Post by Anton Gorodetsky on Jul 15, 2009 13:58:50 GMT -6
ID Photo:
Dated August 17, 1918
Name: Anton Gorodetsky
Age: 32
Height: 5'8"
Weight: 160
Eye Color: Brown
Hair Color: Brown
Gender: Male
Date of Birth: 01/11/1892
Place of Birth: Leningrad, USSR
Ethnicity: Russian
Kin: Anatoli Gorodetsky, Captain in the Red Army
Physical Description: Anton is a relatively short, but athletic slav man in his early 30's, he has a sparkle of cunning in his brown eyes and a soft unkempt beard covering his face. His hair is straight and unkempt as well. His body bears the scars of combat in the Red Army, from which he deserted. A particularly nasty scar crosses his back where he was slashed with a saber by a Polish officer in the Polish-Soviet war in 1919.
Personality: Generally cheerful despite his complicated past, Anton is a man who does his job with lack of enthusiasm but when it comes to surviving the odds he is usually the one to walk away alive. He has great determination and an even greater disilussionment and hatred towards the current leaders of the Soviet Union.
Medical History:
-Bullet wound, lower right leg, no bone damage, 11/7/1917
-Bullet wound, left arm, 11/7/1917
-Slashing wound, back, 10/27/1919
Classification: Mercenary
Sub-Class: Russian
Money: $140
-70$; Lee-Enfield SMLE (Rifle)
-35$; x8 Zoom scope
-27.80$; 200 .303 British rounds
= 7.20$
Occupation: Mercenary
Personal History: Disgusted by the outcome of World War I, Anton and Anatoly were happy and eager to join the October Revolution, heeding the words of Comrade Lenin, eager to finally see bread, land and peace as promised. They were among the ones that fought with the police forces protecting Tzar Nikolai and this is where they had their baptism of fire. Overthrowing the Tzar and his unjust rule was a glorious day, a day Comrade Lenin promised a bright future full of happiness and peace. What followed however did not appeal to him the least. The formation of the Red Army was something he at first welcomed and enjoyed the feeling of unity the men shared in their regiment and the feeling they will never let anyone rule them unjustly. When he realized the true plans of Lenin and was forced to fight on the Polish front he was disgusted by the new warmongering, the same one he hated in the Tzar and his foolish pride. Soon after the beginning of the war and seeing the terrible outcome for the Red Army and nearly losing his brother he asked him to run away to Europe, where they will be able to escape this new order imposed by the Bolsheviks. His brother however was zealously loyal to this very same order and threatened to court martial him for treason against Lenin and the government. Forced to flee and disgusted by his brother and his blind obedience he deserted from the Red Army and went west, eventually passing through Germany, France and finally Great Britain. Sadly he could not escape his past and the fact that his service had taught him to do something very, very good. To be a soldier. After a few uneventful months he got bored and gave in, deciding to seek out a way to work as a mercenary. He had no good feelings towards any regular army and its brainwashing methods and ideals so he finally found what he looked for. It was a company paid for small tasks in North Africa where he had a few busy trips with his men looking for historical artefacts for a rich nobleman, a member of Parliament. After he came back to Britain the outbreak happened and he was drawn into the insane fight across London. He is currently attempting to get to the docks after the bombing has ruined most of the city. His attempts to elude the hordes of undead have been successful so far although he fears his luck may soon run out if he doesn't make it to a relatively safe spot somewhere on an island or any other similar isolated spot.
>Skills:
Classification Skill: Military Training
Mastered Skills: Firearms
Superior Skills: Explosives
Minor Skills: Medic!
>Abilities:
Classification Ability: The Enterpreteur
Mastered Abilities: Toughness
Superior Abilities: Observation
Minor Abilities: Courage
>Equipment on Person:
- Desert camouflage uniform, custom made
- 10" Combat Knife
- Lee-Enfield SMLE with x8 scope (10 rounds in clip)
- 190 rounds in 19 clips, 4 on belt in cartridge-pouch
>In Pack:
- 14 clips .303 British, total 140 rounds
- 2 days of military rations
- 1 map of Great Britain
- 1 map of London
- Keys to apartment in Bexley, London
- 1 flask of home-made vodka
>In Storage:
- None
>Primary Weapon:
Weapon: Lee-Enfield SMLE Rifle ($70)
Caliber: .303 British
Location on Body: Hung over right shoulder
Modifications: X8 Zoom scope
>Secondary Weapon: None
Weapon: N/A
Caliber: N/A
Location on Body: N/A
Modifications: N/A
>Melee Weapon:
Weapon: 10” Combat Knife
Location on Body: Chest, sheathed.
