Personal Bio:

While traveling with his family through a thick asteroid belt on their 890 Jump, Gerard “Holland” Augustinus and his family were attacked by some Vanduul fighters. As the ship began to shake and the sounds of explosion filled the halls, Gerard knew things were taking a turn for the worst. He ran to the cockpit to see what the situation was, but found one of his pilots dead already from a terminal that exploded nearby. The other man was severally injured and could barely keep his eyes open. Gerard tried to take matters into his own hands and began a call for help. But there was no response to his pleas, and he could only imagine the worst to come. More explosions echoed throughout the ship, and he started running back to where his family was on the other side of the ship.

When he got to the door and tried to activate the opening mechanism it was jammed, the ship had already been too badly damaged, and he could see his family on the other side of the door. He tried to call out to them with muffled sounds, as his wife looked up at him, the window was blown asunder. With the decompression of the room, Gerard’ family was torn into the vacuum of space. Tears welled up in Gerards eyes as he watched his family die, the sound of sirens and explosions was the last thing he heard before all went black.

When he finally awoke, he saw a white ceiling with iridescent lamps. There was pain all over his body and was barely able to move. A doctor came in to tell him of the terrible news, and how they came to find him drifting in space. She held a data slate in front of him explaining the extensive procedures they had to put him through to save his life, replacing both of his legs and left arm with alloy prosthetics. His left eye had also been replaced; it was why it was still covered by a bandage. After the doctor left, Gerard sat in disbelief and the utter feeling of defeat. It was at this moment that he felt betrayed by the people who had sworn to protect citizens like him. “The UEE...” he thought as he scoffed at the name, disgusted by their failure to save his family from such a barbaric race.

When he regained his health, he set in motion a plan to end the horror that would be bestowed on humanity by the alien scum known as the Vanduul. His aim is to bring together mankind under one banner, so that they may fight back against the Vanduul, and bring humanity to even greater technological heights.

Personal Bio:

Cosmo Remington was found and adopted at the very young age of 5, taken in by the captain of a renowned mercenary ship working under a private contract for the UEE Military. The captain (name unknown) stumbled upon Cosmo during a pirate raid on a space station where the child had been orphaned/abandoned, possibly by one of the pirates residing there. The captain’s crew, which were each assigned designations based on the initials of the ship’s name (Cosmic Raider), began addressing the child as CR 4-Z, a variant call sign of the recently departed crew member CR 4-Y whom had lost their life during the raid, the joke being that the child had become his replacement.

The CR referred to the ship’s name: Cosmic Raider and the number referred to the position designation of that crew member on the ship itself. Number 4 was responsible for turret operation, assisting in ship maintenance and ground assault/infiltration on various missions. The letter following the number had progressed from A to B and B to C whenever the position was… re-filled. The call-sign became the child’s name as he did not previously have one, eventually evolving into CR4ZY which everyone simply pronounced as “Crazy”. The ship quickly became his home, the crew his family and the job his life.

As time went on, Cr4zy found himself traveling to all parts of the known verse, meeting different people and learning different cultures. The work was hard and the life was even harder, often spent in some of the worst parts the galaxy had to offer. At first it was exciting, endearing even. But with the endless battles, crimes and war, the life of a Bounty Hunter grew tiresome. The final straw came in the year 2941.

The Cosmic Raider had taken on a contract with the UEE Military to provide protective support for a recovery vessel sent to investigate a space station that had suddenly gone silent. The contract stipulated that the Mercenary ship would act as secondary support only since the UEE Fleet was also expected to secure the station moments before the recovery ship’s scheduled arrival. Sadly, upon exiting quantum, this simple mission was found to be anything but. The fleet had been completely decimated in moments from hundreds of Vanduul ships that had been hiding in the station’s remains to initiate an ambush. The UEE, unprepared and unaware, had fallen for the trap and failed to react in time despite outnumbering the Vanduul forces in ships, resources and firepower 3 to 1.

