Post by Nikita Alkeav on Feb 6, 2009 17:39:13 GMT
Accepted, but rank is pending, bear with me for a short time, will be handled VERY soon.
-JT
**EDIT**
You have been given the rank you requested.
Account E-Mail: EDITED OUT!
Name: Nikita Alkaev
Nationality: Russian
What Army will Your Character Serve Beneath?
Soviet... if I get the rank, I'll make a Russian division. If not, British... that'll be hard to explain...
Character History:
Nikita was born in 1912 in Arkhangelsk, Russia. He would be the first of the three children that Feliks and Isidora Alkaev would have before the outbreak of the Great War in the summer of 1914. The other two children would be girls, Stasya and Anfisa. This small families life would be rudely interrupted by the Csar's call to arms against Austria and Germany in 1914. Feliks was quickly conscripted, given a rifle and thrown in front of Austrian guns. He was told he would not see his home until the war was over.
In the meantime, Isidora did the best she could to support three infants, making all kinds of linens for the small village for which she was repaid with food and other necessities. Nikita's earliest memories are of the mother sitting in an old, chair that looked as if it would break at any second while she threaded vibrant colours together into beautiful pieces of art. To this day, Nikita has no recollection of where she got such fantastically colourful threads.
Then, in 1917, the world became even more violent than before and the colour red came to dominate Nikita's life. The Revolution had begun.
Feliks had managed to survive everything the Germans and Austrians could muster, though he gained many scars from their efforts. When the Csar recalled the army in 1917 to fight the growing insurrection in the Motherland, Feliks did indeed return. But he, as did most of the army, returned with red armbands, ready to repay the Csar and anyone who allied with him tenfold for what they had forced Feliks and his comrades to endure for the last 3 years. In October of 1917, Feliks was among the Bolsheviks who stormed the Winter Palace effectively ending the Provisional Government's reign after the abdication of Nicholas II. This was the birth of the Soviet Union.
After this the violence subsided for Nikita. His father returned home and life continued as it had before the war, the only difference being the red flags proudly displayed in one widow of every home. He still played in the dirt; He still kicked around mud balls; He was still a boy. When his younger sister, Stasya, started to show signs of great grace and flexibility, Feliks used his old army connection to get her an audition for a prestigious ballet school in Moscow. She was accepted and left her family at the age of seven in 1920, Isidora, Nikita, and Anfisa waved as the the train carrying Stasya and Feliks left for Moscow. Stasya wrote letters home every weekend as soon as she learned to write. No one knew how to read them but they were tucked away like gold in a special box carved by Feliks and lined with satin that was secretly obtained by Isidora.
In 1923, when Nikita was only 10, Feliks grew violently ill. There were no doctors in the village and the nearest city was days away. Nikita and Anfisa watches for weeks as their father, their hero, decayed and withered away before their eyes. Feliks left their home one snowy night with nothing but the clothes on his back. He left four painstakingly crafted wooden hearts by the door before he left, one for each of them. Nikita never saw him again.
Life became much harder after that. Nikita had to work any jobs he could get from the other villagers to get enough food for his mother and sister. It wasn't long before Isidora fell ill as well and passed away quietly in bed. The deaths of both his parents scared Nikita more than he let anyone know. From that point on his heart grew colder and his treatment of his sister became more harsh though he tried even harder to provide for her as well as he could.
In 1928, Stasya preformed for the first time on a Moscow stage with her siblings watching from the back of the theater with tears in their eyes. Nikita and Anfisa decided to stay in Moscow to be with their sister; the three of them shared an apartment near the school Anfisa had attended. Nikita could work in a factory on the outskirts of the city, Stasya would dance for the Moscow ballet, and Anfisa wove beautiful linens as their mother had. In 1931 Anfisa married the son of a local factory owner; she continued to make her linens.
Nikita's world was rocked twice more in 1932. After leaving the theater one night, Stasya was raped and murdered in an alley a few blocks from the theater. Enraged, Nikita did not let her death go unpunished. After only three weeks of hunting, Nikita found the man who had killed his sister and killed him in the same alley. Later that year, Anfisa was also killed but her murder left no question as to who the killer was. Nikita killed Anfisa's husband with a gunshot to the head after he stuffed a fistful of Rubbles down his throat.
