Sergeant Jace Morven
Name Jace Morven
Position Platoon Sergeant
Rank Sergeant
Character Information
| Gender | Male | |
| Species | Human | |
| Age | 38 |
Physical Appearance
| Height | 6' | |
| Weight | 190lbs | |
| Hair Color | Brown | |
| Eye Color | Blue | |
| Physical Description | Jace is 6’ with a frame forged more from need than choice. He is broad-shouldered, densely muscled with the sort of build that comes from growing up somewhere where violence was a daily thing, as opposed to an occasional event. Years of working within the Federation Ground Forces and his upbringing have left his body conditioned and alert, with every movement calculated and precise. He doesn’t fidget or waste energy, but has a stillness about him. He usually have the look of a man entering a room and assessing a potential threat, not casual conversation. He has sharp, angular features with a strong jawline and high cheekbones, with a narrow nose and pronounced brow. He has blue eyes that seemed steely and usually has a tendency of narrowing his eyes as if he is trying to focus in on a target. He usually has short stubble, not because he thinks it looks good but more because he doesn’t mind and shaving is something that he remembers only when the beard starts annoying him. He wears his dark hair with short sides and a little bit longer on top. He has several marks from a pre-Federation past, such as old scars across his knuckles and forearms, a deeper welt healed jaggedly near his collarbone sand a faint surgical seam behind his right ear. Even if he isn’t intimidating in height or bulk, he usually radiates something colder and harder. In a confrontation, they step back not because of the size but because of the cold, calculated way he steps into their space, as if he can end the fight in seconds if he wished. |
Family
| Father | Unknown | |
| Mother | Unknown |
Personality & Traits
| General Overview | Jace Morven remains emotionally compartmentalised to a degree that approaches pathology. He exhibits traits consistent with chronic PTSD, moral injury and severe emotional repression. He is mostly quiet and, when compelled to speak, often communicates with jarring honesty, fatalistic humour or blunt observation. Introspection is minimal and often deflected with sarcasm or silence, as it is an uncomfortable thing for him to do. His psychological evaluations describe him as “a mostly stable individual, but brittle”. He is capable of high function under pressure, yet prone to tunnel vision and reactive behaviour when emotionally compromised. Trust does not come easily to Jace. He bonds selectively, typically with commanding officers who demonstrate integrity and protectiveness. Once such a bond is established, it becomes the central pillar of his emotional framework. Violations of loyalty will provoke a violent response, with no regard to regulations or his own safety. He does not consider himself to have friends. Jace is a gay man, but his life circumstances have left him with little opportunity to express that part of himself in any meaningful or safe way. He is not closeted; he neither hides nor denies who he is, but the environments in which he has lived and operated have been emotionally barren and often hostile to vulnerability. Any sexual relationships he has had have been transactional or casual, devoid of the emotional trust or tenderness necessary for deeper connection. He has never experienced a loving partnership, and in private moments it is one of the few quiet regrets he cannot suppress or rationalise away. Counsellors note that while he has made substantial progress over the years, particularly in team integration and restraint, he remains under long-term observation. He requires structured supervision in emotionally charged environments. When matched with a stable command figure and a clear mission framework, he is a tactical asset of exceptional value. Left unsupervised in complex ethical scenarios, however, he will default to immediate, often violent, resolution. Since his transfer to the Guinevere, Morven has demonstrated subtle shifts in behaviour. He has shown a greater willingness to extend controlled acts of trust, most often through quiet, physical gestures or the acceptance of personal exchanges on negotiated terms. He has adapted to shipboard life by maintaining a low profile, choosing secluded training and observation spaces, and avoiding unnecessary social entanglement while tolerating the presence of select individuals in those spaces. His leadership style has sharpened into one of silent example and precise instruction, focusing on squad cohesion over individual glory. He continues to approach violence as a controlled system to be shut down efficiently, but has on occasion chosen measured withdrawal or protective intervention over immediate escalation. In interactions, he remains concise and guarded, steering conversation back to task, yet he has disclosed personal information to a trusted few without apology. These changes are measured and deliberate, reflecting progress in interpersonal trust and self-restraint, but they remain firmly contained within his ingrained tactical mindset. While Jace has adapted to shipboard life, deep space itself holds no romance for him. The stars are not a source of wonder but a