The battle was the hardest the Cosmic Raider had ever faced, ending with the ship nearly destroyed along with heavy casualties including the ship’s captain (Cr4zy’s adoptive father). The station was completely gone, all of its civilian occupants dead along with the UEE Fleet that was sent to secure it. The wreckage was a sight none could ever forget. But Crazy saw not just the damage the Vanduul could cause but also the utter failings of the UEE Military to stop them. With a heavy heart fueled by grief and purpose, Cr4zy assumed the position as Captain of the Cosmic Raider and took on the name Cosmo Remington (origin unknown) to mark the beginning of his new life. From there, he set off in search of a way to build a better galaxy, eventually co-founding the Galactic Order to unite all life under one banner ensuring safety and security throughout the known universe. Today he holds the name still but close friends, crew and most colleagues refer to him as Captain Cr4zy, a name he holds dear to his heart, grounding him in his purpose and helping him to never forget the past.

Personal Bio:

Patrick David Sole was born in Lorville in 2920 to Stephanie and Robert Sole. In Patrick's infancy, Robert would ultimately succumb to a heart attack in his sleep, leaving Stephanie to raise the infant by herself. Stricken with grief and lacking any real support system, Stephanie ultimately turned to drugs to alleviate her pain, neglecting her son in the process. Right before Pat's tenth birthday, Stephanie passed away from a WiDoW overdose. With no other immediate family on Hurston to take Patrick in, he found himself wandering the slums of Lorville.

Still just a child, Patrick adapted fairly quickly to the lifestyle among the other detritus in Lorville. Picking pockets, stealing from unaware food vendors and low-level datapad couriering was how he got by. Around the age of 13 Patrick befriended Silas and Chloe Terrian, fraternal twins his age, whose parents met a tragic end in a fateful Quantainium accident at Faithful Dream Station. The three immediately became inseparable, constantly involved in one another's plans and schemes. Over time, the trio would mature from petty theft and low-level jobs. Silas was more technically inclined, he would take on higher risk data courier gigs in the city and other jobs, mostly remotely shutting off comms arrays so that the other riff-raff could move more freely. Chloe was the more socially gifted one of the bunch, being able to have contacts for jobs and friends for favors would prove to be incredibly useful. Patrick was the tactician and would often be the first to face confrontation head-on if needed.

In their early adulthood, the three had saved up and put enough credits together to go in on a Drake Cutlass Black. The first mission the trio concocted with their "new" Cutty was to acquire four SCU of Maze and deliver it to the buyer just outside of Lorville's limits. The acquisition went fine, the following delivery, however, turned out differently.

Everything seemed to be going according to plan: the buyer was landed on a ridge with their engines off, the three in the Cutlass were making their final approach and the skies were clear. Out of nowhere, a missile hurtled towards the craft on the ridge. The Pisces momentarily had its engines turned back on before it erupted in a ball of fire. Rolling Port and nosing up, Pat disabled VTOL and directed full power to the engines on the Cutlass. "What the fuck was that?!" Chloe asked, stabilizing herself on a handbar. "That's us bailing and getting out of here," Pat answered, leveling the ship while slamming the boost. "Silas, guns up?" "We're green, but nothing on scopes," confirmed Silas from the turret. Engaging VTOL and pitching up, the Cutlass made an ascent. Suddenly, missile lock warnings started pulsing in front of Patrick's face on the HUD. "Fuck, hold on!" In a desperate attempt to evade, Pat rolled Starboard and nosed up, once again kicking off VTOL and pushing the thrusters to their max. The first missile missed and flew off errantly, but a second missile made contact on the Port Aft thruster and sent the craft hurtling to the surface of Hurston. A couple hundred meters above the ground, Patrick regained control of the ship and vectored for an escape. Disruptor fire splashed across the hull of the Cutlass, shorting fine electronics and wreaking havoc upon subsystems. Control was lost and the vessel finally cratered in to the planet's surface.

