Post by Trevor D Hawk on Jun 6, 2011 19:59:49 GMT
Account E-Mail: This is Gero.
Name: Trevor D. Hawk
Nationality:
- British
What Army will Your Character Serve Beneath?
UK, US or Soviet: Commonwealth UK
Character History:
Trevor's earlier life was a troubled and dark past to visit. He was born and bred in London England, growing to be quite the cockney lad within the east-end of London and became street wise over the forthcoming years of his volatile youth. Living in Bethnal Green, Trevor was the bastard son to a prostitute mother whom had little motherly love to share and the role of a fatherly figure varied in his upbringing; as soon as a boyfriend came, another took it's place and Trevor soon despised any fatherly figure within his life that his mother wished to introduce.
It didn't take long until Trevor was having close brushes with the law. His first brush with the law was at thirteen, when he had been caught committing petty theft on a private property. Justice was served in the accordance of a hefty clout around the ear, nothing more. His second wind with the law soon beckoned a couple of years later at the age of fifteen; this time Trevor was caught intoxicated and vandalising public property, but justice served this time around and Trevor was sentenced to serve time in a juvenile correction facility that comprised of young boys aged between thirteen and seventeen. It was here that Trevor found himself growing up fast and learning the traits of respect.
After serving two years in the juvenile correction facility, Trevor was barely seventeen when his release came around. Initially sentenced for sixteen months, Trevor had dabbled in and out of trouble during the time he was serving his sentence and found himself staying quite a bit longer than he wished. However, he was a free man at the age of seventeen and vowed to mend his ways and build a better life for himself, but Trevor didn't have a choice, his mother had moved residence without forewarning him and abandoned any trace of where she had gone. Perhaps she had died for all he or anyone else knew? Regardless, Trevor was determined to fend for himself, like he always had and attempt to make a better start to his life now he had been given a second chance to freedom.
It took a while for Trevor to become settled, but eventually he found himself grafting hard labour on anything his hands could be put to good use on and rented himself a little accommodation. It was nothing fancy to say the least, it was a two room apartment above a retail shop on a buzzing high-street. Bathroom and bedroom was all it comprised off, but that was more than Trevor had ever owned in his life and he was proud of it, knowing he had earned his way in life and finally had something to show for the effort. It was hard work for almost nothing, but Trevor made ends meet with various other jobs he could get his hands on.
It had been well over a year and Trevor was going on for being nineteen within a month; European affairs had began to waver on the newspapers, speculation floundered in whispering discussions in the local public houses, but Trevor wasn't one for politics or worldly affairs, he had enough going on of his own, affairs to deal with in his own life and troubles to resolve himself. The world had always been whispering rumours, he thought little of it.
Another year passed quickly and Trevor had recently turned his hand to mechanics, having a small part-time job in an auto-mobile garage beside a renown gas station. Work was constant and Trevor enjoyed the particulate work of being under a car hood. It set his brain to work and he began to learn a trade, it was hands on work and enjoyable; he didn't have much love for his employer, but who did? Things were looking up nicely and Trevor had a proper wage, he was contemplating on moving out of east-london and going somewhere more abroad with better prospects... that was until misfortune occurred.
On Trevor's twenty-first birthday, he was falsely arrested in the connection to a murder. His landlord had been bludgeoned to death around the back of his workplace, the police had sought to put the connection of Trevor's workplace and relationship of his landlord together and pin it upon him. Trevor was by all means innocent of the crime, but his steeped criminal history and smudged past branded him a threat and tying the loose ends together into Trevor's general direction, meant it seemed logical that Trevor was a firm suspect for the crime.
Held in custody for two weeks and given a grim outlook by his lawyer that he will be seeing the gallows for a crime he never committed, Trevor had a choice to make. Fess up to something he never done and face the penalty of possible death, fight the case that had been stacked against him and still possibly face death or get himself immediately drafted into the military? War had only just broken out and although the military had a lot of enthusiastic recruits signing up as soon as they could whip a hand to a pencil and paper, the use of criminals to make the ranks of penal platoons were always needed as cannon fodder for the operations good men didn't deserve to die for – just the bad.
