Name:Vicomte Pierre Vincent Dupetit-Thouars de Plateau des Coucous Place of Birth:Plateau des Coucous, Planet Orleans Date of Birth:31st of March 683 AGS
Plateau des Coucous, where Pierre was born, used to be a relatively flat, slightly raised piece of land the size of a small city, covered with wilderness, and had rather steep slopes. Safe from most predators, those used to be filled with the nests of birds that made sounds similar to cuckoos, hence it was named so by the first settlers. The plateau was later cultivated and the birds either died out or migrated elsewhere, but the name stayed.
Pierre's father, Philippe Vincent Dupetit-Thouars, allegedly a descendant of Aristide Aubert du Petit Thouars, was the Viscount of the Plateau, where he ran an array of vineyards and a bottling facility. His wine was very reputable and well sold in the region.
Pierre was only the youngest of his three sons, hence it was never planned for him to inherit any significant part of the property. Instead, he was prepared to become a naval officer from early on, as the Viscounty's contribution to the King's forces, and then enrolled into a military academy, from which he graduated with relatively good grades. Due to his planned destiny, he was very fond of adventure, glory and honour, different from his elder brothers, who were raised to be better at management and scheming. Free from his father's dynastic plans, he married the woman he wanted, and married before his elder brothers, whose suitable spouses were still being looked for.
His father's plans were, however, not stronger than destiny. A few days after having an argument about profligacy with his eldest son, on the day he planned to edit his will, Philippe, who was by then 62, had what seemed to be an unplanned meeting with someone, after which he was found dead and completely nude, with a whole empty pack of blue pills beside him. The someone was never identified. The eldest son was found to have a strong motive, but after a couple of months of court disputes, he was acquitted due to a lack of evidence. He inherited most of the property, with the bottling factory going to his younger brother and a summerhouse to Pierre. However, a few months later, he was found dead in his house with six gunshot wounds, and his mother laying beside him, who appeared to have committed suicide. Only her fingerprints were on the gun. Thus, practically the whole property fell into the hands of the middle brother. But, while he was returning from court with all the ownership documents properly signed, he was struck by lightning and died momentarily.
Losing his whole family in the span of a few months was a shock to Pierre, and he did not welcome suddenly having to manage a property instead of expanding the frontiers at the head of a fleet. In the first couple of years he nearly bankrupted, but a deal with the Unione Corse saved him for a while, although he had to secretly store Nox in some of his wine cellars in exchange. Eventually experience taught Pierre the art of management, but he did not cancel his deal with the Unione, as he had made it more for the thrill than for the need to keep the property, which he gradually grew fond of, in the first place. By then, the only problem was who would inherit it. Pierre, namely, only had daughters so far, and three of them. Despite his attempts, his wife seemed to not be able to get pregnant after her last childbirth, save one phantom pregnancy, which left him even more desperate. One day, however, his wife, who was 38 at the time, did get pregnant, and with a son. But her age, combined with three prior childbirths, affected this, and something went wrong. The baby almost suffocated before being saved by a Caesarean section, although a bit too early. Pierre's wife woke up after the procedure, feeling normally, and saw her son alive in an incubator, but her incision later got infected. Due to well-paid care, she survived, but was not able to have children any more.
Hercule, as her son was named for his heroic struggle to survive, was raised with utmost care and great love. Not from Pierre, however. Although Pierre was rejoiced immensely when he got a son and even celebrated it with fireworks, he did not seem interested in taking care of him, same as he did not take care of his sisters. Child raising was not his area, and he preferred to go hunting instead. Hercule, who was spoiled by all the care by the female family members, relative isolation from the outside world, partially due to his allergies, and isolation from other boys and men, often found himself scolded when Pierre returned from hunting to catch him doing nothing or enjoying himself. Hercule thus grew weary of Pierre and Pierre was disappointed with Hercule. The Gallic Invasion of Sirius offered an opportunity for that to change.
Pierre felt relieved when he was called for duty. He was appointed to command the Tonnant, a Valor-class battleship named after the French ship-of-the-line his alleged ancestor commanded. Pierre went, or rather, rushed to the battlefield with deep joy, leaving the property under his wife. Hercule was to come with him and become a man, serving the Navy, or he would be erased from Pierre's will and the property would be divided between his sisters. He reluctantly obeyed and was given a fighter and a bomber from the Tonnant's fleet.
Although Hercule still has to prove himself, Pierre has cost the King's enemies dearly so far, with burning wreckages behind the Tonnant's trace. Drunk with glory, he organized a small volunteer fleet around his ship in 738 AGS, called Les Bohemes. Still, nevertheless, not fond of management, he let it fall apart, with some of its members advancing to the First Fleet, and others getting killed or missing in action. By the time when the Tonnant was the only remaining ship in the fleet, the fleet was discontinued and the Tonnant returned to her prior duty in the Reserve Fleet. Recently, however, he was given an opportunity to take a place in the first line of the front, an opportunity for glory, by joining the fleet of the Avant-Garde. He now storms his ship ahead, lusting for seemingly impossible odds, where his name could be perpetuated in marble.
