Post by nonamaximyevnavasilyeva on Apr 13, 2011 18:24:18 GMT
Account E-Mail: Account will be "nonamaximyevnavasilyeva"
Name: Nona Maximyevna Vasilyeva
Nationality:
Russian
What Army will Your Character Serve Beneath?
UK, US or Soviet: Soviet
Character History:
"I do not fight for our Motherland. I fight for the boy cowering in the trench behind you, scared out of his wits and wanting to go home, completely out of his element in this war. Stalin is a waste of my time - a future for my people is not."
She spoke little. Her gun did the talking for her - silent, until that sharp crack of a bullet sliced through the air, and that deadly piece of metal was slicing straight through someone's heart. She was quiet, methodical - there was no need to rush, no need not to prepare to take precautions. It's the world that's moving too fast, shaped by people who did not think, did not care about what they do - at least, in her eyes. The only thing that mattered to her was the German pointing a gun at an innocent farmer and her children - the existence of such a scene simply would not do. And neither would Stalin, once he became too big for his britches; she had given up on him and his promises to the world. The only thing that prevented her from unloading a pistol round into her head is the fact that there were people left worth saving.
Nona did not talk much about her past. It was nobody's business, especially those times she laid by death in the trenches, freezing cold and hunger-weakened and fighting to keep her sights on the enemy. However, she would tell you that she was a farmer's daughter, raising sheep for wool and milk in southern Russia. Her birthdate was February 14th - Saint Valentine's Day, of all days to be born. She had a soft spot for wolves and dogs, and as a child, owned a wolfdog that her father had taken from his own dog's litter. Pyotr, as Nona called her little beast, was a rambunctious companion and her one good friend, as the farm was far into rural country. He was dead by the time of Hitler, but she still spoke fondly of him, and had a habit of shooing away any dogs near her comrades so they're not eaten out of desperation. Hard times, indeed, for Mother Russia.
Something happened in Nona's girlhood to end her idyllic lifestyle - war, of all things, but unsurprising in retrospect. She had been a child of the Great War, losing her father when he marched off to fight, blown apart by artillery or some such thing. (Her parents had married young, and as such, had a child young, both having only come of age after the Russian-Japanese war.) Nona found she's forced herself to forget a lot, trying to keep her mind clear while she fought tooth and nail with the German invaders. She rubbed at scars on her arms and face as she spoke about it, some from fighting, but others older and jagged. When asked about them, she replied with, "Famine," and immediately changed the subject. The real truth, however, was that her family was of "kulak" status, and one of many that rebelled by smashing equipment and killing livestock to avoid common property laws. Her family was exiled to Siberia as a result, but not without force.... And that was all anyone was allowed to know.
She learned to use a rifle in Siberia. She learned to stalk her prey, hunt and kill in Siberia. When war broke out, she joined, excelling in the stealthier parts of her training. She ended up becoming a sniper, followed after by "a couple of good shots in the dark" - her shooting an SS officer in poor lighting into a trench used as a toilet.
Military Rank:
I'll let the staff decide, based on the app.
Writing Sample (Russian text will be in angled brackets [< and >]):
Blood was pouring out of the dead's man chest. Near-black ichor, it stained the snow darkly, the survivors huddled in the corner in terror. Mere babies, they were, looking at their deceased commander like he was a plague-bearer. Nona stared quietly for a moment, shaking her head at the mess. He had fallen from a prime place to be shot - how had he found himself there in the first place? Shoddy timing indeed.
<Who is the highest ranking here?> asked the soldier, looking down at the fearful conscripts. Business as usual for the sniper, who seemed to be taking the falling tank shell fire quite nicely. She winced at a particularly loud boom nearby, but otherwise, seemed as calm as the sky above all. The conscripts looked at each other nervously.
<We're all low-ranking here,> answered one of the boys. <Nothing special, ma'am. We were just about to climb over when the Sergeant - >
<Was taken out by a sniper. This I can see,> Nona answered. She sighed, looking around the trench again, then quickly at the ground above the trench. With German Tigers snarling and clawing their way through, it would be suicidal to try and charge out until the Russian tanks managed to make a blow. Furthermore, the entire area was under-equipped, and the current job was something only heavy artillery could handle. There were no enemy infantry left on the field, except for anti-tank teams - and Nona, plus several others, had already taken care of them. The only thing left to do was pull back, then clear out the area of anything that remotely resembled an enemy survivor.
<Come with me,> said Nona, bending down a little to avoid a chunk of flying dirt and stone. <We're pulling out of here. Leave the Sergeant, it's too dangerous and we have to make ground fast. Is anyone else injured?>
The squad shook their heads. Nona nodded.
<Very good. Follow me, then, and don't dawdle. Keep your heads down!>
How did you find us? If you found us via a link somewhere, where was it? If someone pointed you here, who was it?: I find a lot of things. This site happened to be one of them.
