could to the few that they found still alive. Some of them were immune to the virus, like them. Others had internalized the virus and had no memory of their lives prior to the virus. Marshall’s unit helped them however they could, and then would move on.
About two years after the Virus hit, Marshall and his unit found themselves out in Michigan, in the now-desolate city of Ann Arbor. Night was falling, and they decided to camp out in one of the abandoned dorms of the University of Michigan. Unbeknownst to them, the dorm they camped out in for the evening had a den of Infected in the basement. During the night, they shambled upstairs, having heard and smelt the soldiers sleeping upstairs. Most of Marshall’s unit fled. A few unfortunate souls found themselves being eaten by the Infected. Marshall, on the same floor as those poor few who had gotten eaten, cloaked himself in the shadows and waited for them to pass. Soon enough, they retreated back to the basement, and he came out of his hiding spot and fled the dorm instantly. By this time, however, his unit was long gone.
He tried to track them down as best as he could, determining by a footprint he found in a muddy spot of grass nearby that they had gone south, back towards Ohio. He went towards Ohio as well, hoping to catch up with his unit. After several months of fruitless searching, however, it was clear that he had been abandoned yet again.
Unsure of what to do or where to go now, Marshall decided to head towards home, hoping to find someone, anyone from his family. It took him nearly a month, but he finally made it home. It was not, however, the homecoming he had hoped for. His mother’s house, now left to the elements for two years, was overgrown with weeds and overrun by bugs. The only thing there that showed no signs of the decay that had taken over the rest of the house was a stainless-steel security box left on the counter, with a piece of paper taped to the top that said “for Marshall”. Inside was a letter, written by his sister Lexa, explaining the situation: The Virus hit shortly after Bethany’s second child had been born. Everyone had hunkered down at the Sauveterre’s small house, hoping to wait out the panic and the virus. Rachel’s boyfriend had become Infected first, and once he made the final change, he killed Rachel and Bethany’s two children, and wounded Bethany’s husband, who in the end had been the one to kill him. Bethany’s husband died shortly afterwards. Bethany had run off, no one knew what became of her. Finally, Lexa herself had caught the Virus. The letter was written in her last days, before her mind was completely consumed. Everything Marshall knew and loved was gone.
He didn’t stay long in Colorado, but instead chose to wander. After two years of going here, there, and everywhere, he finally found himself in the dead city that was Chicago. It was there, as he wandered around, that he found the barricade on the Michigan Avenue Bridge. Curious to see what was on the other side, he climbed over it, finding himself in an area completely clear of Infected. After being intercepted by someone running patrol, he found that he had ventured into the safe zone of the faction known as Stella’s Freedom. He met with the leader, Kyle Uther, and after a trial period of sorts, became a part of Stella’s Freedom. Thanks to his previous experience with the Green Berets, he was given the task of training the recruits in hand-to-hand combat, as well as marksmanship.
He remains with Stella’s Freedom to this day.
What do you think of this situation? It could be worse
RP sample: To hell with that.
Name/alias: Rora
Age:19
How long have you been RPing? Four years
Do you have any other characters on the site? Yes: Avery Faulkner, Kayleigh Hawkins, and Zackary Merricks.
Your character: bare bones.
Name: Marshall Dean Sauveterre
Age: 36
Location: Stella’s Freedom Headquarters—Chicago, Illinois
Immune or Carrier? Immune
Skills: Hyperhemostasis, Shadowcloak
Status: Single
Face Claim: David Boreanaz
Picture:
Brief appearance description: Marshall has dark hair, which is always sticking straight up and spiky. He keeps it short out of habit—he honestly couldn’t imagine having long hair, ever. His eyes are a rich brown color, and always warm. He usually sports a bit of stubble along his jaw and above his lip, but never anything more than a five o’clock shadow. On his upper back, near his right shoulder, he has a tattoo of a swooping eagle; this is usually covered up by his clothing. He stands tall at 6’1”, and is very well-built from years of intense, military-style workout drills. Despite his well-muscled figure, he’s also surprisingly quick and light on his feet.