Given the slim choice, Trevor decided to choose his chances with joining the military and serving in the war. The outlook on surviving it was slim, but it was a chance nonetheless, whereas facing the noose had no chance of survival and he'd be dead within the month on death-row. They needed the prison space for more notorious criminals, Trevor would've been hanging by the end of the week if it were up to the judge – regardless however, he was now a new recruit of the military and was given the rudimentary training of an infantryman over the coming eight months, but penal platoons weren't given the appropriate year's training however, they were just cannon fodder remember. Thugs and criminals.
By the end of his training, Trevor was thrown into the fray of war and entered conflict on a grandeur level. Although the British wouldn't admit it to the public, as it would make bad press, Trevor's penal regiment was pushed into France immediately during the Expeditionary Forces retreat; Dunkirk. The cause of Trevor's penal regiment was to slow the German advance and allow the good men, the nice guys of Britain to retreat, whilst the criminals and thugs threw themselves at the enemy to buy them time. Trevor done as he was told, but always kept in the back of his mind that he was innocent and not one of the criminals that surrounded him. He wasn't worthless.
By the end of Dunkirk, Trevor had been captured by the Nazis after a long heated conflict and was thrown into a makeshift POW camp in recently captured Belgium. It was here that Trevor made his escape with various other comrades and eventually made for home; he could have deserted, avoided the chance of being thrown back onto the front-line, but Trevor wanted to fight for his country, he'd grasped the bug of being patriotic and could see the danger the Nazis posed. He'd been given a new meaning to his life, he'd fight for freedom and country.
Trevor was soon acquitted of his crimes upon his return and given the appropriate rank and company within the military, but Trevor had one request and he requested to be given the chance to prove himself in any special operations the British had planned. He wanted to help as much as he could and he had the experience required to take on the Nazi threat; he'd already faced a suicidal prospect of slowing down the Nazis at Dunkirk and escaped the enemy's POW camp, making it back home across the channel and reporting back for duty all by himself. It was here, a new chapter began and Trevor had been heard...
Military Rank:
- Sergeant
Writing Sample:
Scenario: Your character is on the frontlines during a massive attack by the enemy. His leader takes a bullet to the chest leaving your character in charge... (What does he do? What is running through his mind?) Must be at least 15 lines of text.
Sergeant Trevor Hawk breathed heavily, gasping for the intake of air, his chest feeling as though it was getting tighter by each passing moment and his breathing becoming laboured by the hyperventilation of needing oxygen. Feeling his knees give way and his legs turn to jelly, Trevor wobbled through the doorway to what seemed to be a house and slumped down against the inner wall. His vision blurred, his body weakened and his head thudded to rest against the interior wall he leaned against; raking his hands against his chest, Trevor ripped off the shoulder straps to his burgen style rucksack and toiled at the buttons to his fatigues, loosening the strain he felt on his chest.
Catching a breath of two, Trevor's body began to catch up with it's self and he attempted to get his breathing back to normal. The Germans could be heard down the street, not that far away now, their low toned voices bellowing out orders to one another as they advanced on his position. His section had been outflanked and taken by surprise, causing the company to split up and scatter. His commander had bought it, shot in the head almost instantly, before half the company was blown away by heavy fire. He wasn't sure who was or wasn't alive, but he retreated back to a safe distance, as with anyone else alive. They had to regroup and feat a counter-attack, but it seemed like all the commanders had been targeted during the ambush; he knew the Captain had bought it, because he'd been right behind him when the Germans pounced.
Reaching to his side for his Thompson SMG, Trevor abruptly realised it had gone, vanished, disappeared. It must have fallen from him during the commotion maybe? He wasn't sure, a lot happened so fast, it was possible. Thankfully, he had his Browning pistol and released it from the holster on his hip, locking the chamber with a round and checking the side-arm over for any implications or faults, but it was perfect and ready.
