Post by Peter T Branigan on Nov 9, 2007 18:59:01 GMT
Accepted! Welcome to the board!!! 
Please use the template provided below to write an application for your character, make sure to fill every area out to the best of your writing quality and then post it as a ‘GUEST’ under a ‘NEW THREAD’.
Thank you,
Account E-Mail: (Edited Out!)
Name: Peter T. Branigan
Nationality: British
What Army will Your Character Serve Beneath?
UK/US or AXIS: US Military
Character History:
Peter was born in Yorkshire, north England, where his parents were formidable doctors and carried the family trait of medicine in their name. Peter’s grandfather and great grandfather on his father’s side built and established a renowned hospital in Yorkshire, tendering to thousands of patients every year and earning a good yearly income from the government and other various practices supporting his forefather’s establishment and hospital treaties.
His father was a consultant at the hospital, gaining a higher authority shortly after Peter’s grandfather died, whilst his mother was simply a local doctor to the wards, borderline nurse almost, as she indulged in talking to her patients and understanding their attitude towards medicine - most doctors being arrogant, his mother wasn’t.
Peter was only fifth teen when his parents hailed a call from neighbouring America, it seemed as if an American Doctor of the Medical Chain has been observing the hospital respectively close, as the letter, hand-written and signed, plopped through his family’s letterbox one day. The letter was somewhat mysterious to start with, but all came clear quite sometime later, when Peter remembered watching his father on the telephone, talking quite extravagantly to someone - soon enough when the call ended, his father was almost hitting the roof, as he watched his parents jitter and smile widely - it seemed as if the Americans had higher hopes for his parents? Peter never really knew what the whole scenario of the letter and phone call was about, as his parents never really uttered a word to him, just “We’re going on an adventure now son, we’re hitting the apple!”
The Hospital became Government property soon enough and the council ran it for their county, a family legacy that his father used to brag about, soon became a small piece of paper, entitled as a cheque, a lump sum of money that would soon enough be spilled on travelling, housing in America and more so, celebrations.
Growing up in America wasn’t easy, as Peter attending American Schooling, learnt American history and by the time he was going to college, he was dating southern drooled woman fresh to New-York. Indeed, it wasn’t long until Peter lost his own English Accent, as his words became more prolonged and his pronunciations were twanged to sound more American, a new-Yorker.
The years went by and before Peter knew it, he was working for his father under a new hospital branch, only difference was, was that I was continuously busy, wasn’t his parents and more so, Peter was amongst many other doctors like himself. Infact, Peter spent so long at college and university getting his qualifications, the arrogance towards normal civilized people had already set-in, he barely made small talk and became a man of work… That was until, the second world war broke out.
Military Rank:
- Combat Medical Technician, CLASS 1 (Because he’s been around patients for a few years already)
Writing Sample:
Scenario: You’re alone behind enemy lines and you get the eerie feeling someone’s watching you. You’re trying to remain quiet, stay low, work your way back to the frontlines - but you can’t help but feel you’re being followed… (How does your character React? What’s running through their mind?)
The prior night’s battle had been horrendous, Peter didn’t know whether he was coming or going, last he knew, he was tumbling through a haywire of dirt exploding around him, trying his hardest to not get shot, whilst he clambered onto the bodies of the wounded. It wasn’t the first time, nor the last, that those ‘panzy’ Nazis shot dead the wounded soldier he was treating - he was surprised they didn’t just shoot him.
Then, it happened. He wasn’t sure if it was a grenade or bombardment of artillery fire, but all he could recall, was the deafening racket and explosion of something terribly massive nearby him, so strong it actually knocked him unconscious for the rest of the battle… Until now… It was strange how there was always a calm after the storm, as Peter awoke to silence, a ghost town almost.
He’d been awake for a few hours already and started taking easy steps towards the south, the direction in which his comrades advanced from, whether they retreated or not, he wasn’t sure, but it seemed the best way to travel - particularly so as he didn’t fancy bumping into the Nazis. Even if he was neutral and unarmed, meaning the Nazis couldn’t shoot him, by war-rules, he didn’t fancy taking his chances none the less.
A sharp noise suddenly caught Peter’s attention non-the-less, as he stopped abruptly within his tracks, grasping his nimble dirty blood stained fingertips onto his medical waist bag, looking around. He couldn’t see anything? But Peter was walking straight down a cobbled path within a local French town, so buildings and narrow roads surrounded him, so if he couldn’t see them, they most like could see him. The feeling did unnerve him, particularly as the town was somewhat abandoned and bodies were astray all over the place, with smouldering craters in the ground. It was very hard to tell who won the battle, if anyone?
Peter slowly began to walk again, propping up the medical red-cross on his arm a little, making sure the dirty arm-band could be seen, just encase anyone did decide to take a pot-shot at him, at least they knew they’d kill an innocent unarmed man. But no shots came, that was until a sudden voice echoed down a nearby road, sending Peter sideways a little, twitching, almost expecting it to be a gunshot emitting out of the blue. Instead, a young French male stood waving at him, baring the arm-band of the French Resistance, hollering for the American to follow him.
Uneasy about the situation, Peter had no where else to go. He despised the French for causing Dunkirk, if it wasn’t for that fatal error, America wouldn’t be needed to help support the pathetic errors they made with British troops… None the less, he approached the male.
