Post by Guest on Mar 28, 2010 0:35:33 GMT
Accepted at Serzhant, liked the app, and welcome to Issuinig Orders, hope you enjoy it here. If you happen to have any questions please feel free to check out our "Beginner's Guide" and if you can't find what you are looking for there then a Staff or Veteran member should be able to answer your questions.
Again, welcome to IO,
-JT
Account E-Mail: EDITED OUT!
Name: Mikhail Vostrikov
Nationality: Russian
What Army will Your Character Serve Beneath? Soviet
Character History:
Mikhail was born August 25th 1903 in a dark and over crowded hospital on the outskirts of Irkutsk, there was no big crisis at the time to reason why the conditions were sub par but it served its purpose. He was born into a large family of nine siblings two of which had already passed on by the time he had come into the world, Mikhail being the youngest of them all. Mikhail’s oldest living sibling was already pushing 45, the first born having died of pneumonia three years prior at the age of 44. His parents Vladik, and Iskra never intended on having another child and honestly thought they were too old for such a thing to still be possible, none the less they felt as blessed with him as they had for any of their children.
By trade the Vostrikov family were farmers all the way to the bone, and at a young age Mikhail was expected to carry his weight as all his brothers and sisters had done before him. Granted the tasks were small and menial, but he felt like he was helping, he felt needed. With the years to come tossing seeds and spreading fertilizer grew into plowing fields and patching the stable roof. It was a simple life but the labor meant every meal was a great one to enjoy, even though he didn’t cook much yet, he had a hand in it somewhere down the line, they all did, even his sister Zhanna. Zhanna only had one leg, only had the one for a few years and had learned to manage without the other, she lost it one night years back feeding the horses, the family was fortunate enough to have three of them, but a sudden storm spooked their eldest stallion which in turn kicked Zhanna and her landing shattered the lower section of her left leg, surviving the amputation wasn’t easy with fever and infection, but surviving the ordeal gave her pride.
By the time the world spiraled into the Great War most of Mikhail’s brothers were all but used up, still his brothers answered the call of the Motherland and served her with vigor. Only one of them would return, Viktor, a battered and broken man. His mind was scarred and his memories would taunt him at times, none the less he would go on to live a full and majoritively happy life, alone in a small corner of the farm lands where he had built a small shelter for himself. On occasions Mikhail would visit with Viktor, the two would sit outside and usually didn’t speak very much, what they did talk about was never of any importance and faded away as easily as it had appeared in conversation. Mikhail not only enjoyed seeing his older brother but felt he served a purpose, keeping him tied into the real world.
In Mikhail’s late twenties his parents seemed to spend more time with doctors than their own children, through no actions of their own, it was just the way of things, after a long and tiresome life like they had lead things just tended to give out easier. They kept high spirits in their last years, Mikhail’s father passed away first, which was the way he wanted it, opposite what he said. Vladik had said on multiple occasions that he wanted to be around as long as he could to take care of things, and also so that his wife would not have to be alone, but the truth was, if he died before Iskra it would be a pain not even he could endure. With his passing, his wife would carry one for another six years, almost up until the outbreak of the Second World War.
Now Mikhail, Viktor, Zhanna and now the oldest sibling, Mikhail’s other sister Tamary were all that remained of the family. Tamary was the only Vostrikov to get out of the farm house for good. She had married early and would give birth to six children in her years. Contact with her remained distant but was always welcomed. There was no bad blood between the remaining family members, but Viktor had never liked Tamary’s husband and Mikhail had grown distaste for him as well. The man never did wrong by them, he just didn’t sit right in their minds, of course this could just be the odd concoctions of a torn man’s brain filtered down to his younger brother.
Mikhail eventually went of himself to fight for the Motherland as his brothers had done previously. He feared for the state of his only remaining brother but Zhanna had assured him that all would be fine. Years back the family farm had received help from close families to keep it going and soon they would be the sole owners of the Vostrikov farm. Not long after his time had started in the Soviet Army Mikhail had realized how much he was dealing with on a daily basis back home, although he never minded it and never saw it as such he was caring for his brother constantly, and his sister Zhanna as well, especially as they had gotten on in years. But he knew they were in good hands still and it was as if the windows of his mind had opened and the cool breezes had rolled in, taking the stagnant air away. This would prove to be vital as his mind would have a better chance to focus, Mikhail wondered if his brothers had gone through the same mental changes when they fought the First World War. Mikhail wrote when he had the chance and any letters he received back were always that silver lining in his day.