With two murders under his belt and the police after him for one of them, the only place Nikita could turn to was the military. Using his father's connections, Nikita was able to secure protection from several colonels who had been mere privates when they had served with his father. Nikita's crimes quickly faded away as he proved to be a very efficient soldier, easily climbing to the rank of senior sergeant by 1935.
When the Great Purge began in 1936, most of Nikita's protection was stripped away as almost all of his father's friends were killed on the orders of Stalin. Nikita, himself, managed to avoid the wrath of the Stalin was was promoted to full lieutenant as everyone floated upwards to fill in the gaps in the command structure left by the dead.
As tensions between Germany and the Soviet Union grew to the boiling point in the in 1940-41, The Soviet Army restructured itself for war but Nikita was not placed in a combat unit until late 1941. He became third-in-command of a rifle regiment and was amongst those who drove the Germans from Moscow in December.
Military Rank: Leytenánt (Shooting high)
Writing Sample:
(I've ignored the scenario... obviously)
The unforgiving cold air of the Russian Winter attacked Nikita's face turning it bright pink as his body fought desperately to keep it warm. The air in the alley smelled of iron as it pierced his nostrils. The pistol was warm in his hand, as was the blood and bits of skull on the wall in front of him. He felt much better now, a weight had been lifted off of him. He imagined the smile that this must have brought the now freed spirit of Stasya. Nikita smiled with her, as he removed his coat and hat, revealing another unstained coat underneath. He tossed the blood soaked clothing to the side and took out a second hat placing it snugly over his pale blonde hair. Next, he engaged the safety on the pistol and slid it into the pocket of the new coat. He didn't bother with his pants, plenty of people had stains on their pants.
Nikita left the body where it was and walked to the end of the alley. When he reached the street, his gray-blue eyes scanned the surroundings to see if there were any suspicious peepers standing around to see what had happened. There weren't any, in fact their wasn't a single sole to seen anywhere. Satisfied with his work, Nikita strolled home not bothering to removed the tiny speck of blood on his cheek.
10 Minutes Earlier
"How could I have been so stupid!" thought Nikita, "Of course, it was the damn owner! Stupid, obvious mistake!" He had just pieced together the identity of the man who had murdered his sister only three weeks ago. A shopkeeper who operated opposite the alley where Nikita's sister had died. He said he had been cleaning the windows at the front of the shop when he had seen a tall red-headed man with rather nice clothing walk a younger looking blonde woman into the alley the night of her murder. The only wealthy people in this part of town worked at the theater and only one person who worked there had red hair. "And of course the police didn't bother to actually investigate..." Nikita hadn't asked around here until now because he had had faith in the police to at least ask anyone near by a few questions. He had been wrong, the shopkeeper didn't remember seeing any police at all.
Nikita was about to correct his mistake. He had also learned from the shopkeeper that the man came down that way every night after he closed the theater. So now, leaning against a flickering light post with a cap drawn down just above his eyes, Nikita waited only a meter from the entrance to the alley. His eyes were fixed on the sidewalk in the direction of the theater, waiting patiently for his victim to wonder into sight. A loaded pistol rested silently in his coat pocket.
His breath made massive white clouds in the cold air. Out of the shadows and through the clouds of his own breath, a figure appeared. A tall man... in a fur coat... with flaming red hair. His name was Georgi Ignatov, proprietor of the Great Red Theater. He looked peaceful; so sure that the world would be the exact same tomorrow. Nikita would make sure that view was shattered.
Nikita waited for him to pass before calling out to him, "Mister Ignatov, I need to discuss a matter of great importance with you..." Ignatov turned and all colour drained from his face as Staysa's resemblance pierced his breast, breaking his heart into a million pieces, "I'll need to speak with you over here..." continued Nikita, motioning to the alley with the now drawn pistol, the safety was on but Ignatov didn't know that as the coward stumbled into the alley without a word.
