Post by Guest on May 31, 2008 23:36:15 GMT
Accepted, Welcome to the Board!
- Need any help with questions you may have, feel free to ask.
~Danny
Account Name: Bruce
Name: Bruce Adams
Nationality: British
What Army will Your Character Serve Beneath?
UK
Character History:
Bruce Michael Adams was born and raised in Blackpool, England. His mother died during childbirth, a feat he still couldn't help but blame himself for. And the only reminder of her that he had was an endearingly crooked right eye which was once identical to her own.
He was interested in following in his father's footsteps and taking over his job at the metal works, but as the youngest of four boys he would only ever get a basic manual job. When the First World War broke out, Bruce's father was killed and just as he suspected his eldest brother took over as head of the company.
As news of the second world war broke out, the metal works was employed to produce heavier weaponary for the cause. On his seventeenth birthday, Bruce was offered a possible promotion in the company to work as a packaging manager, but he was unsatisfied with this outcome and decided that his hands would be of better use to the army than his older brothers.
It wasn't hard for Bruce to be accepted as recruitment numbers were dwindling. He was geared up and on the frontline before he even knew it.
Military Rank: Assigned ( I'm assuming Private? )
Writing Sample:
The feeling of standing so close to your enemy is enough to make anyone paranoid. But Bruce knew that he wasn't in any position to start freaking out.
Two privates followed closely behind him, he was in charge of the small group simply by chance. The colonel had insisted that despite his age Bruce was most comfortable with holding a gun and so was an appropriate leader for the time being.
It was no coincidence that Bruce knew how to fire a shot, he had tested more than several hundred fire arms during his time at the metal works and it had almost become second nature, still the thought of taking someone's life never preyed on his mind whilst shooting at a hay bale, it did now.
Bruce's legs ached from the constant need to stay low and he was all too aware that his own life and the life of the two men behind him rested heavily on his shoulders.
Every whistle of the wind and crunch of his fellow privates boots made his heart skip a beat and the sensation wasn't far from sickening.
CLICK
The sound of a safety being lifted. He stopped in his tracks and his companions followed suit, barely breathing and levering their guns into firing positions.
CRACK
The bullet ricochetted of the stern of Bruce's helmet making his ears ring and his vision swoon momentarily.
"Move it!"
Both privates gladly followed the order as they sprinted to nearby shelter and Bruce fired blindly into the area where the shot had appeared from.
A cry of pain confirmed that he had hit the invisible target by chance, after retriving his victim's small hand gun he gingerly removed his helmet.
The dent in the stern confirmed how close he had come to being killed, and it was certain that its protection had saved his life. Even though a clear trail of blood ran from his forhead from the impact, he knew it was a small price to pay considering the situation.
- Need any help with questions you may have, feel free to ask.
~Danny
Account Name: Bruce
Name: Bruce Adams
Nationality: British
What Army will Your Character Serve Beneath?
UK
Character History:
Bruce Michael Adams was born and raised in Blackpool, England. His mother died during childbirth, a feat he still couldn't help but blame himself for. And the only reminder of her that he had was an endearingly crooked right eye which was once identical to her own.
He was interested in following in his father's footsteps and taking over his job at the metal works, but as the youngest of four boys he would only ever get a basic manual job. When the First World War broke out, Bruce's father was killed and just as he suspected his eldest brother took over as head of the company.
As news of the second world war broke out, the metal works was employed to produce heavier weaponary for the cause. On his seventeenth birthday, Bruce was offered a possible promotion in the company to work as a packaging manager, but he was unsatisfied with this outcome and decided that his hands would be of better use to the army than his older brothers.
It wasn't hard for Bruce to be accepted as recruitment numbers were dwindling. He was geared up and on the frontline before he even knew it.
Military Rank: Assigned ( I'm assuming Private? )
Writing Sample:
The feeling of standing so close to your enemy is enough to make anyone paranoid. But Bruce knew that he wasn't in any position to start freaking out.
Two privates followed closely behind him, he was in charge of the small group simply by chance. The colonel had insisted that despite his age Bruce was most comfortable with holding a gun and so was an appropriate leader for the time being.
It was no coincidence that Bruce knew how to fire a shot, he had tested more than several hundred fire arms during his time at the metal works and it had almost become second nature, still the thought of taking someone's life never preyed on his mind whilst shooting at a hay bale, it did now.
Bruce's legs ached from the constant need to stay low and he was all too aware that his own life and the life of the two men behind him rested heavily on his shoulders.
Every whistle of the wind and crunch of his fellow privates boots made his heart skip a beat and the sensation wasn't far from sickening.
CLICK
The sound of a safety being lifted. He stopped in his tracks and his companions followed suit, barely breathing and levering their guns into firing positions.
CRACK
The bullet ricochetted of the stern of Bruce's helmet making his ears ring and his vision swoon momentarily.
"Move it!"
Both privates gladly followed the order as they sprinted to nearby shelter and Bruce fired blindly into the area where the shot had appeared from.
A cry of pain confirmed that he had hit the invisible target by chance, after retriving his victim's small hand gun he gingerly removed his helmet.
The dent in the stern confirmed how close he had come to being killed, and it was certain that its protection had saved his life. Even though a clear trail of blood ran from his forhead from the impact, he knew it was a small price to pay considering the situation.