Every other week they would get a fresh batch of new soldiers that had been conscripted into the Red Army, never more than a platoons worth of troops, only one other batch had arrived during fortunate times like Mikhail’s group had, during a lull in the fighting. This had afforded them better chances of making it through the first few weeks which increased their survivability drastically, usually only two out of every five would see the end of a week of combat and one out of every ten would see the second. Mikhail’s batch had about half of the men they had arrived with by the end of the third week still, and a good many of them were still around.
Mikhail’s age was never a question that came up with the troops, even though he was quite possibly older than most of his superiors, his lifestyle before the war had kept him in decent shape and that was all that mattered to them. He could hold his own with any jackbooted Nazi he would come face to face with, but he was never alone which was always a plus. Scars came with the territory and Mikhail had his share just like any of the other soldiers to survive a few days. But Mikhail was one of the few that never shared his stories, by the time had had any the realization had set in that telling them was simply a waste of time, chances were that most of your audience would no longer be breathing within a few days so making friends went out the window as well. His superiors might not have always made the right calls as Mikhail saw them, but so far they had kept him alive and without any severe injuries, that was enough for him to listen and follow as he was told.
Military Rank: Serzhant
Writing Sample:
The afternoon seemed to drag on almost as slowly as the morning had. It was one of the few days that the unit Mikhail’s was in hadn’t lost any men, well at least they hadn’t yet. The unit wasn’t in the thick of the combat and they had yet to birth any heroes out of them either, but they had been one of the select units that hadn’t lost ground almost every single day. Most of their luck came when a German bomber crash landed along the main road, sliding a bit too far and blocked a small bridge between the Soviets and the Germans, the delay wasn’t much, only a dozen minutes at most, but this had put enough distance between them and the German forces so that they were able to grab hold of some well laid defensive positions and mount a rather successful counter attack. They only held the town for a total of five days, maybe five and a half if you were counting, and the men that stood next to Mikhail sure as heck were.
Now they were on the wrong side of that position and the artillery had started thumping in the distance. “Çàõâàòèòå âàø ìåõàíèçì è âûñòðîéòåñü â ëèíèþ!” (Grab your gear and line up!) The familiar words rang out, they were going to move, and quickly by the sounds of things. The German artillery was either off target or there was another unit to the west that the Axis forces had more interest in, either way the unit was about to push back into the town if things went to plan. “Îòïðàâüòå!” (Forward!) came roaring at them and forward they went, not a single one of the minded the fast pace, common sense told them that the quicker they moved the harder it would be for the German artillery to target them. It was no surprise what they ran into and it was no surprise that they hadn’t noticed it until they did they almost tripped over it. Soviet armor, just couldn’t hear it over their own war cries and the explosions, the over due morale boost resonated amongst the men and they fell in line with the hand full of tanks toward the city. Maybe their superiors knew about this and maybe they didn’t, but all that mattered now was the city and they almost had pity for it’s current defenders.
As they neared the city’s blown apart rim, men would grab what little cover they could but the German war machine was just too powerful, for every Soviet round they could send toward the Axis troops, ten or so would return, stopping was one of the few things that never seemed to work, the new guys rarely had a chance to learn this. BOOM!! Mikhail was temporarily deafened as the tank in front of him fired off a round, puncturing a hole into the side of a tattered building. The debris barely had time to settle before ten or so Soviet men, including Mikhail, rushed through it, screaming with what might their lungs had left, there were only a few German soldiers within the interior, most of them had already pulled back to the next block. The Soviets next to Mikhail dispatched them with ease before hitting the staircase and making it to the second floor, this is where Mikhail fired his first shot of the battle, straight through the first German and out the window, it was nearly impossible to miss when you had already struck the man with the end of your rifle. The walls were almost completely gone already and as they looked down they could see the same tank that had made the hole for them start to press forward, the men next to him scurried over to the edge of the room and jumped on top of the vehicle, and Mikhail thought he had seen it all. Taking a deep breath he took a step back and followed suit, but his landing wasn’t as graceful, twisting his ankle on impact. Mikhail rode out the remainder of the battle on top of the tank, taking what shots he could while crouching behind the turret, he might not have done much good but it was more than he could have done limping in behind everyone, this kept him close to the enemy and allowed him a nice bit of cover.
By the time they reached the last intersection on that street the Germans were almost in full retreat. Pockets of resistance popped up here and there but were dealt with swiftly and brutally. The hatred for the German soldiers ran wide and ran deep within the Red Army, Mikhail was no different, he had always feared that taking the life of another human would scar him as it had his brother, but this was a different war and the enemy was nothing put a trespasser with an insatiable appetite, a dog that needed to be put down, and they were here to do just that.
