Post by Steven on Jul 21, 2008 2:30:27 GMT
Accepted! With Terms;
I'm not entirely sure McMillan would want to have a Half-Brother? But at the same time, he hasn't been around much lately and neither can he tell us anytime soon - So, as to not keep you waiting, I will allow your Bio.
IF Edward McMillan would not like any Relation to your Character, than you may Have to change your Name (McMillan Part) and perhaps re-write your bio. Apart from that, you have all the qualities of a writer and I'm happy to grant you the Master Sergeant Rank, prodominately due to the fact, we haven't had any of them yet.
Welcome,
~Danny[/i]
Hello, I’m not sure if Edward McMillan would allow this or not, but I just wanted to see if I could possibly make a character based upon him? Such as a Half-Brother in this case, one he never knew about. I just thought it would spice up a twist when role playing, hope you guys allow this. Thanks!
Account E-Mail: spikey4ever@hotmail.com
Name: Steven J. McMillan
Nationality:
- United States of America
What Army will Your Character Serve Beneath?
UK or US: US
Character History:
Steven was born in 1913, a bastard child to a father that played no part in his up-bringing, causing a cavernous hole to deepen into the stomach of poor Steven’s fertile mind. His mother; Anne Marie, a fine young Irish woman spent little time grooming her son’s dreams and ambitions, particularly when her life revolved around red light districts. So Steven was regularly left to his own devices, something that over the years gave him an edge when fore playing a lonesome stretch of time by himself.
Soon enough however, young Steven was rattling more than his own curiosity, but a passion to finding out who he truly was. His mother had a very little snippet of patience and an even shorter temper, but soon enough Steven was once again ruling beneath his own devices; Finding answers in petty closets and secretly kept purses, he found an ideal beginning that would stretch the beginning of his journey, to halfway around the world. A letter, accompanied with noted bills from a “Mr McMillan” - it was hardly a start, but more than enough for young Steven to begin his search throughout Rossadillisk for this mysterious male, sending his mother these regular noted bills.
Steven was nothing but a teenager by the time of 1927, when another clue found it’s self dauntingly laid upon the doormat of his back door. Thankfully, Steven’s mother hardly woke up beyond eleven o’clock and the young snippa’ had stumbled across the enveloped letter first. Wasting no time, the fourteen year old opened it and read with intent curiosity, he could tell the letter was from this mysterious Mr McMillan from just the rough edged hand-writing. The letter stated the man’s leave for America; Which inevitably meant no more bills for his mother. No return address or hints had been given, but all young Steven knew, was that America was the next part of his journey… Correct?
It took a good few years scraping together the money, but by now, regular ferries were crossing the channels and long stretches to America, the new land! So it was more than easy to get a ticket, lower class. Steven had no resentment for leaving his mother, he always knew he was a burden upon her shoulders, an extra mouth she could do without. Writing one simple letter and leaving it upon the stained kitchen table, Steven bid his mother farewell in the only manner he knew how, with very little belongings, he left hastily for the harbour and made a stint walk of three miles through the night, before he even came across a ride to hitch the rest of the way… Arriving in America not so long after… Steven found himself thrown into a holding cell and segregation room, noted for being an illegal Alien. Thankfully for him, they took pity and put the young lad in an orphanage, ready for adoption and with legit papers proclaiming him American.
It didn’t take long for Steven to leave the Orphanage either, he was eighteen in no time and they kicked him out, but he didn’t complain, he had better things to do and the time used up there was used wisely. He’d done plenty of research and supposedly, young Steven had an Elder Brother - Edward McMillan. Signing up for the Army, Steven had no where else to go and rumour had it, Edward McMillan had signed up too. Word of the father was scarce however, perhaps he’d died? Steven didn’t know, but his own real hope in finding the truth, was through his one main clue, Edward McMillan… But the years passed… Service in the Army was hard and Steven forgot his initial hunt, succumbing to the life of his new family, the Military.
Military Rank:
- Master or First Sergeant Please.
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?)