Sirens wailing and coolant fluid falling on his face woke Patrick up some time later. The pilot seat had sheared its mounting brackets, spun around and jammed the back of the seat in to the shattered glass and bent struts of the cockpit leaving Pat facing the rest of the ship. Restraints being jammed, shattered ribs, a broken arm and two broken legs prevented exiting of the pilot seat. With vision blurred and through a fractured jaw, Pat attempted to call out for his friends. Silas called back from the turret once again, but could barely be heard. Squinting, Patrick could make out that Silas was hanging from the mangled turret, upside down, but slightly moving. A scream from his left grabbed Patrick's attention. Chloe had just regained consciousness and found herself impaled upon the very same bar she used to stabilize herself earlier. It ran through her back above her right shoulder blade and exited below her right breast. Not immediately life-threatening, but not ideal in any way. With his only decent limb left in action, Pat attempted to free himself but only achieved in sending pain coursing through his body and passing out again.

The familiar wail of klaxons and gentle *pit-pit* of coolant fluid spattering on his face brought Patrick back to his senses again. He saw that Chloe wasn't moving much, but could still see her chest rising and falling slightly; her rasped breathing indicated a punctured lung. Silas was completely still now. Two explosions emanated from the Port side middle of the ship. Someone was coming in.

Through the strobing of the emergency lights, Pat could see the silhouettes of two figures clad in heavy armor moving through the ship towards him. Barely being able to free himself, Patrick decided it would be better to fight another day and feigned death. The two shadows stopped after crossing the threshold in to the main cabin, turning their heads to survey the carnage. One of them motioned in the direction of Silas' hanging body, then turned to face Chloe and made the motion again. The first figure clambered up to the mangled body in the pilot seat, revealing white stenciled lettering of "UEE BLASYSSEC" on their helmet that Patrick was able to spot through a very squinted and very bloodied eye. The armored soldier shook his head, jumped down and made the same motion as before followed by an index finger pointing up in to a corkscrew. The second figure nodded, sized up Silas and drew a sidearm. Patrick had both eyes open at this point, he was seeing everything unfold right in front of him. It just didn't immediately register why the strobing emergency lights had suddenly changed their rhythm. And why Silas' chest was glowing a deep orange. Things didn't click until Chloe's second scream was cut short by a *tsew-tsew-tsew* coming from the second figure's Arclight pistol. Patrick had only enough time to stitch together the nightmare unfolding in front of him to feel a boiling rage just begin to build before feeling a not unpleasant warmth radiate from the center of his chest and fading into darkness once again.

Aeons seemingly passed while abstract, vividly colored shapes stretched and morphed along an infinite plane. There was everything, but there was nothing. Scuffling on metal, warbled sirens and the whine and sizzle of a Greycat multitool's OxyTorch Cutter brought Patrick back to reality. He opened his eyes only to see "UEE BLASYSSEC" flash in red, then fade before the previous scene of carnage materialized back in to his vision. Silas and Chloe's bodies were gone and a different figure covered in rags was working on cutting away parts from the pilot's seat. The person in rags worked on getting Patrick out, but in a seemingly unhurried manner. "hhHhnNhthe fuck are you?", Patrick managed to slip through his mangled mouth. "F-whoa, shit! You're alive?" "hHnNhduhh..." was all he could respond with before his newest chest wound caught up with him, putting him in the black a fourth time.

The scrapper, who would later introduce herself as Sym, would finish cutting Patrick out of the seat and help him to recover. Sym would ultimately relinquish all the parts she had taken from the Cutlass, allowing Pat to mostly rebuild his ship. He would also retrieve his friends' bodies from the crash site and give them a proper burial in the Green Zone of Hurston. During his recovery, Sym would teach Pat how to salvage and how to repair with the multitool. It wasn't very lucrative on such a small scale, but it did allow Patrick to repair his Cutty enough and allowed him to stow money on the side until he finally fully recovered and began to prepare for a move to Orison. Pat would thank Sym for all of her help, wish her luck and let her know he'd be back to visit some time.

