Kihn Ghost roarken

[mongoose]

I don't think I'll be able to comply with all the guidelines for character profiles at this time, as we don't yet know what races and species will be involved.

I made up the names. His given name is Kihn. He is a member of the dominant race and species in the SF galaxy, and as such does not have any outstanding features, qualities, or powers. He was, however, selectively bred with some genetic tweaking to yeild what the manipulators thought would be a perfect special operations soldier. They did well. When he was young, with the permission of their commanding officers, his parents took him to the most remote part of their galaxy to raise him in the "country" where he would be trained to hunt, along with other attendant skills, which might later be applied to military service. Kihn did well there, and when the time came, enlisted in the empirial fleet.

As a bi-product of his enhanced ability to learn and think strategically, Kihn became enamored with all kinds of learning. He applied this desire first to the study of military history, as that was more acceptible to his parents and teachers. The study of history divulged into the study of anthropology and cultures, and he learned of the ancients who had founded his race, as well as of some of the races his had conquered over the ages in their ever increasing need for resources, territory, and influence. He also learned, years into his distinguished service in the empirial fleet, as a special forces officer, of the Alliance of Faith.

All of this learning was accademic for Kihn for some time. He managed to focus sufficiently on his training in the Special Forces (whatever form these took) to distinguish himself there and rise in rank. He became known for his ability to learn all there was to know about a situation, particularly during surveilence. Conversly, he could remain inconspicuous, hidden, practically invisible. He could come, execute a mission, and leave without being detected. Thus is name of ghost roarken, a roarken being a bird of prey known for its quick, stealthy attacks on small game. Also, he was a natural leader and teacher, and was given the role of teaching new recruits into the Special Forces, and later of training the security forces of the allies and pawns of the empire.

After years of warfare, the loss of too many comrads, being ordered on too many hairbrained and unreasonably destructive missions, Kihn got fed up. He already knew of the Alliance of Faith, and though he didn't have any faith of his own, except in his own skills and those of his people, he positioned himself to be assigned the mission of infiltrating the organization and serving there undercover to feed intelligence back to the ruling party. He figured that by joining them and offering some of his tactical knowledge and strategic expertise in their service, he might aid them in mitigating the emperialistic practices of the empire. Though he succeeded in the infiltration, he kept his history to himself, as well as his service to the empire, abiding under his cover story for the duration and feeding enough information, much of it only partial truths, to the empire for them to maintain their trust in him. Meanwhile he advised the leading counsel of the Alliance of Faith such that they could continue to evade the attempts of the Empire to track and destroy them, even given Kihn's help.

It is shortly after Kihn ingratiates himself to the Alliance that he learns of the plans to invade the fantasy world. This being a prime example of all he hates of his own history, Kihn insists that he be sent to the world with the Alliance envoy, to warn them.

I'm not sure where we'd want the story to pick up, but if feasable, I'd like to establish the presence of Kihn and whomever else from the galactic empire, on the fantasy planet, for at least a decade before the empire colony ships show up.

Perhaps something goes amiss on the trip to the fantasy world, and the Alliance vessel is thrown back in time. Or the internal politics and conflicts with other SF races in or on the boarders of the empire distract their fleets, and their invasion of the fantasy world is delayed for a decade as they deal with it.

Kihn, Avaron, and whomever else make world-fall on the fantasy planet, and set out to establish diplomatic relationships with the people there. They are initially received with suspicion, but manage to escape the religious zealots that would have burned them at the stake, or whatever. Ultimatly, Kihn's learning and proficiency with languages and anthropology assist them in reaching friendly terms with some of the tribes. Even so, their warnings of imminent invasion fall on deaf ears, and besides, nothing appears in the skies over the next year. Kihn, for his part, heaves a wary sigh of relief, and retreats to a mountain village to make a new life for himself. Without the purpose that united the Alliance team, and without a faith like theirs, Kihn sees no reason to remain with them, but welcomes any who choose to go with him, as friends.

