Post by Richter on Sept 6, 2014 3:27:33 GMT
Name: Augusto Almeida
Age: 23
Gender: Male
Faction: Zeon
Rank: Lieutenant
Place of Birth: Somewhere in South America, he never gives specifics.
Personality: Boisterous, overly confident, and very, very, suspicious. Growing up leading a rough life taught Augusto to never take anything at face value, but coming from a hard background also, in a curious contrast, instilled a definite respect for skill and talent - mostly his own, and he certainly doesn't let anyone go long without knowing it. Despite the brave facade almost always on display, the man is deeply mistrustful and often watchful for blades where they don't exist; that said when he does make friends they're closer than family. Happens to be a little too fond of tobacco products, and more worrisome, those pills the quartermasters hand out to pilots to help them stay awake on long sorties.
Appearance: A shaggy mane and lengthy facial hair show a clear disregard for regulation, though impeccable care is paid to both to keep them well trimmed and out of the way. Whether on duty or off, Augusto tends to shy away from uniform whenever he thinks he can get away with it, but when under the light, begrudgingly can be found in the green and gold. That has been a little too much of the late for his liking since he started being shipped north. The most unsettling feature of the gentleman is his unnaturally yellow pair of eyes that any amount of scrutiny can reveal as cybernetic implants, the only clue ever given to their origin being a cryptic warning to 'never get taken alive'. A mated pair of Zeonic service pistols adorn his belt, and a duo of long knives sit on the small of his back in quick release sheaths. Living near the equator assures a seemingly omnipresent tan, whether that remains in these colder climates remains to be seen. Typically can be found smoking whenever involved in a seriously engaging task or when alone, but as of late, has had to cut back, citing a great disdain for tobacco available north of Colombia.
Pic reference.
History: Augusto hails from the back countries of South America, where rolling prairies meet wet jungles in an extremely diverse range of biomes and landmasses. His is a continent that was always beset by civil strife, and the coming of the Federation did little to solve these problems despite the big promises made by the ruling elite. If anything, they only made it worse. Mass, forced migration angered a people who thought dearly of their national identity, and the seizure of huge swathes of land for military bases only exacerbated the situation. Life in the region continued as it always had, it was no surprise to anyone when the same dissident groups turned their guns towards the new government, same as the old government. Augusto became involved with a paramilitary working out of Brazil when he was only 15, being born in a sprawling slum offered little opportunity for work other than a life of labor in the factories or crime. Spurred on by nationalistic propaganda spread throughout the poorer districts of the slums, citing the Federation's concern only for the first world, the choice of crime over supporting those who cared little was an easy pick. The group Almeida joined up with had many lucrative contracts smuggling drugs and arms to other syndicates and militias across the continent, and the finances and contacts brought in from these shady dealings funded a low scale but constant threat to the Federal forces in the region. Never too great, being that not even they knew where Jaburo was hidden, but the feeling that those jungles weren't friendly was something no soldier wanted to think about on a long patrol.
The young guerrilla couldn't complain, he grew accustomed to the surge of adrenaline and roar of battle, and the fat check wasn't very bad either, even if earning it did wind up with a lot of unsavory things being done by and to him. Losing friends to counter-terrorist activities and turncoats hardened him early on in his career, but he stuck with his band throughout the ups and the downs. For the better, as opportunity struck when the nation known as Zeon made war upon their common enemy. For the earlier parts of the One Year War nothing became of that, but after huge swathes of Earth fell to Zeonic hands Lord Garma's initiative to reach out to anti-Federalists on the planet brought his group of dissidents, and several others, into contact with all sorts of new people who were more than eager to help them in their brush war. Augusto and his group began working with Zeon Military Intelligence as guides and jungle warfare instructors, aiding one another to put pressure on the EFGF scattered throughout the continent. Though they could not tell their new allies where the much sought after headquarters was located, several patrol routes that the earthnoids liked to use quickly began to find themselves beleaguered by more nuisances than mere jungle rebels. Whether a clever play by the invaders or not, the various paramilitary groups all found themselves increasingly dependent on support from their Zeonic handlers, and when an offer to join the Earth Attack Force outright was offered, it was a chance too good for any to even think to refuse. Aptitude tests showed that Augusto had quite the knack for mobile suit piloting, and he found himself shuffled off to be trained in the use of these new machines of war with all due speed.
Assignment to a guerrilla unit followed a hasty training seminar, and while he didn't serve with distinction in any of the theaters that most of his comrades in arms would recognize, countless sorties in the jungles, mountains, and prairies of the south behind enemy lines involved the dreaded yellow-eyed jagunço - a demonically possessed bandit of local lore that fought without fear nor mercy. Yet the fall of Odessa changed much in a very short span of time, and many special groups like Augusto's were pulled from their tasks and sent elsewhere to shore up what fortifications still remained on Earth. For Almeida, that meant leaving his homeland on a long trek north to the former homes of those same bureaucrats he resented - now a stronghold for Zeon. Many of his comrades who survived until October were 'killed in action', returning to their lives and professions now that their benefactors were on the ropes and unwilling to lend further aid. Augusto, having grown rather fond of fighting his old foes on even ground for once, elected to remain. Thus, the southerner finds himself shipped to the front lines of North America.
