Kelly, D

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Kelly, D
Global Moderator
Posts: 132
Joined: Jun 27, 2011, 11:58 PM
Rank: Private First Class
Status: Wounded
Billet: Section Marksman
1st Section, 1st Squad
Injuries: Ruptured Left Eardrum
Lacerated Shoulder
Weapons: M41A DMR (6 mags)
M4A4 Pistol w/ Tactical Light (4 mags)
Designation: Designated Marksman
Location: Surrey, UK
Contact:

Kelly, D

Post by Kelly, D »

Name: Darren Kelly
Sex: Male
Age: 19
Date of Birth: September 21st 2224
Race: White
Height: 6'0"
Weight:150lbs
Eye Color: Blue
Hair Color: Brown
Medical Record: Broken arm aged 14 resulting in titanium pin in left humorous. No known allergies or persistent conditions.

Physical Appearance:
Darren is a tall, rangy young man with very pale skin from his upbringing in damp and cloudy England. He has close cropped brown hair and very piercing blue eyes which give the impression of being able to stare right through you.
He is generally quite a quiet man with huge reserves of patience, possessing the ability to sit quite still for hours at a time until he has almost faded into the background before snapping back into focus as he springs into action.
Darren has suffered all his life from looking a lot younger than he is. He looks to be about 16 years old and while he is as physically fit as any Marine, he tends to look undersized and swamped by his full battle-dress.
However, this is an illusion and while Darren is far from the iron pumping stereotype of the recruitment posters he is more than capable of pulling his weight in the unit.

Personality:
Darren is young, eager to please and anxious to learn from the veterans around him. He joined the Marines for a chance to see some more of the galaxy than the decaying docklands of Bristol.
Darren is determined to be the best Marine he can be and so he is always watching the people around him trying to emulate their successes and learn from their mistakes. He is often looked at as the ‘baby’ of the group because of his boyish looks and this can cause him to act rashly in a quest for respect and approval.
Perhaps Darren’s greatest talent as a Marine is an almost infinite reserve of patience. He is capable of sitting quite still and silent for hours at a time staring at a fixed point taking in every detail of his subject.

Background:
Darren was born in the run down docklands of Bristol in England to David and Jessica Kelly. His father was an unemployed welder, laid off when the suborbital transit finally became more economic than large surface vessels and the shipyards and loading docks closed down for good after two centuries of struggling with the inevitable.
With the major employer of the area defunct, the docklands degenerated into decaying slums, overcrowded and undernourished. Work was hard to come by and despite leaving high school with high marks thanks to extra lessons from his mother to help him make something of his life, Darren was unable to find paid work and money was too tight for college or university.
Every youth in the area was in the same situation and with nothing else to do but drink fight they turned first into rowdy drunken mobs and then, as the brightest ones rose to the top and took charge, into organized gangs which terrorized the neighborhood.

Young Darren with his baby face looks found it hard to buy alcohol and harder to be accepted by the gangs and so became a loner left for hours no end sitting staring at the decaying docklands and occasionally hiding from the more violent of the emerging proto-gangs. This was how he discovered his greatest talents, an ability to blend into the background and almost infinite patience. From these talents he developed an interest in drawing and would sit for hours with his sketchbook staring at a scene, his pencil a blur on the page, drawing in finer and finer detail to produce almost impossibly intricate drawings of the wreckage of a way of life.
Darren’s life was changed when a traveling funfair arrived for Bristol’s Christmas celebrations, he wandered the brightly lit enclosure with its rides, sideshows and fast-food vans until he noticed a large white van draped with flags and manned by soldiers who were handing out leaflets and talking to young men in the crowd. A marine corps recruiting party had come to town and to Darren it represented a way out, a way to make something of his life. He signed without hesitation

One month later he began basic training and found that many of his problems had followed him, He still looked about sixteen, far too young to wear the uniform and so he still had to struggle to earn the approval of his squad mates and this drove him to rash and foolish actions which often landed him in trouble with his superiors. Despite these teething problems, Darren blossomed in basic training. He was never the biggest or the toughest in his squad but he had other strengths to compensate. His small size gave him a speed and wiry agility which served him well in unarmed combat training and his sharp eyes and talent for observation gave him an advantage on the rifle range.

Darren passed out of basic training and moved on to the Marine School of Infantry at Camp Pendleton where his Senior Drill Instructor, MGSgt Lewis recognized a special talent in him and pushed Darren hard to achieve his full potential. For his part, Darren was ever anxious for respect and approval of his superiors and worked hard for Lewis’s grudging word of praise. Darren knew he would never be the best in raw strength so he worked on his other skills, spending all his time on the range and in the armory becoming an expert with a rifle. By his graduation, Darren was the highest scoring marksman to pass out in the last 10 years and held the record for fastest time to strip and reassemble an M41 pulse rifle.

MGSgt Lewis was secretly pleased with his the results of his personal project and pulled a few strings behind the scenes to get Kelly attached to the most active and highly skilled unit available.
Whilst the rest of his class were being handed assignments to garrisons and line units across the colonies, Darren was taken to one side and quietly given orders to report to a Forward Operating Base on a remote planet and join something called the 1st STD. The MGSgt couldn’t even tell him what the STD stood for. All he said was ‘Say hi to the Tank for me’ whatever that meant.

Darren arrives at Myssa 340 bewildered, nervous and rather worried by the fact that he is the youngest Marine in the unit and the only one without any war stories. Still, he’s wearing the insignia of the Colonial Marines so quitting ain’t an option, Oorah?

Example Post:
Darren’s squad hugged the walls of the ruined building as incoming rounds zipped overhead or splashed off the battered concrete. They were engaged in a brutal firefight across a four lane paved road. The enemy held the remains of the building opposite and they had the numbers advantage. Somewhere in that building was a HVT that needed taking out how they were meant to get that done whilst suppressed like this was anyone’s guess.

A ways over to the left, ‘Doc’ Spencer was bandaging a fallen marine, Darren wasn’t sure who.
To the right Anders was struggling with the action of his rifle, trying to clearing a feed jam.
‘Fucking piece of crap’ he muttered as he worked. Then, a moment later ‘Yes!’ as the dud round came free and the weapon cycled. Kelly edged his way into the corner of two tumbled down walls and peeked out at the enemy position. There were half a dozen of them crouched in cover and laying down heavy fire on his squad’s position. Standing just behind the line directing fire was a man in a peaked cap.

“There you are” muttered Darren
“Hey, Anders” he called over to the other marine “I need a distraction, can you put a few M40s on them?” Anders nodded affirmative and readied the launcher on his pulse rifle. “Now” called Darren and Anders launched a volley of grenades along the frontage of the opposite building, temporarily blinding the opfor to Darren scrambling to a better vantage point and covering himself with his poncho to break up his outline.

Darren lay quite still waiting for a barrage of return fire to finish him but nothing came his way. Apparently the ruse had worked. He nudged his rifle out from under the poncho and put his eye to the scope. The cross-hairs drifted slowly across the enemy position and came to rest between the eyes of the enemy commander. A perfect kill shot. Darren exhaled and gently squeezed the trigger. There was a puff of red and the commander’s head disappeared from view.

A Siren blared and the lights came up, the sounds of gunfire died away as MGSgt Lewis stood up with red paint running down his face from where the simmunition paint round had struck him between the eyes.

‘Kelly, was that you?’

“Yes Master Guns”

‘Not a bad shot son’
Sic Vis Pacem Parabellum
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