Sample Post:
Date (May 23, 1924)
Time (1358 hours)
Location (Close to the Docks, London)
Weather (62 Degrees F, Light rain)
Anton moved as fast as he could in a steady pace he was used to, on what remained of the streets of London. Abandoned vehicles were lying around, some battered by the hordes of madmen. He soon understood the undead were not very fond of sunlight and he once again cursed the blasted British weather. A light rain was cheerfully falling on the dusty streets, slipping through the cracks and broken windows of the ruins of once beautiful buildings. He cursed once again the idiots from the army that thought this was the best plan. Most of the undead were not wiped out from what he had seen from a distance using his scope. He knew some of them had caught his smell but he was good at hiding behind enemy lines. His job in the Red Army was marksman, and later as a mercenary he went farther than that. Protecting his teammates from harm by executing precise shots at tactically important targets. However the situation here was like nothing he had seen before. The undead were not only tenacious, but they were very, very good at detecting him when he was sure he would not be seen. He had a few close calls in the last night when he tried to barricade himself in an apartment. The... zombies had found him and the only way he was able to escape was to tie his only rope to the bed in one of the rooms and rappel down to street level, his gloves searing hot from the friction. Now he was stuck with no rope and still advancing towards the docks in hopes of finding some boat to escape the ruined city. All the money in the world now didn't matter... war had found him again. This time death was his enemy, quite literally. He smirked at the irony and froze in his step. Something in the far end of the street moved. He saw it with the corner of his eye and ducked behind a burned out car. Using his scope he distinguished a few horridly dismembered corpses from which a lone zombie was obviously feeding. The sick feeling in his stomach rose as he felt the smell of decaying flesh carried by the breeze that swept the street. He ducked into an alley and tried to avoid the confrontation. Saving his ammo was of vital importance.
Dated August 17, 1918
Name: Anton Gorodetsky
Age: 32
Height: 5'8"
Weight: 160
Eye Color: Brown
Hair Color: Brown
Gender: Male
Date of Birth: 01/11/1892
Place of Birth: Leningrad, USSR
Ethnicity: Russian
Kin: Anatoli Gorodetsky, Captain in the Red Army
Physical Description: Anton is a relatively short, but athletic slav man in his early 30's, he has a sparkle of cunning in his brown eyes and a soft unkempt beard covering his face. His hair is straight and unkempt as well. His body bears the scars of combat in the Red Army, from which he deserted. A particularly nasty scar crosses his back where he was slashed with a saber by a Polish officer in the Polish-Soviet war in 1919.
Personality: Generally cheerful despite his complicated past, Anton is a man who does his job with lack of enthusiasm but when it comes to surviving the odds he is usually the one to walk away alive. He has great determination and an even greater disilussionment and hatred towards the current leaders of the Soviet Union.
