Duke

Name: Hendrik Smits

Blood type: B+

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Nicknames: SHIC, Rare

Pastimes: Socialising, video games, shooting

Scorecard:

Physical

Combat skill

Psychological Strength 1/5 Accuracy 1/5 Intelligence 3/5 Endurance 2/5 Reflexes 2/5 Bravery 1/5 Agility 3/5 Weapons versatility 1/5 Resilience 5/5 Constitution 2/5 Battlecraft 2/5 Wisdom 3/5 5=Exceptional 4=Specialist 3=Trained 2=Average 1=Poor Overall role: Poor Soldier

Bio: Born Netherlands 1995 September 3. Raised in a poor family his living conditions were livable but substandard. Raised alongside 4 brothers and 2 sisters the siblings all competed for space, privacy or property. Being the youngest Duke often fell out of luck in the brawls that ensured leaving him with the scraps that remained.

One of his older brothers however always made an effort to look out for him and kept his head above the water, especially at school. Being raised in such a notorious family made Duke the target of bullies the second he started his schooling. If not for his brother he would have been left at the mercy of the entire school.

Working hard to keep himself afloat in a constantly changing and volatile environment in and out of home he took an immediate appreciation to video games. With his brother digging up an old console at the age of 8 Duke’s life took a turn now he was provided with an escape. Arguments echoing throughout the house or insults from other students rattling in his head faded away every moment he picked up the controller next to his brother.

While things were rough Duke managed to perform adequately at school while staying out of trouble being the only sibling not constantly reprimanded by authority figures. At the age of 14 however his brother and only constant disappeared. No final words or notes were left by him, just his room cleared out leaving only the console Duke grew to cherish.

Quickly things degraded. The console no longer provided the comfort he was used to and the voices so content on bringing him down came screaming back. By the skin of his teeth he completed his school certificate and immediately set out to leave home. At 16 he, like his brother, packed his bags in the dead of night and set out for greener pastures.

Duke immediately found himself at the doorstep of the army somehow managing to lie about his age regardless of screening. There he found it difficult to keep up with the training and disciple but pressed on determined to make something of himself if only at least to find his brother. His struggle to keep up with other soldiers was often noted and had him constantly on watch for any slip up.

In the same year Duke’s age was determined and he was summarily kicked out of the army. Left on the side of the road with nowhere to go he took what money he had and dumped it into the only thing he was given training to do. By some miracle he found not only a weapons supplier but also an informer who put him in contact with contractors for him to try make his way as a soldier of fortune.

The first contract he fought for found him under the lead of Marcus who was stunned by Duke’s age. Regardless of initial opposition in taking someone so young into battle Marcus came to the conclusion the boy had nowhere else to go and if he had to fight he might as well with them. Traveling to the site of their contract Duke was quickly exposed to his first trial by fire.

With cracks splitting the air above and ground erupting with fragmentation Duke threw up within the first minutes of combat. Granted the operation turned south however he was entirely unprepared for the ordeal. However he continued pushing forward against insurmountable fear and ignorance in battlecraft and found himself on the frontline beside his would be comrades.

As the dust settled and they stood victorious Duke paced about the battlefield completely shattered. The level of violence he’d just witnessed rendered him stupid and shocked but his shaking hands reminded him he was still alive. Though the rifle in his hands claimed lives today it kept him alive. He could do this. Coming round and slapping a hand on his shoulder Marcus shared a brief proud smile before turning disgusted.

Wondering what was wrong now the fog of battle stress had cleared Duke could smell the problem. Even though he wished so much what he thought the smell originated from wasn’t it very much was as real and irrefutable as the odor proved. Turning around the other mercenaries quickly caught onto what had just occurred falling over laughing.

It was there Duke earned his nickname and the name SHIC (Shit Himself In Combat) never living it down for a moment. Livid he fought their amusement with whatever leverage he could get. Every day he saw himself relegated to the kid brother of the squad amongst friendly taunting and teasing.

Though he was driven stupid with anger sometimes the squad treated him like family regardless of their antics and held him with a furtive respect while Duke concealed admiration for his comrades. They provided him with the support he needed to become a highly competent soldier as they fueled his potential powered by an unbreakable will arising either from steadfast or stubborn nature.

Entering the zone he maintained his stubborn nature fighting each and every statement thrown at him by his comrades as well as the horrors of the conflict they found themselves apart of. Defiant even to the forces of the exclusion zone he pressed on as he normally would. Though he wouldn’t know it he became a beacon of hope among his squadmates proceeding unphased even by the influence’s madness.