Marshall’s attire is very plain, usually consisting of a white tee shirt, blue jeans, and a pair of sneakers he scavenged from an abandoned shoe store. During the colder months, he swaps the tee shirt for a white long-sleeve shirt, and will don his old Green Beret jacket—an old, army-green thing with his name on it, heavily decorated from his years of service. He always wears his dog tags securely around his neck—these and his jacket are the two things from his past he refuses to part with under any circumstances.
Let's really get inside their head...
Personality: Marshall is a man who tends to play things close to the vest. He doesn’t care much for divulging personal information—few in Stella’s Freedom know any more than the basic details about his past, despite the fact that he’s been there for nearly six years now. He sees what’s happened in his past as his cross to bear, and doesn’t want any else to feel burdened, or forced to pity him. He saves his brooding on his past for nights, when he’s alone in the small room he’s slept in for the past six years, and even then, he prefers not to dwell on it. Despite his reservation, he’s not unfriendly. In fact, Marshall has a very easygoing manner and pleasant temperament. He’s always patient and willing to help out, especially with training the new recruits. His smiles come easy—he likes to joke and laugh; he finds it better than moping around and dwelling on his past. His patience seems to have no limit; not once in the history of Stella’s Freedom has he completely snapped. He has gotten into arguments and raised his voice, but never anything more than that.
Though being in a leadership position originally was something that made Marshall uncomfortable, after six years leading strikes against Infected dens, Marshall is fine with being a position of authority. He can be a bit harsh sometimes, particularly while training recruits, but he is only harsh because he wants everyone to become the strongest, fastest, and best they can be. He knows that the better they are, the more chance they have for survival out on the streets of Chicago. Though he can be a bit demanding, he is a democratic leader, and willing to listen to those under his command.
Marshall’s opinion on the Infected is a mixed opinion. He doesn’t like them for the monsters they’ve become, and thinks that killing them is giving the human race a better chance for survival and recovery. At the same time, he pities them, to some extent. He realizes they were once humans, and that if there’s any small sliver of humanity left in them, it must be hurting, having to kill all these people. His pity for them is part of why he likes the idea of Stella’s Freedom—they’re freeing the Infected from the existence they’ve been forced to live.
Normally, Marshall will keep his cool, no matter what the situation. There are two things, however, that will cause him to lose his calm. One of those is if he finds himself forcibly or accidentally separated from his scouting team. During these situations, he can keep a cool demeanor, but his mind is always whirring with worry and mild panic. The longer he is separated from his group, or the more dangerous the situation gets, the more he worries. The other situation that will make him lose his cool is if anyone in his scouting group is lost, injured, or killed. He feels personally responsible, and will brood for days on end in this case.
Likes: Running
Cold weather
70’s era rock
Apples
Traveling
Spicy food
Birds of prey (particularly eagles)
Dislikes: Hot, humid weather
Techno music
Grapefruit
Sitting still for long periods of time
Being nearsighted
Rodents
People who give up too easily
Strengths: Hand to hand combat
Marksmanship
Physical strength, speed, and endurance
Leadership
Weaknesses: Abandonment issues
Occasional broodiness
Nearsighted (though he wears corrective lenses)
Can be harsh while training
Fears: Being abandoned by Stella’s Freedom
Losing a teammate on a raid
Winding up helpless in a dangerous situation
Family:
Father: Ethan Rémy Sauveterre (Infected)
Mother: Rachel Michelle Sauveterre (Deceased)
Sisters: Bethany Sabrina Sharrow (Infected), Lexa Nicole Sauveterre (Infected)
History: Marshall was born the second child and only son of Ethan Sauveterre, a first-generation American citizen whose parents hailed from France, and his wife, Rachel, a native of Colorado. Marshall and his sisters were raised in the small town of Castle Rock, Colorado—about half an hour from Denver. The Sauveterres weren’t rich, due to Ethan’s flighty nature when it came to jobs, but they made ends meet enough so that they could get by. Marshall learned from an early age he couldn’t always get everything he wanted, and that sometimes, he had to make sacrifices. By the time he was five, it was practically bred into him.
