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About Joran

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    In Training/Unassigned/On Leave

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  1. Hi everyone. My name is Pat. I'm 26 and live in Ottawa, Canada, however I'm currently on a long trip in South East Asia. I work for the Federal Government when I'm not travelling. I've played a few pbem's before, but it's been awhile and I wanted to get back into it. I'm a pretty big Trek nerd and am definitely looking forward to being a part of the group!
  2. Joran shook his head as he watched the other cadets around him begin to disembark from their shuttle. Was it really so long ago that he had shown a similiar sense of ebullience? He had been as wide-eyed as them once, years ago when he had graduated from Gideon Security Force training. Everything had seemed so new and wonderful then, his whole life ahead of him in a new career. He had, of course, eventually grown tired of it, an unwelcome side-effect to being so long-lived a race with such a long period of maturity. He grabbed his duffel bag and threw it over his shoulder as his turn to exit the shuttle came. He stepped out and looked around at the docking area as he began following the queue out. He caught his reflection in a viewport and sighed at the realization of what he saw- Very little of him had changed since the day he entered GidSec. Oh, his dark brown hair was a little longer, his need for keeping it crew-cut short no longer there. The worry lines at the corners of his pale blue eyes hadn't been there either. Aside from that, though, he could very likely pass for any late 20's human if need be, a far cry from his actual age. He was still in fine physical condition, as he made it a habit to go running every day he could. He wasn't overly strong, but he had found that in the long run, quickness and stamina were usually more important in his line of work than brute strength. The longevity of his race was considered a blessing by others, but his people knew that pendulum swung both ways and that it was also a terrible curse. Joran had long since abandoned his attempts at deciding on which side of the argument he was on. He wasn't depressed or anything of the sort, but he was realistic. He had grown tired of the routine back home and had felt a wanderlust that most didn't. That had led him to resign his commission and seek out something different, which in turn had led him to Starfleet. Most of his fellow cadets had at first believed him to be a human coming late to a party they had entered right out of high school. Upon learning his story though, he found he had been the subject of more curiosity than anything else. He had made a few close friends at the Academy, and they had lumped on him the annoying yet endearing nickname of "Grandpa". He smlied to himself at the memory of "Grandpa" drinking the other cadets under the table the night before they had shipped out for their cadet cruise. That led to his memories of the suitably impressed waitress that night as well... He shook his head to clear his mind of that particuliar memory. Not the time, or the place. "And now here I am," he mumbled to himself, taking in the station. A couple of the nearby cadets turned to look at him oddly and he ignored their glances. That was all he needed: Rumours that "Grandpa" was starting to talk to himself too...
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