Post by Abel on Oct 30, 2009 1:57:53 GMT
Approved 
Welcome to IO Abel. I much enjoyed your application, been a while since someone has gone into detail about their character history as you have. Should you have any questions please feel free to ask myself or another staff member. Also there are many veteran members that can provide assitance as well, we also have a nice selection of help threads in the "Beginner's Guide".
Again, welcome to IO, I hope you enjoy your time with us.
-JT
Account E-Mail: EDITED OUT! Shamwow47@gmail.com
Name: Abel Fredrick Hahn
Nationality: German
What Army will Your Character Serve Beneath? German Wehrmacht/Heer
Character History:
Abel Hahn's life story starts first with his father, Johann Hahn, a farm boy from Swabia who moved to DüDusseldorf, Germany to start a new life as the owner of a small waterfront restaurant in the middle of the city. His business kicked off and he married Fanny von Karminkle, the pretty young daughter of a lawyer from Cologne. Their first child was Abel Fredrick Hahn in 1912, who inherited pale blue eyes and blonde hair from his mother and a lean, but muscular build from his father. Abel was hardly two when his twin brothers Dietrich and Gottfried were born, this time taking after their father with dark hair and green eyes and the same stature as Abel. The Hahn brothers were cared for by their mother until they could walk and talk, and then the strict habits of their father came into play. Johann let his children fend for themselves without neglecting them, which payed off when the Great War sprung from the tense global peace. The boys were scarcely three when they could fix their own bed in the morning, draw the shades, and hang the laundry. When Abel was five he started slicing roast beef and cheese for sandwiches in their parent's shop, a working man before he even hit puberty.
Johann Hahn enlisted in the Imperial Army in 1914, hoping to gain some extra revenue for his family and to see the world a little more. But what he got was much worse. Johann got a fancy gray wool uniform and a kit and a rifle, was thrust through basic training, and sent off to do the Kaiser's bidding in France. After a few weeks of starving in trenches, vomiting from the putrid stench of decaying bodies, and being grazed by Allied machine guns, Johann served in the first battle of Verdun, shooting at Joseph Joffre's French troops and English reinforcements. It was one day into the fight when Johann's commanding officer picked him to become a trench raider, an elite force that would invade the opposing side's trenches during the night and try to kill as many as they could in close combat. On Hahn's first mission he was stabbed in the gut by an trench knife and shot in the thigh with a French revolver before a sergeant attempted to pull him back to the safety of a field hospital. Johann, trying to keep his intestines from spilling while trying to stop the massive flow of crimson from his leg, bled out halfway to the German lines. The sergeant that tried to help him was killed seconds later.
What was left of Johann was buried in a unmarked grave under a white cross near the Marne river. The raid that he participated in was a disaster and 50% of the soldiers were marked MIA, including Johann, due to their bodies being in enemy territory and no one being able to see their deaths in the chaos of raid. The news hit home hard in Dusseldorf, and all of the children had to drop out of school to help in the failing restaurant. The business finally collapsed in 1916 and Fanny hustled the family to Seelow Heights, were they purchased a small farm and attempted to live off the land while schooling her children with cheep tutors from the nearby town of Seelow. The Great War came to a close and the Treaty of Versailles came into effect, the French seizing their former home of Rhineland.
Despite dropping out of school at 6, teenage Abel was physically fit, clever, and cunning, despite lacking arithmetic and science prowess. He did most of the woodworking on the farm and raised a barn with his brothers at 16 and one for the neighbors at 17. One of his great passions was hunting. The Hahn family had three firearms in it's possession; a double barreled, exposed hammer shotgun, a smooth bore musket dating from the 1700's, and an old revolver. He loved stalking through the forest, putting an animal, let it be grouse, pheasants, rabbits, deer, or the occasional bear, in the sights and hopefully bringing it down. Abel was near fatally trampled by a startled 12-point buck at 16, escaping with a few broken ribs, a stepped-on finger, and a load of cuts and bruises. He also cooked occasionally, his favorite dish Austrian-style potato salad and fried veal. In all, he could be described as a bright individual lacking proper education.
