Post by Alan Mathis on May 18, 2013 2:23:00 GMT
Biological Information
Name: Alan Mathis
Gender: Male
Race: Human.
Homeworld: Earth.
Date of Birth (Age): [5/17/1982] 19 Years Old.
Height: 5'11" (1.524 meters)
Weight: 167 lbs (75.74 kg)
Blood Type: AB +
Hair: Black
Eyes: Blue
ID Marks: Alan is rather young, and has no real injuries or tattoos to speak of.
Appearance Overview: Standing at an average height and weight, Alan is a man of an athletic build, and rather pale skin. He is still very young, and his youth shows on his face. He isn't an ugly man, but not something most people would look at twice. Mathis wears an old U.S. Army Battle Desert Combat Uniform, along with an IBA Outer Tactical Vest, and a PASGT helmet. His vest is in M81 Woodland Camouflage, while his helmet's cover matches the desert camouflage of his uniform. He wears combat gloves and boots, as well. Inside his vest, are two SAPI plates, used to protect him from small arms fire.
Alan almost always carries his M16A2, which has no attachments beyond it's carrying handle. His OTV carries several 30-round STANAG magazines, four M67 Fragmentation Grenades, four M18 Smoke Grenades, and an M9 Bayonet. He also carries a woodland camouflage assault pack, carrying a few rations, his canteen, and a mixture of other, more mundane gear and personal belongings.
Universe of Origin: America's Army: Rise of a Soldier
Professional Information
Occupation: Infantryman.
Faction: United States Army.
Rank/Position: Private First Class, Fireteam Rifleman.
Billet: 11b
History
Personal History: Alan was born in Columbus, Ohio, May 17th, 1982. His family was middle class, and he was raised by his father and mother with strong morals, giving him a clear outlook on what was right and wrong. He had average grades in elementary school, and nearly flunked middle school. However, harsh punishment from his parents forced the kid to mature before he reached high school; and once he did, he'd been instilled with the personal discipline to focus on school. He made above average grades throughout his high school career, earning a scholarship for his perseverance. Despite the scholarship, though, Alan had enrolled in his school's Army JROTC Program, and had an intense drive to enlist in the military.
Once he reached the age of eighteen, and was awarded his advanced diploma, Alan immediately went to his local MEPS center. It didn't take long for him to sign the contract to join the United States Army, and take his oath. A few weeks later, the recruit was shipped out Fort Benning, Georgia. Alan spent fourteen weeks in the Army's OSUT, learning the techniques and skills of a professional Infantry soldier. He proved to be a natural marksman and tactician, earning an Expert Rating on the firing range, and performing above his peers during MOUT. Alan was also one out of three men in his Battalion to receive an Expert Rating on their base's obstacle course, running the course in forty-eight seconds.
After he finished his training, Alan was placed in Bravo Company, 1st Battalion, 87th Infantry Regiment, 10th Mountain Division. In 2001, the Private First Class was deployed with the 10th Mountain to Afghanistan, in a supervision capacity after a hostile election between the governing powers. The displaced dictator of the country dropped off the grid, and there was high amounts of tension throughout the country. Alan's Battalion was tasked with keeping Old Town, a large town a few dozen miles from Kabul, safe. However, while en route through the National Tunnel, Alan's Platoon was ambushed by dozens of Afghani Militia. The soldiers fought off the attack, and managed to escape the tunnels via the sewers located beneath.
The Battalion then arrived in Old Town, and set up throughout the large, desert town. An investigation was initiated as to why the militia had turned against the Americans, while the 1-87th ran patrols through Old Town in the meantime. While his Squad was on patrol, thousands of militia suddenly engage the entire Battalion, while entire Divisions of insurgents retreated out of the town and into the mountains. Alan's Squad was separated from the rest of the Battalion, and split in half. The PFC's Fireteam rushed through the city, swarmed by hundreds of armed militiamen as they attempted to regroup with the rest of the Squad. They managed to link up, and evacuate via a UH-60 Blackhawk. The firefight would be the most violent the United States Army had participated in since Mogadishu.
The 10th Mountain then deployed to the mountain regions of Afghanistan, to hunt down the rest of the displaced insurgents, now calling themselves the 'October's Brigade', angered of the displacement of Afghanistan's former leader. Alan's Company was tasked with guarding the supply lines to the rest of the Division, fending off multiple ambushes during this time. The Private First Class was awarded with a Bronze Star, when he personally used an M203 to destroy a trio of insurgent trucks, halting the assault on their convoy and forcing the attacking insurgents into a funnel.