His property is meanwhile stagnating. But he does not care enough about that. The only living thing he currently cares for is his cat, which he keeps in his quarters and feeds every time it gives him a hungry look, due to which it is rather overweight. That has so far worked in both his and the cat's favour, though, as it has become a mascot of the ship and always cheers the crew up every time it shows its unawareness of how clumsy its figure is. Pierre is even more unaware how similar to the cat's his has become due to the numerous victory banquets, and what a laughing stock he would be if he did not have his ship.
Name:Joanne "Guillotine" de Fierbois Place of Birth:Montmartre Date of Birth:February 29th, year 799.
I had a nice childhood up there, at Heliopolis class colony base of Montmartre. We were rather rich and enjoyed in colony's top security level, like any other person loyal to Le King. My parents were pushing me to play with other rich children, which I can thank to for my current noble attitude. Mon papa was a personal physician to someone very close to Le King. We had one of finest private school up there. So, why not... I became a doctor too. Like I had a choice... There was lot of hospitals and doctors down there at New Paris, but best service was provided from above. Montmartre doctors just drop by and can't get stucked in traffic. My life was good, as many of my friends noticed.
Did I like it? I can't remember... I just recall boring white walls everywhere, pressing my eyes, my minds, my breath and my soul. I just wanted to swim and dive in warm oceans at New Paris. Waters there were rich of beautiful life forms many people never ever saw, or even dream about. But I was dreaming about it. Every night.
So... I was doing one thing and was thinking about another - all the time. A recipe for disaster. Soon everybody noticed my patients were getting worse fast, even from minor diseases and light wounds. Some even died. So, Montmartre Gouverner strongly suggested me to switch to another job where I could be of much more use. He even had something special on his mind. Training was short and thanks to my medical knowledge, I graduated with best grades ever. I became a hangman. Or a hangwoman, to be more precise. Soon my skills of taking life were known to Le King. Most of my "clients" were political prisoners.
I was cutting heads for years and I was happy with my job. Many enemies of Le King were dying before they even reach the Court, not to mention coming under my blade. I had a lot of spare time, so I was spending it on exotic places. I was diving up and down all the warm oceans of New Paris. But... at some point, my "customers" started to haunt me in my dreams. I've cut heads of many terrible people, all kinds of them. Some were innocent, but it was not my job to judge. My job was to remove their heads with low or no pain - if possible, oui? Anyway... *sigh* My nights turned to nightmare shows. So I've found my salvation in a glass of vine. Then I needed a whole bottle. Then two... I lost my diving licences and I moved North and wine was warming me up at -60°C. I was well known in all polar tavernes and there I've got my nickname: Guillotine.
I was in debts pretty soon, so I was using my father's credit link a lot. Like it wasn't bad enough, he tricked me to meet one rich businessman. He somehow started to cover my wine expenses and next thing I remember was we got married and lived together. Mon Dieu! I got sick of him and his bad breath very fast, so... ehm... I killed him in his sleep. Poor ignorant fool... He didn't even notice he's dead, thanks to my gift. I was in run for few days, but mon papa turned me to Royal police. So, I had 2 choices: navy or jail.
I joined Bohemes at that point. They managed to solve my thirst for wine - by providing enough of it all the time. Unfortunately, their cuisine is awful, as my friend Cavaillon was punished by permanent cooking duty. Now, he's retired and I need new friends. All Bohemes are dead, or retired, or missing in action. So I was le last one anyway. I just joined La Nouvelle Avant-Garde, may God save their wine cellar.
Name:Francois Jean Rolland Place of Birth:Port Béziers, Planet Quillan, Languedoc System Date of Birth:October 23, 795 A.S.
Francois Jean Rolland was born to middle class parents in Port Béziers on Planet Quillan, Languedoc, on October 23rd, 795 A.S. Rolland's father, whose name is unknown, was a pilot in the Gallic Royal Navy, and his mother left him after his birth. He was an only child, and his family lived in a decently sized home. When he was 5, in 800 A.S, he started his primary schooling at Port Béziers Primary. He wasn't all that academic, and so his first few years he got terrible marks. But, in his third year, he realized something. He realized that he loved power. The thought of having it, how it felt. He joined a friend group which consisted of the school's bullies, and they went around asserting their power over other students. But he didn't want teachers to notice his misconduct. So he realized he had to do well in school. He got his grades up, which kept him under the radar from his teachers. Later in his 6th year, he had raised himself up the food chain in his school to becoming one of the most popular kids in the school. in 808 A.S, he graduated Port Béziers Primary with excellent marks and proceeded to move onto his Secondary Schooling.
School was easy for him; he was popular, got good grades, and slid right through his four years in Secondary. The name of his secondary is unknown. When he graduated, he did not go into University, due to not being able to decide what he wanted to do with his life. But when he turned 19, in 814 A.S, war became full blown in Languedoc. His father was flying as a snub pilot in the GRN and had been trying to repel the repeated Council attacks on the station. Then, Nimes was taken. At that point, Francois knew that he had to do something. He enlisted in the GRN at 19 years old. At first, his primary motivation was to help defend his country, but then another motivation slowly formed. The whole power bid was beginning to take form. He wanted to get high in the ranks of the GRN. He finally got his chance in 815, when Council forces landed on his home planet of Quillan. He was deployed on the planet to help fight the Council there.
