Post by Grimsdottir, Y. on Jan 20, 2015 9:19:31 GMT -5
UNITED NATIONS SPACE COMMAND DEFENSE FORCE
PERSONNEL COMMAND (PERSCOM)
CAREER SERVICE VITAE
PERSONNEL COMMAND (PERSCOM)
CAREER SERVICE VITAE
Basic Information
Name: Yvla Grimsdottir
Age: 34
Birth Date: August 4th, 2509
Birth Place: Oslo, Norway
Service Information
UNSC Military Identification: 46337
Service Number: 46895-75883-YG
Rank: O-4, Lieutenant Commander
MOS: 7563
Billet: Dropship Flight Commander
RIFLE QUAL: 240
PISTOL QUAL: 248
SWIM QUAL: S4
PFT: 288
Unit Information
Command: 27th Marine Expeditionary Unit
Wing: 147th Air Wing
Group 5th Air Group
Squadron: HLA-475
Medical Information
Gender: Female
Height: 5'1"
Weight: 102lbs
Eye Color:BLU
Hair Color: BLD
Blood Type: A+
Personality Profile:
At first glance one might underestimate Yvla; she appears to be an unmotivated, incompetent, crass human being that cares nothing for the thoughts or opinions of her colleagues. Or human beings. That assessment is incorrect only in that she is far from incompetent. She is a natural pilot that whose hands first touched the flight stick at the tender age of four when her dad let her fly "all by herself" before taking off into slip-space. She has more MOS knowledge than any two pilots under her command, and even some of the mechs. There is no political correctness where she's concerned. You're not slow, you're retarded. You're not curvy, you're fat. Crying about it will only make her laugh harder at your tears. She also sincerely means everything that she says, which makes it funnier when people think that she's only joking.
Don’t let the lax, sardonic, and apathetic exterior fool you, however; Yvla is one of the most capable pilots in the UNSC with multiple commendations and even a medal of valor to prove it. While out on a mission she will do whatever it takes to make sure the guys on the ground come back alive, up to and including flying into an area most sane pilots would call "too hot." Its her job as a space taxi driver, after all. That ends the minute the mission is done, though. That said: she will move heaven and earth for the person that manages to earn her respect.
Basically, when you realize that Yvla is little more than a woman that thrives on booze and loose women, and loathes everyone around her, she becomes far more easier to deal with.
Physical Description:
There is a certain something that one sees when looking at Yvla. There is a certain fierceness in her blue eyes despite the apathetic exterior she simply exudes out on all around her, and platinum blonde hair is cut well above her chin to frame her face. Its is often left disheveled, but not out of any attempt to look good. She merely doesn't care. A quick glance will tell the observer that she is of a short height and slight build, but her manner of walk is one that tells of a woman that is no stranger to hand to hand fighting. Indeed; her slender, elegant fingers are covered in callouses and her knuckles are far larger than they should be due to constant conditioning. Her body also has the conditioning of a warrior despite her relatively easy job, and as such her muscles are extremely well defined.
Full sleeve tattoos flow up both of her arms, connecting at the collar and between her shoulder blades with text, and myriads of other pieces of art are inked into her flesh beneath her clothes. One sleeve is drawn in an artistic viking style while the other is merely inked. The text at her collar reads, "du docht nicht," while the one at her back reads, "Transit umbra, lux permanet." Her favorite tattoo, though, is a sloppily drawn smiley face on the inside of her right wrist.
Background Information:
Yvla was born in Oslo, Norway, in the year 2509 to wealthy parents. She had been the second daughter and third child, so one might imagine that her parents had become tired of the tedium that children bring and instead deigned to focus on their work. She was by and large raised by live-in nannies working their way through college until the oldest, her brother, reached an adequate age to take care of the family. Other than that little hiccup her early life and teenage years were incredibly easy and relatively pain free. School was easy, her dad's self defense tutors were tough, but through it all she found a special joy in piloting.
The first time she touched a pilot stick was at the tender age of four when her father allowed her to fly "all by herself" through the vacuum of space just before jumping into slipspace. That moment ignited a passion for aviation that would burn as long as she lived.
The girl all but threw herself into an astrophysical and astroengineering double masters program at MIT in the NAR that was by far the most challenging thing she had ever done. This includes flying blind, at night, through covenant controlled airspace with no hope for assistance. Part of the reason why she chose such a challenging program was her father, but when she graduated college the woman instead decided to do the unthinkable: join the UNSC. The recruiter was ecstatic to have the woman sign with a pilot's contract, but no one but him was happy when she arrived to OCS.
It was physically grueling, and though she supposed it was supposed to be mentally draining she found the constant mind games tedious and predictable before anything else. Exercise, though new to her besides the conditioning her father's trainers put her through, was some of the most fun she'd had in a long time. She's part masochist, yes. The woman didn't particularly excel in the physical aspects of the training, though achieved top of her class by no narrow margin in the academic and weapon training facets. By the time she graduated she was a completely different woman, for the better, and returned home beaming with pride.
Her father may not have been pleased, especially after burning money on her rigorous academic career, but he greeted her with open arms only to let her go once again when her leave had been completed. Flight school was among the easiest things she had done, and though she wanted to be a Longsword pilot the woman found herself behind the stick of a D77 Pelican, and before too long earned the callsign, "Syndrome." It isn't flattering.
A decade of sorties both against the covenant and the rebels have not only earned the woman a fairly large stack of ribbons and medals, but a cadre of dead friends to haunt her. One, a wingman, was even something of a lover for a time only to be shot down over some planet she'd never heard of before a few weeks prior. Her recent reinlistment has since attached her to the UNSC Ship and, by extension, Oscar Company.
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