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Post by markus on Apr 7, 2012 22:24:07 GMT -5
Reviewed By: Tasha Moondancer
Accepted By:Tasha Moondancer
Date:04/07/12
Basics-
Full Name: Markus G. Riley
Avatar: Channing Tatum
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Age: 35
Height: 6'5
Weight: 250 lbs
Build: Tall & muscular
Hair: Brown, close cropped
Eyes: Green
Skin Color: White
Scars: Small ones along his arms/chest/back from serving
Piercings: None
Tattoos: 'Semper Fi' Between his shoulder blades
Family:
Mother- Christine Riley (deceased)
Father- Devan Riley (deceased)
Siblings- (all younger, though in order of age) Samuel, Diane, Melissa, Jennifer, & Lance (all deceased that he knows of)
Spouse- Emilia J. (Bing) Riley (deceased)
Children- Arabelle & Cole (both deceased)
Personality & Flaws:
- Caring
- Compassionate
- Calm
- Focused/Driven
- Intelligent
- Influential (has a way of getting people to do things he wants)
- Extremely Observant
- Quiet
- Open-minded
Strengths & Weaknesses
- Military-trained Fighter
- Literate, Intelligent, Witty
- Attaches himself too quickly to others at times
- Can't cook to save his life
Illnesses:
Mild PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder)- Markus was diagnosed with the disorder upon returning home from the war.. Seeing too many friends die in combat will do that to a person. Usually doesn't affect him beyond nightmares (waking screaming, drenched in sweat, liable to hurt anyone who comes too close), or on a rare occasion loud sounds (make him jumpy).
Mild Depression- Comes from watching so many people he cares about die, as well as feeling totally alone in the world.
Migraines- Tends to get frequent migraines, usually so severe that they make it hard for him to think, move, or talk without feeling pain. Nothing helps them, though he tends to power through them, feeling that he cannot rest. The migraines are caused by a piece of shrapnel that had gotten lodged within his skull, no surgery could remove it.
Insomnia- Never much of one for sleep, it has only increased since his return home, and since the implosion of the earth.
Allergies- Penicillin, Flower Pollen, Cats, Wool.
Weapons:
-Fists (trained in hand to hand combat)
-Knives (carries a switchblade in his right pocket, a small dagger is always hidden somewhere on his form (usually within his boot))
-Guns (can identify, dismantle, reassemble, and use nearly any gun on the market thanks to training provided by the Marines)
Skills
- Weaponry
- Medic
- Fighter
- Military Tactics
Carried Items:
- Backpack- Clothes, non-perishable food, canteen of water
- Gun in waistband
- Knife in pocket, Dagger in boot
- Lighter in pocket (just in case)
Past:
Markus was born in a small town in Pennsylvania to a doctor and his wife (an artist). Both were young and happy to fill their home. Soon after the birth of their eldest son came the next child, and the next and the next. The last (Lance) arrived when Markus was nearly ten years old. He always looked out for his younger siblings, though tended to avoid fights if needed. He could fight, that wasn't in question, he just didn't like to. Went against his gentle nature.
At an early age his parents discovered that he was far more intelligent than most children his age, he could read and write, reason and carry on an adult conversation far earlier than he should have. His school years flew by in a daze, always the smallest in his class because the students surrounding him were so much older. He was a freshman in High School by the age of 12, and a High School Graduate by the time he was 14. He couldn't obtain a job at this age, heavens no.. and he didn't want to sit at home and do nothing for the next couple of years, besides he was too smart for that.
He went to college, earning that would make him a 1st year resident at any hospital in the state when he was only 18 years old. But he wanted to take a break from college, try his hand at something new.. and he did. Three weeks after his 18th birthday he had signed himself up with a recruiter for the Marines and was quickly shipped off to boot camp. The training was hell, even for a strong kid like Markus, but he never backed down, never once showed a sign that he was hurting or tired or hungry. He pushed through easily.
As soon as boot camp had finished he was shipped across seas where the war was still waging in the Middle East. He fought, he watched the men he'd grown close to die. It was hard, but anyone could do it, right? Nearly four years after they'd shipped him across the ocean, he and his platoon were on a rescue mission; a fellow Marine had been taken hostage and it was their duty to bring her back. It wasn't that hard to find her, though she was hardly recognizable, covered in blood and bruises as she was. They got her, and in the process of removing her from the warehouse that she'd been stored in someone tripped the alarm. They barely escaped with their lives when the building exploded.
Everyone was banged and bruised, Emilia had gotten hit with a rather large board that had flown from the building, shattering her right leg, several others had been injured and Markus had gotten a small sliver of metal lodged within his skull. Both Emilia and Markus were flown state-side quickly, and they thought the worst for the man as he hadn't regained consciousness through it all. The doctors claimed it couldn't be removed, it would kill him if they did, and Emilia would never regain the use of her right leg.
The two bonded during their stay at the hospital, quickly becoming close, falling for one another. His commanding officers wanted to keep him close to home, just for a little while, to be sure that he wouldn't have further problems out on the field with his injuries, and he quickly obliged, wanting nothing more than to spend time with his new sweetheart. Within a year she was pregnant with their first child, six months later the two were married. A mere three months before his 25th birthday he learned two things that broke his heart. One: He was being shipped back to Iraq. Two: Emilia was pregnant again and he would miss it.
He spent every moment with her and their daughter that he could, though it was never going to be enough. Things went smoothly, there weren't many problems that he really had to deal with in Iraq, though watching so many comrades die, watching so much violence day in and day out, having to be a part of that violence, killing children no older than his daughter, women who had similar features to his wife, mother or sisters. It wore down on a man and it wasn't long before he was depressed. Markus wanted nothing more than to go home, to see his wife and children, to feel happy again.. And two weeks before his 30th birthday he was given that chance.
He was being shipped back home, his contract was up and he wasn't sure if he really wanted to re-sign it.. of course he couldn't deny the logic of wanting to. Markus loved being a military man, he loved the action, the money, the thrill, the sense of brotherhood. But he hated it all at the same time, the death, the destruction, the missing out on birthdays and anniversaries. No, he wanted to be home. He wanted to be with his wife and children.
Little did he know, when he stepped onto that plane, that he would never see them again.. alive anyway. The plane ride wasn't long, not really. Just as it began it's decent into New York the earth seemed to split in two. The explosion rocked not only the earth, mountains and oceans, but it rocked the air, buffeting the plane he was on. They barely made it back to the airstrip in one piece. He breathed a sigh of relief when his feet hit solid ground, hating flying. Markus rented a car and drove back to Penn., ready to see his family again. Along the way he noticed strange things though. People were absent or sick and dying, he didn't know what to do.
When he finally made it to his home it was with a horror to find his wife and children, his youngest sister and brother, and his mother all dead within his home. He'd never gotten to hold his son, to feel the child within his arms; and seeing him, cold and lifeless as he was, tore him apart.
It didn't take long for Markus to realize that a vast majority of the world had fallen much the same way, though there were a lot of survivors at the same time. It was a relief to know he was not alone. And then the gases that leaked from the earth began to kill people. He wondered why they didn't take him too. Men and women much stronger than him died around him. He breathed the same air, he drank the same water.. why not him? He begged for death, but refused to take his own life.. no. He was too proud for that.
--
Five years later, it would find him wandering the world, alone. His military training never forgotten, not for a moment. Sleep didn't come easy to him, though when he would sleep it wasn't for long before the nightmares of everything that had happened would plague him, snapping him awake more forcefully than someone prodding him with a hot iron. Where in the world was he to go next? He didn't know..
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