When he was eighteen the young man met Heidi Schleiden, a farm girl of sixteen years with long, flowing golden braids and blue eyes. They embarked on a passionate romance for three years, ending with his marriage with her in 1932. Hitler came to power the following year, starting the anti-semitic reign of The Third Reich. It was easy to blame the world's problems on the Jews and other minorities, although Abel was not one of the men who hated them with a passion. He did, however, have nothing to go on to support his young bride, and the physically fit young Abel joined the German Army when he was twenty-five.
Military Rank: Unteroffizier
Writing Sample:
[My sample differs a little from the norm that I see here, but, its Halloween, I felt like I should spice this up.]
Abel Hahn buttoned his fly, leaving a small amount of urine steaming through the light snow and onto an overturned log. The snow was light, like a layer of dust on an unused table. It layered the brim and flared edges of his dark helmet and was splotched on his greatcoat, a result of a lighthearted snowball fight with his boys. Where were they? Abel thought as he looked over his shoulder, right were they had been just a minute ago. He nervously took his MP-40 from his shoulder and gripped it firmly, adjusting his woolen gloved fingers around the trigger guard. He almost had a heart attack when he stepped on a twig, making what seemed like a sonic boom. When the German realized what it was he sank back against the bark of a tree, sighing and smiling faintly, his blond stubble wrinkling over slight laugh lines at the corner of his mouth. But it was not totally fine yet. Where were they? He stepped a few paces, one boot over the other. He couldn't shake that eerie feeling of total isolation, of no man for miles. Feeling scared, the Unteroffizier pressed the stock of his MP-40 against his hip and the barrel thrust outward, ready to defend against any enemy, actual or imaginary.
Abel had scarcely gotten three feet when he heard the growl. It was low, canine, the primitive syllable drawn out and spotted with vibrations from whatever it came from's throat. He froze in his tracks, the hemline of his coat quivering with his body. Hahn's eyes widened, the lashes peeling away from his horrified irises. The barrel of his MP-40 swayed as he pulled back the bolt, a fresh growl coming with the click of it in place. Abel licked his lips in anticipation of the attack. This was not what he had originally feared, it was not another human being that stalked him, but a cold, vicious animal child of the earth that would rend his flesh from bone without remorse, without sadness. And worse yet, it would eat it.
And then it stepped out, in all of its horrible glory. It was undeniably a wolf, crouched in the natural pose of attack shown even in humans. Its coat was long, grey-white and mangy, the coarse fur coating it like the grime on an unused farm tool. The canine's claws were long and black, and its teeth were worse. They were exposed with its scowl, short and yellow with tiny spots of visible plaque, flecks of foam oozing from the lips. Deep pools of unending darkness were its eyes, a literal embodiment of the fear man felt when facing a primitive enemy. The wolf stalked stealthily into the center of the frozen pathway, growling once again as its black nose oozed sickly liquid, dripping down onto its lips as it snarled. The thing barked once, causing Abel to jump back, taken by its boldness. It was no doubt a sick animal, it was away from the pack and foaming at the lips. All that was left in its tortured mind was to kill, rip, to make something bleed.
Abel, however, reacted remarkably well despite the horror. He slowly brought his sub-machine gun up to his shoulder and moved one hand off of the pistol grip, unfolding the steel skeleton stock and pressing it into his shoulder. The days of hunting in Seelow Heights came back to him, but he had never been this close to a killing animal, save for that one buck that nearly trampled him to death. But this was different. He stared down the iron sights, placing the front sight on the animal's vitals. Maybe this would be easier than he thought. Abel let his lungs deflate as he got ready to pull the trigger, to end the beast's life. To put it out of its misery. He found himself thinking about the animals origins, how he had contracted whatever disease plagued it, what type of pain it felt. If it even remembered its life, or it had just become a diseased zombie bent on killing something before it died. He readjusted his grip again before getting ready to unleash his payload at the animal.
