Name: Angelica Fisk
Gender: Female
Age: 27
Nationality: Republican

Personality
Always more than a little too serious, Angelica is a bit of a loner. She doesn’t get along with many people, but she’s by no means antisocial. In fact, she’ll usually go out of her way just to be helpful, even for a complete stranger. She just won’t be friends with them. She’s rather intellectual, almost approaching ivory-tower quality. While she doesn’t particularly care for politics, she does tend towards the liberal mainstream thinking. Coincidentally, one of her problems is that she doesn’t look beneath the surface for most peoples’ motivations. If it’s carbon-based, chances are she won’t much understand its thinking.

Background
In the wilderness of Nyx, many miles away from civilization, there lived a nice couple in a cabin. They had a baby girl. Her name is lost because bandits came and killed the couple. Several days later, wolves broke into the cabin. They found the baby girl crying alone in the crib. Reminded of their own cubs, they took the little girl home to their den.
The wolf pups dined well that night on a meat rather reminiscent of veal. Fortunately, this story is not about that girl.
Angelica grew up in the Delpoi countryside, where man and zoid wage a constant war against the wilderness. There are still great stretches of untamed land on Zi, areas where wild zoids still roam and mankind and his domesticated beasts is the intruder. The people there are less polished than their urban cousins, having lived their lives a little closer to nature, a little closer to danger. For them, death is very much a natural part of life, and it is kill or be killed out there.
Angelica lived in a cozy little cabin in the deep forest with her father, a freelance programmer for the Athens Institute of Zoid Design and Technology by the name of Wilson Fisk. He worked through a wireless internet connection, helping AIZDAT and other companies with programming projects. He was of only mediocre talent, but programming teams pulled large numbers of people to churn out line upon like of code. It was, and still is, a healthy and booming business.
While Wilson wasn’t working on the code he was spending time with his daughter. He imparted upon her a strong sense of right and wrong, home-schooling Angelica and generally doing his best to be a good father to her. It was natural guilt, after all; he blamed himself for Angelica’s mother, Julie, divorcing when Angelica was only an infant. Because he had the steadier job and his relations behind him, Wilson won custody of their daughter.
Julie actually left Wilson because she couldn’t stand the guilt of having cheated on her husband and getting pregnant by the man. It was a one-night stand, but things were never really the same afterwards. Wilson at least convinced himself that Angelica was his daughter by blood, but never really forgave Julie. He acted coldly towards her, ignoring any efforts at peacemaking. Julie left in the summer of NC 74, when Angelica was only two years old. She did not maintain contact with her daughter. Wilson made sure of that by moving from New Helic City to the cabin in the wilderness.
Home-schooled until she was sixteen years old, Angelica retained a childlike innocence years after she could be called a child by most any stretch of the imagination. She was raised to strict morals and strong ethics. Frankly, putting her in a public high school was some pretty interesting culture shock. The Psych class was fairly subtle about observing her adapting to her new environment, but stopped when one of them idly wondered where the line between studying and stalking was drawn. Angelica finished her Junior and Senior years at Shoiden High, a school named after one of the Republic’s many Presidents. Charles Shoiden had served his term during the war, and beforehand had won the Athenians their independence. The staff apparently took great pride in this fact, as the history teachers reminded the students of this at just about every opportunity.
As though the school’s name had anything to do with what the school was.
An outdoorsy sort of girl, Angel was a bit of an oddity amongst the more urban cliques, but the technical crew took her in quite readily. They, after all, were “the outcasts who didn’t particularly care to bake their brains on school days,” as the club’s sponsor, Adeline Margot put it. Bleeding hearts, the lot of them, but good people nonetheless. Never really getting into that whole high school thing, Angel simply worked to pass her classes and get into a good college. That, after all, was what high school was supposedly for. When some of her classmates insisted that it was for having fun and exploring the other sex, she promised she wouldn’t point and laugh at the reunions. Mocked for being such a prude, Angel decided she didn’t particularly care for dealing with people for too much longer.
