Merrick, Rosalind.

[Deleted]

Rosalind Merrick




the fire is wild
my rage is deep
one black eye
busted teeth

Full Name - Rosalind Merrick.
Nicknames/Alias - Ros, Merrick.
Age - 34.
Date of Birth - 9th June.
Gender - Female.
Sexual Orientation - Heterosexual.
Affiliation - Neutral. Core-born.
Occupation - Combat Medic, crewman, all around dogsbody.

Play-By - Claudia Black.
Build - Tall, lean, physically fit.
Height & Weight - 5'9" & 130lbs
Hair - Black, past shoulders, straight-ish.
Eyes - Blue-Grey.
Unique Features -
--Tattoo situated on the inside of her left forearm.
--A short, sharply curved nick of a scar just at the top of her backside, to the right.
--Slight crook to her nose, healed from being broken.
Dressing Style -
--A variety of leather, mostly softened and worn-in. Well-loved jackets and pants. Jeans, shirts. Colours are usually dark and dulled. Parts of her clothing are reinforced and lined, although you put a bullet in it, it's probably going to punch through. For all the world she probably looks like a Bounty Hunter herself.
--General Idea
--Jacket Love
Other -
--Type 14 Nambu Pistol
--Stabby
--More Stabby

Likes -
--Crewmen that don't get themselves shot up.
--Enjoying some peace and quiet in her down-time.
--Work-outs. Staying active and burning energy.
--Reading old books.
--Big, bright-lights cities.
Dislikes -
--Being called out on mistakes.
--Being falsely accused.
--Talking to, or about family.
--Being cooped up for too long.
--Poor compromises.
Quirks/Habits -
--Strongly prefers being called Ros over Rosalind.
--Terrible "bedside manner".
Fears -
--Shuffling off this mortal coil earlier than planned, and what she may find out about her father.
Secrets -
--Once tried to take a job offered to her mother. Failed miserably and had to be bailed out by her. Might have a scar just above her backside from it.
Strengths -
--Rather quick to learn. Very visual/practical learner.
--Actually rather subtly generous, but fair with it. Nobody learns a thing getting everything handed to them.
--Her ability to stay focused during a crisis.
Weaknesses -
--Easily provoked, or annoyed.
--Quick to judge.
--Not the best aim in the 'Verse.
Talents/Special Abilities -
--She patches up folks pretty good.
--A decent brawler, mostly learned by her mother for defensive purposes, but times change, right? Basic combat training is added onto this.
--Handy with a needle and thread.
Aspirations -
--To find out what happened to her father.
--Not end up like either of her parents.
Overall Personality -
At first, Ros seems to be this dark and mysterious type. Not too chatty with strangers. Little brooding from time to time, but she is no tragic soul. There is a strong sense of self-reliance about her. She isn't one to ask for help or bother people with any problems of her own. She's not a huge fan of people she's unfamiliar with asking too many questions, however can be quite brutally honest when she feels like it. She was raised by Bounty Hunters, so that attitude of being rather used to all the terrible things in the 'Verse has dulled her to the shock of it. Although, surprisingly, not much of a hunter herself. She never killed or kidnapped people for money and was thwarted before she even tried to start. Not exactly a 'killer', but not about to grieve over anyone she tries to shoot. Her temper can get the better of her, dashing the visage of her cool and collected self. If you know how to push all her buttons it's pretty easy to tick her off. Depending on the length of interaction, and possible acquaintance, Ros can somewhat warm to folks, though no doubt would find more friendship in back and forth insults.

Father - Samuel Merrick, Sixties, Former Bounty Hunter, whereabouts unknown, status unknown.
Mother - Neena Starling, Late Fourties ( at death ), Former Bounty Hunter, deceased.
Siblings - None.
Other Significant People -
--Thomas "Tommy" Forsythe ; An old contact of Samuel's that has been trying to help Ros track him down. Or at least find out something.
Pets - Hector, H, cat, Maine Coon, deceased.
Your History -

Some are born in the Core, in the lap of luxury with all the prospects and schooling of a 'good' life. At least an easier life, anyway. Some are born out on the raggedy edge either to a cleaner, healthier life on some farmstead, or in the gritty, crime-riddled cities. Rosalind Merrick was born aboard a ship, the Caliburn in transit to some place 'nice' within the Core worlds. A week early by estimation. Her parents? A pair of Bounty Hunters by the names of Merrick and Starling. Former rivals, turned partners, turned lovers. That is a whole other story in itself, however. The arrival of little Rosalind was enough to spark an end to an era for the pair. They knew this meant they had to give up their work. At first, Samuel hadn't rightly stopped. He had figured it was okay to carry on, but Neena had reminded him sorely, and with fists, what was more important now.

