RED - Gavin Evander MacEacharna, Sniper

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RED - Gavin Evander MacEacharna, Sniper

Postby Gavin Evander MacEacharna » Sat Sep 24, 2011 10:20 pm

Active Threads
There's No Place Like... The Swamp? - Fresh off the boat, Gavin finds a new face. (OPEN)
All Hallows Eve - Intending to attend a Halloween bash, Gavin is lead elsewhere by a flicker of light. (OPEN)

Name: Gavin Evander MacEacharna
Age: 38
Date of Birth: June 11th
Team Favorite Color: RED
Class: Sniper
Gender: Male
Languages: English, German, and Gaelic, though he hasn't spoke the later in some time.
Nationality: Bowmore, Islay
Ethnicity: Scottish

Hair Color: Dark auburn.
Eye Color: Steel gray.
Height: 5' 11”
Weight: 168 lbs

His hair is short, and is a little more than wavy. He keeps his beard and moustache trimmed, though doesn't feel right about shaving it completely. Overall, he's a bit more on the hairier side than most men, though he's by no means a bear.

He has scars here and there, but by far the most notable is the burn scar over his left eye. One of his more recent acquisitions, it has actually seared his eyelid shut, and there is an obvious lack of eyebrow and eyelash. He doesn't bother wearing an eye patch or anything, mainly because it wouldn't cover the entire thing anyway.

And of course there's his right leg, or rather lack thereof. Gone from a couple inches above where his knee would have been, he wears a rather plain prosthetic in terms of quality and craftsmanship, but highly decorated visually, thanks to his daughter. Drawn in faded colors are various things; animals, flowers, hearts, rainbows and much more. Even though he's used to the prosthetic, it's not one built for running and you'll still find him walking with a slight limp.

For clothes, he wears a more day-to-day alteration of the traditional Highland outfit. Wears a plain, white, cotton ghillie shirt with black lacing that he never bothers to tie. Over that he wears a black lowlander vest that, like his shirt, he never bothers to button closed. He wears a red, tartan kilt adorned with a pin of the Celtic cross, in which he keeps his shirt tucked. Around his waist is a thick, dark, leather belt embossed with Celtic design and a similarly designed silver buckle. Also hanging around his waist on a chain is a plain, dark, leather sporran, in which he holds his ammo during battle. As for footwear, he just wears socks and an old pair of boots.

During ceasefire, he tends to discard the vest and the sporran and leave his sleeves rolled down as opposed to rolling them up when working. And he also tends to not wear anything under the kilt when not on duty (though he wears boxer shorts underneath while fighting to prevent any unfortunate mishaps).

You ask anyone what they think of good ol' Gavin and you'll hardly find a bad word in the bunch. He's a very hearty fellow and is quick to befriend folks. He's the type you'd find down at the pub, buying everyone drinks and entertaining the crowd with stories and jokes. Greeting those old and new with a big smile and a pat on the back. Playing darts, throwing out a tune or two, roughhousing with one of his boys, though all in good nature. He'd also be the one keeping the peace; making sure a couple of idiots, drunk or not, don't start a fight. And if you act like a little shite, he'd have no problem beating some sense into you. And then, once you were back in your mind, he'd help you up off the floor and buy you a drink.

Yet he can be as gentle as he can rough, be it with a child, an animal, an instrument, or what have you. He's actually quite observant and knows how to arrange himself to accommodate a person, not only in terms of strength but of rambunctiousness. If he sees you're not too fond of his sometimes overly friendly nature, he'll try to dial that down for you. He's the most happy when the people around him are happy.

He can also be as serious and mature as he can be the opposite. Most notably you would find that his attitude on and off field differ in that manner. He knows how to separate work and play efficiently and doesn't hesitate to do so. You might be someone from the opposite team who he enjoys hanging out with during ceasefire, but when the bell for battle rings, you'd best be aware that you'll receive no special treatment. He won't go easy on you because you're a friend and expects you to do the same with him. For this, some might consider him harsh, but business is business.

Overall, he's a highly versatile man. But what lies underneath? No one knows. As friendly as he is, he's not actually open with much of anyone. He enjoys talking about his travels in life, but when it comes to the deeper, more personal aspects of his life, he tends to change the subject, and very badly at that (“So, what happened to your wife?” “. . . Speakin' a animals, I used tae have a dog, ye know!”).

Gavin grew up like any other child; he went to school, did chores, hung out with his friends, etc. His father taught him from a young age how to handle a rifle and how to play the fiddle, and so much more. Though his father came off as a bit of a hard-ass sometimes, Gavin loved and looked up to him. Helping in the fields, going on hunting trips, even going down to the pub, though he obviously wasn't allowed to drink.

After he graduated school with Highers, he set out to travel the world like he had always wanted. With nothing more than the clothes on his back, a few personal possessions, and a bit of money, he traveled all over for two years. He never stayed in a place for more than a week before moving onto the next, making friends in every place and of every ethnicity. He got by however he could, be it hitchhiking or paying his way by playing his fiddle on the street.