After graduating in the top ten percent of her class, Angelica took a year off of school to travel around Delpoi and see what there was to see. Finding many parts of the land vastly different from the woodlands she grew up in, she enjoyed both the centuries-old cities and varied landscapes. She didn’t particularly care for the noisy modern cities, though, and when she went to college it was to a small rural college in the northern part of the continent. Called the Layon University of Daras, it was a little college with some four hundred students. It specialized in biology, both zoid and organic, meteorology, and ecology. A selective university, its alumni generally tend to be important scientists and researchers.
Angel entered with a few scholarships, her grandparents’ trust funding the rest. She was learning Ferro-biology, the study of ferryotes and the creatures descended from them. She’d discovered the interest in her junior year, having by chance come across one of AIZDAT’s early reports on the nature of the interplay between zoid, organoid, and Ancient Zoidian. While the zoids in NC 81 were nothing like the ferryote-based ones of the bygone days, this didn’t stop Angel from hanging around with a handful of the local zoid pilots. While she didn’t exactly swoon over the machines, the whole feel about zoid piloting certainly appealed to her. Man and machine working as one, fighting until one gives out in the great theatrical battles of the ZBC.
In Angel’s sophomore year of college, in the summer of NC 82, she went out on her first dig. It was on an icy island north of the mainland. It was cold, it was wet, it was miserable. Angelica and three other students under the supervision of Professor Longfellow spent four weeks on the little island. The first eighteen days were tracking down the original find, following a fisherman’s report of having found an old zoid trapped in the ice. They found the thing only partially intact. Half of it was embedded in the permafrost, while the back end was weathered and fragmented, having been exposed to the elements for too long. Not even Longfellow could tell what the zoid was, and so he ordered that the students begin excavation.
The students spent their nights regaling each other with tales of their fellow students’ antics or listening to Professor Longfellow launch into a story of one of the other expeditions he’d been on in his fifty-some-odd years digging zoids and bones out of the ground. Their days were long, carving the zoid out of the permafrost under the shelter of a tarp to block the wind. They had to document everything about the site, from the position of the smallest fragments to the number of wires leading to and from the zoid’s dead core. It was some kind of saurian zoid, but they couldn’t tell if it was some kind of proto-saurer, wild Gojulas, or even some unknown species. It was quite clearly an ancient zoid, as it had a notable lack of rivets, screws, and other such signs of human construction.
This was what Angelica was along for. Though there were other digs in other places, including one thinly-disguised vacation on a beautiful and little-known beach in the northern part of the Eastern Continent. But it was always this first dig that she kept coming back to, this first tangled wreck of a zoid that she kept trying to puzzle out. She knew it was composed of ferryotes, unlike modern zoids, and most likely bipedal. It stood some eight meters tall and looked to be about eleven meters long, judging by the parts that remained. They had most of one leg and the upper thigh to the other, some scattered fragments of what looked to be the foot, a ruined hip section, a mostly intact torso chassis, missing forelimbs save for the right shoulder blade, and a head without a lower jaw.
By the time Angel graduated with a master’s in Ferro-biology, she’d begun to dabble in the casual sport of zoid matches more and more. Starting with the simulators, she finally decided to take a six-week course on zoid piloting and join up with the ZBC to give her something to do on the weekends and during lulls in the field. She has since moved back home with her father and cat, a tiny Siamese named Meowzilla, and is looking for a good Team in the Imperial League to join up with. After all, the very best finds are always on Nyx.

Appearance
Angel is five feet five inches tall and weighs some ninety pounds, depending on season and who’s asking. She is a willowy curly-haired brunette with naturally dark tan and sharp green eyes. Her face is almost gaunt, with high cheekbones and a long nose. She wears a pair of wire-framed eyeglasses perched on the end of her nose, helping to offset the almost top-heavy appearance of her face. If it weren’t for her eyes being round and level, she could pass for a Trillstani woman.
Angelica usually wears an old pair of fashionably-snug blue jeans and a tee-shirt, almost never wearing anything frilly or feminine. She claims an allergy to the color pink. She also tends to wear neutral grayish colors, as Meowzilla has this bad habit of shedding. Angelica’s just reached the conclusion that it’s easier to camouflage the cat hair than shaving Meowzilla. Unlike many pilots, Angel wears casual clothing in the cockpit. The only protective gear she’ll wear is her cobalt blue helmet, grey scarf, and a padded black leather jacket. Her father bought her the gear shortly after she got her license.

Most of you have no idea how long I've been waiting to start off a bio like that.
Approved. 56,000 credits.