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Application
Name: Katsu
Characters Played: Loki (AU)
Activity: The log York isn't allowed to read
IN-CHARACTER INFORMATION
Name: Henrietta "Hob" Ravani (call her Henrietta and she will CUT YOU)
Callsign and Title Requested: Victor, The Undertaker (unofficially: "the Ravani")
Fandom: OC
Age: 57
Native or Immune: Native
What Do They Run?: SWAT
Personality: Fuck you, kid
Background: Hob was born in District 4 of Proles right when it had grown out of its frontier town phase. Her parents were killed early on in a mining accident and she fell through the cracks as an orphan, surviving on her own in the streets for years and moving back and forth between Districts 4 and 2. She developed a bit of a reputation on the street as an "undertaker."
As soon as she could lie her way into it, she joined the military. While she had problems on occasion with insubordination, she quickly found a commander she understood, named Nick Ravani. Ultimately he adopted her and gave her the name she now uses: Hob Ravani. After settling in as Nick's daughter, Hob rose quickly through the ranks and became both respected and feared as a leader. By the time the Proles Rennaisance happened, Hob had taken command of Nick's mobile infantry company, nicknamed the Ghost Wolves.
In the Ghost Wolves, Hob and Nick pioneered several mobile combat techniques, including ways to transport light infantry on detachable platforms on hovercycles, and the use of plasma-heated melee weapons to disable light and heavy mechanized units. Hob's weapon of choice became a massive pickaxeattached to her cycle by a maglock chain so it could be thrown and retrieved.
During the heyday of the Wolves, the company was divided into seven units, each headed by a captain given a name of one of the deadly sins. The company shrank considerably during the militia days, with only a few holdovers keeping the legend alive. The only one of the deadly sins left is Wrath; every time someone else tried to take the "title" she beat the ever-living snot out of them and decreed them not tough enough.
Brief timeline:
14 when she joined the army
18 when she became Lust
23 when Old Nick got killed and she took command of the Ghost Wolves
29 when the communications port crashed
30 when the arms race happened, lost her left eye during an incident
31 when the contagion hit and then Nodis (nearest city) collapsed (due to the contagion); a lot of refugees came to Proles (Nodis had often raided Proles)
32 the dome starts being built
33 when the dome was completed and sealed--effective end of military
36 was called up into the militia and complied; came in as a commander to get the newbs whipped into shape (one of the newbs being one Leonard McCoy, the other being the woman later known as Wrath.)
39 mayor was elected, callsign program started, came on as Victor
45 retired because that was when all the upgrades became required; helped her avoid getting bumped to alpha; she has not received any port upgrades since this time.
Hob retired to District 2 and has been there since, riding her hovercycle around and terrorizing any local toughs dumb enough to come within five miles of her small farm. She never had the time or inclination for a love life as such, and absolutely no interest in children. At the age of 57, she was asked to come out of retirement. As someone not happy with the direction things are going in Sanctum--and knowing she didn't really have a choice--she agreed.
At least as a Callsign, she's back in a position to protect the people who matter to her. And bide her time to take a shot at the people who fucked everything in Proles up. To her mind, step one is prying the militia out of the grasp of Bifrons and returning it to what it was meant to be from the beginning. Bifrons effectively taking over is when things went really, really wrong.
Notes: Hob's left eye has a hyper-real replacement; very few people ascertain that it isn't real. She owns a hovercycle with a shotgun holster on it. She lost three fingers on her right hand to an explosive round during her military days; the fingers have been replaced by prosthetics that can project minor, short-lived flames, electrical sparks, or radio signals with a snap. She mostly uses that ability to light her cigarettes.
Promotion: NA
Bio: Native of District 4 and until recently a retiree in District 2, Hob Ravani is a highly decorated veteran of both regular military and militia. She has received: 3 orders of valor, 3 silver chevrons, 2 crimson stars, 5 gold novas. She has successfully commanded 21 campaigns as first Commander of the Ghost Wolves mobile infantry division, then Callsign Victor. Expert at multiple unarmed combat forms, all firearms and artillery, and [REDACTED], Hob Ravani also assisted as a special weapons instructor in the militia until her full retirement at age 47.
Hob Ravani's offices can be found in the Order of Peace building in District 3 and the Order of Justice building in District 4, though she is most often found on the militia training grounds. Her location can be ascertained by an inquiry to callsign Foxtrot. She is in charge of SWAT and company discipline.
NETWORK SAMPLE:
All right, you delicate little flowers, sit down and shut the fuck up. Listen good.
Some of you know who I am 'cause you've got a memory longer than a fuckin' gold fish. Some of you don't. I don't give two shits either way. My name's Commander Hob Ravani, known as callsign Victor if you're too much of a pansy to use the word Commander without pissing your little shorts. As far as you're concerned, my name is Commander, Ravani or Victor, I don't give a fuck.
Bifrons might've hauled my ass out of retirement, and if they want to sign my paychecks, I sure could use a new paint job on my cycle. But I want to make one thing crystal fucking clear, kittens. I joined the military when most of you weren't even a wet spot in your daddy's panties because I wanted to serve and protect the people, and I joined the fucking militia because I couldn't handle watching a bunch of candy-ass puppies tumbling over each other and shooting themselves in the foot.
I am here to sort out this fuckin' shit show for you. Not Bifrons. And I am here to keep your peace, not theirs. You got a problem, you come to my office and we'll talk.
But don't waste my fuckin' time. I'm too old for bullshit and you're too fuckin' slow to deal with the consequences of your own stupidity.