Rising to his feet, Trevor left his burgen rucksack against the wall and made his way upstairs to the house he was in. Moving into what seemed to be a child's bedroom, he peered from the upstairs window and looked down the street towards a smouldering wreck that had formed from his previous position, his company's previous position, they had barely made it into the town to set up an advanced front when the Germans flanked an ambush on them. They must had anticipated their arrival and now they were hunting them like dogs. Trevor watched in awe as two silhouetted figures in the short distance popped off rounds at bodies on the floor, could the Nazis truly be that callous? Trevor cringed at the thought and angrily clenched his fist at the same time, he wanted to do something about it, but by himself he was powerless and equipped with a pistol, he wouldn't do much damage. He had to find the others, fast.
Descending the stairs, Trevor suddenly froze as he heard someone coming up to the front doorway. Quickly turning around, he headed back up the few steps he'd made down and hid behind the upstairs banister, peering through the crack between the beams and watching the main entrance as a German soldier entered the household slowly. Armed with an MP40, his icy blue eyes scowled the downstairs slowly, noticing Trevor's military burgen rucksack against the wall after several seconds. “Shit...” Trevor mumbled under his breath, noticing as the German suddenly became alert and approached the burgen rucksack with a tip-toe demeanour, prodding it with his MP40 and checking it over.
Trevor weighed up his options; he knew he wouldn't be able to descend the stairs in time to silently take out the German, not without him hearing the creaking floorboards of the stairs as he descended and neither would Trevor be able to sneak out so easily either. It left one solid option, make noise, but be quick about it. Trevor wasn't about to wait for the German to come upstairs and whilst he seemed distracted by checking over the burgen rucksack, Trevor took two steps down the stairs as quiet as he could, before dropping down the rest and popping off three quick successive rounds at the Nazi – tumbling over backwards, the German coiled in agony as he hit the ground.
Without a moment to spare, Trevor paced over to the German and popped a round into the man's head – an ironic mirrored vision he'd witnessed the Nazis doing to his comrades – grabbing the German soldier's MP40, he made haste for the back door to the house and exited into a small alley. The fight had only just begun.
How did you find us? If you found us via a link somewhere, where was it? If someone pointed you here, who was it?: Already a member.
Name: Trevor D. Hawk
Nationality:
- British
What Army will Your Character Serve Beneath?
UK, US or Soviet: Commonwealth UK
Character History:
Trevor's earlier life was a troubled and dark past to visit. He was born and bred in London England, growing to be quite the cockney lad within the east-end of London and became street wise over the forthcoming years of his volatile youth. Living in Bethnal Green, Trevor was the bastard son to a prostitute mother whom had little motherly love to share and the role of a fatherly figure varied in his upbringing; as soon as a boyfriend came, another took it's place and Trevor soon despised any fatherly figure within his life that his mother wished to introduce.
It didn't take long until Trevor was having close brushes with the law. His first brush with the law was at thirteen, when he had been caught committing petty theft on a private property. Justice was served in the accordance of a hefty clout around the ear, nothing more. His second wind with the law soon beckoned a couple of years later at the age of fifteen; this time Trevor was caught intoxicated and vandalising public property, but justice served this time around and Trevor was sentenced to serve time in a juvenile correction facility that comprised of young boys aged between thirteen and seventeen. It was here that Trevor found himself growing up fast and learning the traits of respect.
After serving two years in the juvenile correction facility, Trevor was barely seventeen when his release came around. Initially sentenced for sixteen months, Trevor had dabbled in and out of trouble during the time he was serving his sentence and found himself staying quite a bit longer than he wished. However, he was a free man at the age of seventeen and vowed to mend his ways and build a better life for himself, but Trevor didn't have a choice, his mother had moved residence without forewarning him and abandoned any trace of where she had gone. Perhaps she had died for all he or anyone else knew? Regardless, Trevor was determined to fend for himself, like he always had and attempt to make a better start to his life now he had been given a second chance to freedom.
