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Post by captainbritton02 on Aug 18, 2019 20:30:34 GMT -5
ANSEL FROST (The Mad Looney)
Aliases: Agent of Chronophobia
Affiliation: Independent Patrolman, Chronophobia-159 of HERN
Species: Human (Male)
Birthplace: Chronophobia-159, Big Toe, Talto
Birthdate: January 26th, 1270 OSC
Height: 5’9” (1.75m)
Weight: 140 - 150lb (64 - 68kg)
SUMMARY
Ansel Frost is a Looney of Big Toe, a survivor of Talto’s horrors and one who even moved on from the meat wastes. Though seemingly a little off in the head, he’s a lot more open minded than a Looney has any right to be, not actually shooting on sight everything that can’t be explained, more on the principle that it may benefit him rather than his own willingness to give others the benefit of the doubt.
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Post by captainbritton02 on Aug 18, 2019 20:31:15 GMT -5
APPEARANCE
Ansel is a Human Looney of medium stature and a strong but gangly build which is almost always completely hidden by armor. His hair is raven with a slight bit of greying around the roots, and a scraggly, rapidly greying full beard coats his chin and neck. His irises are a pale shade of green, his face gaunt and marred by rough skin and the occasional scar of unknown origin. His skin is pale white from an absence of exposure, although he is not the characteristic deathly pale or artificially tanned of any old Looney.
Most of the time he spends in the wilds of Set is within the confines of his aging set of IM125 ‘Bullman’ armor. Issued to him long ago for tasks now forgotten, it is a testament to its survivability in that it’s definitely seen better days. Bullet holes filled with structural welds and filler materials, rips in the jumpsuit which have been sewn back together at many points with varying craftsmanship and quality. The helmet is mostly intact, and that’s really what matters to Ansel, as he relies heavily on its still somehow functioning electronics suite to navigate and survive the worst Set can throw at him. The paint and identification markings on the plating has worn away, his IFF is outdated, and he keeps a short shawl of cloth around the shoulder plates, with a hood which is optional for him to wear. All of the previous make him look no better than some Wanderer who threw on an old battle damaged suit.
He wields an IM28R rail rifle as his primary defense in the wilds of Set. A piece almost as old as him, it has served him well since his induction into the Rifle Corps of his home, and remains in reasonably good condition, working primarily off of scavenged parts and handloaded ammunition. He generally reserves his rail rifle for dire situations, conserving his especially limited supply of coolant and striving to otherwise direct as much attention away from himself as possible, even though he IS wearing a set of Bullman.
Carried in an outward capacity is a beat-up unremarkable instance of the Falcon battle rifle, generally found hanging by a sling at his side and mounted with a crude non-electronic optic. His sidearm of choice is a Looney electrolaser pistol which he scarce defaults to use as anything other than a tool and holdout weapon. If it leaves its holster, it means shit has gone seriously wrong. A crossed set of weaponry rests in sheathes on his back: a pickaxe of unmistakable Looney origins sits in one, where the machete of a meatscape-bound Looney Rifleman rests in the other.
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Post by captainbritton02 on Aug 18, 2019 20:34:58 GMT -5
GOALS
- Stay alive by any means possible.
- Ensure the survival of HERN. As long as Big Toe stands, so does the chance that the Cult of Meat can be held back, even possibly destroyed.
- Discover the secrets of the Pioneer Network. In his efforts as an independent agent of Chronophobia-159 and HERN, Ansel has made a point of delving into artefacts of the past for the solution to the endless tide of the Cult, seeing as the “steady march of progress” the Space Loonies touted wasn’t doing so well. This culminates in discovering ruins of the Pioneer Network, and hopefully even the Madness Command Outpost should it still exist.
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Post by captainbritton02 on Aug 18, 2019 20:37:00 GMT -5
RELATIONSHIPS- Ansel often sparks mixed reactions from other Looneys. Some welcome such a dedicated member of their cause, others despise him as a product of unregulated exposure to Set, a half-mad vessel of what Looneys are not supposed to be.
- Space Loonies have heard the tales of an unhinged man with too much hardware for a Wanderer asking too many questions in all the right places. Though he has done nothing to warrant a kill-on-sight order or dispatching of Marines, he is not held in very high regard by his orbital brethren, and is denounced as an aging idealist.
- The Cult of Meat despises Ansel almost as much as he despises them. The tales of a man who walked the Talto alone and dared to live were enough. They want the Mad Looney dead.
