Post by guest on Jan 27, 2008 20:57:48 GMT
Accepted!
Welcome to the board!
~Danny
Account E-Mail: (EDITED OUT!)
Name: Leon H. Wolfgang
Nationality: German
What Army will Your Character Serve Beneath?
Nazi/German Army is the Only Option at The Moment: Nazis, Germany.
Character History:
Leon, a young man who strived to be the greatest paper-round boy! His small time jobs as a child earned him the value respect of money, particularly how to earn it. He came from no wealthy family, but a working class family within the slums of Germany, where his father was a shoe shiner for a nearby barber’s and his mother worked the hard factory life - Leon wanted to work in the factory with his mother, but her plea to stay away from such gruelling and mind numbing jobs made him slither away from the idea… For her wishes, solemnly.
The first world war had caused many casualties, yet the fighter planes still drove overhead of Germany with pride. Every Sunday, Leon would watch the pilots to a nearby airbase (within the heart of Germany) take to the skies with practice and training runs, but Leon and his Father both knew they were ‘Patrols’ instated, just encase the so-called Allied came near or by their flourishing city, but the diplomats had to say something to keep the public calm, in fear of another war.
The years did progress gradually and Leon had barely managed to make the cadets of the piloting school by the skin of his teeth. Not because of his skill, but wealth. Pilots were needed drastically, but so was a good deal of wealth, as accommodation and food needed a small down payment… Never the less, he managed to get his way into the society of wind walkers and soon enough knuckled down to learn. His aviation skills soon regarded as a fast learner.
Soon enough, the dawning of another war had breached the German society, as Nazi power was regarded as the one true way in which the Fatherland should strive. It wasn’t long until wealthy ranks were handed down to those within the air-force, to take heed in leading the other young pilots into war, but the one true meaning of these wealthy ranks being handed to the skilled pilots - was simply, to replace the ones they’d loss. Time was of the essence, someone had to fulfill the boots, as Hitler soon declared war and the invasions begun, the pilots primarily being the first wave sent in, either for recon or bombing to dampen the infantry on the other side.
Military Rank:
- Flight Lieutenant (Army Rank, Captain)
Writing Sample:
Scenario: You’re alone behind enemy lines and you get the eerie feeling someone’s watching you. You’re trying to remain quiet, stay low, work your way back to the frontlines - but you can’t help but feel you’re being followed… (How does your character React? What’s running through their mind?)
The rudders to his B-190 were churning unhealthily, his small spit fighting aircraft had taken too much brunt from the Allied Hal flaks on the ground, spitting Multan lava armoured shells right through the cockpit and engines to his small spit fighting aircraft, immediately taking damage within an instant. His aircraft wasn’t built to withstand such brutal force, he was assigned to the spit fighting B-190 to take heed to a squad of pilots in rendering local enemy bombers heading their way - from out of the sky! Only problem they hadn’t noticed, was the Allied advancements on the ground, who’d already anticipated a nearby Nazi attack from the air, abruptly hitting their small spit fires with heavy bombardments.
The retreat was zoned for all wingmen to fall back, they’d have to fight the bombers over their own turf, only problem was, Leon was now alone - his whole squad had vanished. The Flight Lieutenant took swift haste in falling back, the order he’d initially given, but whether his fellow pilots complied, well… He wasn’t too sure, because their radio frequencies seemed disturbed? A mesh of hissing down his earpiece, unreadable to his continuous pleas for a comply.
Leon’s eyes draped tiredly closed for a moment, as he un-strapped the mouth piece attached to his helmet, allowing it to drape open. The night was dim, putting his navigation skills to the test. He’d drop his altitude some also, flying particularly low, now he’d evaded the Allied territory, flying over what seemed to be thick foliage - a dense of forest beneath him, having to pull up a little, as he felt the twigs and tree tops brush beneath the metal canvas of his aircraft.
He was flying low to avoid the enemy dog fights overhead, Allied aircrafts dispatched to hunt them down most likely, but he also flied low to avoid engine failure from a vast height, which could devastatingly bring him back down to Earth with a deadly thump. So he had to fly low, particularly as his bearings were dim from the dark sky, using land points to find his way back, that was until a voice abruptly hissed out of the radio, causing Leon to grasp the steering a little tightly from surprise. “Wolfgang... Flugleutnant... sind... Sie, lesend... Mich”[/b] beckoned down the earpiece, a continuous hissing in between every word uttered by the person on the other end. A bad reception.
“Dies ist Wolfgang, empfängt wer mich? Über” Leon said firmly, as his eyes stayed astray on the dim horizon before him. Yet, no voice complied? The Flight Lieutenant sighed heavily, knowing it’ll be a long night… But at least he knew he was within range of the command’s signal, a good sign…
Translations:[/b]
Wolfgang... Flugleutnant... sind... Sie, lesend... Mich
- Wolfgang... Flight Lieutenant... are... You, reading... Me
Dies ist Wolfgang, empfängt wer mich? Über.