terrain: shifting, hostile and indifferent. Planets, stations and battlefields each carry their own risks, but the black between them is simply the ground he crosses to reach the next objective. He prefers confined, controlled spaces where threats can be read and countered. Open voids hold too many unknowns. Jace’s sense of time is fractured. In combat or under threat, he can read a second with surgical accuracy. In quieter moments, days can pass in a blur, unmarked except for training drills, maintenance cycles and the rare silences he claims for himself. He does not dwell on the war years, but they remain close enough that the past and present often feel like adjoining rooms. Among those who serve alongside him, Jace’s presence is as much felt as seen. To his squad, he is a constant: precise, unflinching and immovably loyal once trust is earned. Outside that circle, he is more rumour than man, the sergeant who speaks little, watches everything, and is said to have done things in the war no one puts in a report. For junior personnel, he is a figure best approached with purpose. The Federation’s principles are, to Jace, both admirable and dangerous. He understands the value of what they promise: unity, justice, protection. Yet he has seen the cost of believing that ideals can stand unguarded. In his mind, peace exists only when defended by those willing to act before the threat arrives. Starfleet’s humanitarian mission gives him purpose, but it is his own code that governs when and how he acts. |
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| Strengths & Weaknesses | Strengths: Jace Morven is an effective close-quarters combatant. Trained in zero-gravity, high-gravity and boarding combat techniques, he possesses a physical precision and ferocity that few can match. He is highly proficient with a wide range of weaponry. In security drills, he routinely outperforms peers, disabling opponents with efficiency bordering on brutality. Mentally, he has an extraordinary tolerance for trauma, pain and psychological pressure. In moments of extreme crisis, his composure becomes unnerving. He does not panic, hesitate or flinch. His situational awareness and threat recognition are acute, often identifying anomalies or emerging dangers before others have even registered the problem. His loyalty is another rare strength. Once he commits to a team or commander, he becomes immovably dependable. Manipulation, intimidation or fear have no hold over him. He is, in the words of one commanding officer, “a guard dog who does not care if you like him, only if you are a threat”. Weaknesses: Despite his tactical value, Jace’s emotional dysfunction presents ongoing risks both to his career and his team. He has great difficulty expressing or processing grief, guilt or personal loss in healthy ways. His psychological responses to emotional trauma often bypass thought entirely, manifesting in immediate, force-driven action. He operates in morally ambiguous territory, with a threshold for decisive, often violent intervention that is far lower than most Starfleet personnel, particularly when he perceives a threat to loyalty, safety or his unit. While this has saved lives, it has also caused collateral damage. He is deeply uncomfortable in diplomatic, political or socially nuanced environments. Protocols and etiquette are secondary to results in his mind, and if given the chance he would interrupt negotiations, disregard chain-of-command niceties or escalate situations when his threat analysis overrides strategic patience. He remains under long-term psychological observation for markers of antisocial behaviour, specifically emotional detachment and suppressed aggression. Though he has shown marked improvement, it is generally agreed that Jace functions best in a tight, loyal unit under the direction of a commander who understands how to wield his strength and when to rein it in. |
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| Ambitions | Jace has no ambition for rank or prestige. He seeks purpose, loyalty and a leader worth following. Deep down, he longs for peace, redemption and the chance to stop fighting. Though he will not admit it, he hopes for connection and a life beyond being a weapon. | |
| Hobbies & Interests | Jace finds a rare sense of focus in the ritual of dismantling and reassembling weapons systems, repairing old phasers or building new ones. The repetition brings him to a state close to meditation, particularly when the task is precise and mechanical. Over time, this has led him to collect disarmed and decommissioned weapons as historical curios, valued more for their construction than for what they represent. He trains regularly in close-quarters martial arts and blade work, treating them as forms of self-regulation that allow him to channel aggression within strict boundaries. One of his quieter skills is metal engraving, producing intricate designs with steady precision. He has considered expanding this into metalworking, although time and patience keep it on hold. He has also developed an interest in clockwork mechanisms, unexpectedly delicate work for hands trained in combat. These projects are often carried out in the holodeck, where he can access the tools and materials he needs and delete the workspace once finished. On the recommendation of his counsellor, he has begun using low-stimulation holodeck programmes such as quiet wilderness walks, campfires and obstacle courses. Because of his dyslexia, Jace has cultivated an interest in spoken language, using auditory methods to learn Klingon, Romulan and Cardassian tactical phrases. He cannot read them, but speaks fluently enough to almost pass as a native. He has also begun listening to music, again on a counsellor’s advice. Although not naturally drawn to it, he has found himself returning to old Earth Blues. He does not connect to the emotion behind it in the way others might, but has learned to use it as a way to be present in the moment without overanalysing it. |
