Alex Wycroft

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=== Commonly Known Information ===

Name: Alex Wycroft

Notable Traits: Ex-Marine SpecOps, Observerved Stentorian Tribunal, The Invasion of Dumah, Survivor of the Silent Legion’s First Strike of Horizon Prime, Minor Hero

Type: Werewolf

Character Type Subgroup: Irraka, Hunters in Darkness

Union: Mercenary

M.F.P: (OOC) Informant

=== Biography ===

So, here is the thing. Life on the Verge is a bitch. And that was before the Silent showed up. The MegaCorp's showing up, and just gouging these people for all they are worth. It was a hell of a place to live, and a hell of a time to be a kid.

I was born in SY 4020 on a planet in the Expanse where my family decided, for some reason, it was a good idea to settle there and look for minerals as a way to survive. Sure, it was a mineral rich area, but that's not really the point. We made ok money, never really struggled because of the minerals we turned in for cash. But then when I was 8, the Silent showed up on our planet Horizon Prime.

I got lucky, and managed to get shoved onto a transit that got me off the planet. By my parents. Who didn't make it. I got to watch as the orbital bombardment started right before we were jumped away from the planet. It was a lot of fun. And yes, fun is a relative term.

So, in 4028, I became homeless, familyless, and alone. The ship we were on was just built for a single jump, and I got stranded on a new planet. I got involved in a street gang for a bit, mostly for survival and self preservation. I grew up hearing the horror stories of the advance of the Silent, and tales of the Red Plague were like the boogey man. But the day I turned 18, I went strait to a recruiter for the Marines.

4038, bootcamp. Something to pour myself into. It was something I needed in my life. Stability. I burned through bootcamp like it was a book of matches. Part of it was needing warm bodies on the front lines, I know. But it was still the right thing at the time. My aptitude in boot tho got me into SpecOps. While in there, I was taught some extra skills to use on the battle field, mostly for scouting. After SpecOps school, I was suited and booted right away, and sent to the front lines.

Over the next 18 years, I can honestly say I think I was the luckiest son of a bitch that ever put on a uniform. I was shot, exploded, punched, kicked, shot some more, exploded a few more times, and that was just my first month. Body armor saved my ass more times than I can count, not to mention the friends that died right next to me. After a few years, I went through a time where I was just very cold, almost emotionless. But then 'the incident', as stated in my file, happened. My unit was shipped out to Vangr, one of the moon's of Elysia in the Core. There are shipyards there, deemed a stratigic hold point that could not afford to fall. Some of the most insane fighting I've seen outside of the battle of Dumah. After fighting non stop for 3 days, the position my platoon was holding down was assualted by a group of Silent soldiers. One of them was something I found out later was called a werewolf. And that mother fucker bit me.

I don't remember what happened shortly after that, but the only other guy in that room that lived told me it was a god damn blender of flesh and blood. Still, to this day, I don't know how I didn't get the Red Plague from this, and to be honest, I've stoped caring really. I'm not dead, they are and that's that. Besides, no one want's to hear about the fighting, other than kids from time to time. The way people look at me when they find out I'm a werewolf, much less a former soldier, I sometimes think it would have been easier if I had died in that hole. Or any other of a dozen diffrent holes.

After 'the incident', I woke up in a hospital, surrounded by soldiers in various states of fucked-up-ness. Men and women with wounds that should have killed them, yet that were still alive. I had some serious wounds, and still all in all, I felt like a million bucks. After some time, a man I had never seen before came in. He didn't have any sort of rank showing. Hell, all he really had on was a turtle neck and black cargo pants with combat boots, but I just -knew- he was important. I was told I didn't really have a choice, and was to follow this man. I didn't think I could even stand, but I managed to follow him out of that hospital, get into a small craft with 10 or so other soldiers, and off we went.

4048, bootcamp round 2. But it was not military, this was werewolf bootcamp. Once I was healed up, which really didn't take long, me and a group of what I later found out were fellow marines that got bit as well on Vangar. A good many of them were nervous. I could smell it. But I figured out what was going on fairly quick, even before we got the talk and the basics thrown at us. The guy that was teaching us about our new life styles had to fit what could have been years of training into a few months. Just so we could be more effective meat shields.

