Post by Jaroslava Zolnjernovich on May 30, 2009 2:32:48 GMT
To say your app is unique probably goes hand in hand with that fact that it's Russian and that's new here, more than happy to accept you at the rank of Starshii Serzhant 
Welcome to Issuiong Orders, if you have any questions, please feel free to ask.
-JT
Account E-Mail: dvanijmoeven@yahoo.co.uk
Name: Яарославa Золнерович (Jaroslava Zolnjerovich)
Nationality: (Russian/RSFSR) - USSR
What Army will Your Character Serve Beneath?
UK, US or Soviet: Not sure yet. Perhaps a detachment of a USSR unit would work? I’ll wait on this one.
Character History:
Jaroslava Zolnjerovich was born in the almost warm Russian summer of 1918 in Leningrad. She was born to a staunchly communist family whose father was an original member of the Red Army. She was raised next to the Baltic see and often took part in the activities of the Young Pioneer organisation of the Communist Party. Her youth was very productive. She grew up in a community where instead of being set up for marriage, she was being raised to succeed and to help her nation succeed in the name of Lenin. She was given a chance to learn and go to school where she learnt to read and write and speak more than one language. She learnt math and science and history. She learnt that the tsar of Russia had pillaged his own people and that the Great Lenin had come to free the enslaved peoples of Russia and her allied republics.
Of course, all good things must come to an end. By the time she was 23 years old, the fascist Germany had begun the invasion of the Soviet Union. Jaroslava was just barely able to get out before the Germans came and put her home city of Leningrad under siege. She had been studying at University only a year before, to be a scientist. She was working in chemistry before she had to leave without attaining her degree. She fled to Stalingrad, where she was told the Red Army would never let the Germans pass. She knew she would be safe there. It was in Stalingrad that Jaroslava joined the Red Army, knowing they needed as many volunteers as possible. And, since she was not drafted, she would be in much better circumstances than the god-forsaken conscripts. She would go on to be one of the better shots in her unit.
Military Rank: ста́рший сержа́нт (Starshii serzhant)
Writing Sample:
Was it fear Jaroslava tasted in her mouth? Perhaps it was blood? No, it was too bitter. It was adrenaline she remembered. Her years of chemistry had taught her one thing at least. Her memories of a better day raised her temperature in the snowy air and below-living temperature of the Russian landscape. If she opened her mouth she was sure her teeth would freeze up and shatter. Of course, her fingers weren’t any better off. They were nearly frozen around the stock of her rifle, just as the dead fingers of her comrades grasped their rifles in the bloodstained snow, a grave for the fallen heroes –martyrs- of the Communist ideal. Their blood matched the colour of their collars, a symbol of the blood shed to make the world a better place, to give Lenin his rightful authority over the workers of the world.
The time was different now though. Jaroslava would face death if she remained still and lying in the winter storm, waiting for a German tank to stumble upon her. She would have to stand up and make her way back. Surely the DP machine-guns would all be packed up by now and she could retreat without being shot at by her own comrades. She gathered her strength and stood up in the blowing wind and walked with the wind to her back, still grasping onto her rifle; its bullets being the single thing standing between her and a German bastard. The world got smaller as she walked in the blustering zephyr. It was her versus the wind and nothing else nothing getting in the way. The only thing that could wake her up was the rumble of a tank, only metres in front of her. It was definitely German. The T34s were smaller than the Panzer and made a different sound. She couldn’t lie down. She knew she wouldn’t get back up if she did.
Instead, she took her time and crouched low to the snow and walked carefully, keeping the sound at a distance. There was too much snow in the air for anyone to see her. Though there was the slight silhouette of a burning building in the distance. I was Stalingrad, without a doubt. The sound of the tank grew fainter as she approached the city and warmed herself going by the fire. By the time she had gotten into an alleyway, she was sweating. There was no wind where she was and the heat of the burning building made her blood almost brim with life. The name of the city was plastered against a wall – Сталинград. She quickly moved through the alleyways and tried to find a silent place to hide. She had to get her bearings and get back to base. It was at that moment as she was looking through a window onto a street when she heard the shouting in German. She quickly ducked behind the wall and readied her rifle.
She could see a pair of German soldiers walking down the street in their bundled grey long-coats. Their helmets were unremarkably recognisable with their flared edges and swastikas gleaming out like targets. She looked out the window again. The soldiers were unsuspecting and the wind was terrible below. She knew the shot was possible. Though, she waited to see if there were anymore of the fascists. It seemed clear enough. She brought the rifle up to her shoulder and rose slowly to the windowsill, pointing the barely noticeable barrel down at the enemy. She took a deep breath and slowly pulled the trigger to the firing point before letting go and pulling the trigger. She heard the shot, but Fritz never heard it coming. The lead of death flew through the first soldier and sent the other to the ground writhing. She left him there. Firing a second shot would give her away, and she wanted the damnable fascist to suffer. What else could she do?
Soon she reached the Soviet lines. A bright scarlet flag signalled the checkpoint. She raised her rifle above her head and called out in Russian. “Я русский! Я русский!“ She was safe and wither own people, a people that cared for others. They would have their revenge. Soon; she knew it.