Name: Nona Maximyevna Vasilyeva
Nationality:
Russian
What Army will Your Character Serve Beneath?
UK, US or Soviet: Soviet
Character History:
"I do not fight for our Motherland. I fight for the boy cowering in the trench behind you, scared out of his wits and wanting to go home, completely out of his element in this war. Stalin is a waste of my time - a future for my people is not."
She spoke little. Her gun did the talking for her - silent, until that sharp crack of a bullet sliced through the air, and that deadly piece of metal was slicing straight through someone's heart. She was quiet, methodical - there was no need to rush, no need not to prepare to take precautions. It's the world that's moving too fast, shaped by people who did not think, did not care about what they do - at least, in her eyes. The only thing that mattered to her was the German pointing a gun at an innocent farmer and her children - the existence of such a scene simply would not do. And neither would Stalin, once he became too big for his britches; she had given up on him and his promises to the world. The only thing that prevented her from unloading a pistol round into her head is the fact that there were people left worth saving.
Nona did not talk much about her past. It was nobody's business, especially those times she laid by death in the trenches, freezing cold and hunger-weakened and fighting to keep her sights on the enemy. However, she would tell you that she was a farmer's daughter, raising sheep for wool and milk in southern Russia. Her birthdate was February 14th - Saint Valentine's Day, of all days to be born. She had a soft spot for wolves and dogs, and as a child, owned a wolfdog that her father had taken from his own dog's litter. Pyotr, as Nona called her little beast, was a rambunctious companion and her one good friend, as the farm was far into rural country. He was dead by the time of Hitler, but she still spoke fondly of him, and had a habit of shooing away any dogs near her comrades so they're not eaten out of desperation. Hard times, indeed, for Mother Russia.
Something happened in Nona's girlhood to end her idyllic lifestyle - war, of all things, but unsurprising in retrospect. She had been a child of the Great War, losing her father when he marched off to fight, blown apart by artillery or some such thing. (Her parents had married young, and as such, had a child young, both having only come of age after the Russian-Japanese war.) Nona found she's forced herself to forget a lot, trying to keep her mind clear while she fought tooth and nail with the German invaders. She rubbed at scars on her arms and face as she spoke about it, some from fighting, but others older and jagged. When asked about them, she replied with, "Famine," and immediately changed the subject. The real truth, however, was that her family was of "kulak" status, and one of many that rebelled by smashing equipment and killing livestock to avoid common property laws. Her family was exiled to Siberia as a result, but not without force.... And that was all anyone was allowed to know.
She learned to use a rifle in Siberia. She learned to stalk her prey, hunt and kill in Siberia. When war broke out, she joined, excelling in the stealthier parts of her training. She ended up becoming a sniper, followed after by "a couple of good shots in the dark" - her shooting an SS officer in poor lighting into a trench used as a toilet.
Military Rank:
I'll let the staff decide, based on the app.
Writing Sample (Russian text will be in angled brackets [< and >]):
Blood was pouring out of the dead's man chest. Near-black ichor, it stained the snow darkly, the survivors huddled in the corner in terror. Mere babies, they were, looking at their deceased commander like he was a plague-bearer. Nona stared quietly for a moment, shaking her head at the mess. He had fallen from a prime place to be shot - how had he found himself there in the first place? Shoddy timing indeed.
<Who is the highest ranking here?> asked the soldier, looking down at the fearful conscripts. Business as usual for the sniper, who seemed to be taking the falling tank shell fire quite nicely. She winced at a particularly loud boom nearby, but otherwise, seemed as calm as the sky above all. The conscripts looked at each other nervously.
<We're all low-ranking here,> answered one of the boys. <Nothing special, ma'am. We were just about to climb over when the Sergeant - >
<Was taken out by a sniper. This I can see,> Nona answered. She sighed, looking around the trench again, then quickly at the ground above the trench. With German Tigers snarling and clawing their way through, it would be suicidal to try and charge out until the Russian tanks managed to make a blow. Furthermore, the entire area was under-equipped, and the current job was something only heavy artillery could handle. There were no enemy infantry left on the field, except for anti-tank teams - and Nona, plus several others, had already taken care of them. The only thing left to do was pull back, then clear out the area of anything that remotely resembled an enemy survivor.
<Come with me,> said Nona, bending down a little to avoid a chunk of flying dirt and stone. <We're pulling out of here. Leave the Sergeant, it's too dangerous and we have to make ground fast. Is anyone else injured?>
The squad shook their heads. Nona nodded.
<Very good. Follow me, then, and don't dawdle. Keep your heads down!>
How did you find us? If you found us via a link somewhere, where was it? If someone pointed you here, who was it?: I find a lot of things. This site happened to be one of them.