Family:
Training and Education:
Personality: Alan acts his age, young and naive. He makes jokes, tries to stay positive, and attempts to appear strong in front of others. He is not a fearless man, nor is he without demons, but he refuses to let anyone else see that weakness in him.
Name/Country: Jesse/United States.
Roleplay Example: Stas' boots gently thudded against the floor of the building he was in,
as the soldier crept through the once well furnished office. There was a
light dusting of snow along the carpet, the wind having blown it in
from the sill where a window once existed, having long since been
shattered by the firebombing over a year ago.
The man was moving
at a slow pace, head on a swivel and eyes scanning. He couldn't hear
anything aside from his own, steady breath, and the crunch of his
footfalls. Small puffs formed outside the Spetsnaz's balaclava with
every exhale, as he approached a threshold that led out of the office.
The door had been blown off it's hinges, and the wallpaper was singed;
peeled back by the extreme temperature of the napalm bombs.
As he
approached, Stas reached out with his left hand, his fingerless gloves
wrapping around the scorched wood of the threshold. The man leaned
around the corner, peeking his head into the hallway. It wasn't very
long, maybe fifteen feet. The building was in the same state of disarray
as the office, with a window at the end of the hall; also blown out.
Just as before, snow was all over the ground. There were cracks running
up along the walls, signs of the wear and tear inflicted on the building
in the last year; exposed to the elements and lacking any maintenance.
Vorobiev
cast a glance back over his shoulder, into the office. It was a habit
he'd picked up, making sure his six was clear before continuing onwards.
The soldier stealthily stepped around the threshold and into the
hallway, the stock of his AK-101 pressed into his shoulder. The man made
a slow trot towards the end of the hall, near the window. As he neared,
Stas could feel the cold bite of the winter wind through his gorka, the
Spetsnaz shifting into a crouch as he hugged his body, poking his
helmet and goggles above the windowsill, looking out into the street
below.
Name: Alan Mathis
Gender: Male
Race: Human.
Homeworld: Earth.
Date of Birth (Age): [5/17/1982] 19 Years Old.
Height: 5'11" (1.524 meters)
Weight: 167 lbs (75.74 kg)
Blood Type: AB +
Hair: Black
Eyes: Blue
ID Marks: Alan is rather young, and has no real injuries or tattoos to speak of.
Appearance Overview: Standing at an average height and weight, Alan is a man of an athletic build, and rather pale skin. He is still very young, and his youth shows on his face. He isn't an ugly man, but not something most people would look at twice. Mathis wears an old U.S. Army Battle Desert Combat Uniform, along with an IBA Outer Tactical Vest, and a PASGT helmet. His vest is in M81 Woodland Camouflage, while his helmet's cover matches the desert camouflage of his uniform. He wears combat gloves and boots, as well. Inside his vest, are two SAPI plates, used to protect him from small arms fire.
Alan almost always carries his M16A2, which has no attachments beyond it's carrying handle. His OTV carries several 30-round STANAG magazines, four M67 Fragmentation Grenades, four M18 Smoke Grenades, and an M9 Bayonet. He also carries a woodland camouflage assault pack, carrying a few rations, his canteen, and a mixture of other, more mundane gear and personal belongings.
Universe of Origin: America's Army: Rise of a Soldier
Professional Information
Occupation: Infantryman.
Faction: United States Army.
Rank/Position: Private First Class, Fireteam Rifleman.
Billet: 11b
History
Personal History: Alan was born in Columbus, Ohio, May 17th, 1982. His family was middle class, and he was raised by his father and mother with strong morals, giving him a clear outlook on what was right and wrong. He had average grades in elementary school, and nearly flunked middle school. However, harsh punishment from his parents forced the kid to mature before he reached high school; and once he did, he'd been instilled with the personal discipline to focus on school. He made above average grades throughout his high school career, earning a scholarship for his perseverance. Despite the scholarship, though, Alan had enrolled in his school's Army JROTC Program, and had an intense drive to enlist in the military.