| Personal History | Jace Morven was born on Turkana IV, a failed human colony world infamous for its collapse into lawless, factional violence following its severance from the Federation decades earlier. Like many children born into that shattered society, Jace has no birth records, no surviving identification markers and no confirmed familial ties. Later, the Federation would estimate his birth year to be around 2350. He has no memory of his parents’ names, only a mist of scattered, half-lucid recollections of a woman whose face he can no longer recall. He does not know where he got his name from, remembering another name as well as the years when he was addressed only as “Boy”. From the beginning, he was raised by necessity rather than affection. Violence was the currency of survival, and familial bonds were treated as liabilities. He was taken in by a local militia not out of compassion, but because he was quick with his hands and could learn to fix power couplings and maintain weapons with only brief guidance, a harsh word and a cuff on the back of his head if he slowed down. In that world, children who could not fight or serve were quickly lost or killed. He never asked questions about what he was doing, why, or where the other children who could not keep up went. By the age of twelve, Jace was serving in a local enclave’s security detachment as an armed youth with dead eyes, trained to repair machinery, silence dissent and keep his head down. There was no room for sentimentality, and certainly no room for love. By fifteen, he could disassemble and reassemble a rifle blindfolded, rewire a failing fusion converter, and carry out “disciplinary” tasks with brutal efficiency. His build, which had gained height and strength when food was more plentiful, was put to use for the latter. At seventeen, Jace escaped Turkana IV by stowing away on the SS Hammersmith, a rogue freighter making an unsanctioned landing, most likely to supply weapons to one of the factions. He was not staying long enough to find out which faction ended up armed. Discovered days later, he was turned over to Starfleet authorities at Starbase 173. Initially flagged for deportation, his fate changed when Lieutenant Ryell Dannic, a Starfleet Security officer, recognised the spark of raw survival intelligence beneath the feral exterior. She took the time to talk to him, seeing the lost boy underneath. With her advocacy, Jace was admitted into the Starfleet Enlisted Preparation Programme, a humanitarian rehabilitation initiative designed to help people from outside the Federation who had left their worlds and sought asylum. Entering Federation society proved more traumatic for Jace than life on Turkana IV had ever been. Diagnosed with severe dyslexia, PTSD and socio-emotional detachment, he struggled to adapt. Reading and structured learning were nearly insurmountable until Warrant Officer Dalia Korrin introduced tactile and visual-based methods. Progress was slow but steady, and she remained by his side throughout. Korrin’s patience and sharp judgement kept him from being written off. She recognised the precision in his work with tools and weapons, even when his temper threatened to undo it, and taught him to channel that focus into something Starfleet could use. Her consistency and competence left a lasting mark, showing him that authority could be earned rather than imposed through fear. Life within the Federation was a shock to the system. The order, the abundance, and even the absence of casual violence felt as alien to him as any new world. On Turkana IV, looking over one’s shoulder was instinct; here, people left their doors open. It made him cautious, unwilling to trust the safety others took for granted. That guardedness stayed with him, even as he began to learn the rhythms of a life where survival was not the only goal. By 2369, he had met the minimum standards for Starfleet enlistment, but given his background and dyslexia it was felt that he would not be well suited as a security officer or for shipboard service. He had also shown that he did not mix well with people. Instead, he was recommended for the Federation Ground Forces, the more military arm of the Federation. It was thought that the stricter discipline and less technically demanding roles would suit him better. He did not consider other possibilities, although Korrin regretted that his talent for engineering and repairs was being set aside in favour of his physical skills. Jace began his Federation career in the Ground Forces, where in basic training he was known for following instructions