Name: Gaspard Devereaux Age: 38 Gender: Male Place of Birth: New Paris Previous jobs: Gallic Metal Service as a pilot of various transports The Division you would like to join (you can pick several divisions or only one by putting a cross in the empty field):
[+]Council Assault and Security Division
[ ]Council Trade and Supply Division
[ ]Council Technology and Advancement Division
S.K.Y.P.E.: Sorry, none Short story about yourself: Bonjour. I was born on New Paris to a father who was an officer in the Gallic Royal Navy and a mother who enjoyed the privilege that accompanied having a husband with growing political connections. I was all set to follow in my father's footsteps when I met Michele.
Michele soon became my world, and I hers. I began to adopt some of her "radical leftist" beliefs and sympathies for the causes of The Council, so I decided not to pursue a career in the military. This angered my father, as I knew it would, and Michele and I eloped. I took a transport pilot's job with Gallic Metal Service and Michele and I settled down on Quillan in Languedoc. It wasn't a lavish life, but it was our life.
As my political values matured, I became further disenfranchised with official Royal policy. After 7 or 8 years of hauling ore, I decided to follow my convictions and join The Council. I guess the final straw in my conversion to "the other side" was wanting to make Gallia a better place for our new son, Jean-Luc.
Being based out of Champagne, I didn't get to see my family much. Michele and Jean-Luc made it safely through The Council's liberation of Quillan. All was relatively normal, that is until the madness that was the Gallic Royal Navy counter-offensive and evacuation of Languedoc began.
Michele and Jean-Luc made it safely onto a transport off of Quillan, and headed off for a temporary shelter on Reunion in Orkney. Their transport was caught in the crossfire between their escorts and some Royal Navy forces. I was told their ship was destroyed with all souls lost. My world was shattered.
I continued to go through the motions as best I could, but I was fighting for The Council without purpose. I couldn't even muster up enough hate to gain a small measure of revenge. One night while off-duty, I was drinking myself to a stupor in some dive on Marne. As usual, I was telling my tale of woe to anyone who would listen when a passing Freelancer interrupted me. He had recently heard a similar tale from a Michele. He couldn't remember where exactly, but he ran into this woman matching my wife's description in some backwater station in the Taus somewhere. She was accompanied by a boy who looked to be about what Jean-Luc's age would have been. She mentioned that her transport was crippled during the Languedoc evacuation but finally drifted to a relatively safe location to disembark. Now, she and her son are constantly on the move looking for a safe place to await the return of her husband who was off fighting for the Council.
I was instantly sobered by the news and immediately went to my commanding officer, begging for a transfer. By this time, as you all know, our forces have been cut in two with only the entirety of the Gallic Royal Navy between me and my family. My commander at first opposed my request to transfer to Roussillon, but his sympathies for my plight allowed him to reluctantly give in. After all, if some "dumb pilot wants to get his damn fool head blown off by the naval blockade," who was he to argue.
My story of running the blockade will have to wait for another time but suffice it to say, I am now on Toulouse, awaiting permission to join the Council Forces on the Pamiers. I remain loyal to The Council's cause, but I would be lying if I said I wasn't also interested in looking for my beloved wife and child who are still hopefully somewhere in the Taus. I await your word.
