Post by fusebox on Jul 14, 2009 15:42:42 GMT -6
ID Photo:
Name: Vassili Bogdanov
Age: 34
Height: 5’11”
Weight: 158
Eye Color: Brown
Hair Color: Brown
Gender: Male
Date of Birth: August 7th, 1890
Place of Birth: Minsk, Russia
Ethnicity: Caucasian
Kin: Danil (Father, dead)
Physical Description: Thin, wiry build, several scars around various areas of his body. He has brown hair and eyes. Usually wears a brown coat and a beret. He also uses a sack with a leather belt sewn onto it as a backpack.
Personality: The best way to describe Vassili, is drunken asshole. Frequently getting into bar fights, and almost never without a hangover. He has no qualms about killing, and won’t hesitate to kill anyone that gets in his way. Really his only standards are with killing women and children, which he won’t do unless they’re already dead.
Medical History:
Treated for various bullet wounds durring his service with the Re Army.
Classification: Mercenary
Sub-Class: Russian
Money:
$140.00
-$59.00
-$38.00
-$6.35
-$4.25
-$15.00
=$17.30
Occupation: Mercenary
Personal History:
Vassili was born and raised in Minsk, Russia. His mother died giving birth to him, and he was left with an abusive father. After 16 years of constant abuse, his father died, and he inherited their house in the city. He joined the army when he turned eighteen, and spent twenty years in service of the motherland, both against the Bolshevicks, and eventually for them.
Shortly after surviving Russia's short stint in the first world war, and after receiving a small number of metals, he was discharged from the army. After word of the outbreak, Vassili took up mercenary work, making a fair amount of money in the several years since the outbreak.
>Skills:
Classification Skill: Military Training
Mastered Skills: Explosives
Superior Skills: Breaking and Enter
Minor Skills: Blades
>Abilities:
Classification Ability: Entrepreneur
Mastered Abilities: Observation
Superior Abilities: Speed
Minor Abilities: Courage
>Equipment on Person:
-Brown greatcoat
-black pants
-knitted shirt
-Ushanka (one of those 'Russian hats')
-sack with leather belt sewn on
>In Pack:
- (x50) 7.62x38mmR
- (x50) 7.62x54mmR
- (x2) Molotov cocktails
- (x7) misc canned goods
- (x1) empty canteen
- (x1) oil lamp
- (x1) bottle of lamp oil
>In Storage:
- None
>Primary Weapon:
Weapon: Mosin Nagant M1891
Caliber: 7.62x54mmR
Location on Body: in hands
Modifications: bayonet
>Secondary Weapon:
Weapon: Nagant 1895
Caliber: 7.62x38mmR
Location on Body: in pocket
Modifications: none
>Melee Weapon:
Weapon: 16” curved machete
Location on Body: strapped to leg
Sample Post:
The truck thumped up and down down the dirt road as it neared the city of London. A sea of dark smoke hovered above the once great city, a result of the massive bombings that took place. Normally this would be the kind of place that he'd avoid at all costs, but this was not a normal situation. Some aristocrat had hired him, and nine other mercenaries to go in, find his son, and bring him back. Chances were the kid was part of the walking dead, and they'd be lucky to even find his shambling corpse.
Vassili eyed the other mercs sitting in the bed of the truck with him, there were a total of four Russians, and six Germans, including the one driving the truck. The Germans were all busy singing songs in their native tongue and laughing at each other's jokes, while the Russians made bets on which ones would die first. Vassili had his money on some old guy with a Mehr. From what he saw of him test firing it when he bought it before they left, he had no idea what in the fuck he was doing.
Suddenly Vassili got an idea. Taking out one of three gasoline filled bottles from his sack, he pulled out the cork. After setting aside the cloth, he yelled at the Germans, who all immediately stopped their singing and stared at him. With a smile, vassili held out the bottle. The Germans all eyed the clear liquid suspiciously. The other Russians all quickly caught on, and just smiled back, suppressing their laughter. With a phrase that Vassili assumed must have been "Oh fuck it," one German took the bottle, and brought it to his lips. The man tilted his head back, and the liquid started disappearing into his mouth. Sudden;y his head shot foreword, and the gasoline came flying back out, spraying the Russian with the flammable liquid. Everyone in the back burst into the laughter as the man began coughing up the little that he'd swallowed, cursing in between breaths.
