Name: Pierrick Thierry Sauvageon Jr., but goes by 'Piers' or 'Piers de Champagne', the system of his birth. Age: 29 Gender: Male. Place of Birth: Planet Marne, Champagne. Previous jobs: Freedom fighter dirtside, freighter pilot. The Division you would like to join (you can pick several divisions or only one by putting a cross in the empty field):
[X] Council Assault and Security Division
[] Council Trade and Supply Division
[X] Council Technology and Advancement Division
S.K.Y.P.E.: desmond.t.1022 (//But it lags FL pretty badly when it's stateful, so I almost never use it.) Short story about yourself:
{VOICE RECORDING 00668684A}
When the revolution broke out on Marne in 798, I was fifteen, headstrong, and thirsty for action against those I had learned to hate. Despite advice to the contrary, I went against my parent's advice to keep my head down and joined one of the many cells that would later coalesce into the Maquis.
This cell was largely formed out of the disgruntled workers and/or their children in the factory I had grown up in, and as such the cell's first target, and my last, was the overseer of the group of factories we worked in. The raid on this man's upper level apartment had gone extremely well, even going so far as to remain bloodless until our team reached the lobby of the penthouse suite the overseer had made his family home in. Upon reaching the lobby we met our first two victims, a pair of guards that had been assigned to protect the overseer's family from rebels like ourselves. I was the second man through the heavy doors that night, mask secured against the smoke our explosive caused. There were no lights on in the apartment, and we relied only on the stars and the rather bright Marne night sky for illumination. We bulled our way to the man's bedroom where he and his wife were in the process of being awoken by a terrified house servant. The point man ahead of me wasted no time gunning the servant down, then moved forward to drag the now-screaming wife away from the bed and put a bullet in her head as well. While this was happening two other members of the cell moved in, shot the glass out of a nearby window and bodily threw the overseer through it.
He sighs over the mic.
I never knew the names of the overseer and his family, but I will never forget their daughter. At the sound of her mother's scream and the subsequent gunshot, this little girl burst out of her room and rushed right at me from my left side. I couldn't see too well with the mask on, so when I saw the door fly open out of the corner of my eye, I dropped to one knee like I'd been taught to, turned, and shot at the shape charging towards me. I only fired once, but the shell found her chest. She skidded to a stop at my feet, still clutching a ragged teddy bear. Wordlessly, shocked beyond all comprehension, I dropped my gun to the side and picked her up. She died wordlessly in my arms a thankfully short time later, gasping desperately for air as she drowned in her own blood.
Since that moment, I refused to take part in any of the rebellion's more radical events, leaving the Maquis behind and shifting my ideals and beliefs to those of the Council. As the rebellion ran its course in 801, I was eighteen and of an age to join the newly formed Council navy, having wanting nothing more to do with face-to-face killing. In my junior roles I did what I could to oust the Royals completely out of Champagne, while simultaneously doing my best to protect the populace from their second greatest enemy...ourselves.
I was not, however, immediately a part of the Navy proper. Instead my services were found to be better served aboard a Tarvo freighter, a career that culminated in supplying the Council fleet that would later push through Languedoc and out of Gallic space into Orkney, and the Taus beyond. All freighter and supply pilots and crew were reassigned to and train on military hardware, and I pulled duty on one of the many Perilous gunships acting as fighter cover for the larger capital ships.