well but faring poorly in barracks life. Even so, he completed it. His raw aptitude in weapons maintenance, tactical logistics and close-quarters engagement soon drew the attention of his field officers. By the time the Dominion War broke out, Corporal Jace Morven had already served five years in the Ground Forces. He had seen live fire before in skirmishes and containment conflicts on border colonies, but nothing had prepared him for the scale of what followed. His first combat in the war was not a dramatic charge but a stifling siege in a half-collapsed structure on a nameless border colony. He remembers the silence before the breach, the weight of the rifle in his hands, and the clean, mechanical way his training took over when the door gave way. It was not the fight itself that stayed with him, but the moment afterwards, when he realised how little he had felt in the doing. That absence became both a shield and a warning. He served with the 77th Infantry Battalion, a rapid-deployment assault unit nicknamed the “Black Ash” for the colour of their fatigues and the charred remains they often left behind. His specialty in close-quarters engagement and breaching tactics made him a natural pick for advance squads, units expected to take ground first and hold it until the main forces arrived. The 77th already had a reputation for high casualty and resignation rates, driven by a culture of violence fostered by Sergeant Tho, a career trooper who believed his soldiers were expendable. Jace was no exception to the treatment. The Dominion did not take prisoners unless they were of value. Jace did not take any at all. During one of their first ground engagements, none of the squad warned Sergeant Tho of a sniper. Tho was killed alongside several others. No one mourned him, least of all Jace. Their survival odds improved without him. In the chaos, someone had to take over the squad. Rank did not decide it; reflex did. Jace stepped into leadership without hesitation, leading by action rather than words. His conduct during the war often straddled the line between commendable and concerning. One report after the re-taking of Izar noted that “while Morven’s results were strategically successful, his methods remain cause for psychological monitoring.” Unofficially, it was whispered that a Jem’Hadar command post had been “deliberately annihilated.” When asked, Jace only said, “They were still moving.” When the war ended, the 77th was disbanded. Like most of its survivors, Jace was viewed with unease. Their methods had not broken conventions but had edged close enough to unsettle those who had not seen such fighting. For Jace, the war had not changed him so much as given him a focus for damage already done. The vacuum afterwards left him colder, quicker to temper. He was transferred to the 103rd, where long stretches of routine were punctuated by harsh deployments. He made attempts to socialise but could not follow through, lapsing into solitary routines until something broke and he ended up in the brig. A turning point came when he was transferred to Bravo Company, 3rd Battalion, under Sergeant Garin Vel, a seasoned Bolian NCO with a reputation for battlefield skill and rare emotional acuity. Vel saw in Jace not just a soldier, but a man caught between instinct and isolation. He trained Jace in urban infiltration, small-unit tactics and combat psychology, though in battle Jace’s focus remained so narrow that little could reach him. More importantly, Vel offered him trust. Their bond became the bedrock of Jace’s emerging moral code. In 2387, during a counterinsurgency on Dovar IX, Vel and the forward squad were ambushed during a diplomatic extraction. Vel was killed. Separated from his platoon, Jace initiated a solo breach through a maintenance tunnel, killing ten hostiles in eleven minutes, several later found to be unarmed or surrendering. He rescued a surviving hostage and prevented the execution of a diplomat, but his breach of engagement protocols nearly led to a court-martial. Only Vel’s posthumous commendation and the hostage’s statement saved his commission. He was reassigned under psychological probation to Echo Platoon, Special Ordnance Division, where his career entered a quieter, closely monitored phase. In 2388, he was transferred to the Federation Ground Forces Detachment aboard the USS Guinevere. A smaller unit, shipboard life and constant oversight were thought to limit his opportunities for independent action. Access to Starfleet counsellors and regular non-combative duties were intended to broaden his loyalties and temper his harsher instincts. Given command of Alpha Squad, he now leads as a recognised sergeant, not simply as the last man standing. |
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| Service Record | 2369–2372 — Infantryman and field mechanic, 103rd Rapid Response Battalion 2372–2376 — Infantryman, 77th Infantry Rapid Response Battalion 2376–2382 — Combat engineer, 103rd Rapid Response Battalion 2382–2385 — Security specialist, 71st Expeditionary Detachment 2385–2387 — Tactical operative under Sergeant Garin Vel, Bravo Company, 3rd Battalion 2387–2388 — Infantryman, Echo Platoon, Special Ordnance Division 2388–Present — Platoon Sergeant, 1st Platoon, Alpha Squad, Federation Ground Forces Detachment |