Orison would be an entirely new chapter in Pat's life. There, he would deal with processing his trauma through bouts of binging drugs, picking fights with low-level pirates and other, unhealthy coping mechanisms. During one of these fights in particular, Patrick had encountered an extraordinary pilot who left him completely disabled in space, but didn't do any extensive damage, before flying off without any attempt at communication. After a while, Pat was able to get systems online enough to limp the Cutlass back to Port Olisar. That battle had left Pat with a lot to contemplate and would, ultimately, lead him to getting off his hard drug use. He'd continue to occasionally indulge in Maze from time to time, though.

For a while, Pat languished over attempting to validate any reason the UEE would have to set him and his friends up. Sure, they were low-threat, petty criminals, but they never physically harmed anyone nor did either of them serve any time for the very few crimes they did get caught on. Either way, they would be in the crosshairs of Hurston Security, not the direct force of the UEE themselves let alone whatever black operations unit had targeted him and his friends that day. This would lead Patrick to take on a handful of private investigations in hopes it would lead him to any bit of information he could use to find out why that fateful day with his friends unfolded the way it did. On one such investigation, while looking for the corpse of a pilot on a wrecked Freelancer, Patrick came face-to-face with an individual that was layered in heavy black and white armor.

"If you're looking for the other body, it's over there around the other side," the unidentified man said through his helmet's external speakers while pointing to a corner of the wreckage. Patrick stood there for a few moments without saying anything before the man in black-and-white boarded his Anvil Hawk and took off. Thinking nothing of it, Pat continued on with his search. Later that day, at the Gundo Shipping hub around Daymar, he would stumble upon the very same man from before at the Freelancer wreckage. This time, Pat and the other individual would team up together for the same investigation. After this encounter, Patrick would learn that this man's name was Gerard Augustinus who was, along with another man by the name of Cosmo Remington, an Admiral in a fledgling paramilitary group called The Galactic Order. The Galactic Order was an organization of people who were also shunned by the UEE or had witnessed, first-hand, the UEE's incompetence in protecting its people and had made it a mission to reveal this nature of the UEE to all other citizens in the universe and offer them a better solution: to join the ranks and safety of The Galactic Order and spread its influence across the stars. With this ideal alone, Patrick aligned and joined with this group as its eleventh member. In The Galactic Order, Patrick would find himself a new family. Within one year of joining, Patrick would achieve becoming The Galactic Order's first Commander, first 1st Officer and first Captain along with helping to provide structure, protocol, training and discipline.

Patric David Sole "ThePaternalOne" retired from service of The Galactic Order military April 15th 2955, in search of a new path away from this galaxy and the many troubles it brings. He was Discharged with the highest of honors for his years of service and dedication to the order. The growing empire would not be what it is today if not for his many contributions. Pat was the first Commander, the first Captain and the first Praetorian of The Galactic Order military. He will be greatly missed and never forgotten. o7

Personal Bio:

Background: Marcus Wolfe, a brilliant engineer, was born on Aremis: Vega II in the year 2924. From an early age, he displayed a keen interest in exploration and technology. Marcus's insatiable curiosity and natural talent for problem-solving led him to pursue a career in engineering, specializing in advanced propulsion systems.

The Attack: Marcus's life took a dramatic turn when he was caught amid a devastating attack by an alien race known as the Vanduul. The assault left him physically injured and emotionally scarred, witnessing the destruction and loss caused by the merciless invaders. The traumatic experience instilled in him a deep sense of anger and a burning desire for justice

Survivor's Resolve: Despite his injuries, Marcus refused to succumb to despair. Determined to prevent others from suffering the same fate, he dedicated himself to understanding the Vanduul technology and developing countermeasures against their weaponry. Through intense research and tireless experimentation, Marcus began to unravel the intricacies of their advanced technology, seeking vulnerabilities that could be exploited.

