Humans-first ass-kicker of Fox Co. - KIA
Kobe “Cobalt” Glawson
Reputation: (Ignorant) Superpatriot
Current Rank: Corporal – KIA
Starting Rank: Corporal
Fighting Ability (FA): 8
Non-Fighting Ability (NFA): 3
KILLS: 44 Aliens, and 3 humans
ARMOR? Y (Marauder)
|Siren Grenades||1d6 (calls 1d10 Liir)||1||N/A|
- Nuclear Devastation
- Time to Piss Their (Pants?)
KIT, MEDALS and NOTES
Marauder suit, Knife, Hydration Tablets, TRMs, Medpack, Flares, Combat Drugs, Operation 8 Ribbon, Drop Badge
Corporal Kobe “Cobalt” Glawson
Humanity is superior. That’s your creed, you live by it and you’re prepared to die by it if necessary to preserve your race. Holovid remakes of John Wayne and Clint Eastwood were always your favorites, and nothing beats the ractives where you play a lone marine against a swarm of ravening alien zombies. What may have spurred you to enlist even further was the military recruiter’s stubborn insistence (in spite of prolific wartime propaganda posters) to discourage you. Constantly throughout the sign-up process you were probably told “We don’t have a use for a guy like you,” “I’ve fought with heroes son and let me tell you you’re never going to be one,” and “It’s too bad it’s against the law for us to turn you down.” By the time you got to training, you’d been placed with MI, meaning you had no other major knowledge or skills which you could contribute to the military aside from pulling triggers.
But that was fine with you, it’s what you wanted to do, and the chat with the placement officer was probably a little unnerving for him. He asked if you were sure about your first choice of service being listed as the Mobile Infantry, tried to sell you on doing something else – maybe a grease monkey at some Navy dockyard. He probably took his sweet ass time assigning you, spending over an hour trying to talk you out of service in the infantry. “Well you wanted to join the army,” he said, “and the Mobile Infantry is the Army, after all.”
You’d heard that training was tough but nothing, not even your huge collection of war holovids and games, prepared you for boot camp. You trained at Camp John J. Pershing, and it was without question a terrible, dehumanizing experience at first, where neither your instructors nor your fellow soldiers seemed to give a damn about you. You’re still not entirely sure how you managed to not flunk out, but sheer stubbornness kept you going. As time went on and you endured the rough physical training, deliberately cruel treatments, hard work details and so on, you found that there became a grudging respect for you from your fellow recruits and your trainers. The final phase of training was being dropped alone for a week and a half in the Rocky Mountains, naked, without any simple tools. You’re not sure how you survived that either, but you must have learned something since you graduated and got your Trooper’s bar on your uniform.You continued to wait several weeks at your training camp, until being shipped out to L5 Orbital Station and boarding your new and current home, the Federation troop carrier Dick Winters. You’re assigned to an outfit known as Penny’s Pathfinders; Company F, Second Regiment, Fourth Mobile Infantry Division. Yours is part of the Third Platoon, consisting mostly of new soldiers. The Dick Winters is Fox Company’s home, and your regiment (stretched across several other troop carriers) is known generally as the Deuce-Four.
Then you were sent to Capella.
The war had been going on for several years by the time you got there, and the place was a complete mess by the time you arrived. Human factions killing other humans, entire neighborhoods being bombed, street gangs warring with one another – but by far the most dangerous enemy were the Tarka rebels themselves, the reptilian aliens known by most soldiers as the Crocs. You’ve been told that the communities of Humans and Tarkas lived side by side before the fighting broke out, and that it started when the Crocs called in their imperial military to resolve some local dispute – but it was hard to believe that there had been anything other than the anarchy caused by the aliens. During your 4-month tour of duty on Capella you witnessed some of the horrors of war, and served in a dozen combat ready patrols in a counter-insurgency campaign. You were promoted when Corporal Amstill Brown moved up to Sargeant following a firefight in which you didn’t participate. You were pissed off when Lieutenant Pennington announced the recall of Fox Company to Terra to take on replacements, since you managed to miss the action almost every time. As of right now you’ve still never discharged your weapon in combat, and despite your tour of service you never once encountered a live alien. You signed up specifically to kill aliens, and amazingly so far despite being in the heart of the war zone you haven’t managed to squik a single one!
Six months ago you took on replacements, and your platoon was rotated to be mostly fresh faces. Sergeant Amstill Brown is still there, being quiet and reserved most of the time when he’s not giving orders. There’s Lou Masterson; it is known that he was some kind of washed up former football star on Terra. And then there is Harrison Jones, who has a reputation for being a badass. You’ve heard him brag that he killed an entire pack of wolves when it was his turn to get dumped in the Rockies, and you’re skeptical that that’s true. Anyone who claims to be that badass is usually lying their ass off.
The ship was abuzz with talk of a tough and dangerous mission that the Company was about to be sent on as the Dick Winters left the station. The details of that mission will be the contents of another message sent prior to your first mission.