Post by Charles Geiszler / Osgil on Mar 10, 2012 3:08:37 GMT -5
CONFIDENTIAL
FILE OF:
GEISZLER, CHARLES
OSGIL 738
FILE OF:
OSGIL 738
BASIC DETAILS:
PERSONAL INFORMATION:
FULL NAME OF HOST: Charles Hubert Geiszler
NAME & DESIGNATION OF YEERK: Osgil 738
GENDER OF HOST: Male
AGE OF HOST: 71
D.O.B. OF HOST: December 29
HOST'S PHYSICAL PROFILE:
HEIGHT: 5’11”
WEIGHT: 170 lbs.
HAIR COLOR: White
EYE COLOR: Blue
DISTINCTIVE FEATURES: Snowy hair, stern face, small round glasses.
PSYCH. EVALUATION:
HOST'S EVALUATION:
LIKES:
- Music
- Reading on rainy days
- Being asleep, dreaming
DISLIKES:
- Chemical smells
- ”Bad” weather: too cold or too hot
- Drinking or otherwise being intoxicated
FEARS:
- Spending the rest of his life as a Controller
- Large bodies of water (defined by him as “Anywhere I can’t see the bottom.”)
PERSONALITY:
Charles has been a doctor for most of his life. Raised by Quaker parents, he’s always been a believer in doing right by others, and most would describe him as a gentleman in the literal sense. Though personable, his dedication to others has, almost paradoxically, also lead him to prefer a solitary life. His desire to help others is part of what lead him to his current situation as a Controller: when he learned of the Sharing, he thought it sounded like an excellent opportunity to help others. His status as a doctor and a loner made him all the more a target.
Though already an intelligent person, being trapped in his own mind for most of a decade has forced Charles to become more thoughtful and introspective than he already was. The occasional glimpse he’s received into Osgil’s psyche, via dreams, fantasies, and emotions has given him the tools to try to bend Osgil to sympathize with humans. (Thus far he’s obviously been unsuccessful, despite some close calls.) Rather than hate the Yeerk in control of him, he pities him, and if given the chance would gladly help the Yeerks as a species. That, however, will not be possible until he’s free, which frankly even Charles thinks is pretty unlikely.
YEERK'S EVALUATION:
LIKES:
- Movies
- Swimming
DISLIKES:
- Feeling unsure of himself
- The dark
FEARS:
- Losing his host privileges, being confined to the Yeerk pool
- Charles becoming the host of another Yeerk
PERSONALITY:
Osgil could almost be described as a hedonist; he is a lover of the senses given to him by his host bodies, and loathe to return to the Yeerk pool, or even to a less able host. This is the primary drive behind his amibition. Beyond pleasing himself, he has no real need of power for its own sake.
Having been in his current host body for almost a decade, he and Charles have what could at times almost be described as a friendly rivalry. At times he’s even considered the possibility of defecting, joining the “Andalite bandits” when it seemed they might win in exchange for a better host body. Currently, he occasionally considers switching to the side of the One, but usually dismisses the thought fairly quickly.
Despite the fact that Charles is less than ideal as a host, Osgil does like the familiarity, and would be mortified if another Yeerk were ever allowed to infest him. He knows Osgil far too intimately for that to ever be acceptable. If ever promoted, Osgil would do all in his power to kill Charles.
BACKGROUND:
HOMETOWN OF HOST: Greenville, NC (originally) ; currently resides in Atlanta, Georgia
AFFILIATED WITH: The Yeerk Empire, has considered defecting to The One
HISTORY OF BOTH:
Osgil was a Taxxon-Controller, and a Gedd-Controller before that. Though initially elated by the senses given to him in these forms, he eventually grew jealous of the Hork-Bajir Controllers, and others with less limited hosts. When the invasion of Earth began, he was assigned there under Visser Three in his current (at the time) Taxxon body.
Being both clever and ambitious, as new host bodies were acquired through the Sharing, Osgil was given a new body: a human. Unfortunately for him, this body happened to be an elderly male. However, Osgil had made the best of his two previous host bodies, and was determined to use this one to advance his career. Every day he dreaded the thought of ending up back in a ravenous Taxxon.
The human, Charles Geiszler, was a doctor in the local hospital. He worked in the emergency room. Osgil immediately saw the potential to infest hosts who weren’t in full control of themselves, as did numerous others. It was around this time that a Yeerk by the name of Temrash 114 was hatching his plot to take over the hospital and infest the state governor. While Charles himself was no surgeon and would be useless in any attempt to directly infest said official, he was able to help convince some of the medical personnel into joining the Sharing. And in the cases of those who would not join, he found ways to infest them.
However, Osgil was only one of many working on the project, and as the
He did not resign himself to his fate, knowing that there were so many stronger, younger hosts available. He continued his efforts to recruit medical staff where possible, or influence young prospective medical students that the Sharing would look excellent on their applications and resumes. His efforts were largely ignored in the face of one disaster after another.
Charles, meanwhile, could do no more than watch in horror and disgust as his reputation and character were used to harm his friends, patients, and even total strangers. He railed against it at first, but over time he became listless. Years rolled by, and though they certainly consider themselves enemies, Osgil and Charles see a sort of odd kinship in their stalemate. And of course, having shared a mind and body for roughly a decade, they know each other better than anyone else ever could.
As the war began to draw to a close, Charles finally saw a bright spot again. He was shocked, and overjoyed, to learn that the “Andalite bandits” that had been troubling the Yeerks all this time had in fact been humans. He was somewhat less pleased upon realizing they were no more than children, given all they’d had to do.
