Ira Walsh
My Creator is Rainbow Sunburn
My Creator is Rainbow Sunburn
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Nickname:
Major is my title. I don't mind the occasional call-sign. [Maj, Chief, etc.]
Age:
38
Gender:
Female
Nationality:
German American
Sexuality:
Bi.
Hair Colour:
Blonde
Eye Colour:
Blue
Weight: 158 lbs
Height: 5'11"
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Likes:
Flying.
Fine alcohol.
Engaging conversation.
Doggos.
Prime Rib.
Putting people in their place. With her fists.
Dislikes:
Raiders.
Rats.
Losing People.
Talking about what happened to her during the Culling.
Bland food.
Health: Physically 10/10. Sight is still 20-20. Mentally there except for the PTSD.
Signature Skills: Damn near perfect quick draw/shot with pistol. The best at diffusing arguments, unless she started them. 10/10 best negotiator. [Ransoms work in her favor everytime.]
Debilitating Feature:
Ira harbours some [hopefully] mild PTSD. Mostly due to events that occurred during the Culling. Partially due to events before it. Her hounds are a way to handle this.
Strengths:
Steel constitution, Frosty under pressure, and strong hands [read: really good at punching people].
Weaknesses:
She's no good at being polite. Fine ale.
Occupation: Mid-tier officer. Dog trainer. Mead brewer.
Rank: Major
Skills:
-Very good command voice.
-Brewer of fine alcohol.
-Hound training.
-Excellent Mechanic [Specialty is AMS.]
-Melee Combat [No particular style, just instinct]
-Origami [The best paper airplanes.]
Flaws:
Ira cares more about her dogs than she does about herself. She'll take a hit if it means saving them. They're all she has left.
Primary Weapon: Glock 17
Secondary Weapon: SIG Sauer MCX Virtus
Sidearm: SIG Sauer P226 MK25 Full Size, and two knives. [One folds and is in her pocket, the other goes on a sheath strapped to her calf.]
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Personality:
Ira is tricky. You see, she could very well survive on her own, and keeps that very much in mind. Wouldn't ever hear from her that she stays because she enjoys the company, even if it's the truth. Like ogres and onions, Ira has layers, the first being the thickest. She is difficult to talk to if you don't know how, most give up after the first few single sentence answers. If you've got the patience, her answers become longer and her attention is no longer split between you and a project. This can be overridden when it's time to go to work [read: kick some a**]. She can make decisions and dish out orders faster than summer lightning. Make no mistake, Ira will win the fight. Everything she does is dusted with a fine layer of military discipline, except drinking. Mind you, she'll drink anyone under the table. Anything to muddle the past.
The core essence of Ira is a sharp-tongued realist. She won't lie to you. She only lies to the dying.
Fears:
Her hounds being injured. She will actually run into enemy territory if it means her dog lives.
Backstory:
Ira can seem kinda cold and dispassionate sometimes. It's not on purpose. There were three things she cared about: her family, her dogs, and flying. Now she's only got one of them. The Culling took her family. Command took her flight. The hounds she started with have passed on, but their children remain. She doesn't like being an officer. She hates it. She knows it's for the better though.
Nine years. That's how long she's been with the Ravens. Nine very long years of surviving. That type of living kills a person slowly.
Ira was part of the US Navy before the Culling. A pilot on a carrier. She made it far before the disaster. All the way to Chief Warrant Officer. That's why she's where she's at now, doing paperwork instead of field work. When the world went dark, she was flying. She watched some of her shipmates planes drop right out of the sky, thinking they were still in there, spiraling to their deaths. The carrier wasn’t in much better condition. A large portion of the crew was missing. She was refueled and sent back out, to land this time. Normally, you wouldn't land a military jet on a civilian runway. It didn't matter.
Her house was empty, with the exception of her dogs. Her significant other was nowhere to be found. She packed what she could carry and took off with her dogs, Wotan and Fricka. The Ravens were tiny back then. Two, maybe three hundred people. Most armed, few trained. She wasn't exactly invited in, definitely wasn’t asked to lead, but a need for some order and discipline drew her to it. Sure, Voron and Katrina did a decent job as upper echelon officers, but they lacked the finesse only a senior enlisted could provide. Eventually, despite never formally joining, Ira was inducted into the higher command. She didn't like the idea of being called Major, but eventually gave up on trying to correct people. She and her hounds are a staple around site now.
Goal:
To survive past this all, settle down, raise her dogs, keep bees and brew mead.
Extra:
Plays cello.
Nightmares in Daydreams
XxIce_ReaperxX