----------
Hope you enjoyed.
-JT
**EDIT**
You have been given the rank you requested.
Account E-Mail: EDITED OUT!
Name: Nikita Alkaev
Nationality: Russian
What Army will Your Character Serve Beneath?
Soviet... if I get the rank, I'll make a Russian division. If not, British... that'll be hard to explain...
Character History:
Nikita was born in 1912 in Arkhangelsk, Russia. He would be the first of the three children that Feliks and Isidora Alkaev would have before the outbreak of the Great War in the summer of 1914. The other two children would be girls, Stasya and Anfisa. This small families life would be rudely interrupted by the Csar's call to arms against Austria and Germany in 1914. Feliks was quickly conscripted, given a rifle and thrown in front of Austrian guns. He was told he would not see his home until the war was over.
In the meantime, Isidora did the best she could to support three infants, making all kinds of linens for the small village for which she was repaid with food and other necessities. Nikita's earliest memories are of the mother sitting in an old, chair that looked as if it would break at any second while she threaded vibrant colours together into beautiful pieces of art. To this day, Nikita has no recollection of where she got such fantastically colourful threads.
Then, in 1917, the world became even more violent than before and the colour red came to dominate Nikita's life. The Revolution had begun.
Feliks had managed to survive everything the Germans and Austrians could muster, though he gained many scars from their efforts. When the Csar recalled the army in 1917 to fight the growing insurrection in the Motherland, Feliks did indeed return. But he, as did most of the army, returned with red armbands, ready to repay the Csar and anyone who allied with him tenfold for what they had forced Feliks and his comrades to endure for the last 3 years. In October of 1917, Feliks was among the Bolsheviks who stormed the Winter Palace effectively ending the Provisional Government's reign after the abdication of Nicholas II. This was the birth of the Soviet Union.
After this the violence subsided for Nikita. His father returned home and life continued as it had before the war, the only difference being the red flags proudly displayed in one widow of every home. He still played in the dirt; He still kicked around mud balls; He was still a boy. When his younger sister, Stasya, started to show signs of great grace and flexibility, Feliks used his old army connection to get her an audition for a prestigious ballet school in Moscow. She was accepted and left her family at the age of seven in 1920, Isidora, Nikita, and Anfisa waved as the the train carrying Stasya and Feliks left for Moscow. Stasya wrote letters home every weekend as soon as she learned to write. No one knew how to read them but they were tucked away like gold in a special box carved by Feliks and lined with satin that was secretly obtained by Isidora.
In 1923, when Nikita was only 10, Feliks grew violently ill. There were no doctors in the village and the nearest city was days away. Nikita and Anfisa watches for weeks as their father, their hero, decayed and withered away before their eyes. Feliks left their home one snowy night with nothing but the clothes on his back. He left four painstakingly crafted wooden hearts by the door before he left, one for each of them. Nikita never saw him again.
Life became much harder after that. Nikita had to work any jobs he could get from the other villagers to get enough food for his mother and sister. It wasn't long before Isidora fell ill as well and passed away quietly in bed. The deaths of both his parents scared Nikita more than he let anyone know. From that point on his heart grew colder and his treatment of his sister became more harsh though he tried even harder to provide for her as well as he could.
In 1928, Stasya preformed for the first time on a Moscow stage with her siblings watching from the back of the theater with tears in their eyes. Nikita and Anfisa decided to stay in Moscow to be with their sister; the three of them shared an apartment near the school Anfisa had attended. Nikita could work in a factory on the outskirts of the city, Stasya would dance for the Moscow ballet, and Anfisa wove beautiful linens as their mother had. In 1931 Anfisa married the son of a local factory owner; she continued to make her linens.
Nikita's world was rocked twice more in 1932. After leaving the theater one night, Stasya was raped and murdered in an alley a few blocks from the theater. Enraged, Nikita did not let her death go unpunished. After only three weeks of hunting, Nikita found the man who had killed his sister and killed him in the same alley. Later that year, Anfisa was also killed but her murder left no question as to who the killer was. Nikita killed Anfisa's husband with a gunshot to the head after he stuffed a fistful of Rubbles down his throat.