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Post by captainbritton02 on Aug 18, 2019 20:37:35 GMT -5
HISTORY
Ansel Conrad Frost was born in the bunker Chronophobia-159 of the Hallenbeck Emergency Response Network. Like his father before him, before he was even born he wore the patch of the miner. Destined to walk the caves of the Big Toe, he was a proficient student of geology and structural analysis before the age of twelve, and was a hauler for the mining teams by the age of sixteen. Dangerous as the job was, the claustrophobic conditions and damp darkness couldn’t have made him happier. Each excursion further down was a new adventure for him.
Happiness does not last long on Set. If one thing has been constant since the first feet touched the infernal ground, it has been misery. Ansel, a proficient miner at nineteen, was chosen for a once in a lifetime assignment. While miners were not always given the non-combatant benefit, it was at least somewhat implied in their role. Aside from the cave monsters or the occasional meat monster who squeezed in, it was a far cry from taking the fight outside the bunker. As a leading mind in the bunker of structural analysis and engineering concepts, he was picked for the assault on Fortress Gehenna. Perhaps one of the most formidable Meat fortresses of the era, it was deep within the Talto and posed a direct threat to Chronophobia-159 and HERN as a whole.
Along with many other miners and the occasional engineer, Ansel was to insert under the protection of the elite Riflemen and place a number of charges on structural weak points of the fortress, exposing it to artillery and further assaults. As straightforward a plan as ever, they rolled out in a convoy of buggies under the cover of darkness. Their route was indirect, hidden, and would bring them right to the backdoor of Gehenna. In the crucial hour of the operation, everything seemed to go wrong.
As they charged the walls, things inevitably went loud, that was what the Riflemen were there for. In an underestimation of the sheer stalwartness of the fortress, many of the buggies were knocked out before they even made it close to the walls. Others dismounted and found themselves slaughtered where they stood as they were in the final stretch. Those other few who managed to plant their charges found their explosives to be defective, and were forced to withdraw or perish, some even daring to stay with their explosives and detonate them manually, killing themselves in the process.
Ansel and the rest of his team, by some stroke of divine luck, happened to fall into none of the above. Not only did they make it to the wall, they planted their charge and made it clear before it went off. Most were not so lucky. As the operation unfurled around them, Ansel’s team was quickly surrounded by sallying Meat cultists and their infernal monsters. As light broke over the horizon, the preliminary bombardment began. Ansel had assumed it would be some massed artillery attack like it had been in every story and tale he’d heard. As fire came not from far off in arcs, but from above, the reality became much more dire.
The fortress was obliterated in the Space Loonies’ orbital hellfire. Many in his team were killed in the immediate attack, but Ansel did not have the fortune of that. He was spared, injured and with a buggy falling apart at the seams and wounded packed into its seats under his control. When they returned to the bunker, the few survivors were hailed as heroes, whether they thought they were or not.
Many who survived the Burning of Gehenna requested permanent non-combatant assignments. Most were granted. Ansel, in spite of the horrors and madness he had witnessed, had one request. He wanted to wear the badge of the Riflemen. He was not going to sit idly by while such slaughter continued. An unprecedented move, he was almost refused by Administration outright, until they realized he was serious. Inducted into the Rifle Corps with little additional training, he was going out with patrol teams within the year.
No other fortresses would burn like Gehenna had. The Burning of Gehenna was the last cry of an era where it looked like the Loonies might just win, that Set and its eternal watchmen might succeed. From there it was a bitter stalemate, the Talto everyone knows. Every loss on one side was matched with a loss equally severe on the other. Progress was rare for either side, and no gains were kept for long. It was in this meaningless cycle that Ansel felt rage. Pure, unadulterated rage. Hate for the unfairness of their meaningless sacrifice, hate for the arrogance of the Space Loonies and even his own HERN, and most of all: He hated Meat.
A proclaimed Hero of HERN, he held much sway with his own bunker. A squad leader at the young age of 25, he was heralded by many as the true face of Chronophobia. This made it all the more likely that his request for an indefinite independent assignment be granted. It was granted after much deliberation and a heartfelt speech to the Administrator of Chronophobia-159 himself. Fitted with the best gear he had access to, he set out into the Talto.
And this is largely where his story becomes more myth than fact. He walked the Talto, that is sure. Tales of a Mad Looney are rare but have appeared across the surface of Set. Some say he still wages a one-man war against the Cult. Some say he’s succumbed to madness or given up altogether, retiring somewhere nice for once. But that’s all they are: tales, rumors, myths.
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