In this new life as a teacher of engineering in the village, he has time to deal with the turmoil in his soul. He's incredibly bitter about how the emperial government used him, the horrible deeds he'd commited in his past, and swears off of violence for the rest of his life. Yet it's a part of his genetic make up as well as his training, and occasionally it rears its ugly head, whether in responce to mountain predators that threaten the village, or bullies and brigands who get a little too close to his new family and friends, or whatever. The people begin to realize that there's something different about him, he's not just from a distant country, just a teacher or engineer, but rather a warrior. This plagues him something awefull, especially considering that he's trying to build a family with his new wife. Yes, I'll assume he marries one of the village women, though I haven't read the fantasy characters thread and don't know whether or not there's a compatible primary character. The problem for him grows worse when word reaches the village that the foretold invasion has occured, and cities in the plain have been destroyed or taken, people tortured, raped, and killed, etc.

Kihn now loves his new people, his new life, and has to make a choice. Defend them, thus loosing them and their love as his true nature is revealed-a nature abhorrent to him, and he assumes, likewise to them were they to discover it-or attempt to flee and hide with them, possibly keeping those that survived the high mountain retreat through the harsh winter- or simply hope the invasion forces chose to ignore or spare his village.

As I said, the story could start at any point, and he would enter at that point, the rest being either history or destiny.

Kihn is the quintesential quiet professional. He has a reasonably well developed sense of humor, and is somewhat sociable. He enjoys the company of good people, particularly fellow soldiers, but despises politicians and military brass. He has a sense of honor and chivalry that is rare among his comrads, and which he hides when it seems expedient to do so. He is friendly and good natured enough, but the displays of emotion are shallow masks, put on to smooth over relationships with other people. Deep down, as is revealed whenever Kihn is in mission mode, he's all business. He quietly takes in the situation with a keen awareness of causes and likely effects, thinks through the angles, makes a decision, and acts in a decisive and commanding manner on those decisions. He usually succeeds, but should his plans go off the wire he either has contingency plans, or comes up with something on the fly.

Physically, his build and appearance are average. He is neither ugly nor beautifull, extreemly muscular nor extreemly thin. He is average, thus his uncanny ability to blend into any role in any company. Under the loose clothing he usually wears, however, his body is built for endurence athletic competitions as those held of old; both for distance running, swimming, and fighting.

Speaking of fighting, he prefers not to, even while serving the empire. He read the works of the ancients, who advocated victory by deceit and subterfuge rather than by brute force or strength of numbers. If you know your enemy, and you know your self, you can apply your strengths to their weaknesses, and accomplish your mission with minimal enemy contact, and thus, minimal casualties. However, when it does come to a fight he is a tactical expert, weilding a variety of lazer weapons, firearms and bladed weapons with ease and to quickly deadly effect. He is also one of his people's most accomplished martial artists, as the arts are generally not regarded as viable military practices. Kihn, however, studies on his own and with any of the old ones who will teach him.

[mongoose]

((An intro attempt))

Kihn Ghost Roarken came fully awake precisely at 0500 hours, Meridian Standard Time, just as he had planned when he put himself to bed six hours earlier. It had been a long week, what with the planning, and having to be discreet about it, too. Operational Security was a pain, but a necessary one, and it was such a part of him now that he almost took it for granted. Would take it for granted, that is, except that when you grew to comfortable with your expertise you became vulnerable to mess ups, and mess ups got you killed. So he checked himself every so often just to keep sharp.

The operative turned agent lay still in bed for a moment, as was his habit, taking in his surroundings without opening his eyes. You never knew who or what might threaten if it knew you were there and awake. Determining all was in order he opened his eyes, sat up, and stretched. A couple moments later he had drank a swig of luke warm water, and was doing his morning workout routine. 200 pushups, broken up with an isometric abdominal core workout that used his body's own resistance against him. Next came the run, ten miles, and then the five mile ocean swim. If you could call the contained salt water environment an ocean. None the less it gave his body the work he needed to stay in shape. Kihn's higher rank these days allowed him to set his own schedule, and in his unit each operative was responsible for his/her own physical training.