Joining The Galactic Order: Motivated by his newfound knowledge and the desire to strike back against the Vanduul, Marcus joined a clandestine organization known as The Galactic Order (TGO) in 2952. Composed of individuals from diverse backgrounds, the TGO sought to expose the government's incompetence and turn back the threat of the Vanduul

As an engineer within the TGO, Marcus used his technical expertise to design and develop innovative weapons, defenses, and even found himself serving on the frontlines as a Trooper. He became an asset, enhancing the TGO's capabilities and providing crucial insights into the Vanduul technology. Marcus's determination and resilience earned him the respect of his comrades, who admired his unwavering commitment to the cause.

Confronting the Government: Driven by his desire for justice, Marcus worked closely with other members of the TGO to expose the government's corruption. Together, they collected evidence, documented secret transactions, and rallied support among the populace. Marcus's engineering prowess played a vital role in decrypting classified information and revealing the extent of the government's betrayal.

The TGO launched a series of coordinated strikes against key government installations, exposing their corrupt practices and raising awareness among the public. Marcus's technical expertise and strategic insights played a crucial role in these operations, ensuring the success of each mission.

Personality and Traits: Marcus Wolfe is a fiercely determined and resilient individual. The trauma he experienced during the Vanduul attack has shaped him into a driven and focused engineer with a deep desire for justice. He is fiercely protective of his comrades and exhibits unwavering loyalty to the cause.

Marcus is known for his analytical mind, innovative thinking, and the ability to remain calm under pressure. His engineering skills are matched by his leadership qualities, as he often takes charge during operations, providing guidance and support to his fellow resistance members. Marcus's unwavering resolve to strike back against the Vanduul and the corrupt government inspires those around him.

Outside of his work, Marcus is introspective and finds solace in moments of quiet reflection. He maintains a small workshop where he continues his research, constantly seeking new ways to undermine the Vanduul and dismantle the government's influence.

Personal Bio:

Status: Executed for High Treason

Details:

Previous captain of F-01 Finli Venator-01 conspired, in secret, among members of his Battalion, drawing plans to strike against the Galactic Order high command in efforts to destabilize the order, or possibly institute its demise.

Leading up to his removal, and the removal of his conspirators, actions were closely monitored on a daily basis by multiple agents and select members of leadership, from the moment his acts of treason were first seeded. Significant evidence was gathered to these plans, over months of observation, with a detailed list of all accounts and units involved.

After an attack was launched against members of The Galactic Order by Finli and his treasonous affiliates, unwarranted and without authorization or knowledge to Leadership Council, the group was made subject for an emergency meeting where their abolition was drawn.

Shortly after, on a day when their Treason was fully realized by the formation of an opposing “hidden” organization, Leadership Council executed the order for their removal in a swift and extremely organized fashion. All access & authorization was removed, records sealed and the traitors were silently executed from military service.

They betrayed the trust and honor of The Galactic Order by their intent to cause harm and/or destruction. For that they were forever removed.

Personal Bio:

Daneel Bailey was born in Lorville, Hurston, to a middle-class family. His childhood was filled with off-world trips—skiing on MicroTech, shopping on ArcCorp, and hearing Orison’s city in the fucking clouds ad every five minutes.

His best friend, George, was the son of his father’s co-worker. They were inseparable, always finding trouble and ways out of it. When the UEEN fleet came to Stanton, they snuck aboard a Caterpillar bound for Everus just to watch the flyby. Security found them within the hour. Their parents were furious.

After school, they planned to leave Stanton, study engineering, and make something of themselves. But a week before graduation, their parents lost their jobs. University became impossible. Three weeks later, George’s family lost their Hab. Desperate to get out, they joined the military. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was a ticket off-world.

Training was hell, but they got through it together. George, thanks to the absurdly oversized backpack he showed up with on day one, earned the nickname Turtle. He hated it at first, but it grew on him. Eventually, he even sketched a turtle on his armour.