The next second was nothing but a blur. The wolf barked ferociously, like a guard dog, and then leaped into the air. Abel fired at where the infected animal had once been, but before he had the chance to register he had missed the thing was right above him, a shock of grey against the pale white of snow. "Scheisse!" Abel yelled as it came down on top of him. Its front paws landed on his shoulders, his legs flipping up and sending him slamming onto the ground. The next thing he knew it was pawing at his greatcoat and its jaws ready to clamp around his neck. He could smell its rancid breath, see the sword-like yellow teeth, feel the drip of hot saliva on his nose. Before it could rip his trachea from his throat, Abel threw his right hand up to protect his face and unknowingly stabbed the thing in the eye with his thumb. The organ was crushed under his finger, and the German took that as a chance to swing his right hand against the ribcage, making it sway to the side, and yelp. With that split second Abel used his right hand to draw his Imperial bayonet from its sheath, the ring of metal against leather drowned by the wolf's snarls. He then swung the blade between two ribs, slicing through fur and skin.
Abel then swung his left hand around and grabbed its neck, gaining enough leverage to swing the beast off to his left. Without skipping a beat the man scrambled to his feet, drawing the blade from inside the creature as he went. It wasn't until he was towering over the wolf when he realized it was whimpering and twisting with pain. He was overwhelmed with pity for the creature, and slid his P38 from its hardshell holster, aiming the weapon at the wolf's head, muttering something under his breath. "Shhhhhhh. Its okay. All the pain, it will all be over soon, my friend. All the pain. Shhhhhhhhh." Abel whispered hoarsely as he pulled back the action of the pistol. He aimed it at the animal's skull, his free hand clenched as he pulled the trigger. It howled one last, mournful time before succumbing to the darkness, its writhing ceasing. Man, once again, had triumphed over his most primitive fear.
Welcome to IO Abel. I much enjoyed your application, been a while since someone has gone into detail about their character history as you have. Should you have any questions please feel free to ask myself or another staff member. Also there are many veteran members that can provide assitance as well, we also have a nice selection of help threads in the "Beginner's Guide".Again, welcome to IO, I hope you enjoy your time with us.
-JT
Account E-Mail: EDITED OUT! Shamwow47@gmail.com
Name: Abel Fredrick Hahn
Nationality: German
What Army will Your Character Serve Beneath? German Wehrmacht/Heer
Character History:
Abel Hahn's life story starts first with his father, Johann Hahn, a farm boy from Swabia who moved to DüDusseldorf, Germany to start a new life as the owner of a small waterfront restaurant in the middle of the city. His business kicked off and he married Fanny von Karminkle, the pretty young daughter of a lawyer from Cologne. Their first child was Abel Fredrick Hahn in 1912, who inherited pale blue eyes and blonde hair from his mother and a lean, but muscular build from his father. Abel was hardly two when his twin brothers Dietrich and Gottfried were born, this time taking after their father with dark hair and green eyes and the same stature as Abel. The Hahn brothers were cared for by their mother until they could walk and talk, and then the strict habits of their father came into play. Johann let his children fend for themselves without neglecting them, which payed off when the Great War sprung from the tense global peace. The boys were scarcely three when they could fix their own bed in the morning, draw the shades, and hang the laundry. When Abel was five he started slicing roast beef and cheese for sandwiches in their parent's shop, a working man before he even hit puberty.