Once he reached the age of eighteen, and was awarded his advanced diploma, Alan immediately went to his local MEPS center. It didn't take long for him to sign the contract to join the United States Army, and take his oath. A few weeks later, the recruit was shipped out Fort Benning, Georgia. Alan spent fourteen weeks in the Army's OSUT, learning the techniques and skills of a professional Infantry soldier. He proved to be a natural marksman and tactician, earning an Expert Rating on the firing range, and performing above his peers during MOUT. Alan was also one out of three men in his Battalion to receive an Expert Rating on their base's obstacle course, running the course in forty-eight seconds.
After he finished his training, Alan was placed in Bravo Company, 1st Battalion, 87th Infantry Regiment, 10th Mountain Division. In 2001, the Private First Class was deployed with the 10th Mountain to Afghanistan, in a supervision capacity after a hostile election between the governing powers. The displaced dictator of the country dropped off the grid, and there was high amounts of tension throughout the country. Alan's Battalion was tasked with keeping Old Town, a large town a few dozen miles from Kabul, safe. However, while en route through the National Tunnel, Alan's Platoon was ambushed by dozens of Afghani Militia. The soldiers fought off the attack, and managed to escape the tunnels via the sewers located beneath.
The Battalion then arrived in Old Town, and set up throughout the large, desert town. An investigation was initiated as to why the militia had turned against the Americans, while the 1-87th ran patrols through Old Town in the meantime. While his Squad was on patrol, thousands of militia suddenly engage the entire Battalion, while entire Divisions of insurgents retreated out of the town and into the mountains. Alan's Squad was separated from the rest of the Battalion, and split in half. The PFC's Fireteam rushed through the city, swarmed by hundreds of armed militiamen as they attempted to regroup with the rest of the Squad. They managed to link up, and evacuate via a UH-60 Blackhawk. The firefight would be the most violent the United States Army had participated in since Mogadishu.
The 10th Mountain then deployed to the mountain regions of Afghanistan, to hunt down the rest of the displaced insurgents, now calling themselves the 'October's Brigade', angered of the displacement of Afghanistan's former leader. Alan's Company was tasked with guarding the supply lines to the rest of the Division, fending off multiple ambushes during this time. The Private First Class was awarded with a Bronze Star, when he personally used an M203 to destroy a trio of insurgent trucks, halting the assault on their convoy and forcing the attacking insurgents into a funnel.
Family:
- Mother
- Father
- Fiancée
Training and Education:
- 12-year education
- 14-week U.S. Army Infantry School
Personality: Alan acts his age, young and naive. He makes jokes, tries to stay positive, and attempts to appear strong in front of others. He is not a fearless man, nor is he without demons, but he refuses to let anyone else see that weakness in him.
Name/Country: Jesse/United States.
Roleplay Example: Stas' boots gently thudded against the floor of the building he was in,
as the soldier crept through the once well furnished office. There was a
light dusting of snow along the carpet, the wind having blown it in
from the sill where a window once existed, having long since been
shattered by the firebombing over a year ago.
The man was moving
at a slow pace, head on a swivel and eyes scanning. He couldn't hear
anything aside from his own, steady breath, and the crunch of his
footfalls. Small puffs formed outside the Spetsnaz's balaclava with
every exhale, as he approached a threshold that led out of the office.
The door had been blown off it's hinges, and the wallpaper was singed;
peeled back by the extreme temperature of the napalm bombs.
As he
approached, Stas reached out with his left hand, his fingerless gloves
wrapping around the scorched wood of the threshold. The man leaned
around the corner, peeking his head into the hallway. It wasn't very
long, maybe fifteen feet. The building was in the same state of disarray
as the office, with a window at the end of the hall; also blown out.
Just as before, snow was all over the ground. There were cracks running
up along the walls, signs of the wear and tear inflicted on the building
in the last year; exposed to the elements and lacking any maintenance.
Vorobiev
cast a glance back over his shoulder, into the office. It was a habit
he'd picked up, making sure his six was clear before continuing onwards.
The soldier stealthily stepped around the threshold and into the
hallway, the stock of his AK-101 pressed into his shoulder. The man made
a slow trot towards the end of the hall, near the window. As he neared,
Stas could feel the cold bite of the winter wind through his gorka, the
Spetsnaz shifting into a crouch as he hugged his body, poking his
helmet and goggles above the windowsill, looking out into the street
below.