Post by Hilda on Oct 20, 2012 3:26:46 GMT
Name: Goes by Hilda or Hildy
Nationality and Affiliation: German-Russian-French (
) and unaffiliated
Profession: Pickpocket and petty thief
Character History:
Once upon a time, a girl was born on a farm, during the summer of 1926...somewhere. It was somewhere in France, somewhere in Russia or somewhere in Germany, and Hildy could give a damn where it was. Her accent is a horrible mishmash of all three of these, and she claims she born walking down a lonely road. Clearly she's a tale-teller, dishonest and making her living by the way of the pickpocket. That was all that was important to Hilda the...oh, she didn't even care about what her last name was; she was loose, free, a nomad. She had quite a snappy character, and travelled through all three countries with reckless abandon. Oh, she got caught once or twice, but that was during the Dirty Thirties and not a megalomaniac's regime.
If sat down and seriously asked about her origins, Hilda would be evasive. She would say that yes, one of those three countries is her birthplace, and all three flow in her veins. Her birthplace was on one of those countries' borders, though she says not where. All she will say is that it was good enough to teach her a couple of languages, and English was among them. When in pain or stressed, she would most often slip into German - and French. Two out of three were made more likely, but that didn't mean it was proof-positive.
By the time 1939 rolled around, Hilda was thirteen, and according to her and her alone, had been "cut loose" for seven years. It showed, with her brutish personality, uncivilized outlook, lack of hygiene and a mouth filthier than a horse with the runs. She didn't really know, nor care, about the advances of Hitler until the Nazis started pouring in. Living in France at the time (Germany was "getting too crazy", according to her), Hilda was quite shocked one day to see, for lack of better words, people rounded up and shot like animals. It made her almost want to run back to Germany ... until she saw who was invading.
Of course, that was all coming from the mouth of a liar and a thief. Was she really a nomad who had escaped to three different countries since seven? Was she truly a wild child, free as the wind to do as she pleased? The truth may never be pried out of her, even by torture or threat of death.
Situation/Example RP prompt:
Stuff blowing up was not good. Stuff blowing up was never good. Stuff blowing up meant that someone was a) trying to kill someone else, b) one of the old bags from the Great War had finally gone insane, or c) she was having another nightmare from eating funny berries. Hildy jarred awake, blinking rapidly as she wiped at her eyes. Like a gopher from its hole, out popped her head from the ancient foxhole now overgrown.
Nyeeeeeeeeeu -
BOOM!
"AHHH!" went the little vagabond, holding her ears as she tipped over like a vase. Her head swam as she scrambled to her feet, cursing to the high heavens in German and Russian and French mangled together. She wasn't sure if the whiff of stink she smelt was her own odour, or a fart from her nearly emptying her bowels in shock.
>>"The hell is this - oh, fu - "<<*
She scrambled for dear life, clambering out of the foxhole as fast as she could. Her skinny legs carried her fifteen metres away before a shell landed in the hole, reopening the crater in the earth. Hildy was sent tumbling head over heels, covered in a spray of soil and a variety of loosened dandelions. Her head felt like a hammer was pounding against the insides; drunkenly, she staggered to her feet and tried to keep running. Barely could she hear the rumble of oncoming tanks.
(* << and >> = German)
Nationality and Affiliation: German-Russian-French (
) and unaffiliatedProfession: Pickpocket and petty thief
Character History:
Once upon a time, a girl was born on a farm, during the summer of 1926...somewhere. It was somewhere in France, somewhere in Russia or somewhere in Germany, and Hildy could give a damn where it was. Her accent is a horrible mishmash of all three of these, and she claims she born walking down a lonely road. Clearly she's a tale-teller, dishonest and making her living by the way of the pickpocket. That was all that was important to Hilda the...oh, she didn't even care about what her last name was; she was loose, free, a nomad. She had quite a snappy character, and travelled through all three countries with reckless abandon. Oh, she got caught once or twice, but that was during the Dirty Thirties and not a megalomaniac's regime.
If sat down and seriously asked about her origins, Hilda would be evasive. She would say that yes, one of those three countries is her birthplace, and all three flow in her veins. Her birthplace was on one of those countries' borders, though she says not where. All she will say is that it was good enough to teach her a couple of languages, and English was among them. When in pain or stressed, she would most often slip into German - and French. Two out of three were made more likely, but that didn't mean it was proof-positive.
By the time 1939 rolled around, Hilda was thirteen, and according to her and her alone, had been "cut loose" for seven years. It showed, with her brutish personality, uncivilized outlook, lack of hygiene and a mouth filthier than a horse with the runs. She didn't really know, nor care, about the advances of Hitler until the Nazis started pouring in. Living in France at the time (Germany was "getting too crazy", according to her), Hilda was quite shocked one day to see, for lack of better words, people rounded up and shot like animals. It made her almost want to run back to Germany ... until she saw who was invading.
Of course, that was all coming from the mouth of a liar and a thief. Was she really a nomad who had escaped to three different countries since seven? Was she truly a wild child, free as the wind to do as she pleased? The truth may never be pried out of her, even by torture or threat of death.
Situation/Example RP prompt:
Stuff blowing up was not good. Stuff blowing up was never good. Stuff blowing up meant that someone was a) trying to kill someone else, b) one of the old bags from the Great War had finally gone insane, or c) she was having another nightmare from eating funny berries. Hildy jarred awake, blinking rapidly as she wiped at her eyes. Like a gopher from its hole, out popped her head from the ancient foxhole now overgrown.
Nyeeeeeeeeeu -
BOOM!
"AHHH!" went the little vagabond, holding her ears as she tipped over like a vase. Her head swam as she scrambled to her feet, cursing to the high heavens in German and Russian and French mangled together. She wasn't sure if the whiff of stink she smelt was her own odour, or a fart from her nearly emptying her bowels in shock.
>>"The hell is this - oh, fu - "<<*
She scrambled for dear life, clambering out of the foxhole as fast as she could. Her skinny legs carried her fifteen metres away before a shell landed in the hole, reopening the crater in the earth. Hildy was sent tumbling head over heels, covered in a spray of soil and a variety of loosened dandelions. Her head felt like a hammer was pounding against the insides; drunkenly, she staggered to her feet and tried to keep running. Barely could she hear the rumble of oncoming tanks.
(* << and >> = German)