Johann Hahn enlisted in the Imperial Army in 1914, hoping to gain some extra revenue for his family and to see the world a little more. But what he got was much worse. Johann got a fancy gray wool uniform and a kit and a rifle, was thrust through basic training, and sent off to do the Kaiser's bidding in France. After a few weeks of starving in trenches, vomiting from the putrid stench of decaying bodies, and being grazed by Allied machine guns, Johann served in the first battle of Verdun, shooting at Joseph Joffre's French troops and English reinforcements. It was one day into the fight when Johann's commanding officer picked him to become a trench raider, an elite force that would invade the opposing side's trenches during the night and try to kill as many as they could in close combat. On Hahn's first mission he was stabbed in the gut by an trench knife and shot in the thigh with a French revolver before a sergeant attempted to pull him back to the safety of a field hospital. Johann, trying to keep his intestines from spilling while trying to stop the massive flow of crimson from his leg, bled out halfway to the German lines. The sergeant that tried to help him was killed seconds later.
What was left of Johann was buried in a unmarked grave under a white cross near the Marne river. The raid that he participated in was a disaster and 50% of the soldiers were marked MIA, including Johann, due to their bodies being in enemy territory and no one being able to see their deaths in the chaos of raid. The news hit home hard in Dusseldorf, and all of the children had to drop out of school to help in the failing restaurant. The business finally collapsed in 1916 and Fanny hustled the family to Seelow Heights, were they purchased a small farm and attempted to live off the land while schooling her children with cheep tutors from the nearby town of Seelow. The Great War came to a close and the Treaty of Versailles came into effect, the French seizing their former home of Rhineland.
Despite dropping out of school at 6, teenage Abel was physically fit, clever, and cunning, despite lacking arithmetic and science prowess. He did most of the woodworking on the farm and raised a barn with his brothers at 16 and one for the neighbors at 17. One of his great passions was hunting. The Hahn family had three firearms in it's possession; a double barreled, exposed hammer shotgun, a smooth bore musket dating from the 1700's, and an old revolver. He loved stalking through the forest, putting an animal, let it be grouse, pheasants, rabbits, deer, or the occasional bear, in the sights and hopefully bringing it down. Abel was near fatally trampled by a startled 12-point buck at 16, escaping with a few broken ribs, a stepped-on finger, and a load of cuts and bruises. He also cooked occasionally, his favorite dish Austrian-style potato salad and fried veal. In all, he could be described as a bright individual lacking proper education.
When he was eighteen the young man met Heidi Schleiden, a farm girl of sixteen years with long, flowing golden braids and blue eyes. They embarked on a passionate romance for three years, ending with his marriage with her in 1932. Hitler came to power the following year, starting the anti-semitic reign of The Third Reich. It was easy to blame the world's problems on the Jews and other minorities, although Abel was not one of the men who hated them with a passion. He did, however, have nothing to go on to support his young bride, and the physically fit young Abel joined the German Army when he was twenty-five.
Military Rank: Unteroffizier
Writing Sample:
[My sample differs a little from the norm that I see here, but, its Halloween, I felt like I should spice this up.]
Abel Hahn buttoned his fly, leaving a small amount of urine steaming through the light snow and onto an overturned log. The snow was light, like a layer of dust on an unused table. It layered the brim and flared edges of his dark helmet and was splotched on his greatcoat, a result of a lighthearted snowball fight with his boys. Where were they? Abel thought as he looked over his shoulder, right were they had been just a minute ago. He nervously took his MP-40 from his shoulder and gripped it firmly, adjusting his woolen gloved fingers around the trigger guard. He almost had a heart attack when he stepped on a twig, making what seemed like a sonic boom. When the German realized what it was he sank back against the bark of a tree, sighing and smiling faintly, his blond stubble wrinkling over slight laugh lines at the corner of his mouth. But it was not totally fine yet. Where were they? He stepped a few paces, one boot over the other. He couldn't shake that eerie feeling of total isolation, of no man for miles. Feeling scared, the Unteroffizier pressed the stock of his MP-40 against his hip and the barrel thrust outward, ready to defend against any enemy, actual or imaginary.