Kihn had a big day ahead of him, his next contact with the Alliance, hopefully to receive some meaningfull orders at last. None the less, he had to keep to his usual routine, or someone would think something amiss, not least of whom might be the Alliance itself. If the paranoid freaks got the merest suspicion that he'd deviated they'd call the whole thing off and he'd have to start over again in his attempts to establish contact. It was their need for self preservation, really. If Kihn was compromised he could, inadvertently, lead the empirial forces to them. That would be disastrous. So, upon completing the swim, fatigued though he was, he moved into his meditations, and thence into his Katas and weapons training.

That all done, it was time to go to eat breakfast and go to work. As he sipped his vegetable energy drink and sucked up spoonfulls of nutritious gruel, he allowed the messages to play on the holo-screen in the middle of his table. A team of staffers was employed through the night to go through various intelligence feeds, news, and the like, sort out what was more likely to be relevant, organize it, and load it remotely to his network. Several things to keep in mind, act on once he'd had the opportunity to confer with his team leaders at the base, but nothing that required that he break his routine.

Upon finishing his meal and cleaning up thoroughly but efficiently, Kihn headed out the door on his five block walk to the public transit station he usually used. Now began the tricky part. The political climate necessitated that the Alliance be as secretive as possible, and no expense was spared. Perhaps if he got in, he could use his existing intelligence networks to their benefit, but it seemed they already had systems in place. In any case, the strength of their methods was that even he, a recruit, didn't know how they would work. Would it be a flash communication? A brush pass? A dead drop? Morse code from an upstairs window? He could never tell from one contact to another, and thus, could never lead anyone to them. Of course, by the same token, if he weren't on his toes he might miss them all-together.

A shout, or rather a screem caught his attention from an alley a couple blocks away. He slowed in his walk, concerned. Some people still had a small sense of duty to their fellow creatures, even in this self contained ultra-post-neo-modern planet, and someone was in trouble. On the other hand, it could compromise him to reveal himself. Then again, what was the point of the Alliance, if not to promote benevolent behavior on the part of the followers of this, "One" of theirs? He dropped his shoulder bag behind an artificial bush, and sprinted down the street toward the alley.

Generally, the clothing standards of the climate controled city wrankled on Kihn. He prefered layers, rather than the one piece jumpsuits tailored to the occupation, as one could change tops or bottoms seperatly to suit changes in weather and activity. Of course, the weather didn't change here in the big bubble. Now, however, the suit was actually suitable, especially the soft rubber soled boots that provided excellent grip on the pavement.

The operative fetched up against a wall, just around the corner from the disturbance. There was clearly still a scuffle going on. He consciously stilled his breathing, slowed his heart rate, relaxed his muscles, and prepared for action. He considered using his army issued tazer, but that would leave evidence, and he couldn't afford that. Instead, he slipped on a pair of gloves designed to prevent the leaving behind of finger prints and the like. He removed his shades with their built in mirrors, and, squatting low, extended them slowly beyond the corner of the wall. In a moment he was apprised of the situation, including the location of the victim and her tormentors. Indeed, it seemed he'd come just in-time. The leader was about to perpetrate the unthinkable upon the terrified teenager.

Kihn re-donned his shades, sprung up, placing his feet precisely where he planned as he pivoted around the corner, and bolted for the group. He let forth a blood-curdling war cry as he descended as an avenging falchion upon his pray. The leader, his pants down around his hips, turned in alarm just in time to catch his attackers muscled shoulder in his abdomen, hurtling him backward. He landed hard on his rear, his head snapping back into a concrete block. Just to be sure, Kihn jabbed the heel of his hand into the man's forehead, and he lay still.

Gravel crunched behind him, as another member of the gang came to the defence of his leader. Kihn noted the man's position in the appropriate mirror in the corner of his shades, and snapped his foot back and upward into the new attacker's solar plexus, momentarily dissabling him. Kihn didn't wait for him to recover, but lunged up and after him, grabbing the wrist weilding a pipe. He turned, putting his shoulder under the breathless man's pipe arm, and, using the arm as leverage, hurtled the man over his shoulder and into the next attacker. The two tumbled in a tangled heap to the ground, leaving Kihn armed with a piple. He didn't hesitate, but landed a hard blow between the shoulder blades of the man on top before turning on the last gang member still standing.