They were posted together in Pyro, stationed at a UEE outpost struggling to help civilians flee gang-controlled territories. Supplies were scarce, and their lieutenant—more concerned with promotion than his men—made reckless calls. Then came the mission that got George killed.

The convoy was undermanned, under-equipped, and had no air support. “It’s just a simple supply run,” the lieutenant assured them. It wasn’t. The ambush hit fast—explosions flipped their vehicles, gunfire rained down. The lieutenant panicked, ordering them to hold even as they were flanked.

George followed an order that got him shot. Daneel tried to pull him back, but the lieutenant had already called for retreat. Leave the wounded. Cut losses.

Daneel stayed, gripping George’s hand until it went limp. By the time reinforcements arrived, George was gone, and the lieutenant was already spinning the disaster into an acceptable report.

Daneel finished his enlistment because he had to. He didn’t re-enlist. The UEE had taken George—thrown them into a warzone without a plan, without support, under a leader who cared more about his own career than their lives. The UEE was full of it.

At a juice bar on Everus, on his way back to Lorville, Daneel noticed a discarded flyer in the greenery. It looked like a military recruitment ad—but not for any outfit he recognised. Going through it he saw them call the UEE oppressors and incompetent. Finally, someone who saw the UEE for what it was. With no job, no best friend, and nothing else to lose, he decided to check them out.

As he turned to leave, something shifted in the greenery under where the flyer had been. A turtle.

He stared.

George.

He couldn’t leave him behind. Not again. Scooping up the turtle and a handful of leaves, Daneel headed off to see what The Galactic Order was all about. I did the thing!

"George the Turtle"

Personal Bio:

Born to Margaret and James Smythe, the man who would become Elite Guard Gregor “WhatIdo” Smythe was born some thirty three years ago on the planet of Stanton III, also known as ArcCorp. When he was born, Gregor’s father was simply a janitor for one of ArcCorp’s many subsidiary companies on the planet, working a menial job for a menial wage. This brought enough income for the growing, only child to attend a reasonably priced private school.

When Gregor made his jump from childhood to adulthood, he did so with little pomp and fanfare. Despite his somewhat prestigious schooling, and modest marks, the unimpressive new man decided to simply follow in his father’s footsteps and use nepotism to secure a job as a janitor and handyman with New Day Services. Following this career path for some years, young Gregor did admirably, if without much recognition, at his chosen profession. Only when the Smytheling got an opportunity to be transferred to Bajini Point orbital station did a change of perspective bring about new desire.

Being amongst the stars, even in such a limited capacity, showed Gregor that there was much more to his surroundings than the menial labors and long work days with little to look forward to. He’d watch the massive cargo haulers, tiny fighters, nimble corvettes, and gargantuan cruisers come and go from the bustling station. His aspirations swelled within him, and his lowly position was beginning to nag at the back of his mind. But, he was growing older, and knew he had missed his opportunity to sign up with the fleets, or even private contractors.

That is, until one innocuous day when a group of men clad in dark armor with black, featureless helmets boarded the station. Knowing he’d forever hate himself for simply not asking the question, Gregor approached them and inquired as to their purpose and intent. The men gave very little as to their intentions, and even less as to their goals. But, Gregor knew he was onto something special. Every time he saw the group, for months, he’d pester and pester, until one day he was finally brought to a hangar and offered a choice: follow them and get all the answers he had been asking, or leave them be and never approach them again.

It was hard to not simply take the former option. With expensive armor, weapons, military grade ships, and a clear cut protocol and air of professionalism about them, Gregor was hooked. And soon, he was immersed and indoctrinated into their ways.

What Gregor lacked in any actual practical or theoretical knowledge in space or ground combat, he made up for with zealous attentiveness and desire to learn. And soon, his foundation of schooling paid off big, allowing the man to soak up knowledge and rocket through the ranks. Eager to prove his worth, and fight, and now die, for the cause of The Galactic Order, Gregor Smythe could never return to a life of a civilian ever again.