You would think the Core would be a nice and safe environment to raise a child. Ros grew up seeing it's darker corners. The black-out zones, the seedy underbelly. Crime was just as rampant here as it was on some place like Persephone. The only difference is that it was so covered up and swept under the rug you couldn't see it. Schooling happened, but moving about so much meant Ros barely made any friends. Not around long enough to get settled. Neena knew full well they had to think of Ros first. They couldn't keep dragging her around like this. Especially since she found Samuel still disappearing to do jobs on the side. At 'home', though? He was one hell of a father. A terrible man with a heart of gold, apparently. He loved his little girl, but at the same time he was going to either get himself or all of them killed. Neena tried to talk to him, but it never went through his thick skull. She did, however, manage to convince him to settle on a planet somewhere. Beaumonde was just as good a place as any. Some old, trusted contacts still lurked in the corners. Though, you could never be too sure that was a good thing. Rosalind was around fourteen at this point, finally having some solid ground beneath her. Ship-life was fun and all-- and the Caliburn the only home she'd ever know-- but the kid needed space.

And then the fun starts. Or problems. Well, one big problem. With his refusal to stop taking hits, Samuel was greeted with the appearance of enemies. Someone somewhere was looking for revenge. Payback for someone he was no doubt hired to kill. Probably a bad person to begin with, well, that didn't really stop angry, equally bad family members from barrelling down your door looking to settle the score. If Neena knew the full reason why Samuel had to leave? She never told Ros. The sixteen-year-old just knew her father was gone. Was he coming back? Neena really didn't know that one.

So, of course, with Samuel gone, Rosalind had to fly off the handle, right? A sense of feeling lost and confused had pushed the girl to her limit the day a contact left a job for Neena Starling to take. Of course, Ros overhearing and subsequently jacking the job her mother had refused, hadn't been the plan. She hadn't realised just how sneaky and underhanded her daughter was starting to get. But not enough to cover her tracks. Ros had botched the job so badly, and almost lost her life for it. A teenager wearing her mother's coat and toting around some of her toys was a pretty laughable sight, much to the kid's fury. In the end, Neena had intervened-- she'd had to-- and the job had been done rather quickly. Rosalind? Rosalind didn't get off so lightly. Stern talks were had, and Ros was certain she'd never do anything stupid again. So Neena decided to push her in an opposite route. Instead of taking lives, she was going to try and help them. The local clinic wasn't the most healthy place. Not the prettiest. No Core hospital, but it would do. Training and a lot of minor duties slowly developed some affinity for medicine, if only first-response. But it was good work.

The war had been going on for a while, now. Naturally, it was something that took up a lot of attention. The Alliance against the Browncoats would be a fight to last the ages, even long after one side wins. And, well, Ros hadn't done anything stupid for a few years, so why not, right? The Independents were the more likely to take anyone looking to volunteer, and despite the bleak prospect of going against the Alliance, it was her only chance. Unorthodox medical training was overlooked and passable. They needed more medics-- more people able to at least stabilise wounded, help get them out. She received some basic training, something to add to the lessons her mother taught her-- all in self-defence, mind you. As it turns out? Ros is pretty decent at helping to save lives. Her ability to patch folks up is not pretty, however, not like some Core-trained physician. A combat medic, not necessarily a great shot, but good for cover-fire.

Her career as a Browncoat was cut off abruptly with the capture of her platoon. An Alliance POW camp was probably the last place anyone would want to end up. Ros spent the rest of the war easing the pain of any injured prisoners. Not a time she likes to remember. It wasn't too long before the war ended, and with the defeat of the Browncoats, the prisoners were eventually released. Ros had never been one for the cause when she started, but it was hard not to care about the people around you, you know? Comrades were born, and some friendships may have forged. Ros was never one to easily make friends, and was never much for compassion, even in her line of work. Folks always thought this a good thing to rib her for, and usually that was a bad idea.

Homeward bound, Ros went back to Beaumonde to find her father still hadn't returned-- and no one had seen or heard of him since he left. Feeling disappointed and forgotten about had gotten old for Merrick a while back, and she aimed to just carry on with her life. Though it nagged at her, and she still refused to stop looking into his whereabouts. One day, Ros would find him, and make him answer for whatever he might have done, aside from abandoning her. What made returning home worse than the POW camp? After settling back into her old work, Ros took the worst day to try and visit her mother. Neena had remained on Beaumonde, in her own little corner of the bad side of a city. There was a gang fight. And she was caught in the crossfire. A terrible way to go for a seasoned Hunter, right? Rosalind never made it to her in time. Simple as that. They'd always had a strained relationship, but Ros had always seen her mother as invincible. Unstoppable. A force to be reckoned with. Childish, she knew, but with that image shattered... Ros returned to her work. Something to keep her focused and wrapped up in. Well, that and her side-project of tracking a man probably long dead.