Around the time he turned five, his father left the family very suddenly. As it turned out, Ethan Sauveterre was as flighty with women as he was with working. He had several affairs on the side, and when one of them got pregnant, they ran off together, leaving Rachel to raise Marshall and his two sisters by herself. Now a single mother with three children and bills to pay, Rachel took a second job, which meant she was almost never home. Bethany, the oldest, became a second mom despite being only nine years old; Marshall and Bethany developed a close relationship. Marshall was now, at the tender age of five, the man of the house—and while he never let on, he took his dad’s leaving very hard. For three years, he was terrified that his mother was just going to leave, too, and it would be him and his sisters all on their own.
Years passed. Marshall made it through school with good marks—not top notch, but enough to get him into a decent university. Money was still tight for the Sauveterres, however, so college was far in the back of Marshall’s mind. Instead, he focused his energy into finding a job to help his family stay afloat—his mother, now a thin, frail shell of the woman she used to be due to a series of reoccurring panic attacks, could only stand to work one job anymore. His older sister, Bethany, had moved out, gotten married, and had a family of her own to support, and his younger sister Lexa was still in high school. After graduating high school, Marshall got a job as a waiter—the hours were long, the customers were rude, and the money wasn’t the greatest, but it was enough to get by. And as much as he detested it, he stayed at this job for two and a half years after he graduated.
When he was twenty, however, a chance encounter at the restaurant changed the course of his life. He was working when a group of people came into the restaurant—a group of Green Berets, to be precise. He was sent to wait on their table, and while he was serving them, he got to talking to them. In addition to talking, and hearing the information they had to give him, he observed. He liked the camaraderie between the Green Berets. He liked the idea of being part of something that required so much cooperation between people, of something that could do so much good. As soon as he got home, he was online, looking into joining the Green Berets himself. Not only did he like the idea of it more and more the more he read, but he realized that the benefits he would receive as a Green Beret would help support his family. His decision was made. By the time he was twenty-one, he had made his way into basic training.
It was there that Marshall thrived. He knew he had finally found what he was supposed to be doing with his life; he was meant to be a soldier. There was discipline, order, security—things that he had lacked in his childhood. And so, he passed basic training with flying colors and became a Green Beret.
Shortly after joining the ranks of the Green Berets, Marshall found himself shipped off to Venezuela, a ravaged war zone run by hostile drug lords. In addition to fighting off the insurgents that were insistent on running the American troops out, Marshall spent a fair deal of his time delivering supply packages to the citizens, particularly the ones who had been displaced by the war, or those who had lost their homes. He learned to count his blessings during these supply deliveries—the little they had made the little that Marshall’s family had seem like riches.
After nearly five years on and off in Venezuela, the fighting stopped, and Marshall was re-stationed in the United States. By this time, his mother had stopped having panic attacks and could work more regularly—and was even seeing someone. His sister Lexa was engaged, and his other sister Bethany had a three-year-old boy and was expecting another soon. Marshall doted on his little nephew, who declared that he wanted to grow up to be just like his uncle. Marshall felt as though his life had finally turned around.
And then, when he was twenty-six, the Virus hit.
Marshall was called back into active duty almost as soon as the Virus crossed the state lines of New Jersey. Seeing as the Virus was spreading rapidly up and down the East Coast, Marshall’s entire unit was shipped out to D.C.—a place he had never been before. He would have enjoyed the opportunity more if the entire tri-state area hadn’t been disintegrating into mass panic and chaos as more and more people became infected. He expected to be sent out almost immediately—but instead, he was sequestered in a government building in downtown D.C. for almost two weeks. Every day, he found himself trapped in a repetitive routine: get up, have breakfast, get dressed, and then, be lead into the basement of the building to stand in a containment chamber for most of the day. The days went on, and as they did, more and more of his unit disappeared, until it was only him and four other men. Finally, it dawned on Marshall what was happening—his unit had been exposed to the virus. Those who had become infected were removed and left to their fate, and those who survived—the Immunes—were kept.