Neutral Forces Application
[/b][/center]Please use the template provided below to write an application for your character, make sure to fill every area out to the best of your writing quality and then post it as a ‘GUEST’ under a ‘NEW THREAD’.
Thank you,
Account E-Mail: (Edited Out!)
Name: Peter T. Branigan
Nationality: British
What Army will Your Character Serve Beneath?
UK/US or AXIS: US Military
Character History:
Peter was born in Yorkshire, north England, where his parents were formidable doctors and carried the family trait of medicine in their name. Peter’s grandfather and great grandfather on his father’s side built and established a renowned hospital in Yorkshire, tendering to thousands of patients every year and earning a good yearly income from the government and other various practices supporting his forefather’s establishment and hospital treaties.
His father was a consultant at the hospital, gaining a higher authority shortly after Peter’s grandfather died, whilst his mother was simply a local doctor to the wards, borderline nurse almost, as she indulged in talking to her patients and understanding their attitude towards medicine - most doctors being arrogant, his mother wasn’t.
Peter was only fifth teen when his parents hailed a call from neighbouring America, it seemed as if an American Doctor of the Medical Chain has been observing the hospital respectively close, as the letter, hand-written and signed, plopped through his family’s letterbox one day. The letter was somewhat mysterious to start with, but all came clear quite sometime later, when Peter remembered watching his father on the telephone, talking quite extravagantly to someone - soon enough when the call ended, his father was almost hitting the roof, as he watched his parents jitter and smile widely - it seemed as if the Americans had higher hopes for his parents? Peter never really knew what the whole scenario of the letter and phone call was about, as his parents never really uttered a word to him, just “We’re going on an adventure now son, we’re hitting the apple!”
The Hospital became Government property soon enough and the council ran it for their county, a family legacy that his father used to brag about, soon became a small piece of paper, entitled as a cheque, a lump sum of money that would soon enough be spilled on travelling, housing in America and more so, celebrations.
Growing up in America wasn’t easy, as Peter attending American Schooling, learnt American history and by the time he was going to college, he was dating southern drooled woman fresh to New-York. Indeed, it wasn’t long until Peter lost his own English Accent, as his words became more prolonged and his pronunciations were twanged to sound more American, a new-Yorker.
The years went by and before Peter knew it, he was working for his father under a new hospital branch, only difference was, was that I was continuously busy, wasn’t his parents and more so, Peter was amongst many other doctors like himself. Infact, Peter spent so long at college and university getting his qualifications, the arrogance towards normal civilized people had already set-in, he barely made small talk and became a man of work… That was until, the second world war broke out.
Military Rank:
- Combat Medical Technician, CLASS 1 (Because he’s been around patients for a few years already)
Writing Sample:
Scenario: You’re alone behind enemy lines and you get the eerie feeling someone’s watching you. You’re trying to remain quiet, stay low, work your way back to the frontlines - but you can’t help but feel you’re being followed… (How does your character React? What’s running through their mind?)
The prior night’s battle had been horrendous, Peter didn’t know whether he was coming or going, last he knew, he was tumbling through a haywire of dirt exploding around him, trying his hardest to not get shot, whilst he clambered onto the bodies of the wounded. It wasn’t the first time, nor the last, that those ‘panzy’ Nazis shot dead the wounded soldier he was treating - he was surprised they didn’t just shoot him.
Then, it happened. He wasn’t sure if it was a grenade or bombardment of artillery fire, but all he could recall, was the deafening racket and explosion of something terribly massive nearby him, so strong it actually knocked him unconscious for the rest of the battle… Until now… It was strange how there was always a calm after the storm, as Peter awoke to silence, a ghost town almost.
He’d been awake for a few hours already and started taking easy steps towards the south, the direction in which his comrades advanced from, whether they retreated or not, he wasn’t sure, but it seemed the best way to travel - particularly so as he didn’t fancy bumping into the Nazis. Even if he was neutral and unarmed, meaning the Nazis couldn’t shoot him, by war-rules, he didn’t fancy taking his chances none the less.
A sharp noise suddenly caught Peter’s attention non-the-less, as he stopped abruptly within his tracks, grasping his nimble dirty blood stained fingertips onto his medical waist bag, looking around. He couldn’t see anything? But Peter was walking straight down a cobbled path within a local French town, so buildings and narrow roads surrounded him, so if he couldn’t see them, they most like could see him. The feeling did unnerve him, particularly as the town was somewhat abandoned and bodies were astray all over the place, with smouldering craters in the ground. It was very hard to tell who won the battle, if anyone?
Peter slowly began to walk again, propping up the medical red-cross on his arm a little, making sure the dirty arm-band could be seen, just encase anyone did decide to take a pot-shot at him, at least they knew they’d kill an innocent unarmed man. But no shots came, that was until a sudden voice echoed down a nearby road, sending Peter sideways a little, twitching, almost expecting it to be a gunshot emitting out of the blue. Instead, a young French male stood waving at him, baring the arm-band of the French Resistance, hollering for the American to follow him.
Uneasy about the situation, Peter had no where else to go. He despised the French for causing Dunkirk, if it wasn’t for that fatal error, America wouldn’t be needed to help support the pathetic errors they made with British troops… None the less, he approached the male.