Personal Bio:

There are many roads to Power in the ‘Verse.

There is the Power of your arm as it rips a Myondo from your enemy’s flesh as their life slips away before your eyes.

There is the Power of ship guns, tearing into hulls, bleeding Oxygen and corpses into the cold embrace of a careless void.

The Power of the populous, even the greatest of Monoliths crack and fall under a tidal wave crushed corpses piled upon it.

There is the Power of the holy United Earth Credit, the whole ‘verse runs on it, and in pursuit of it, it can get you everything or it can leave you with nothing.

There are many roads to Power in the ‘Verse but for Talisker it was the Power of the Pen that changed his life forever and would shape his future.

------------------------

Growing up dirt side in some Hurtson mining town was as about as appealing as it sounds. But even Hurtson wouldn’t throw children down the mines, not in the early days anyway “bad for the company image” as the old foreman used to say.

But Hurtson soil isn’t conductive to an enriched childhood even if not forced beneath its surface like his parents to mine its riches, at least, that was what they were supposed to be doing, by that point Hurtson had been so abused it was rare they pulled anything up at all, more likely, it was simply kept running so some bureaucrat could take the money and line his pockets from the miniscule stipend that such endeavours received.

So Talisker spent most of his early days in the scrap yards, under the baking sun, filling RMC canisters, and dodging the local gangs, after all there was no law in such a place, the strong took what they wanted and everyone would turn a blind eye, or they’d take it from you next time.

What happened to that town you won’t find in any history book, you won’t find any mention in any company records, in fact if you go to the exact co-ordinates, you won’t even believe a town had ever existed in that place. Its name now long forgotten.

Because Hurtson doesn’t have revolts.

Talisker’s Father was the instigator, he had never seen anything like it before, he didn’t bribe anyone, there were no broken limbs or bleeding faces, no bodies in the streets, all he did was speak and suddenly, he had a following, they backed him with an almost religious fervour. It was artistry. A lawless hellscape suddenly united in one great purpose, it could have been the start of something great.

It happened overnight Hurston security kill teams moved like wraiths, The Nameless town put up a fight, but they weren’t ready. Talisker’s father was made an example of, and the few survivors, if not imprisoned, scattered. Equally Artistic was the propaganda that followed, Hurston erased everything to do with the town and the people lapped it up, called them terrorists, Talisker was disgusted, yet fascinated, like his father, the Power of the Pen, of words, had changed history, they hadn’t been just killed, but erased completely, like they had never lived.

He joined the Navy as soon as he could and enrolled in their flight school, he had intended to make a career of it, bringing order he lacked as a child to the outer reaches of human space but after Vega 2, he decided that he had given the Navy enough and found them lacking.

The Galactic Order promised him what he had wanted through all his life, and the duty that the Navy had failed at. Order, Stability for all. For the Emperor, Talisker would take the lesson Hurtson had taught him, and he would wield them for a goal greater than anything that Nameless Mining town could ever envision.

Personal Bio:

Background

Whojong was born into a wealthy family on MicroTech, a technologically advanced planet known for its pristine environments and cutting-edge innovations. While his upbringing provided him with every material comfort, it also came with immense pressure to excel. Whojong felt stifled by his privileged surroundings, yearning for a sense of purpose beyond the corporate life that awaited him.

In search of meaning, Whojong enlisted in the United Earth Empire (UEE) military. There, he quickly gained recognition as an outstanding soldier, celebrated for his exceptional skill in combat, strategic acumen, and unwavering composure under pressure. He mastered various weapons and combat techniques, proving particularly adept at sharpshooting and tactical maneuvers. His leadership abilities shone during high-stakes missions, where he often took the initiative to devise innovative strategies that turned the tide in favor of his unit. Colleagues admired his ability to remain calm amidst chaos, instilling confidence in those around him. His penchant for smoking led to his nickname "BlackLung." This served as a constant reminder of the toll his choices were taking on his health.