Osgil, fearful of how things would turn out for the Yeerks on Earth, managed to acquire passage on a Bug fighter and avoid being forced to become a nothlit.
But when the Yeerk Empire expressed interest in invading Earth a second time, Osgil was one of the first onboard. Short of an Andalite, human was as good as a host as he expected to ever see, and Charles wasn’t getting any younger. This time around, Osgil is situated on the east coast of the U.S., doing most of his recruiting work just outside of the current Yeerk territory: Atlanta, Georgia. Of course, he still has to return to the Yeerk pool every three days, so he can’t travel too much farther from the established territory.
OTHER NOTES:
PLAY-BY: Max von Sydow
[[Following post comes from this thread.]]
Ivrim was exhausted.
He stepped out of the bus station, shielding his eyes with one hand from the sun. He wore a backpack, iPod earphones, and his clothes were rumpled from the long, tedious trip. Normally by car or bus it takes approximately 12 hours to travel from the Washington, D.C. area to Maine. But since Ivrim had been travelling in morph, he had to stop every hour and a half or so, remove his outer clothing, demorph, remorph, put his clothes back on, and get on another bus. Not to mention that with this human morph being so tall, he had been cramped and sore for the majority of the time. He'd been lucky to get a window seat on quite a few of the buses, though. The trip had taken him two days, since he had stopped at a hotel overnight. Already he was having doubts about SPECTER. But whatever his feelings, he was already in and his "death" had already been handled; he had pointedly decided not to ask for details.
Trying to view things more optimistically, he checked the map of Hemington he'd purchased in the bus station, after he had remorphed one last time. The address he'd been given was only a few blocks away, thankfully. Along the way he stopped at a bakery and left with a bag of various pastries: Danishes, turnovers, croissants, eclairs, and even a few doughnuts and cookies. SPECTER had neglected to tell him how many other agents he'd be working with, so he decided to splurge a bit just in case. He was eating a cheese Danish and listening once more to the iPod--an audiobook of The Art of War--when he finally arrived.
The house itself was fairly large, but inconspicuous. Just the kind of place that would blend in fairly easily. The kind of house a group of college students might rent, which he imagined was probably the cover the agents were using. For him, they'd provided an alias along with all kinds of paperwork: fake birth certificate, Social Security card, passport, etc. Notably there was no driver's license, since he'd never bothered to learn. He still wished he could have kept the alias he'd used before when in human morph-- Abram since it soundedly reasonably similar to Ivrim, though he was eventually just called "Abe" by his colleagues. But he supposed the new name, Nicholas Walsh, would have to do.
Of more interest to the Andalite than the house, though, was the yard. Like his old name, he wished he could maintain his old habit of keeping a scoop and only using the house when necessary, but that would very obviously blow their cover. From now on he'd have to live inside. At least humans had the sense to put windows in their homes. When he wasn't sleeping or working, he imagined he'd be spending most of his time in that yard.
Finishing the last of his cheese Danish, Ivrim traipsed up to the door and, after a moment's hesitation, knocked. It was true he technically lived here now, but it still seemed proper to knock.
Ivrim was exhausted.
He stepped out of the bus station, shielding his eyes with one hand from the sun. He wore a backpack, iPod earphones, and his clothes were rumpled from the long, tedious trip. Normally by car or bus it takes approximately 12 hours to travel from the Washington, D.C. area to Maine. But since Ivrim had been travelling in morph, he had to stop every hour and a half or so, remove his outer clothing, demorph, remorph, put his clothes back on, and get on another bus. Not to mention that with this human morph being so tall, he had been cramped and sore for the majority of the time. He'd been lucky to get a window seat on quite a few of the buses, though. The trip had taken him two days, since he had stopped at a hotel overnight. Already he was having doubts about SPECTER. But whatever his feelings, he was already in and his "death" had already been handled; he had pointedly decided not to ask for details.
Trying to view things more optimistically, he checked the map of Hemington he'd purchased in the bus station, after he had remorphed one last time. The address he'd been given was only a few blocks away, thankfully. Along the way he stopped at a bakery and left with a bag of various pastries: Danishes, turnovers, croissants, eclairs, and even a few doughnuts and cookies. SPECTER had neglected to tell him how many other agents he'd be working with, so he decided to splurge a bit just in case. He was eating a cheese Danish and listening once more to the iPod--an audiobook of The Art of War--when he finally arrived.
The house itself was fairly large, but inconspicuous. Just the kind of place that would blend in fairly easily. The kind of house a group of college students might rent, which he imagined was probably the cover the agents were using. For him, they'd provided an alias along with all kinds of paperwork: fake birth certificate, Social Security card, passport, etc. Notably there was no driver's license, since he'd never bothered to learn. He still wished he could have kept the alias he'd used before when in human morph-- Abram since it soundedly reasonably similar to Ivrim, though he was eventually just called "Abe" by his colleagues. But he supposed the new name, Nicholas Walsh, would have to do.
Of more interest to the Andalite than the house, though, was the yard. Like his old name, he wished he could maintain his old habit of keeping a scoop and only using the house when necessary, but that would very obviously blow their cover. From now on he'd have to live inside. At least humans had the sense to put windows in their homes. When he wasn't sleeping or working, he imagined he'd be spending most of his time in that yard.
Finishing the last of his cheese Danish, Ivrim traipsed up to the door and, after a moment's hesitation, knocked. It was true he technically lived here now, but it still seemed proper to knock.
This app was created by MASQUERADE RACCOON of Caution 2.0.
Please do not steal it. I'm fine if you use it, just credit me.
Please do not steal it. I'm fine if you use it, just credit me.