It took a while for Trevor to become settled, but eventually he found himself grafting hard labour on anything his hands could be put to good use on and rented himself a little accommodation. It was nothing fancy to say the least, it was a two room apartment above a retail shop on a buzzing high-street. Bathroom and bedroom was all it comprised off, but that was more than Trevor had ever owned in his life and he was proud of it, knowing he had earned his way in life and finally had something to show for the effort. It was hard work for almost nothing, but Trevor made ends meet with various other jobs he could get his hands on.
It had been well over a year and Trevor was going on for being nineteen within a month; European affairs had began to waver on the newspapers, speculation floundered in whispering discussions in the local public houses, but Trevor wasn't one for politics or worldly affairs, he had enough going on of his own, affairs to deal with in his own life and troubles to resolve himself. The world had always been whispering rumours, he thought little of it.
Another year passed quickly and Trevor had recently turned his hand to mechanics, having a small part-time job in an auto-mobile garage beside a renown gas station. Work was constant and Trevor enjoyed the particulate work of being under a car hood. It set his brain to work and he began to learn a trade, it was hands on work and enjoyable; he didn't have much love for his employer, but who did? Things were looking up nicely and Trevor had a proper wage, he was contemplating on moving out of east-london and going somewhere more abroad with better prospects... that was until misfortune occurred.
On Trevor's twenty-first birthday, he was falsely arrested in the connection to a murder. His landlord had been bludgeoned to death around the back of his workplace, the police had sought to put the connection of Trevor's workplace and relationship of his landlord together and pin it upon him. Trevor was by all means innocent of the crime, but his steeped criminal history and smudged past branded him a threat and tying the loose ends together into Trevor's general direction, meant it seemed logical that Trevor was a firm suspect for the crime.
Held in custody for two weeks and given a grim outlook by his lawyer that he will be seeing the gallows for a crime he never committed, Trevor had a choice to make. Fess up to something he never done and face the penalty of possible death, fight the case that had been stacked against him and still possibly face death or get himself immediately drafted into the military? War had only just broken out and although the military had a lot of enthusiastic recruits signing up as soon as they could whip a hand to a pencil and paper, the use of criminals to make the ranks of penal platoons were always needed as cannon fodder for the operations good men didn't deserve to die for – just the bad.
Given the slim choice, Trevor decided to choose his chances with joining the military and serving in the war. The outlook on surviving it was slim, but it was a chance nonetheless, whereas facing the noose had no chance of survival and he'd be dead within the month on death-row. They needed the prison space for more notorious criminals, Trevor would've been hanging by the end of the week if it were up to the judge – regardless however, he was now a new recruit of the military and was given the rudimentary training of an infantryman over the coming eight months, but penal platoons weren't given the appropriate year's training however, they were just cannon fodder remember. Thugs and criminals.
By the end of his training, Trevor was thrown into the fray of war and entered conflict on a grandeur level. Although the British wouldn't admit it to the public, as it would make bad press, Trevor's penal regiment was pushed into France immediately during the Expeditionary Forces retreat; Dunkirk. The cause of Trevor's penal regiment was to slow the German advance and allow the good men, the nice guys of Britain to retreat, whilst the criminals and thugs threw themselves at the enemy to buy them time. Trevor done as he was told, but always kept in the back of his mind that he was innocent and not one of the criminals that surrounded him. He wasn't worthless.
By the end of Dunkirk, Trevor had been captured by the Nazis after a long heated conflict and was thrown into a makeshift POW camp in recently captured Belgium. It was here that Trevor made his escape with various other comrades and eventually made for home; he could have deserted, avoided the chance of being thrown back onto the front-line, but Trevor wanted to fight for his country, he'd grasped the bug of being patriotic and could see the danger the Nazis posed. He'd been given a new meaning to his life, he'd fight for freedom and country.
Trevor was soon acquitted of his crimes upon his return and given the appropriate rank and company within the military, but Trevor had one request and he requested to be given the chance to prove himself in any special operations the British had planned. He wanted to help as much as he could and he had the experience required to take on the Nazi threat; he'd already faced a suicidal prospect of slowing down the Nazis at Dunkirk and escaped the enemy's POW camp, making it back home across the channel and reporting back for duty all by himself. It was here, a new chapter began and Trevor had been heard...