Something I still find funny tho, and I give credit where credit is due. Quite a few of us in this round 2 of bootcamp got medals. I got one for heroism. Turns out that the Silent I had torn apart in my first time as a werewolf were trying to plant a bomb and it was seen that I stoped them. I got a comidation for it, and a new lease on life. It gets me free drinks in a few bars. Hell, I don't feel like a hero. But I'll always take free booze.

And so, armed with new super powers and a tenacity to not die I didn't think was possible, we were sent back into the field. Only this time, we werent in our old units. Most of us stayed together, sense werewolves tend to freak out humans. Our unit formed a pack, and under the command of one of the roughest son of a bitches I've ever known, Sgt. Brown who was born a werewolf and was put in charge of this group of... well, the best way to describe it I can think of was we were like children with super powers. But after some touch and go we got things down to a fine killing science. We didn't really learn about Luna and Father Wolf. We were just murder monsters in a uniform.

4049 - 4057: Our pack lost 3 or 4 members on missions leading up to the assualt on Dumah. But all that really did was stir a blood lust in us that was not there before, and we were ready for a fight. I got sent in first, as was the usual for recon. I just wish I had'nt been so gun-ho about it. My own want to get to the fighting cost 2 more of their lives when I signaled an all clear and boom. Right into an ambush. After that tho, the next weeks all just kind of blur together. It was wake up, fight, fight, fight, kill, kill, eat, kill, kill, fight, kill, sleep, repeat. I'm told from the time we were boot's on the ground to the time our orders to pull back came down, we were on that fucking rock Dumah for the better part of 20 days, maybe more. I just don't really know.

Yay, we won! Threat stomped, humanity saved. We got to be big damn heros. For about a year. I had been living it up in the war time wind down, drinking and smoking and fucking any chick that would let me. Big damn hero and all. Then I got a call from a former squad mate about the trials. That's when the party stopped, and the years of nail biting and resisting the urge to try and rip the head off of some pencil neck never had to really work for anything in their life lawyers started. God, some day's it was like torture. I met up with the last members of my squad the day after I got the call, and we all went for the Stentorian Tribunal to see it first hand.

Tiengo was right, it was 'bullshit', and I'm glad I walked out right behind him. Well, not right behind behind. I was one of many that followed suit. And I'm proud I did before I hurt someone.

4059: I crawled into a bottle. Hell, I head first plunged into a vat. I drank a lot. A lot alot. The only thing that got me back on my feet was spending a week in the drunk tank. Public intox was the official reason I was there. Being a dangerous, deadly werewolf war vet was just the reason I was left in there for the extra 6 days. I think the judge just liked my winning smile.

After I got out of that cell, I made my way out of the Core as fast as I could. With the Supernatural Suppression Act taking effect, I had no desire to stick around and see just how bad it could get. I just picked a direction and left.

4060 - 4117: I floated around for a bit before getting to Sector 6 AL-020-E. I kinda ran out of fuel, and almost out of money. So, this is where I set up home for now. I joined the local Merc union just to make some cash.

I hooked up with some of the local werewolves on that Reservation place. They keep trying to teach me about Luna and Father Wolf and the rest, but I don't hear this call they talk about. Maybe it's from the trauma around my change, or maybe I'm just jaded. I honestly don't know.

The local cop's seem like an ok bunch, and having the prison here can make for interesting times. But all in all, I'm content for now to just float out here for a little bit. No one really seems to mind me much. And after watching everything I loved cut down. Everything I fought for taken away. Just exhisting for a little bit has been kind of nice. Won't lie.

=== Rumors ===

  • He was once a Pro Wrestler
  • Helps coach a High School Roller-Ball team
  • He gives REALLY good hugs.
  • He wants to get into the pants of a certain Elite Scion

=== Quotes ===

  • "Alex... your not going to eat me are you?"- Romana Kerensky
  • "Did he just crash his car into that building?"- Jesse Armstrong
  • "Werewolves..." (sigh)- Maxwell Powers

=== OOC Information ===

Player: Jacob Schiermann

Player Email:

Storyteller: Nat Calvert

Storyteller Email:

Location: AL-020-D