He fought in the army on the planet in about 10 different battles. Each one was more bloody than the next, and each one made him more hardened. He didn't have any friends in the army on the ground, because he thought of them as a hindrance towards his power bid. He ranked up by 816 A.S to Lieutenant, and began to lead small squads of men around. But in December of that year, the Council and the GRN fought in a city. His squad was tasked with getting intelligence on Council positions in the city. But they were spotted by a small squad of Council soldiers, and they fought in a nearby forest. All of Francois' men died and he was the only one left, and he had to kill 7 Council men, all bigger than he was. Against all odds, he killed all of them, and the way he did this is unknown to this day. After they were dead, he mutilated each one of them as revenge for what they did to his squad mates. After this, he was transferred to space, where he learned how to fly a snub fighter and fight in space. Not long after he was transferred, the Council finally took Quillan, his home planet, and he was furious. His father was reported M.I.A during the final engagement over the planet. He and his squad were forced to retreat after the ground force surrendered. The Council had essentially taken his home system at this point.
Francois was furious at the whole situation, but was not intent on revenge. Instead, he was intent on climbing the ranks of the GRN. From there, he could command soldiers to do his bidding of getting revenge on the Council. But he failed to climb higher in the GRN ranks, since his officers suspected what he was up to. He then chose to leave the GRN and went to a military academy on Planet Ile-de-France in 818 A.S. He stayed in the school until 822, where he graduated at the age of 27. He went on to teach himself how to command a Valor Class battleship, and was determined to fly one for Gallia. But he broke his ties with the GRN, and did not want to nor could be go back. His dreams of getting more power were realized in 825, when he joined with La Nouvelle Avant-Garde, an extension of the Gallic Government. He bought himself a Valor, hired a crew, and began to fly for the AG. He is currently a Général in their fleet and flies for them and the Crown. He has been in a couple battles and most of which he and his force were victorious.
His personality is one of a cold and calculating person. He is cunning and a great liar, and has goals that nobody around him could ever believe. His goals are to become a very high ranking official in the AG or even in the government of the Crown. He acts very arrogant, which is his weakness. The photo of him above is telling of his arrogance, because it makes him out to look like a rich and proper snob. The few times he has failed in a mission were due to this factor of arrogance. He believes he is better than everyone, and in every situation he will win. But that isn't always the case. He acts very prim and proper to his fellow officers and AG personnel, and nobody suspects foul play from him. He is not rich, though he wants people to think he is. He tries to speak in a rich dialect of French, and when speaking English he speaks with a thick accent. He is about 1.83 meters tall (6'1" feet), and he dresses finely, which costs him of most of his credits. He is not a very great snub pilot and usually flies his valor.
Name:Sir Frank Beauregard de Villiers d'Orléans, Libérateur de Quillan et le Capitaine de Sa Majesté le Roi. Place of Birth:Troyes, Plateau de Blois, Planet Orleans, Orleanais System Date of Birth:July 17th, 703 A.G.S.
Born, raised and trained on the temperate home of his family, Frank de Villiers began his life as the son of any prominent noble. Living with his two sisters, Annebelle and Rachelle, his noble father and mother, and his loyal servant and friend Jacque Allard, Frank quickly learned at a young age that his father's role in the Royal Navy would be his own in due time. Because of this, he was pampered, conditioned into a full descendant of his father, put through Naval school and trained to be a tactical workhorse.
By the time of his eventual enlistment, Frank had become a near mental duplicate of his father, surpassing the elder by nearly three years of conceptual tacticianship. Because of this, it didn't take Frank long to rise through the ranks, ascending like a winged angel to the command of his father's old ship, a 'Valor'-class battleship christened the 'Revelation'. The ship didn't make the man, but vise versa proved otherwise, wherein the Revelation, helmed and operated by some of his father's finest men, stood off against the head of the enemy Council force in Languedoc, which was only a fraction of the main force that slipped away. Regardless, the Revelation stood fast, de Villiers putting the remaining forces to the sword in what would be the most single-sided engagement of the ship's career.
Named the 'Liberator of Quillan' by his fellow crewmates, for leading the attack in knowledgement of his possibility of brutal failure, Frank was bestowed the privileged name of 'Sir', a title only kept by those knighted under the King's trusted banner. Following that, the Revelation and her battlegroup continued to pursue the Council, de Villiers fueled by a desire to serve the crown in any way possible, which to him meant following and engaging the Council wherever possible. This lead him to the newly formed La Nouvelle Avant-Garde, where he and his ship were inducted fully, the title of General being bestowed to him.
Frank de Villiers is typically known by his peers, men and comrades as a two sided coin, often conversing lines of honorable talk with the enemy before pouncing like a leopard. More often than not, however, he will usually default to his noble heritage, and speak to the enemy as if they were equals. Casual, if unorthodox, requests to stand down, promises of well kept imprisonment, and even the request at one point to try and win an enemy pilot's heart, de Villiers is an unusual specimen indeed.