“This isn’t good, this isn’t good”[/b] he murmured quietly to himself, as he felt the eerie sensation of someone or something following him closely, the despicable feeling of being hunted began to creep up his shoulders and over his neck, causing the fine small hairs to stand on end. Hastily, the Sergeant hurried around the next corner and down a narrow pathway, clutching his upholstered Colt .45 tightly between both of his palms… His body immersed into the dark shadows of what seemed to be a closed up paper-stand.
The night was cold and the only real factor giving him away, was the cold white plumes of smoke bellowing out from his placid hot lungs. Holding his breath as the crooked clicking noise of steps drew closer, Steven straightened his back against the stone wall and his feet shuffled inwards upon the cobbled path. “Grr!” he suddenly sprung out from his long gullet, swinging down the metal butt-end to his Pistol upon the assailant’s head, his body springing from out of the shadows like a fiery feline, intent on killing it’s prey with surprise and eagerness!
“Oh! Ahh…!”[/I] curdled out the young man, almost about to shout out in a startled surprise from the heavy thump against the back of his head, but was soon muffled silent as Steven swooped his hand over the man’s mouth, yanking his head back from the jaw line. Taking another quick swing against the man’s head, a little better this time as he struggled to keep the man stiffly still, he felt the pistol clunk hard against what must’ve been the skull from the irrational struggling, as the man began to get heavy and full limp. Taking a couple of steps back and releasing his stronghold grip on the man, the young male fell to the ground, sprawled out against Steven’s feet. A trickle of blood running down the man’s face from what must’ve been a open wound caused by his pistol. Steven knew the man was most likely a civilian, he was dressed in a flat-cap and brown suit, carrying an umbrella… But he could’ve been an German Informant also.
Swallowing hard, Steven glanced about quickly, paranoid as a few clattering voices emerged down the end of the pathway. Quickly, he began to undo the man’s suit and yank off the blazer, swinging it around his shoulders to hand loosely upon his torso, before fixing the Colt .45 handgun into the back of his trousers. If he were to make it through his town, he had to at least allude the Germans with a outline in the dark as to that of a civilian, rather than dipping beneath each corner dressed in the blatant garments of the US Army. Inhaling quickly, he took a brief pause to clear his thoughts, before taking one last look around. He had to keep moving east, he knew sooner or later he’ll find the frontlines.
I'm not entirely sure McMillan would want to have a Half-Brother? But at the same time, he hasn't been around much lately and neither can he tell us anytime soon - So, as to not keep you waiting, I will allow your Bio.
IF Edward McMillan would not like any Relation to your Character, than you may Have to change your Name (McMillan Part) and perhaps re-write your bio. Apart from that, you have all the qualities of a writer and I'm happy to grant you the Master Sergeant Rank, prodominately due to the fact, we haven't had any of them yet.
Welcome,
~Danny[/i]
Hello, I’m not sure if Edward McMillan would allow this or not, but I just wanted to see if I could possibly make a character based upon him? Such as a Half-Brother in this case, one he never knew about. I just thought it would spice up a twist when role playing, hope you guys allow this. Thanks!
Account E-Mail: spikey4ever@hotmail.com
Name: Steven J. McMillan
Nationality:
- United States of America
What Army will Your Character Serve Beneath?
UK or US: US
Character History:
Steven was born in 1913, a bastard child to a father that played no part in his up-bringing, causing a cavernous hole to deepen into the stomach of poor Steven’s fertile mind. His mother; Anne Marie, a fine young Irish woman spent little time grooming her son’s dreams and ambitions, particularly when her life revolved around red light districts. So Steven was regularly left to his own devices, something that over the years gave him an edge when fore playing a lonesome stretch of time by himself.
Soon enough however, young Steven was rattling more than his own curiosity, but a passion to finding out who he truly was. His mother had a very little snippet of patience and an even shorter temper, but soon enough Steven was once again ruling beneath his own devices; Finding answers in petty closets and secretly kept purses, he found an ideal beginning that would stretch the beginning of his journey, to halfway around the world. A letter, accompanied with noted bills from a “Mr McMillan” - it was hardly a start, but more than enough for young Steven to begin his search throughout Rossadillisk for this mysterious male, sending his mother these regular noted bills.