Again, welcome to IO,
-JT
Account E-Mail: EDITED OUT!
Name: Mikhail Vostrikov
Nationality: Russian
What Army will Your Character Serve Beneath? Soviet
Character History:
Mikhail was born August 25th 1903 in a dark and over crowded hospital on the outskirts of Irkutsk, there was no big crisis at the time to reason why the conditions were sub par but it served its purpose. He was born into a large family of nine siblings two of which had already passed on by the time he had come into the world, Mikhail being the youngest of them all. Mikhail’s oldest living sibling was already pushing 45, the first born having died of pneumonia three years prior at the age of 44. His parents Vladik, and Iskra never intended on having another child and honestly thought they were too old for such a thing to still be possible, none the less they felt as blessed with him as they had for any of their children.
By trade the Vostrikov family were farmers all the way to the bone, and at a young age Mikhail was expected to carry his weight as all his brothers and sisters had done before him. Granted the tasks were small and menial, but he felt like he was helping, he felt needed. With the years to come tossing seeds and spreading fertilizer grew into plowing fields and patching the stable roof. It was a simple life but the labor meant every meal was a great one to enjoy, even though he didn’t cook much yet, he had a hand in it somewhere down the line, they all did, even his sister Zhanna. Zhanna only had one leg, only had the one for a few years and had learned to manage without the other, she lost it one night years back feeding the horses, the family was fortunate enough to have three of them, but a sudden storm spooked their eldest stallion which in turn kicked Zhanna and her landing shattered the lower section of her left leg, surviving the amputation wasn’t easy with fever and infection, but surviving the ordeal gave her pride.
By the time the world spiraled into the Great War most of Mikhail’s brothers were all but used up, still his brothers answered the call of the Motherland and served her with vigor. Only one of them would return, Viktor, a battered and broken man. His mind was scarred and his memories would taunt him at times, none the less he would go on to live a full and majoritively happy life, alone in a small corner of the farm lands where he had built a small shelter for himself. On occasions Mikhail would visit with Viktor, the two would sit outside and usually didn’t speak very much, what they did talk about was never of any importance and faded away as easily as it had appeared in conversation. Mikhail not only enjoyed seeing his older brother but felt he served a purpose, keeping him tied into the real world.
In Mikhail’s late twenties his parents seemed to spend more time with doctors than their own children, through no actions of their own, it was just the way of things, after a long and tiresome life like they had lead things just tended to give out easier. They kept high spirits in their last years, Mikhail’s father passed away first, which was the way he wanted it, opposite what he said. Vladik had said on multiple occasions that he wanted to be around as long as he could to take care of things, and also so that his wife would not have to be alone, but the truth was, if he died before Iskra it would be a pain not even he could endure. With his passing, his wife would carry one for another six years, almost up until the outbreak of the Second World War.
Now Mikhail, Viktor, Zhanna and now the oldest sibling, Mikhail’s other sister Tamary were all that remained of the family. Tamary was the only Vostrikov to get out of the farm house for good. She had married early and would give birth to six children in her years. Contact with her remained distant but was always welcomed. There was no bad blood between the remaining family members, but Viktor had never liked Tamary’s husband and Mikhail had grown distaste for him as well. The man never did wrong by them, he just didn’t sit right in their minds, of course this could just be the odd concoctions of a torn man’s brain filtered down to his younger brother.
Mikhail eventually went of himself to fight for the Motherland as his brothers had done previously. He feared for the state of his only remaining brother but Zhanna had assured him that all would be fine. Years back the family farm had received help from close families to keep it going and soon they would be the sole owners of the Vostrikov farm. Not long after his time had started in the Soviet Army Mikhail had realized how much he was dealing with on a daily basis back home, although he never minded it and never saw it as such he was caring for his brother constantly, and his sister Zhanna as well, especially as they had gotten on in years. But he knew they were in good hands still and it was as if the windows of his mind had opened and the cool breezes had rolled in, taking the stagnant air away. This would prove to be vital as his mind would have a better chance to focus, Mikhail wondered if his brothers had gone through the same mental changes when they fought the First World War. Mikhail wrote when he had the chance and any letters he received back were always that silver lining in his day.