With two murders under his belt and the police after him for one of them, the only place Nikita could turn to was the military. Using his father's connections, Nikita was able to secure protection from several colonels who had been mere privates when they had served with his father. Nikita's crimes quickly faded away as he proved to be a very efficient soldier, easily climbing to the rank of senior sergeant by 1935.
When the Great Purge began in 1936, most of Nikita's protection was stripped away as almost all of his father's friends were killed on the orders of Stalin. Nikita, himself, managed to avoid the wrath of the Stalin was was promoted to full lieutenant as everyone floated upwards to fill in the gaps in the command structure left by the dead.
As tensions between Germany and the Soviet Union grew to the boiling point in the in 1940-41, The Soviet Army restructured itself for war but Nikita was not placed in a combat unit until late 1941. He became third-in-command of a rifle regiment and was amongst those who drove the Germans from Moscow in December.
Military Rank: Leytenánt (Shooting high)
Writing Sample:
(I've ignored the scenario... obviously)
The unforgiving cold air of the Russian Winter attacked Nikita's face turning it bright pink as his body fought desperately to keep it warm. The air in the alley smelled of iron as it pierced his nostrils. The pistol was warm in his hand, as was the blood and bits of skull on the wall in front of him. He felt much better now, a weight had been lifted off of him. He imagined the smile that this must have brought the now freed spirit of Stasya. Nikita smiled with her, as he removed his coat and hat, revealing another unstained coat underneath. He tossed the blood soaked clothing to the side and took out a second hat placing it snugly over his pale blonde hair. Next, he engaged the safety on the pistol and slid it into the pocket of the new coat. He didn't bother with his pants, plenty of people had stains on their pants.
Nikita left the body where it was and walked to the end of the alley. When he reached the street, his gray-blue eyes scanned the surroundings to see if there were any suspicious peepers standing around to see what had happened. There weren't any, in fact their wasn't a single sole to seen anywhere. Satisfied with his work, Nikita strolled home not bothering to removed the tiny speck of blood on his cheek.
10 Minutes Earlier
"How could I have been so stupid!" thought Nikita, "Of course, it was the damn owner! Stupid, obvious mistake!" He had just pieced together the identity of the man who had murdered his sister only three weeks ago. A shopkeeper who operated opposite the alley where Nikita's sister had died. He said he had been cleaning the windows at the front of the shop when he had seen a tall red-headed man with rather nice clothing walk a younger looking blonde woman into the alley the night of her murder. The only wealthy people in this part of town worked at the theater and only one person who worked there had red hair. "And of course the police didn't bother to actually investigate..." Nikita hadn't asked around here until now because he had had faith in the police to at least ask anyone near by a few questions. He had been wrong, the shopkeeper didn't remember seeing any police at all.
Nikita was about to correct his mistake. He had also learned from the shopkeeper that the man came down that way every night after he closed the theater. So now, leaning against a flickering light post with a cap drawn down just above his eyes, Nikita waited only a meter from the entrance to the alley. His eyes were fixed on the sidewalk in the direction of the theater, waiting patiently for his victim to wonder into sight. A loaded pistol rested silently in his coat pocket.
His breath made massive white clouds in the cold air. Out of the shadows and through the clouds of his own breath, a figure appeared. A tall man... in a fur coat... with flaming red hair. His name was Georgi Ignatov, proprietor of the Great Red Theater. He looked peaceful; so sure that the world would be the exact same tomorrow. Nikita would make sure that view was shattered.
Nikita waited for him to pass before calling out to him, "Mister Ignatov, I need to discuss a matter of great importance with you..." Ignatov turned and all colour drained from his face as Staysa's resemblance pierced his breast, breaking his heart into a million pieces, "I'll need to speak with you over here..." continued Nikita, motioning to the alley with the now drawn pistol, the safety was on but Ignatov didn't know that as the coward stumbled into the alley without a word.
----------
Hope you enjoyed.