Steven was nothing but a teenager by the time of 1927, when another clue found it’s self dauntingly laid upon the doormat of his back door. Thankfully, Steven’s mother hardly woke up beyond eleven o’clock and the young snippa’ had stumbled across the enveloped letter first. Wasting no time, the fourteen year old opened it and read with intent curiosity, he could tell the letter was from this mysterious Mr McMillan from just the rough edged hand-writing. The letter stated the man’s leave for America; Which inevitably meant no more bills for his mother. No return address or hints had been given, but all young Steven knew, was that America was the next part of his journey… Correct?
It took a good few years scraping together the money, but by now, regular ferries were crossing the channels and long stretches to America, the new land! So it was more than easy to get a ticket, lower class. Steven had no resentment for leaving his mother, he always knew he was a burden upon her shoulders, an extra mouth she could do without. Writing one simple letter and leaving it upon the stained kitchen table, Steven bid his mother farewell in the only manner he knew how, with very little belongings, he left hastily for the harbour and made a stint walk of three miles through the night, before he even came across a ride to hitch the rest of the way… Arriving in America not so long after… Steven found himself thrown into a holding cell and segregation room, noted for being an illegal Alien. Thankfully for him, they took pity and put the young lad in an orphanage, ready for adoption and with legit papers proclaiming him American.
It didn’t take long for Steven to leave the Orphanage either, he was eighteen in no time and they kicked him out, but he didn’t complain, he had better things to do and the time used up there was used wisely. He’d done plenty of research and supposedly, young Steven had an Elder Brother - Edward McMillan. Signing up for the Army, Steven had no where else to go and rumour had it, Edward McMillan had signed up too. Word of the father was scarce however, perhaps he’d died? Steven didn’t know, but his own real hope in finding the truth, was through his one main clue, Edward McMillan… But the years passed… Service in the Army was hard and Steven forgot his initial hunt, succumbing to the life of his new family, the Military.
Military Rank:
- Master or First Sergeant Please.
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?)
“This isn’t good, this isn’t good”[/b] he murmured quietly to himself, as he felt the eerie sensation of someone or something following him closely, the despicable feeling of being hunted began to creep up his shoulders and over his neck, causing the fine small hairs to stand on end. Hastily, the Sergeant hurried around the next corner and down a narrow pathway, clutching his upholstered Colt .45 tightly between both of his palms… His body immersed into the dark shadows of what seemed to be a closed up paper-stand.
The night was cold and the only real factor giving him away, was the cold white plumes of smoke bellowing out from his placid hot lungs. Holding his breath as the crooked clicking noise of steps drew closer, Steven straightened his back against the stone wall and his feet shuffled inwards upon the cobbled path. “Grr!” he suddenly sprung out from his long gullet, swinging down the metal butt-end to his Pistol upon the assailant’s head, his body springing from out of the shadows like a fiery feline, intent on killing it’s prey with surprise and eagerness!
“Oh! Ahh…!”[/I] curdled out the young man, almost about to shout out in a startled surprise from the heavy thump against the back of his head, but was soon muffled silent as Steven swooped his hand over the man’s mouth, yanking his head back from the jaw line. Taking another quick swing against the man’s head, a little better this time as he struggled to keep the man stiffly still, he felt the pistol clunk hard against what must’ve been the skull from the irrational struggling, as the man began to get heavy and full limp. Taking a couple of steps back and releasing his stronghold grip on the man, the young male fell to the ground, sprawled out against Steven’s feet. A trickle of blood running down the man’s face from what must’ve been a open wound caused by his pistol. Steven knew the man was most likely a civilian, he was dressed in a flat-cap and brown suit, carrying an umbrella… But he could’ve been an German Informant also.
Swallowing hard, Steven glanced about quickly, paranoid as a few clattering voices emerged down the end of the pathway. Quickly, he began to undo the man’s suit and yank off the blazer, swinging it around his shoulders to hand loosely upon his torso, before fixing the Colt .45 handgun into the back of his trousers. If he were to make it through his town, he had to at least allude the Germans with a outline in the dark as to that of a civilian, rather than dipping beneath each corner dressed in the blatant garments of the US Army. Inhaling quickly, he took a brief pause to clear his thoughts, before taking one last look around. He had to keep moving east, he knew sooner or later he’ll find the frontlines.
looks like we are a family of tough guys too.
Forgiveness?