I would like the rank I asked for. If my writing is not up to par, let me know and I get it fixed up.
Welcome to Issuiong Orders, if you have any questions, please feel free to ask.
-JT
Account E-Mail: dvanijmoeven@yahoo.co.uk
Name: Яарославa Золнерович (Jaroslava Zolnjerovich)
Nationality: (Russian/RSFSR) - USSR
What Army will Your Character Serve Beneath?
UK, US or Soviet: Not sure yet. Perhaps a detachment of a USSR unit would work? I’ll wait on this one.
Character History:
Jaroslava Zolnjerovich was born in the almost warm Russian summer of 1918 in Leningrad. She was born to a staunchly communist family whose father was an original member of the Red Army. She was raised next to the Baltic see and often took part in the activities of the Young Pioneer organisation of the Communist Party. Her youth was very productive. She grew up in a community where instead of being set up for marriage, she was being raised to succeed and to help her nation succeed in the name of Lenin. She was given a chance to learn and go to school where she learnt to read and write and speak more than one language. She learnt math and science and history. She learnt that the tsar of Russia had pillaged his own people and that the Great Lenin had come to free the enslaved peoples of Russia and her allied republics.
Of course, all good things must come to an end. By the time she was 23 years old, the fascist Germany had begun the invasion of the Soviet Union. Jaroslava was just barely able to get out before the Germans came and put her home city of Leningrad under siege. She had been studying at University only a year before, to be a scientist. She was working in chemistry before she had to leave without attaining her degree. She fled to Stalingrad, where she was told the Red Army would never let the Germans pass. She knew she would be safe there. It was in Stalingrad that Jaroslava joined the Red Army, knowing they needed as many volunteers as possible. And, since she was not drafted, she would be in much better circumstances than the god-forsaken conscripts. She would go on to be one of the better shots in her unit.
Military Rank: ста́рший сержа́нт (Starshii serzhant)
Writing Sample:
Was it fear Jaroslava tasted in her mouth? Perhaps it was blood? No, it was too bitter. It was adrenaline she remembered. Her years of chemistry had taught her one thing at least. Her memories of a better day raised her temperature in the snowy air and below-living temperature of the Russian landscape. If she opened her mouth she was sure her teeth would freeze up and shatter. Of course, her fingers weren’t any better off. They were nearly frozen around the stock of her rifle, just as the dead fingers of her comrades grasped their rifles in the bloodstained snow, a grave for the fallen heroes –martyrs- of the Communist ideal. Their blood matched the colour of their collars, a symbol of the blood shed to make the world a better place, to give Lenin his rightful authority over the workers of the world.
The time was different now though. Jaroslava would face death if she remained still and lying in the winter storm, waiting for a German tank to stumble upon her. She would have to stand up and make her way back. Surely the DP machine-guns would all be packed up by now and she could retreat without being shot at by her own comrades. She gathered her strength and stood up in the blowing wind and walked with the wind to her back, still grasping onto her rifle; its bullets being the single thing standing between her and a German bastard. The world got smaller as she walked in the blustering zephyr. It was her versus the wind and nothing else nothing getting in the way. The only thing that could wake her up was the rumble of a tank, only metres in front of her. It was definitely German. The T34s were smaller than the Panzer and made a different sound. She couldn’t lie down. She knew she wouldn’t get back up if she did.
Instead, she took her time and crouched low to the snow and walked carefully, keeping the sound at a distance. There was too much snow in the air for anyone to see her. Though there was the slight silhouette of a burning building in the distance. I was Stalingrad, without a doubt. The sound of the tank grew fainter as she approached the city and warmed herself going by the fire. By the time she had gotten into an alleyway, she was sweating. There was no wind where she was and the heat of the burning building made her blood almost brim with life. The name of the city was plastered against a wall – Сталинград. She quickly moved through the alleyways and tried to find a silent place to hide. She had to get her bearings and get back to base. It was at that moment as she was looking through a window onto a street when she heard the shouting in German. She quickly ducked behind the wall and readied her rifle.
She could see a pair of German soldiers walking down the street in their bundled grey long-coats. Their helmets were unremarkably recognisable with their flared edges and swastikas gleaming out like targets. She looked out the window again. The soldiers were unsuspecting and the wind was terrible below. She knew the shot was possible. Though, she waited to see if there were anymore of the fascists. It seemed clear enough. She brought the rifle up to her shoulder and rose slowly to the windowsill, pointing the barely noticeable barrel down at the enemy. She took a deep breath and slowly pulled the trigger to the firing point before letting go and pulling the trigger. She heard the shot, but Fritz never heard it coming. The lead of death flew through the first soldier and sent the other to the ground writhing. She left him there. Firing a second shot would give her away, and she wanted the damnable fascist to suffer. What else could she do?
Soon she reached the Soviet lines. A bright scarlet flag signalled the checkpoint. She raised her rifle above her head and called out in Russian. “Я русский! Я русский!“ She was safe and wither own people, a people that cared for others. They would have their revenge. Soon; she knew it.
I would like the rank I asked for. If my writing is not up to par, let me know and I get it fixed up.