- This is Wolfgang, who's receiving me? Over.
Welcome to the board!
~Danny
Account E-Mail: (EDITED OUT!)
Name: Leon H. Wolfgang
Nationality: German
What Army will Your Character Serve Beneath?
Nazi/German Army is the Only Option at The Moment: Nazis, Germany.
Character History:
Leon, a young man who strived to be the greatest paper-round boy! His small time jobs as a child earned him the value respect of money, particularly how to earn it. He came from no wealthy family, but a working class family within the slums of Germany, where his father was a shoe shiner for a nearby barber’s and his mother worked the hard factory life - Leon wanted to work in the factory with his mother, but her plea to stay away from such gruelling and mind numbing jobs made him slither away from the idea… For her wishes, solemnly.
The first world war had caused many casualties, yet the fighter planes still drove overhead of Germany with pride. Every Sunday, Leon would watch the pilots to a nearby airbase (within the heart of Germany) take to the skies with practice and training runs, but Leon and his Father both knew they were ‘Patrols’ instated, just encase the so-called Allied came near or by their flourishing city, but the diplomats had to say something to keep the public calm, in fear of another war.
The years did progress gradually and Leon had barely managed to make the cadets of the piloting school by the skin of his teeth. Not because of his skill, but wealth. Pilots were needed drastically, but so was a good deal of wealth, as accommodation and food needed a small down payment… Never the less, he managed to get his way into the society of wind walkers and soon enough knuckled down to learn. His aviation skills soon regarded as a fast learner.
Soon enough, the dawning of another war had breached the German society, as Nazi power was regarded as the one true way in which the Fatherland should strive. It wasn’t long until wealthy ranks were handed down to those within the air-force, to take heed in leading the other young pilots into war, but the one true meaning of these wealthy ranks being handed to the skilled pilots - was simply, to replace the ones they’d loss. Time was of the essence, someone had to fulfill the boots, as Hitler soon declared war and the invasions begun, the pilots primarily being the first wave sent in, either for recon or bombing to dampen the infantry on the other side.
Military Rank:
- Flight Lieutenant (Army Rank, Captain)
Writing Sample:
Scenario: You’re alone behind enemy lines and you get the eerie feeling someone’s watching you. You’re trying to remain quiet, stay low, work your way back to the frontlines - but you can’t help but feel you’re being followed… (How does your character React? What’s running through their mind?)
The rudders to his B-190 were churning unhealthily, his small spit fighting aircraft had taken too much brunt from the Allied Hal flaks on the ground, spitting Multan lava armoured shells right through the cockpit and engines to his small spit fighting aircraft, immediately taking damage within an instant. His aircraft wasn’t built to withstand such brutal force, he was assigned to the spit fighting B-190 to take heed to a squad of pilots in rendering local enemy bombers heading their way - from out of the sky! Only problem they hadn’t noticed, was the Allied advancements on the ground, who’d already anticipated a nearby Nazi attack from the air, abruptly hitting their small spit fires with heavy bombardments.
The retreat was zoned for all wingmen to fall back, they’d have to fight the bombers over their own turf, only problem was, Leon was now alone - his whole squad had vanished. The Flight Lieutenant took swift haste in falling back, the order he’d initially given, but whether his fellow pilots complied, well… He wasn’t too sure, because their radio frequencies seemed disturbed? A mesh of hissing down his earpiece, unreadable to his continuous pleas for a comply.
Leon’s eyes draped tiredly closed for a moment, as he un-strapped the mouth piece attached to his helmet, allowing it to drape open. The night was dim, putting his navigation skills to the test. He’d drop his altitude some also, flying particularly low, now he’d evaded the Allied territory, flying over what seemed to be thick foliage - a dense of forest beneath him, having to pull up a little, as he felt the twigs and tree tops brush beneath the metal canvas of his aircraft.
He was flying low to avoid the enemy dog fights overhead, Allied aircrafts dispatched to hunt them down most likely, but he also flied low to avoid engine failure from a vast height, which could devastatingly bring him back down to Earth with a deadly thump. So he had to fly low, particularly as his bearings were dim from the dark sky, using land points to find his way back, that was until a voice abruptly hissed out of the radio, causing Leon to grasp the steering a little tightly from surprise. “Wolfgang... Flugleutnant... sind... Sie, lesend... Mich”[/b] beckoned down the earpiece, a continuous hissing in between every word uttered by the person on the other end. A bad reception.
“Dies ist Wolfgang, empfängt wer mich? Über” Leon said firmly, as his eyes stayed astray on the dim horizon before him. Yet, no voice complied? The Flight Lieutenant sighed heavily, knowing it’ll be a long night… But at least he knew he was within range of the command’s signal, a good sign…
Translations:[/b]
Wolfgang... Flugleutnant... sind... Sie, lesend... Mich
- Wolfgang... Flight Lieutenant... are... You, reading... Me
Dies ist Wolfgang, empfängt wer mich? Über.
- This is Wolfgang, who's receiving me? Over.