After the “screening process”, Marshall and the four other survivors found themselves placed in a new unit with a handful of other survivors and sent into the middle of the chaos to look for survivors. By now, the Virus was spreading rapidly, despite the best efforts of both the military and the country’s best and brightest scientists. As the Virus spread further and further, Marshall’s unit was sent further and further out, to look for survivors and to evacuate communities that the Virus hadn’t reached yet. Their efforts, unfortunately, proved to be in vain. The number of Infected skyrocketed, and by the end of the year, the Virus had spread through the entire country.
Marshall and his unit continued to wander, however, offering whatever assistance they could to the few that they found still alive. Some of them were immune to the virus, like them. Others had internalized the virus and had no memory of their lives prior to the virus. Marshall’s unit helped them however they could, and then would move on.
About two years after the Virus hit, Marshall and his unit found themselves out in Michigan, in the now-desolate city of Ann Arbor. Night was falling, and they decided to camp out in one of the abandoned dorms of the University of Michigan. Unbeknownst to them, the dorm they camped out in for the evening had a den of Infected in the basement. During the night, they shambled upstairs, having heard and smelt the soldiers sleeping upstairs. Most of Marshall’s unit fled. A few unfortunate souls found themselves being eaten by the Infected. Marshall, on the same floor as those poor few who had gotten eaten, cloaked himself in the shadows and waited for them to pass. Soon enough, they retreated back to the basement, and he came out of his hiding spot and fled the dorm instantly. By this time, however, his unit was long gone.
He tried to track them down as best as he could, determining by a footprint he found in a muddy spot of grass nearby that they had gone south, back towards Ohio. He went towards Ohio as well, hoping to catch up with his unit. After several months of fruitless searching, however, it was clear that he had been abandoned yet again.
Unsure of what to do or where to go now, Marshall decided to head towards home, hoping to find someone, anyone from his family. It took him nearly a month, but he finally made it home. It was not, however, the homecoming he had hoped for. His mother’s house, now left to the elements for two years, was overgrown with weeds and overrun by bugs. The only thing there that showed no signs of the decay that had taken over the rest of the house was a stainless-steel security box left on the counter, with a piece of paper taped to the top that said “for Marshall”. Inside was a letter, written by his sister Lexa, explaining the situation: The Virus hit shortly after Bethany’s second child had been born. Everyone had hunkered down at the Sauveterre’s small house, hoping to wait out the panic and the virus. Rachel’s boyfriend had become Infected first, and once he made the final change, he killed Rachel and Bethany’s two children, and wounded Bethany’s husband, who in the end had been the one to kill him. Bethany’s husband died shortly afterwards. Bethany had run off, no one knew what became of her. Finally, Lexa herself had caught the Virus. The letter was written in her last days, before her mind was completely consumed. Everything Marshall knew and loved was gone.
He didn’t stay long in Colorado, but instead chose to wander. After two years of going here, there, and everywhere, he finally found himself in the dead city that was Chicago. It was there, as he wandered around, that he found the barricade on the Michigan Avenue Bridge. Curious to see what was on the other side, he climbed over it, finding himself in an area completely clear of Infected. After being intercepted by someone running patrol, he found that he had ventured into the safe zone of the faction known as Stella’s Freedom. He met with the leader, Kyle Uther, and after a trial period of sorts, became a part of Stella’s Freedom. Thanks to his previous experience with the Green Berets, he was given the task of training the recruits in hand-to-hand combat, as well as marksmanship.
He remains with Stella’s Freedom to this day.
What do you think of this situation? It could be worse
RP sample: To hell with that.