Machine: MS-07A Gouf
Age: 23
Gender: Male
Faction: Zeon
Rank: Lieutenant
Place of Birth: Somewhere in South America, he never gives specifics.
Personality: Boisterous, overly confident, and very, very, suspicious. Growing up leading a rough life taught Augusto to never take anything at face value, but coming from a hard background also, in a curious contrast, instilled a definite respect for skill and talent - mostly his own, and he certainly doesn't let anyone go long without knowing it. Despite the brave facade almost always on display, the man is deeply mistrustful and often watchful for blades where they don't exist; that said when he does make friends they're closer than family. Happens to be a little too fond of tobacco products, and more worrisome, those pills the quartermasters hand out to pilots to help them stay awake on long sorties.
Appearance: A shaggy mane and lengthy facial hair show a clear disregard for regulation, though impeccable care is paid to both to keep them well trimmed and out of the way. Whether on duty or off, Augusto tends to shy away from uniform whenever he thinks he can get away with it, but when under the light, begrudgingly can be found in the green and gold. That has been a little too much of the late for his liking since he started being shipped north. The most unsettling feature of the gentleman is his unnaturally yellow pair of eyes that any amount of scrutiny can reveal as cybernetic implants, the only clue ever given to their origin being a cryptic warning to 'never get taken alive'. A mated pair of Zeonic service pistols adorn his belt, and a duo of long knives sit on the small of his back in quick release sheaths. Living near the equator assures a seemingly omnipresent tan, whether that remains in these colder climates remains to be seen. Typically can be found smoking whenever involved in a seriously engaging task or when alone, but as of late, has had to cut back, citing a great disdain for tobacco available north of Colombia.
Pic reference.
History: Augusto hails from the back countries of South America, where rolling prairies meet wet jungles in an extremely diverse range of biomes and landmasses. His is a continent that was always beset by civil strife, and the coming of the Federation did little to solve these problems despite the big promises made by the ruling elite. If anything, they only made it worse. Mass, forced migration angered a people who thought dearly of their national identity, and the seizure of huge swathes of land for military bases only exacerbated the situation. Life in the region continued as it always had, it was no surprise to anyone when the same dissident groups turned their guns towards the new government, same as the old government. Augusto became involved with a paramilitary working out of Brazil when he was only 15, being born in a sprawling slum offered little opportunity for work other than a life of labor in the factories or crime. Spurred on by nationalistic propaganda spread throughout the poorer districts of the slums, citing the Federation's concern only for the first world, the choice of crime over supporting those who cared little was an easy pick. The group Almeida joined up with had many lucrative contracts smuggling drugs and arms to other syndicates and militias across the continent, and the finances and contacts brought in from these shady dealings funded a low scale but constant threat to the Federal forces in the region. Never too great, being that not even they knew where Jaburo was hidden, but the feeling that those jungles weren't friendly was something no soldier wanted to think about on a long patrol.
The young guerrilla couldn't complain, he grew accustomed to the surge of adrenaline and roar of battle, and the fat check wasn't very bad either, even if earning it did wind up with a lot of unsavory things being done by and to him. Losing friends to counter-terrorist activities and turncoats hardened him early on in his career, but he stuck with his band throughout the ups and the downs. For the better, as opportunity struck when the nation known as Zeon made war upon their common enemy. For the earlier parts of the One Year War nothing became of that, but after huge swathes of Earth fell to Zeonic hands Lord Garma's initiative to reach out to anti-Federalists on the planet brought his group of dissidents, and several others, into contact with all sorts of new people who were more than eager to help them in their brush war. Augusto and his group began working with Zeon Military Intelligence as guides and jungle warfare instructors, aiding one another to put pressure on the EFGF scattered throughout the continent. Though they could not tell their new allies where the much sought after headquarters was located, several patrol routes that the earthnoids liked to use quickly began to find themselves beleaguered by more nuisances than mere jungle rebels. Whether a clever play by the invaders or not, the various paramilitary groups all found themselves increasingly dependent on support from their Zeonic handlers, and when an offer to join the Earth Attack Force outright was offered, it was a chance too good for any to even think to refuse. Aptitude tests showed that Augusto had quite the knack for mobile suit piloting, and he found himself shuffled off to be trained in the use of these new machines of war with all due speed.
Assignment to a guerrilla unit followed a hasty training seminar, and while he didn't serve with distinction in any of the theaters that most of his comrades in arms would recognize, countless sorties in the jungles, mountains, and prairies of the south behind enemy lines involved the dreaded yellow-eyed jagunço - a demonically possessed bandit of local lore that fought without fear nor mercy. Yet the fall of Odessa changed much in a very short span of time, and many special groups like Augusto's were pulled from their tasks and sent elsewhere to shore up what fortifications still remained on Earth. For Almeida, that meant leaving his homeland on a long trek north to the former homes of those same bureaucrats he resented - now a stronghold for Zeon. Many of his comrades who survived until October were 'killed in action', returning to their lives and professions now that their benefactors were on the ropes and unwilling to lend further aid. Augusto, having grown rather fond of fighting his old foes on even ground for once, elected to remain. Thus, the southerner finds himself shipped to the front lines of North America.
Machine: MS-07A Gouf