Medical History:
-Bullet wound, lower right leg, no bone damage, 11/7/1917
-Bullet wound, left arm, 11/7/1917
-Slashing wound, back, 10/27/1919
Classification: Mercenary
Sub-Class: Russian
Money: $140
-70$; Lee-Enfield SMLE (Rifle)
-35$; x8 Zoom scope
-27.80$; 200 .303 British rounds
= 7.20$
Occupation: Mercenary
Personal History: Disgusted by the outcome of World War I, Anton and Anatoly were happy and eager to join the October Revolution, heeding the words of Comrade Lenin, eager to finally see bread, land and peace as promised. They were among the ones that fought with the police forces protecting Tzar Nikolai and this is where they had their baptism of fire. Overthrowing the Tzar and his unjust rule was a glorious day, a day Comrade Lenin promised a bright future full of happiness and peace. What followed however did not appeal to him the least. The formation of the Red Army was something he at first welcomed and enjoyed the feeling of unity the men shared in their regiment and the feeling they will never let anyone rule them unjustly. When he realized the true plans of Lenin and was forced to fight on the Polish front he was disgusted by the new warmongering, the same one he hated in the Tzar and his foolish pride. Soon after the beginning of the war and seeing the terrible outcome for the Red Army and nearly losing his brother he asked him to run away to Europe, where they will be able to escape this new order imposed by the Bolsheviks. His brother however was zealously loyal to this very same order and threatened to court martial him for treason against Lenin and the government. Forced to flee and disgusted by his brother and his blind obedience he deserted from the Red Army and went west, eventually passing through Germany, France and finally Great Britain. Sadly he could not escape his past and the fact that his service had taught him to do something very, very good. To be a soldier. After a few uneventful months he got bored and gave in, deciding to seek out a way to work as a mercenary. He had no good feelings towards any regular army and its brainwashing methods and ideals so he finally found what he looked for. It was a company paid for small tasks in North Africa where he had a few busy trips with his men looking for historical artefacts for a rich nobleman, a member of Parliament. After he came back to Britain the outbreak happened and he was drawn into the insane fight across London. He is currently attempting to get to the docks after the bombing has ruined most of the city. His attempts to elude the hordes of undead have been successful so far although he fears his luck may soon run out if he doesn't make it to a relatively safe spot somewhere on an island or any other similar isolated spot.
>Skills:
Classification Skill: Military Training
Mastered Skills: Firearms
Superior Skills: Explosives
Minor Skills: Medic!
>Abilities:
Classification Ability: The Enterpreteur
Mastered Abilities: Toughness
Superior Abilities: Observation
Minor Abilities: Courage
>Equipment on Person:
- Desert camouflage uniform, custom made
- 10" Combat Knife
- Lee-Enfield SMLE with x8 scope (10 rounds in clip)
- 190 rounds in 19 clips, 4 on belt in cartridge-pouch
>In Pack:
- 14 clips .303 British, total 140 rounds
- 2 days of military rations
- 1 map of Great Britain
- 1 map of London
- Keys to apartment in Bexley, London
- 1 flask of home-made vodka
>In Storage:
- None
>Primary Weapon:
Weapon: Lee-Enfield SMLE Rifle ($70)
Caliber: .303 British
Location on Body: Hung over right shoulder
Modifications: X8 Zoom scope
>Secondary Weapon: None
Weapon: N/A
Caliber: N/A
Location on Body: N/A
Modifications: N/A
>Melee Weapon:
Weapon: 10” Combat Knife
Location on Body: Chest, sheathed.
Sample Post:
Date (May 23, 1924)
Time (1358 hours)
Location (Close to the Docks, London)
Weather (62 Degrees F, Light rain)
Anton moved as fast as he could in a steady pace he was used to, on what remained of the streets of London. Abandoned vehicles were lying around, some battered by the hordes of madmen. He soon understood the undead were not very fond of sunlight and he once again cursed the blasted British weather. A light rain was cheerfully falling on the dusty streets, slipping through the cracks and broken windows of the ruins of once beautiful buildings. He cursed once again the idiots from the army that thought this was the best plan. Most of the undead were not wiped out from what he had seen from a distance using his scope. He knew some of them had caught his smell but he was good at hiding behind enemy lines. His job in the Red Army was marksman, and later as a mercenary he went farther than that. Protecting his teammates from harm by executing precise shots at tactically important targets. However the situation here was like nothing he had seen before. The undead were not only tenacious, but they were very, very good at detecting him when he was sure he would not be seen. He had a few close calls in the last night when he tried to barricade himself in an apartment. The... zombies had found him and the only way he was able to escape was to tie his only rope to the bed in one of the rooms and rappel down to street level, his gloves searing hot from the friction. Now he was stuck with no rope and still advancing towards the docks in hopes of finding some boat to escape the ruined city. All the money in the world now didn't matter... war had found him again. This time death was his enemy, quite literally. He smirked at the irony and froze in his step. Something in the far end of the street moved. He saw it with the corner of his eye and ducked behind a burned out car. Using his scope he distinguished a few horridly dismembered corpses from which a lone zombie was obviously feeding. The sick feeling in his stomach rose as he felt the smell of decaying flesh carried by the breeze that swept the street. He ducked into an alley and tried to avoid the confrontation. Saving his ammo was of vital importance.
I admire your idea and the fact you put it in the 20's and the fact its my favorite Britain that I still need to visit one day!