What should we call you? - Edi.
Roleplaying Experience - 9+ years.
Where did you find us? - Through the 'Verse.
Prove Yourself - Everythin's shiny, Cap'n, nothin' ta fret.
Post Script - Rawr.
Other characters - Edith Hunter, Sam Grady & Aeryn Bastille.
How we should contact you - PM.
Roleplay Example -

The 'Verse is very rarely kind enough for a good second chance. Maybe terrible ones abound, but there is never a good compromise to doing something utterly stupid in the name of... what had she been doing this in the name of? Following footsteps? At the time she had been cock-sure, confident. The leverage of her mother's 'good' name supposedly sparked an interest. Neena had already refused the offer-- she wasn't in the business anymore. Without her partner? It just almost wasn't the same. Rosalind herself had nothing to prove, yet felt like it would mean everything for her to do this. There was no true path for her to walk down and she was lost. At a blurry crossroads leading to either what her mother already told her adamantly not to get involved with, and whatever else the 'Verse had to offer. Whatever else the 'Verse would do to her. If she happened to survive this.

Somehow? Getting in hadn't been too difficult. Ros was a bit of a lanky, slip of a girl, dark clothing and dark looks aiding in the miracle of her not getting caught. Up until this point. As ungraceful as ever, she had fallen through a window. Not too high up, but the landing hadn't been soft and there she was dazed and on her pigu with a small circle of gun muzzles situated around her.

The hideout was seedy, it was dark and dank and probably far too cliché for the man she was sent to capture. A supposedly bad man. Small-time criminal, but with some firepower to make up for his lack of reputation. Though, apparently he'd caught someone's eye if kidnapping or killing him was the best option.

"Stand up." Orders, and Rosalind already ached all over. It took some effort, but she slowly stood upright.

The guards just stared at her. Young. Nineteen at the most. All dressed up in dark leathers and sweeping long coat. Strapped up with a pistol and some other accessories. The coat was a little too big for her. Someone was stifling a laugh and blue eyes glared daggers at him. But now she was here? Rosalind couldn't rightly deny how ridiculous she appeared. A kid wearing her mother's jacket, toting around her mother's name. Ruining it.

"You two, take 'er to the boss."

Nods and affirmations were given, the butt of a gun forcing into her lower back to shove her forwards, gruff words telling her to move it, kid. And if that just didn't make her even more furious. With herself, and with this situation. A move had been made to turn, to try and knock the gun up into his own face, and hopefully wrestle it free. It didn't work so well. She ended up in a brief struggle, a sound whack that sent her hunched over on the ground, then found the barrel of his comrade's gun pressed to her temple as her head rose up. She had defiance and fury in her eyes, but it just amused them even more. Futile, she fumed in silence, raised herself, her hands and kept walking.

The office was just as dirty as the rest of this little establishment. The mockery of a crime boss's inner sanctum and more the picture of dirty little start-up operation. Guns, papers and even money strewn about on various surfaces. A man in a frayed and dirty suit sitting behind what was possibly a desk. Ros was shoved into the middle of the room.

"Well, aren't you just adorable?"

Still nothing said from her lips.

"Tell me, little starling, what made you fly into my window?"

Her jaw set, her eyes narrowed, and she tried to keep her heart from hammering inside her chest. It wasn't easy. It also wasn't easy to not flinch at the sound of gunshots. One, two. Clean, clear and the two men either side of her were dropped like a sack of refuse each. Ros had peered down, expected to see blood starting to soak the front of her shirt, and frowned in confusion. A glance either side at those sound thuds of people dying. Her eyes widened just a touch.

"Just a mistake. A stupid mistake."

That was enough to cause Ros's shoulders to hunch, and her eyes to screw shut for but a moment. Every word punctured through her confidence and self-worth. But the mark in this little job? He looked a mite more worried than Ros. He had been scrambling around at his desk, looking for a gun that was actually loaded, money and documents hitting the floor. Neena Starling just walked up into the room-- minus her jacket-- just as calm as you please. Like she'd walked in through the front door without a single problem. Ros avoided eye contact, but Neena was looking only upon her daughter. The mark? Almost forgotten.

"I clearly don't need to ask what the good gorram you're doing here, but I'm thinkin' my first question is what the ta ma de is wrong with you?"

Finally, Mr Unclean Suit had found himself a proper weapon, but as he moved to raise it, and maybe just fire upon either one of them, Starling's gun came back up in one smooth motion, an afterthought. Her gaze not really leaving Ros as she shot him, cleanly, in the chest. He fell back into his chair, gasping. Neena turned her gaze upon him rather briefly and dismissively with a frown.

"Rosalind. Look at me."

It took a lot to raise her head. It took even more to meet the angered, stern glare of her mother. She held her head high, and set her shoulders straight.

"Never. Again. Dong le ma?"

A nod, a promise. Neena Starling turned to the side, walked towards the door, inclined her head in that direction and didn't stop to wait.

"Let's go home, kid."

SYR INTEGRA of CAUTION 2.0 created this and she will happily hunt you down, rip out your spinal cord, and beat you to death with it if you steal her hard work and claim it as your own. especially since she will gladly share it with any and all who wish to use it, provided they leave her nice, little credit attached.

[/color]

[Deleted]

App is finished, but I'm sure there's something that probably needs changing/elaborating/making sense.

[Vex]

This app...



...is a fertile app. You are...