Name: Vassili Bogdanov
Age: 34
Height: 5’11”
Weight: 158
Eye Color: Brown
Hair Color: Brown
Gender: Male
Date of Birth: August 7th, 1890
Place of Birth: Minsk, Russia
Ethnicity: Caucasian
Kin: Danil (Father, dead)
Physical Description: Thin, wiry build, several scars around various areas of his body. He has brown hair and eyes. Usually wears a brown coat and a beret. He also uses a sack with a leather belt sewn onto it as a backpack.
Personality: The best way to describe Vassili, is drunken asshole. Frequently getting into bar fights, and almost never without a hangover. He has no qualms about killing, and won’t hesitate to kill anyone that gets in his way. Really his only standards are with killing women and children, which he won’t do unless they’re already dead.
Medical History:
Treated for various bullet wounds durring his service with the Re Army.
Classification: Mercenary
Sub-Class: Russian
Money:
$140.00
-$59.00
-$38.00
-$6.35
-$4.25
-$15.00
=$17.30
Occupation: Mercenary
Personal History:
Vassili was born and raised in Minsk, Russia. His mother died giving birth to him, and he was left with an abusive father. After 16 years of constant abuse, his father died, and he inherited their house in the city. He joined the army when he turned eighteen, and spent twenty years in service of the motherland, both against the Bolshevicks, and eventually for them.
Shortly after surviving Russia's short stint in the first world war, and after receiving a small number of metals, he was discharged from the army. After word of the outbreak, Vassili took up mercenary work, making a fair amount of money in the several years since the outbreak.
>Skills:
Classification Skill: Military Training
Mastered Skills: Explosives
Superior Skills: Breaking and Enter
Minor Skills: Blades
>Abilities:
Classification Ability: Entrepreneur
Mastered Abilities: Observation
Superior Abilities: Speed
Minor Abilities: Courage
>Equipment on Person:
-Brown greatcoat
-black pants
-knitted shirt
-Ushanka (one of those 'Russian hats')
-sack with leather belt sewn on
>In Pack:
- (x50) 7.62x38mmR
- (x50) 7.62x54mmR
- (x2) Molotov cocktails
- (x7) misc canned goods
- (x1) empty canteen
- (x1) oil lamp
- (x1) bottle of lamp oil
>In Storage:
- None
>Primary Weapon:
Weapon: Mosin Nagant M1891
Caliber: 7.62x54mmR
Location on Body: in hands
Modifications: bayonet
>Secondary Weapon:
Weapon: Nagant 1895
Caliber: 7.62x38mmR
Location on Body: in pocket
Modifications: none
>Melee Weapon:
Weapon: 16” curved machete
Location on Body: strapped to leg
Sample Post:
The truck thumped up and down down the dirt road as it neared the city of London. A sea of dark smoke hovered above the once great city, a result of the massive bombings that took place. Normally this would be the kind of place that he'd avoid at all costs, but this was not a normal situation. Some aristocrat had hired him, and nine other mercenaries to go in, find his son, and bring him back. Chances were the kid was part of the walking dead, and they'd be lucky to even find his shambling corpse.
Vassili eyed the other mercs sitting in the bed of the truck with him, there were a total of four Russians, and six Germans, including the one driving the truck. The Germans were all busy singing songs in their native tongue and laughing at each other's jokes, while the Russians made bets on which ones would die first. Vassili had his money on some old guy with a Mehr. From what he saw of him test firing it when he bought it before they left, he had no idea what in the fuck he was doing.
Suddenly Vassili got an idea. Taking out one of three gasoline filled bottles from his sack, he pulled out the cork. After setting aside the cloth, he yelled at the Germans, who all immediately stopped their singing and stared at him. With a smile, vassili held out the bottle. The Germans all eyed the clear liquid suspiciously. The other Russians all quickly caught on, and just smiled back, suppressing their laughter. With a phrase that Vassili assumed must have been "Oh fuck it," one German took the bottle, and brought it to his lips. The man tilted his head back, and the liquid started disappearing into his mouth. Sudden;y his head shot foreword, and the gasoline came flying back out, spraying the Russian with the flammable liquid. Everyone in the back burst into the laughter as the man began coughing up the little that he'd swallowed, cursing in between breaths.
thats what I did XD