Turning Point

The defining moment in Whojong's life occurred during a critical military mission. Tasked with neutralizing a high-value target believed to be orchestrating attacks against UEE forces, he and his unit prepared for what they thought would be a straightforward operation. When the time came, Whojong took aim at the target, only to realize, in that split second, that it was not a criminal but a famous doctor known for his humanitarian work. The doctor had been providing medical aid to war-torn regions, risking his life to save others. Whojong’s heart sank as he lowered his weapon, but it was too late—the shot had already been fired.

Overwhelmed by guilt and horror at the irreversible consequences of his actions, Whojong chose to leave the military. For many years to come, he was tormented by memories of the innocent lives affected by his choices, especially the doctor’s legacy of compassion that he had extinguished. This incident fueled a growing hatred for the UEE, as he began to see the empire’s militaristic pursuits as a source of unnecessary suffering.

Redemption

Determined to atone for his past, Whojong committed himself to the pursuit of medicine, driven by a newfound purpose to heal rather than harm. With relentless determination, he studied diligently and earned a scholarship to the prestigious Celestial Medical Academy. There, he transformed from a soldier burdened by guilt into a devoted healer.

Present Day

Years later, Whojong has established himself as a highly respected trauma surgeon, renowned for his ability to perform under the most intense pressure. His military background gives him a unique edge in emergency situations, allowing him to remain focused and effective when every second counts. Driven by a profound commitment to protect the vulnerable and challenge the injustices perpetrated by the UEE, he has joined The Galactic Order. His medical passion, military background, and dedication to The Order quickly propelled him to the rank of Captain, commanding The Order’s very first Medevac Battalion. In this capacity, he not only provides critical medical care, but also advocates for systemic change, striving to provide justice for those marginalized by the UEE. Each life he saves serves as a reminder of his transformative journey, reaffirming his role as a healer dedicated to creating a more compassionate galaxy.

Personal Bio:

Personal Bio:

Vanderan was born into fire.

The Vanduul invasion of Caliban II was sudden, brutal, and absolute. A child of maintenance techs working under UEE Naval contracts, he barely escaped aboard an overburdened cargo hauler—one of the few that made it off-world before the atmosphere became a grave. His parents didn’t make it. He never looked back. What remained of his home burned beneath the pulse of alien weaponry.

Drifting through UEE space as a war orphan, Vanderan grew up hardened—raised by battle-scarred refugees, mercenaries, and ex-military ghosts who carried more pain than hope. He built his name from nothing, forging his own destiny with grit, blood, and fire. "Vanderan" wasn’t his given name—it was the one he earned.

Over time, he took to the cockpit, found purpose in the fight, and developed a notorious reputation as a brutal yet tactical warrior. Piloting Oblivion’s Edge, a scarred but lethal medium fighter, he carved a path through pirate dens, Vanduul scouts, and lawless sectors.

But it wasn’t until he crossed paths with The Galactic Order that he found something he never expected—belonging.

Drawn by their iron discipline, elite vision, and unshakable purpose, Vanderan enlisted as an Outrider, intent on proving himself on the fringes of Order space. His combat prowess, fearlessness under pressure, and unyielding loyalty earned him respect quickly. His ruthlessness in combat was undeniable—like a beast awakened, he revels in battle, his bloodlust igniting when the Order’s banners are raised.

Now, Vanderan commands the prestigious Battalion V-02, an elite strike force known for rapid deployment and merciless precision. His leadership is as unforgiving as the vacuum, but his warriors would follow him into the abyss. They have.

Bald and bearing a thick, war-hardened mustache, his presence is unmistakable. In the halls of The Order, he's stoic and silent—a living relic of survival. But on the battlefield, he is transformed: vicious, bloodthirsty, almost primal. To fight alongside Vanderan is to witness the glory of war in its purest, rawest form. To face him is to understand fear.

He fights for vengeance, for honor, and for the future the Order promises.