Ravani--or Victor--out.
Characters Played: Loki (AU)
Activity: The log York isn't allowed to read
Name: Henrietta "Hob" Ravani (call her Henrietta and she will CUT YOU)
Callsign and Title Requested: Victor, The Undertaker (unofficially: "the Ravani")
Fandom: OC
Age: 57
Native or Immune: Native
What Do They Run?: SWAT
Personality: Fuck you, kid
Background: Hob was born in District 4 of Proles right when it had grown out of its frontier town phase. Her parents were killed early on in a mining accident and she fell through the cracks as an orphan, surviving on her own in the streets for years and moving back and forth between Districts 4 and 2. She developed a bit of a reputation on the street as an "undertaker."
As soon as she could lie her way into it, she joined the military. While she had problems on occasion with insubordination, she quickly found a commander she understood, named Nick Ravani. Ultimately he adopted her and gave her the name she now uses: Hob Ravani. After settling in as Nick's daughter, Hob rose quickly through the ranks and became both respected and feared as a leader. By the time the Proles Rennaisance happened, Hob had taken command of Nick's mobile infantry company, nicknamed the Ghost Wolves.
In the Ghost Wolves, Hob and Nick pioneered several mobile combat techniques, including ways to transport light infantry on detachable platforms on hovercycles, and the use of plasma-heated melee weapons to disable light and heavy mechanized units. Hob's weapon of choice became a massive pickaxeattached to her cycle by a maglock chain so it could be thrown and retrieved.
During the heyday of the Wolves, the company was divided into seven units, each headed by a captain given a name of one of the deadly sins. The company shrank considerably during the militia days, with only a few holdovers keeping the legend alive. The only one of the deadly sins left is Wrath; every time someone else tried to take the "title" she beat the ever-living snot out of them and decreed them not tough enough.
Brief timeline:
14 when she joined the army
18 when she became Lust
23 when Old Nick got killed and she took command of the Ghost Wolves
29 when the communications port crashed
30 when the arms race happened, lost her left eye during an incident
31 when the contagion hit and then Nodis (nearest city) collapsed (due to the contagion); a lot of refugees came to Proles (Nodis had often raided Proles)
32 the dome starts being built
33 when the dome was completed and sealed--effective end of military
36 was called up into the militia and complied; came in as a commander to get the newbs whipped into shape (one of the newbs being one Leonard McCoy, the other being the woman later known as Wrath.)
39 mayor was elected, callsign program started, came on as Victor
45 retired because that was when all the upgrades became required; helped her avoid getting bumped to alpha; she has not received any port upgrades since this time.
Hob retired to District 2 and has been there since, riding her hovercycle around and terrorizing any local toughs dumb enough to come within five miles of her small farm. She never had the time or inclination for a love life as such, and absolutely no interest in children. At the age of 57, she was asked to come out of retirement. As someone not happy with the direction things are going in Sanctum--and knowing she didn't really have a choice--she agreed.
At least as a Callsign, she's back in a position to protect the people who matter to her. And bide her time to take a shot at the people who fucked everything in Proles up. To her mind, step one is prying the militia out of the grasp of Bifrons and returning it to what it was meant to be from the beginning. Bifrons effectively taking over is when things went really, really wrong.
Notes: Hob's left eye has a hyper-real replacement; very few people ascertain that it isn't real. She owns a hovercycle with a shotgun holster on it. She lost three fingers on her right hand to an explosive round during her military days; the fingers have been replaced by prosthetics that can project minor, short-lived flames, electrical sparks, or radio signals with a snap. She mostly uses that ability to light her cigarettes.
Promotion: NA
Bio: Native of District 4 and until recently a retiree in District 2, Hob Ravani is a highly decorated veteran of both regular military and militia. She has received: 3 orders of valor, 3 silver chevrons, 2 crimson stars, 5 gold novas. She has successfully commanded 21 campaigns as first Commander of the Ghost Wolves mobile infantry division, then Callsign Victor. Expert at multiple unarmed combat forms, all firearms and artillery, and [REDACTED], Hob Ravani also assisted as a special weapons instructor in the militia until her full retirement at age 47.
Hob Ravani's offices can be found in the Order of Peace building in District 3 and the Order of Justice building in District 4, though she is most often found on the militia training grounds. Her location can be ascertained by an inquiry to callsign Foxtrot. She is in charge of SWAT and company discipline.
NETWORK SAMPLE:
All right, you delicate little flowers, sit down and shut the fuck up. Listen good.
Some of you know who I am 'cause you've got a memory longer than a fuckin' gold fish. Some of you don't. I don't give two shits either way. My name's Commander Hob Ravani, known as callsign Victor if you're too much of a pansy to use the word Commander without pissing your little shorts. As far as you're concerned, my name is Commander, Ravani or Victor, I don't give a fuck.
Bifrons might've hauled my ass out of retirement, and if they want to sign my paychecks, I sure could use a new paint job on my cycle. But I want to make one thing crystal fucking clear, kittens. I joined the military when most of you weren't even a wet spot in your daddy's panties because I wanted to serve and protect the people, and I joined the fucking militia because I couldn't handle watching a bunch of candy-ass puppies tumbling over each other and shooting themselves in the foot.
I am here to sort out this fuckin' shit show for you. Not Bifrons. And I am here to keep your peace, not theirs. You got a problem, you come to my office and we'll talk.
But don't waste my fuckin' time. I'm too old for bullshit and you're too fuckin' slow to deal with the consequences of your own stupidity.
Ravani--or Victor--out.