Post by WC C.#3 Diamond, N. E. on Aug 8, 2008 5:21:32 GMT -5
Accepted welcome to the board its nice to have different things arise that I haven't seen.
Welcome
Thanks,
~Austin!
Character Name: Neil Ergo Diamond
Nationality:
- French-American
What Army will Your Character Serve Beneath?
United States Army, attached to random Infantry Units every so often.
Character History:
- Born in 1917, grew up in a two person family, just him and his mom. Nice thing was they were just in time for the Great Depression, working on a farm just was so appealing than running amok in New York. But then again, he had never left the farm, never even heard of the word 'Dentist' and the doctor usually came to his house. He was taught to speak English by his mother, same on how to read and write. So he got his shit together at a young age, and not to mention got some Marksmanship in with a slingshot, and later a BB-Gun.
It didn't take him long to discover New York, New York, a place where so many cultures melted peacefully. So then he got to the New York Times, he yearned to be one of them guys who ran around with a flashy camera and snap photos of people. Hell, he had some high ambitions, but they were all smashed at the turn of 1941, Japan attacked America, so he was lugged off to the Pacific, one long, tedious year, then he was home. He picked up a job at the New York Times after that, getting his dream to be a Reporter, but they left out one thing, the war Raging in North Africa, and later on Europe.
Military Rank:
- No rank really, War Correspondent for New York Times.
Writing Sample:
The sound of the 7.92x57mm rounds hitting the shell hole Neil was in was rhythmic, the two Germans screaming for him to surrender or die, their MP40's raised at the ready to shoot the Correspondent if he even dared get out of the hole. There was just one thing in the damn pit, a dead soldier, he had a grenade in his bandoleer and his cold, dead hands gripped an old Springfield '01. "Sorry sir, but I gotta take this from you," he stuttered as he took the grenade from his bandoleer and shoved it in his pocket. Then he grabbed the Springfield, what the hell was such an old rifle doing in a Foot soldier's hands? He just grumbled as he got up the side of the pit, his hands taking a hold of the barrel, so the but stuck out in the air. "Ready for som'ma that baseball playing shit Jerry? Well, he comes the first batter," he said with a smirk.
He lept from the pit, ignoring the MP40 going off like hell behind him, and the MG42 kicking up dirt at his feet. And he ran like the hell, at the German, a newer one no doubt since he was just standing there, trying to fire at a zig-zagging target. Then he got close enough and WHAM! The butt of the rifle smashed into the man's face, sending blood every which way, and some on the Press Uniform he was wearing. Then another round kicked up under his foot, causing him to loose his balance, then tumbling to the ground.
"Ich denke, dass er tot ist," one of the MG42 gunners yelled.
"Ich werde überprüfen," the other soldier yelled to the Gunner as he cautiously came towards where he had fallen. Neil was on his back, and had rolled a bit when he fell, and the rifle was pointed right at the German when he got to him.
"Er ist Lebendig," the German yelled before a round smashed into his neck, and exploded out the other side. The Gunner then turned to the spot, unleashing the fury upon him. The rounds bounced and boomed around him, one hitting him in the leg. So he winced, getting up to go into a run, but his leg was just too bad to do any sort of activity. And he just tumbled into a pit, damn pain was a bit too much for him to bear with a straight face. So he picked up the grenade, smirked some as he got onto his chest and started crawling up a patch of grass and bush. He was gonna get one last blow into the Germans before he escaped back to the Allied Lines. So be pulled up his camera, and pointed it directly at the bunker, then he pulled the pin, tore off the sthingy, and tossed it into the bunker. As it exploded, he got a picture.
Then he snuck back into the forest, and limped to the Allied Outpost he had started at.
Welcome
Thanks,
~Austin!
Character Name: Neil Ergo Diamond
Nationality:
- French-American
What Army will Your Character Serve Beneath?
United States Army, attached to random Infantry Units every so often.
Character History:
- Born in 1917, grew up in a two person family, just him and his mom. Nice thing was they were just in time for the Great Depression, working on a farm just was so appealing than running amok in New York. But then again, he had never left the farm, never even heard of the word 'Dentist' and the doctor usually came to his house. He was taught to speak English by his mother, same on how to read and write. So he got his shit together at a young age, and not to mention got some Marksmanship in with a slingshot, and later a BB-Gun.
It didn't take him long to discover New York, New York, a place where so many cultures melted peacefully. So then he got to the New York Times, he yearned to be one of them guys who ran around with a flashy camera and snap photos of people. Hell, he had some high ambitions, but they were all smashed at the turn of 1941, Japan attacked America, so he was lugged off to the Pacific, one long, tedious year, then he was home. He picked up a job at the New York Times after that, getting his dream to be a Reporter, but they left out one thing, the war Raging in North Africa, and later on Europe.
Military Rank:
- No rank really, War Correspondent for New York Times.
Writing Sample:
The sound of the 7.92x57mm rounds hitting the shell hole Neil was in was rhythmic, the two Germans screaming for him to surrender or die, their MP40's raised at the ready to shoot the Correspondent if he even dared get out of the hole. There was just one thing in the damn pit, a dead soldier, he had a grenade in his bandoleer and his cold, dead hands gripped an old Springfield '01. "Sorry sir, but I gotta take this from you," he stuttered as he took the grenade from his bandoleer and shoved it in his pocket. Then he grabbed the Springfield, what the hell was such an old rifle doing in a Foot soldier's hands? He just grumbled as he got up the side of the pit, his hands taking a hold of the barrel, so the but stuck out in the air. "Ready for som'ma that baseball playing shit Jerry? Well, he comes the first batter," he said with a smirk.
He lept from the pit, ignoring the MP40 going off like hell behind him, and the MG42 kicking up dirt at his feet. And he ran like the hell, at the German, a newer one no doubt since he was just standing there, trying to fire at a zig-zagging target. Then he got close enough and WHAM! The butt of the rifle smashed into the man's face, sending blood every which way, and some on the Press Uniform he was wearing. Then another round kicked up under his foot, causing him to loose his balance, then tumbling to the ground.
"Ich denke, dass er tot ist," one of the MG42 gunners yelled.
"Ich werde überprüfen," the other soldier yelled to the Gunner as he cautiously came towards where he had fallen. Neil was on his back, and had rolled a bit when he fell, and the rifle was pointed right at the German when he got to him.
"Er ist Lebendig," the German yelled before a round smashed into his neck, and exploded out the other side. The Gunner then turned to the spot, unleashing the fury upon him. The rounds bounced and boomed around him, one hitting him in the leg. So he winced, getting up to go into a run, but his leg was just too bad to do any sort of activity. And he just tumbled into a pit, damn pain was a bit too much for him to bear with a straight face. So he picked up the grenade, smirked some as he got onto his chest and started crawling up a patch of grass and bush. He was gonna get one last blow into the Germans before he escaped back to the Allied Lines. So be pulled up his camera, and pointed it directly at the bunker, then he pulled the pin, tore off the sthingy, and tossed it into the bunker. As it exploded, he got a picture.
Then he snuck back into the forest, and limped to the Allied Outpost he had started at.