Every other week they would get a fresh batch of new soldiers that had been conscripted into the Red Army, never more than a platoons worth of troops, only one other batch had arrived during fortunate times like Mikhail’s group had, during a lull in the fighting. This had afforded them better chances of making it through the first few weeks which increased their survivability drastically, usually only two out of every five would see the end of a week of combat and one out of every ten would see the second. Mikhail’s batch had about half of the men they had arrived with by the end of the third week still, and a good many of them were still around.
Mikhail’s age was never a question that came up with the troops, even though he was quite possibly older than most of his superiors, his lifestyle before the war had kept him in decent shape and that was all that mattered to them. He could hold his own with any jackbooted Nazi he would come face to face with, but he was never alone which was always a plus. Scars came with the territory and Mikhail had his share just like any of the other soldiers to survive a few days. But Mikhail was one of the few that never shared his stories, by the time had had any the realization had set in that telling them was simply a waste of time, chances were that most of your audience would no longer be breathing within a few days so making friends went out the window as well. His superiors might not have always made the right calls as Mikhail saw them, but so far they had kept him alive and without any severe injuries, that was enough for him to listen and follow as he was told.
Military Rank: Serzhant
Writing Sample:
The afternoon seemed to drag on almost as slowly as the morning had. It was one of the few days that the unit Mikhail’s was in hadn’t lost any men, well at least they hadn’t yet. The unit wasn’t in the thick of the combat and they had yet to birth any heroes out of them either, but they had been one of the select units that hadn’t lost ground almost every single day. Most of their luck came when a German bomber crash landed along the main road, sliding a bit too far and blocked a small bridge between the Soviets and the Germans, the delay wasn’t much, only a dozen minutes at most, but this had put enough distance between them and the German forces so that they were able to grab hold of some well laid defensive positions and mount a rather successful counter attack. They only held the town for a total of five days, maybe five and a half if you were counting, and the men that stood next to Mikhail sure as heck were.
Now they were on the wrong side of that position and the artillery had started thumping in the distance. “Çàõâàòèòå âàø ìåõàíèçì è âûñòðîéòåñü â ëèíèþ!” (Grab your gear and line up!) The familiar words rang out, they were going to move, and quickly by the sounds of things. The German artillery was either off target or there was another unit to the west that the Axis forces had more interest in, either way the unit was about to push back into the town if things went to plan. “Îòïðàâüòå!” (Forward!) came roaring at them and forward they went, not a single one of the minded the fast pace, common sense told them that the quicker they moved the harder it would be for the German artillery to target them. It was no surprise what they ran into and it was no surprise that they hadn’t noticed it until they did they almost tripped over it. Soviet armor, just couldn’t hear it over their own war cries and the explosions, the over due morale boost resonated amongst the men and they fell in line with the hand full of tanks toward the city. Maybe their superiors knew about this and maybe they didn’t, but all that mattered now was the city and they almost had pity for it’s current defenders.
As they neared the city’s blown apart rim, men would grab what little cover they could but the German war machine was just too powerful, for every Soviet round they could send toward the Axis troops, ten or so would return, stopping was one of the few things that never seemed to work, the new guys rarely had a chance to learn this. BOOM!! Mikhail was temporarily deafened as the tank in front of him fired off a round, puncturing a hole into the side of a tattered building. The debris barely had time to settle before ten or so Soviet men, including Mikhail, rushed through it, screaming with what might their lungs had left, there were only a few German soldiers within the interior, most of them had already pulled back to the next block. The Soviets next to Mikhail dispatched them with ease before hitting the staircase and making it to the second floor, this is where Mikhail fired his first shot of the battle, straight through the first German and out the window, it was nearly impossible to miss when you had already struck the man with the end of your rifle. The walls were almost completely gone already and as they looked down they could see the same tank that had made the hole for them start to press forward, the men next to him scurried over to the edge of the room and jumped on top of the vehicle, and Mikhail thought he had seen it all. Taking a deep breath he took a step back and followed suit, but his landing wasn’t as graceful, twisting his ankle on impact. Mikhail rode out the remainder of the battle on top of the tank, taking what shots he could while crouching behind the turret, he might not have done much good but it was more than he could have done limping in behind everyone, this kept him close to the enemy and allowed him a nice bit of cover.
By the time they reached the last intersection on that street the Germans were almost in full retreat. Pockets of resistance popped up here and there but were dealt with swiftly and brutally. The hatred for the German soldiers ran wide and ran deep within the Red Army, Mikhail was no different, he had always feared that taking the life of another human would scar him as it had his brother, but this was a different war and the enemy was nothing put a trespasser with an insatiable appetite, a dog that needed to be put down, and they were here to do just that.