Abel had scarcely gotten three feet when he heard the growl. It was low, canine, the primitive syllable drawn out and spotted with vibrations from whatever it came from's throat. He froze in his tracks, the hemline of his coat quivering with his body. Hahn's eyes widened, the lashes peeling away from his horrified irises. The barrel of his MP-40 swayed as he pulled back the bolt, a fresh growl coming with the click of it in place. Abel licked his lips in anticipation of the attack. This was not what he had originally feared, it was not another human being that stalked him, but a cold, vicious animal child of the earth that would rend his flesh from bone without remorse, without sadness. And worse yet, it would eat it.
And then it stepped out, in all of its horrible glory. It was undeniably a wolf, crouched in the natural pose of attack shown even in humans. Its coat was long, grey-white and mangy, the coarse fur coating it like the grime on an unused farm tool. The canine's claws were long and black, and its teeth were worse. They were exposed with its scowl, short and yellow with tiny spots of visible plaque, flecks of foam oozing from the lips. Deep pools of unending darkness were its eyes, a literal embodiment of the fear man felt when facing a primitive enemy. The wolf stalked stealthily into the center of the frozen pathway, growling once again as its black nose oozed sickly liquid, dripping down onto its lips as it snarled. The thing barked once, causing Abel to jump back, taken by its boldness. It was no doubt a sick animal, it was away from the pack and foaming at the lips. All that was left in its tortured mind was to kill, rip, to make something bleed.
Abel, however, reacted remarkably well despite the horror. He slowly brought his sub-machine gun up to his shoulder and moved one hand off of the pistol grip, unfolding the steel skeleton stock and pressing it into his shoulder. The days of hunting in Seelow Heights came back to him, but he had never been this close to a killing animal, save for that one buck that nearly trampled him to death. But this was different. He stared down the iron sights, placing the front sight on the animal's vitals. Maybe this would be easier than he thought. Abel let his lungs deflate as he got ready to pull the trigger, to end the beast's life. To put it out of its misery. He found himself thinking about the animals origins, how he had contracted whatever disease plagued it, what type of pain it felt. If it even remembered its life, or it had just become a diseased zombie bent on killing something before it died. He readjusted his grip again before getting ready to unleash his payload at the animal.
The next second was nothing but a blur. The wolf barked ferociously, like a guard dog, and then leaped into the air. Abel fired at where the infected animal had once been, but before he had the chance to register he had missed the thing was right above him, a shock of grey against the pale white of snow. "Scheisse!" Abel yelled as it came down on top of him. Its front paws landed on his shoulders, his legs flipping up and sending him slamming onto the ground. The next thing he knew it was pawing at his greatcoat and its jaws ready to clamp around his neck. He could smell its rancid breath, see the sword-like yellow teeth, feel the drip of hot saliva on his nose. Before it could rip his trachea from his throat, Abel threw his right hand up to protect his face and unknowingly stabbed the thing in the eye with his thumb. The organ was crushed under his finger, and the German took that as a chance to swing his right hand against the ribcage, making it sway to the side, and yelp. With that split second Abel used his right hand to draw his Imperial bayonet from its sheath, the ring of metal against leather drowned by the wolf's snarls. He then swung the blade between two ribs, slicing through fur and skin.
Abel then swung his left hand around and grabbed its neck, gaining enough leverage to swing the beast off to his left. Without skipping a beat the man scrambled to his feet, drawing the blade from inside the creature as he went. It wasn't until he was towering over the wolf when he realized it was whimpering and twisting with pain. He was overwhelmed with pity for the creature, and slid his P38 from its hardshell holster, aiming the weapon at the wolf's head, muttering something under his breath. "Shhhhhhh. Its okay. All the pain, it will all be over soon, my friend. All the pain. Shhhhhhhhh." Abel whispered hoarsely as he pulled back the action of the pistol. He aimed it at the animal's skull, his free hand clenched as he pulled the trigger. It howled one last, mournful time before succumbing to the darkness, its writhing ceasing. Man, once again, had triumphed over his most primitive fear.