Military Rank:
- Sergeant
Writing Sample:
Scenario: Your character is on the frontlines during a massive attack by the enemy. His leader takes a bullet to the chest leaving your character in charge... (What does he do? What is running through his mind?) Must be at least 15 lines of text.
Sergeant Trevor Hawk breathed heavily, gasping for the intake of air, his chest feeling as though it was getting tighter by each passing moment and his breathing becoming laboured by the hyperventilation of needing oxygen. Feeling his knees give way and his legs turn to jelly, Trevor wobbled through the doorway to what seemed to be a house and slumped down against the inner wall. His vision blurred, his body weakened and his head thudded to rest against the interior wall he leaned against; raking his hands against his chest, Trevor ripped off the shoulder straps to his burgen style rucksack and toiled at the buttons to his fatigues, loosening the strain he felt on his chest.
Catching a breath of two, Trevor's body began to catch up with it's self and he attempted to get his breathing back to normal. The Germans could be heard down the street, not that far away now, their low toned voices bellowing out orders to one another as they advanced on his position. His section had been outflanked and taken by surprise, causing the company to split up and scatter. His commander had bought it, shot in the head almost instantly, before half the company was blown away by heavy fire. He wasn't sure who was or wasn't alive, but he retreated back to a safe distance, as with anyone else alive. They had to regroup and feat a counter-attack, but it seemed like all the commanders had been targeted during the ambush; he knew the Captain had bought it, because he'd been right behind him when the Germans pounced.
Reaching to his side for his Thompson SMG, Trevor abruptly realised it had gone, vanished, disappeared. It must have fallen from him during the commotion maybe? He wasn't sure, a lot happened so fast, it was possible. Thankfully, he had his Browning pistol and released it from the holster on his hip, locking the chamber with a round and checking the side-arm over for any implications or faults, but it was perfect and ready.
Rising to his feet, Trevor left his burgen rucksack against the wall and made his way upstairs to the house he was in. Moving into what seemed to be a child's bedroom, he peered from the upstairs window and looked down the street towards a smouldering wreck that had formed from his previous position, his company's previous position, they had barely made it into the town to set up an advanced front when the Germans flanked an ambush on them. They must had anticipated their arrival and now they were hunting them like dogs. Trevor watched in awe as two silhouetted figures in the short distance popped off rounds at bodies on the floor, could the Nazis truly be that callous? Trevor cringed at the thought and angrily clenched his fist at the same time, he wanted to do something about it, but by himself he was powerless and equipped with a pistol, he wouldn't do much damage. He had to find the others, fast.
Descending the stairs, Trevor suddenly froze as he heard someone coming up to the front doorway. Quickly turning around, he headed back up the few steps he'd made down and hid behind the upstairs banister, peering through the crack between the beams and watching the main entrance as a German soldier entered the household slowly. Armed with an MP40, his icy blue eyes scowled the downstairs slowly, noticing Trevor's military burgen rucksack against the wall after several seconds. “Shit...” Trevor mumbled under his breath, noticing as the German suddenly became alert and approached the burgen rucksack with a tip-toe demeanour, prodding it with his MP40 and checking it over.
Trevor weighed up his options; he knew he wouldn't be able to descend the stairs in time to silently take out the German, not without him hearing the creaking floorboards of the stairs as he descended and neither would Trevor be able to sneak out so easily either. It left one solid option, make noise, but be quick about it. Trevor wasn't about to wait for the German to come upstairs and whilst he seemed distracted by checking over the burgen rucksack, Trevor took two steps down the stairs as quiet as he could, before dropping down the rest and popping off three quick successive rounds at the Nazi – tumbling over backwards, the German coiled in agony as he hit the ground.
Without a moment to spare, Trevor paced over to the German and popped a round into the man's head – an ironic mirrored vision he'd witnessed the Nazis doing to his comrades – grabbing the German soldier's MP40, he made haste for the back door to the house and exited into a small alley. The fight had only just begun.
How did you find us? If you found us via a link somewhere, where was it? If someone pointed you here, who was it?: Already a member.