Around the holiday season, he stopped in Germany. Rather than leave after a short visit, he ended up staying through the holidays to enjoy the market and fairs. There, he met a wonderful family who took him in from the cold and made him part of their family for the time being. On Christmas Eve, he even accompanied them to a party and was given wonderful gifts, though he hadn't the money to get them anything in return.

A few days after, waiting at the train station to leave for his next destination, he'd been minding his own business when someone caught his eyes. A petite young woman with blond hair pulled back in a braid and baby blue eyes that had locked with his. He'd smiled, his cheeks red, though he would have blamed the cold. She'd given a flicker of a smile back. He'd been too caught up in his moment of love-at-first-sight to notice the sadness that ebbed off her in waves.

When the train was only a short ways away, she'd tossed herself onto the tracks, much to the shock and horror of the crowd. He'd moved without even thinking, pushing through the crowd and jumping down to the tracks to push her out of the way. He saved her, but stumbled in the process, and was just a tad too slow to move himself out of the way.

He woke up in the hospital a few days later with a bandaged stump where his right leg used to be and a frazzled blond woman screaming at him in words he didn't understand while crying and weakly punching his shoulder. Though his recollection of what had happened was fuzzy, his heart ached for her. He'd pulled her to him and held her close, rubbing her back soothingly and mumbling calming words to her. Though she'd tried to scramble away at first, she ended up crying herself to sleep in his arms in the end.

After spending a few days recovering in the hospital, he ended up going home with her in a wheelchair. She took him in during his rehabilitation and cared for him. Though they couldn't understand each other, they got by with vague gestures. At the very least, they'd managed to learn each other's names. Eva. A name as beautiful as she was. Every day that he spent with her, he found himself falling for her more and more.

After only three or four months, he'd fixed himself with a prosthetic and was fully capable of walking with it. And though he figured it about time to move on and continue traveling, he didn't want to leave her. Going along with the only option he saw the be right, he asked a friend to help him learn two simple phrases; “I love you” and “Will you marry me”.

A month later, though they had no wedding, they were legally married and traveling together. They traveled for another three years. Not only did they visit places he'd already been to, but they saw new ones as well. They helped each other to each learn the other's language and, before long, could both eventually speak fluent English and German. He even brought her home to Scotland to meet his family at one point. They loved each other more than anything.

After their years of travel, they ended up settling down in America in Whitefish, Montana. The got themselves a cozy little cottage on the outskirts of town and started making a life. He took up giving music lessons to children as well as a couple odd jobs while she took up a job as a waitress at a diner. The community and the area itself was great, everyone friendly and the sight of the mountains beautiful. They carved a nice little niche for themselves in no time at all.

Five years later, Lucia was born. Gavin fell in love with her the instant the doctors placed her in his arms. With her short blond tufts of hair and big blue eyes, he knew she was going to grow up to look exactly like her mother. From that moment on he changed. He discovered sides of himself he never knew of, developing a gentleness that rivaled even the most caring of mothers. Wrapped around his daughter's little finger, he spoiled her like the princess she was to him.

But then, five years later, Eva got sick. She started having stomach pains. She would get nosebleeds when she'd never before had a problem with it. Her body started to bruise easier. And her appetite changed, causing her to lose weight. But by far the most obvious change was in her attitude; she started falling into lengths of depression, varying in intensity. Sometimes she could get through her day normally, while on others, she would snap at Gavin when he tried to get her our of bed. He tried to get her to see a doctor but she'd always refuse.

It escalated when, one day, she experienced such strong stomach pains that he had taken her to the hospital himself. The doctors had taken a look at her and wheeled her straight into surgery, leaving Gavin to comfort Lucia in the waiting room.

It was hours before anyone came to tell him what was going on. From what he could gather, Eva's intestines had torn open, and they'd gone in and repaired it the best they could. But that wasn't all she'd require; she had intestinal cancer attributed to a case of Celiac disease that had gone undiagnosed in her for years. The damage to her intestines was too great, and a transplant was needed.

Though it was grim at first, they eventually found a matching donor some time later and had rushed her to surgery. Thankfully, it went without a hitch and, in the recovery time afterward, it hadn't take long for her condition to start improving. But that didn't mean their problems were over. A new problem presented itself; money. The bill for the transplant itself, on top of the one for the days she'd been hospitalized, was far too much for them, and their insurance only covered a fraction of it.

It was then that a shark set it's lifeless black eyes on them, so to speak. They were offered a loan by an obviously seedy loan shark to pay the entire bill. Though they knew at the back of their minds that nothing good would come of it, they couldn't see any other option and had ended up agreeing, believing they could handle things as they came.

How wrong they were; after Gavin took Eva home, things went fine for a while. He picked up extra jobs and increased the price of his music lessons a bit to try to pay it off and, though she'd been a full-time mother when Lucia was born, Eva started trying to pick up jobs, leaving their daughter with a babysitter. It wasn't long before their payments started to become too much for them and it got to the point where it was a likely possibility they would lose their home and possessions.

