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[OOC] I'm under the impression that I should put my bio in here now, considering it's been met with an approval stamp from the group I submitted it to. That in mind, here goes...with a slight edit near the bottom to account for the approval. [/OOC]

Identification Information
-- Family Name: McCallister
-- First Name: Lance
-- Middle Name: Thomas
-- Preferred Nickname: "KnightHawk"

Physical Information
-- Age: ~27 years
-- Height: 6'4"
-- Weight: ~220 lbs.
-- Eyes: Extremely dark blue (Known to turn coal-black during times of extreme anger or depression.)
-- Hair: Gunmetal black, kept in a very neat crew-cut.
-- Build: Slightly muscular; sides appear equally developed, though there is a discernible imbalance in his strength, favoring his right side.

Psychological Information
-- Likes: Efficiency; dedication; a quick, clean op; a weapon that works.
-- Dislikes: Having to wait for backup; any and all kinds of Force-users or politicians; himself.
-- Hobbies: Reading up on battle tactics; beating himself up in pyhsical training; pushing his squadmates to their limits...and beyond.
-- Personality: Under normal circumstances, Lance would be a cheerful giant of a man, towering high with a beaming smile on his face. However, due to circumstances that he has repeatedly blamed himself for, he is a cold shadow of his former self. It's not uncommon to find him leaving the training center only to check into the medical ward with a legion of self-inflicted damage... ...or to bypass it and go straight from the training center to the front lines, still walking off a nasty injury. A majority of the people who try to engage in conversation with him leave the talk frightened or depressed, what with the magnitude of rage and sorrow rolling around in his soul.

Occupational Information
-- Prior Employment: Special Forces Commando
-- Last Held Rank: Captain
-- Employer: Corellian Planetary Military
-- Station: Coronet City Garrison
-- Highest Award Received: Corellian Bloodstripe, second-class
-- Reason for Discharge: Personal reasons
-- Discharge Status: Honorable

Personal Information
-- Home: Coronet City, Corellia
-- Immediate Family: None (See bio.)
-- Medical Condition(s): Barring fanatic and borderline-insane devotion, none.
-- Optical Hardware: Cybernetic visual device designed in form of a human right eye, connected via computer implant.
-- Mechanical Hardware: Cybernetic right arm, full-length (finger-tips to shoulder-joint), designed to resist upwards of three times the strength tolerance of a normal limb. User is advised to implement this design perk with extreme caution, due to the constraints of the remainder of his body. Arm comes with a small cargo compartment that is NOT hardened against scanners. Arm is also connected via computer implant. Currently, the storage chamber contains an old lightsaber, family heirloom.

Current Occupational Information
-- Employer: New Galactic Coalition
-- Branch of Service: Army
-- Department: Special Operations Forces
-- Rank: Major
-- Station: Ilum (Access to this information is restricted.)
-- Command Authority: Voluntarily restructured.

Biographical Information
-- NOTE: The following section will be composed in first-person format. Think of it, if you please, as a selective journal of the character's thoughts and actions.

Journal Entry Period 1: Early Life

There are some who say that it would be a considerable tragedy to forget most of their time in this universe. I, on the other hand, wouldn't know what to tell you if you offered me the chance. I mean, sure, there are some things I'd want to remember, but there are also droves of things I'd rather forget...bury deep inside and never recall again, as long as I live. If only it were so easy to teach a man to forget...

Childhood is largely a blur...which is fortunate enough, I guess, since it means that there's little that could have gone wrong. I can distinctly remember my mother worrying to all Hell that the Empire would whisk me away from her, or kill me, or something of that sort. Typical over-protective mother, stars rest her soul... Needless to say, it didn't happen, much to her relief, and I remained her "little angel" until the end of our time together. That was shortly before I was finished with my education and eligible to serve in the military. I'm guessing that the entire thing was just a massive culture shock to her; the doctor told me she died of cardiac arrest.

I'll always remember that day, no matter how hard I might want to try not to. It was, after all, my 18th birthday, just a week before I graduated. It felt strange looking out into the crowd at the ceremony, knowing she wasn't going to show up, staring out into a chair with only a photograph and a flower for occupants.

Journal Entry Period 2: Military Service

After another year and a half of education, I was an officer in the Corellian Military. Let me be one of the first to tell you, Officer Candidate School was tougher than going through Hell itself, especially under the New Order and the Imperial Diktat. Still, it was a living, and one that I wound up doing well with. Well enough, in fact, that the instructors recommended me for Special Forces detail, and I was accepted after a brief trial run.

The recruitment posters and commercials that had shown the lives of SpecFor personnel hadn't gone to great detail in showing the more unsettling parts of the job, but such was the nature of the public media. Regardless, I served through it, going through each day with what seemed like a purpose from beyond the depths of the realm of damnation. Challenging operations would arise all over the system, and--without hesitating--I'd volunteer for the most challenging ones I could.

That's how I lost my right eye, and my right arm. One of the Diktat's higher appointees had suffered a significant personal calamity with the abduction of his 5-year-old daughter by insurgent forces, and I leapt on the rescue mission like a man possessed. Of course, it helped that I had a soft spot for children... To keep a long story short, I lost three teammates, and almost lost a fourth--myself. The miracle of our exfiltration, however, was that the little girl was unharmed during the entire op.

I honestly can't recall our arriving back at HQ, but I woke up in, of all places, the command center's medical ward, staring up into searing-bright lights. When I went to shield them from the intense glare, I inadvertently used my right arm, and almost shattered my nose from the force of the surprise impact. There are times when I laugh at that, because that's exactly how I met the woman who I fell in love with, and who would later become my wife.

Journal Entry Period 3: Revelations & "Gloria Imperium" No More

I only served on a few more operations after that one. Somehow, being part machine had an effect on how I was treated in an Imperial-organized military, and I wound up seeking my resignation to escape the constant stares and insults. I couldn't understand it for the life of me, really; here I was, some little girl's hero, and I was being ridiculed by almost everyone because I had a few machines hooked to me everywhere I went. Hell, not even a second-class Bloodstripe could shut them up!

A few months at home were just what the chief doctor ordered, and I took his advice--not happily, mind, but I took it all the same. Of course, I never thought I'd find my mother's fear hidden in the house. If I'd known that, I would have taken my few months elsewhere...far away.

It felt like something out of a fantasy world, finding the lightsaber and taking hold of it. In the brief second I first touched it, I finally understood my mother's worry, and why I never saw my father. But the note left near it said it belonged to his mother, not him... Stifling my reactions, I quickly popped open the small cargo box in my arm and jammed the weapon inside, not wanting to dwell on the idea of Jedi blood in the family. One of the most important lessons of the training sessions was to hate the Jedi, something instilled in all who ever uttered the words "Gloria Imperium" and swore fealty to the Empire. Corellia, my home and the land I had served, was such a world.

Then, a few weeks later, it happened. I'd never thought I'd leave home, but when the line was crossed, there was no turning back. My wife, Kathryn, had moved on after my leaving the Corellian military, and enlisted with something called the New Galactic Coalition. Personally, I hadn't, simply because I was still--mind, body, and soul--loyal to the Empire and to my home. For that, I feel guilty, because I wasn't there when she died...at Imperial hands.

Each and every day since, I have been punishing myself for this travesty I committed. Through my inaction, I let her and our unborn daughter die a cold, heartless death...I will never forgive myself. I merely pray that the stars will give me the mercy I cannot find for myself.

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