That one had a blade out, standing at the ready, cautious now. Kihn smiled for a moment, letting the moment linger, and then lunged forward, fencing style. The movement of the pipe could hardly be followed, and his pipe hand never left a four inch box in-front of him, but in a moment the gang member's blade sailed down the alley, his knife arm was nearly dislocated by a jab from the end of the pipe, and he suffered a deep and jagged gash accross the cheek that nearly took out his eye. Unacustomed to the pain and blood, the knife man fell back, scrambling away as quickly as he could.

Kihn smoothly passed the pipe to his other hand, bringing it over his head and down to meet any attacks from the other two that he'd laid out earlier, but they had seen how efficiently he dealt with their collegues, and were tripping over each other in their effort to put distance between themselves and their attacker.

Kihn sighed, and turned back to the stunned young woman, leaning trembling against the wall.
"Ma'am." He addressed her with a small bow, laying down the pipe as he did so. "Are you harmed?"

She gaped at him for a moment, then shook her head violently. "n-n-no" she stamered after a moment.

"Good." Kihn responded. "Let's keep it that way. I'm Colonel Ghost Roarken, Imperial Fleet. Best keep this incident between us, or things could get rather uncomfortable for all involved. Understand?"
He used his moniker that would be known to a few he worked with, but which was not on official records. It might also emphasize in her mind his desire to disapear as soon as this was over.

She nodded desperatly, still trembling.

"Very good. You may go about your business. Good day to you, ma'am."

He turned and strode back the way he'd come. The HUD display in his shades said he'd lost all of a minute in the incident, so he'd have to hurry a bit to get back on course. He grabbed his ergonomic shoulder bag on his way past, straightened his suit, and stepped into the transport depot. No one seemed to take unusual notice of him, nor was there unusual law enforcement activity, and no alerts appeared in his glasses or sounded in his ear piece. Yet it was a crowded place, perfect for covert activity, be it good or bad, so he was especially on edge. What was more, as much as he normalized his breathing and other systems, he was still pumped from the fight, such as it had been.

A man approached him, fiddling with someting on his wrist, and not paying much attention. An archaic time piece, called a . . . watch, was it? At any rate, the man's behavior could be that of an imbecile, or it could be a very good cover. Kihn was about to side step him when the man turned his other wrist slightly, momentarily displaying a tiny red dot. Kihn held his course, as the man ran into him, full bore, and the two went down together in a tangle of limbs.

"Oh, my! So sorry. are you all right?" The man seemed surprised and concerned.

"Fine. Just, fine. Just watch where you're going mister, all right?" Kihn replied.

"Right you are. I feel so foolish. Sorry good chap. Here, let me help you up."

Kihn took the profered hand, scowling, apparently annoyed, and stood.

"Well, good day to you, sir." The man stated as he released Kihn's hand and strode off, again fiddling with his time piece.

Kihn shook his head, sighed, checked his HUD display. That contact had probably not cost him too much, and now that it had occured, it probably wouldn't be a problem even if he did get behind from this point on. He made a quick mental and physical inventory of his outfit, ensuring the clutz hadn't picked his pockets. Indeed, he had not, but there was a small bump just inside one of them that had not been there before.

Kihn walked into a thick crowd, behind a pillar, out the other side, accross a thoroughfare and into an alcove for a moment. Certain he had at least a few seconds un-observed, he palmed the small object and placed it to the side of his shades. In a moment the chip had downloaded its information and automatically wiped itself. He tore it in two, and again in two, just to be sure, and put the bits back in his pocket. They would be further destroyed when his clothes went through the laundry.

The Ghost Owl re-appeared from his alcove, barely having appeared to have slowed down, and immediately boarded the tube that would take him and hundreds of other passengers the miles to their various assigned destinations. As he sat he straightened his glasses, activating the newly aquired file in the process. Watching HUD vids was nothing worth noting, but he chose to be discreet about it none-the-less. Operational Security was a part of him now. He sat still, as he usually did, as he read over his next instructions from the Alliance of Faith.