It was around that time that Gavin found a flier stuck to his car windshield one day. He'd skimmed it over absentmindedly, almost about to throw it away. He didn't really even get what it was for, but then his eyes had landed on the subject line of payment for service. A month later he had joined the RED team and had left his wife and daughter behind while he tried to get them out of their jam.

He hadn't exactly known what he was getting himself into and it took some getting used to when he found out what he'd be doing. Yes, he was skilled with a rifle, but he'd never even entertained the thought of pointing it at another human being. Even more mind boggling where the new technologies he faced, such as the medigun and disguise kit and the respawn system. It took a while for him to get used to things and even longer for him to actually make his first kill.

It was barely six months after he'd joined that he received word of his wife's death. The cause? Not a re-occurrence of the cancer. A car. A driver had skidded upon a patch of ice while she and Lucia had been crossing the street. She'd saved their daughter in exchange for her own life.

The next couple weeks were hell for Gavin. He couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, couldn't fight. He was a mess, even distancing himself from those he'd befriended, turning in on himself. It was during battle one day, distracted as he was, that he ended up paying for it.

Not paying attention to the battle at all and not trying to hide like a sniper should, he'd been spotted by a Pyro a ways off. He received a flare right in the face followed by an axe driving into his skull. It wasn't like he'd particularly cared though, seeing as he would just be picked up by respawn.

But there had been a malfunction with the system. Though he should have come out clean on the other side, when he appeared in the respawn room, he found the left side of his face covered in a big fresh burn scar and his eye completely seared shut. He tried sending himself in a couple more times, purposely killing himself in hopes that respawn would fix it up. It never did.

Not long after, he was transferred, ending up bouncing around different bases with different teams. He tried to get used to only seeing with his remaining eye and to push away the emotional pain that was dragging him down. It was hard, but eventually, he somehow managed to lock up the emotions that were hindering him. Though a good effort, it was already a tad too late for that; he'd been deemed incapable and worthless and, as a result, ended up being transferred to Swamp Rats.

Sexuality: Bisexual, but tends to lean towards women. Not because he prefers them over men, but because he tends to form more brotherly connections with other men, and it's rare for him to break past that to develop something more. Regardless, relationships and sex are the farthest from his mind at this point.

Primary: A Pattern 1914 Enfield (or P14) sniper rifle with a slightly more modern scope attachment.
Secondary: A Scottish targe used in place of a Razorback and a black powder pistol tucked into the back of his belt.
Melee: A sgian dubh in his vest and a dirk strapped to the right of his belt. And of course there's always fists.


First Person Sample:
My sweet angel. My adorable princess. My little baby girl. I couldn't stop watching her, lying there on the floor with her legs swinging back and forth in front of the tv with her coloring books and crayons. My little pirate, a paper hat folded on top of her head, a makeshift eye patch made of paper and a rubber band. I assumed the clothes hanger she was holding was supposed to be her little hook. I could hardly contain myself as I went right over and scooped her up, earning a surprised and delighted squeal and a bunch of little giggles as I proceeded to tickle her little toes.

She giggled, her voice falling like little bells in my ears, and squirmed around to try to get away, begging for mercy. After a few minutes, I finally stopped, watching as she lie motionless, heaving for breath and wiping tears from her reddened cheeks before giving me a pout.

“Daddy. . . you almos' made me have a accident. . .” she said in a very disappointed sounding tone. I just laughed and hugged her close, cuddling up to her with a smile.

“'m sorry, angel. Couldnae help myself. I just love ye so darn much,” I mumbled, giving her a big loud kiss on her cheek, even though I knew she hated it. Just like always, she made a little grunt and wiped her cheek off before squirming out of my lap and going back to her coloring, though I knew she was happy by that little twinkling in her eyes. I watched her for a few moments before crawling right down to the floor with her, the both of us ending up coloring in her books together and watching cartoons.

Third Person Sample:
He should have known better than to try to make some bacon and eggs. He should have known by now from past experiences that the stove was the last thing he should even be allowed near. But his little angel wanted bacon and eggs, and mommy was still asleep. Be damned if he didn't give her what she wanted.

Gavin let out a sigh as he plopped down into a kitchen chair, wiping his brow on the back of his sleeve. He'd cracked a window open to try to get rid of some of the thick black smoke that was busy billowing about the ceiling. His hand throbbed from the fresh burn there and the bump on his head ached from where he slipped in the puddle of water he'd dumped over the flaming frying pan and, accidentally, onto the floor.

He really should have known better.

He glanced up and over to the doorway where his daughter stood with wide eyes, his wife having apparently woken up and joined her, standing there in shocked silence. At first he didn't say anything, ending up scratching his beard in a sheepish way and looking at the mess he'd caused. But as he looked back at them, he gave a somewhat goofy smile and spoke in a lighthearted tone.

“So. . . where do ye want tae go for breakfast?”
Last edited by Gavin Evander MacEacharna on Mon Nov 14, 2011 9:01 pm, edited 4 times in total.
Gavin Evander MacEacharna

Re: RED - Gavin E. MacEacharna - Sniper

Postby Tom Cucinotta » Sun Sep 25, 2011 4:08 pm

Accepted, and Welcome!
Tom Cucinotta

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