World On Fire: Shadow Ops [OPEN] (OOC/Fantasy WW2)

[Wolfenium]

We really don't use OOCs a lot nowadays, do we?

Certainly seems that way.
I don't suppose this is still alive? I've got an itch to revive my werewolf. ^_^

It's very alive. It's just that we've moved the discussion to Discord.

[Remnants of Exilvania]

We really don't use OOCs a lot nowadays, do we?

Certainly seems that way.
I don't suppose this is still alive? I've got an itch to revive my werewolf. ^_^

Oh my god, it's Markus! Hurray!


I totally made your character maul my character's son.

[Malshan]

Certainly seems that way.
I don't suppose this is still alive? I've got an itch to revive my werewolf. ^_^

Oh my god, it's Markus! Hurray!


I totally made your character maul my character's son.

I'm good with that. It's just the sort of thing Markus would have been doing.

Of course, expect a whole lot of "He was human. What do I care who he was?"

Edit: So. Where's the Discord link?

[Monfrox]

We really don't use OOCs a lot nowadays, do we?

Certainly seems that way.
I don't suppose this is still alive? I've got an itch to revive my werewolf. ^_^

Do it.

[Malshan]

Well, of COURSE I'll join. It's been far too long since I've dipped my fangs into something. And lo and behold, I'm going to play a werewolf Berserker. ^_^

Player Character App (Shadow Ops Operative)

Name: Markus Lenion
Gender: Male
Age: 89
D.O.B.: October 31st, whatever-fits-age-89

Feral: 5' at the shoulder, 300 pounds
(Image)
Werewolf: Stands at 7'10", weighs in at 468 pounds.
(Image)
Human form (second image from the left): 6'7", 320 pounds
(Image)

Species: Werewolf
Nationality: American
Ethnicity: Norse (mostly). Some Irish.
Religion (if any): Worships Máni, and believes himself to be a descendant of Hati Hróðvitnisson.

Markus was born on October 31st, 1852 to a pair of werewolves of Norse and Irish decent in a small cabin in the far reaches of what would become the Colorado Rocky Mountain range about 24 years later. Due to having been conceived while his parents were in wolf form, Markus possessed features that were often more lupine than human beyond the extent of the norm. Their pack was small, comprised of an Alpha pair and two other families and, as werewolf packs tend to be, were tightly knit. So Markus grew up on the borders of the human and lycanthrope worlds. Often as he grew, he and his father would head down into the valleys surrounding the mountains to visit the human towns for supplies and the occasional sugary treat. Of course, as often as they did that, so too did they go hunting together. Markus learned the manner of the forests and rocky ranges of his home well before he could rightly call himself a grown man.

Markus grew and learned much like any wolf pup would. He played in the meadows with the other puppies under the watchful eye of their pack, went on hunts with the senior members, and shared in the feasts that followed. He took an affinity to the hunt like any other hot-blooded wolf, and was soon hunting on his own.

In 1889, during the influenza outbreak, Markus lost his mother to the disease. This showed the wolf that his idyllic little world couldn't last forever and that he would eventually have to leave the safety of the den and the security of the pack structure he was a part of.

The opportunity came late in the year 1892 when Markus was hunting elk in the highest reaches of the mountain range. As he stalked his prey, a lone animal separated from its herd, he sensed an intruder, though he estimated that it was a long way off. Once he had the chance, Markus took the elk down, snapping its neck with his powerful jaws.

As he stood over the corpse, he heard a twig snap behind him. He spun around and planted one paw on the elk, snarling at the intruder. He took in the sight of a lone human, rugged and stocky in stature, pointing what seemed to be a long rifle at him. The man's face was contorted in horror, gaping at the shear size of the beast before him. Markus took a step toward the man, emitting a low pitched growl to warn him away. The man didn't take the hint, instead raising his rifle and firing at Markus. It was then that Markus lost control for the first time.

When Markus regained his senses, he found the shredded remains of the man strewn around him, his rifle clutched between Markus's teeth. He was bleeding from several bullet wounds, but they had merely grazed him due to his thick lupine skin.

He left the pack after that incident, too horrified at having partook of human flesh to face them. Tasting human flesh had changed him, had shown him the allure of the bestial nature that lurked inside of him. The feeling of losing control, of allowing his instincts to run wild, had been terrifying and utterly intoxicating to him. As much as he felt the moral wrongness to consume the flesh of another intelligent being, he began to desire and prefer it over the meat of another other creature.

In 1917, when the United States joined the Allied forces in World War I, Markus went with them, listed under a false name and a false past. While fighting in the trenches on the battlefields of France, Markus finally had another opportunity to slake his lust for conflict and war, taking his fill from the German soldiers he encountered as the Allied troops took ground. He made sure to do so in private, away from prying eyes that would tip the balance of the Masquerade.

Markus returned from the war in 1921 when the US officially ended its involvement, but he did not return home to the mountainous den. Instead, he retired to the Appalachian mountain range, setting up a small cabin and hunting and living in seclusion. Occasionally he partook of human flesh, but would often stay away from it for fear of retaliation by those aware of the existence of werewolves and the other supernatural races.

Markus lived peacefully, alone, until the winter of 1940 when he was approached by a group of men appearing to be soldiers. He had not kept up with the news, and was slightly surprised by the news of a new World War. And this time, the soldiers appeared to know what and who he was. There had apparently been a paper trail connecting him to his WWI identity which had allowed the government to track him down.

For recruitment, no less. Markus agreed wholeheartedly. After all, it meant he would have a chance to legitimately hunt humans again.

Psychological Profile: Markus is a hunter of men. He's quiet, methodical, and diligent, born of years of hunting humans and hiding the remains of his kills and covering his tracks. Markus has never been formally educated in a human school and thus lacks knowledge about complex mechanical tools and advanced social nuances.
Why do you fight?: Food (mostly). For fun.
Defining Quote: *looking at the dead-strewn battlefield* "Such a waste."
RP Sample: Do I have to?

Reposting my app. Might fix the human profile pic later.

[Agritum]

Well, of COURSE I'll join. It's been far too long since I've dipped my fangs into something. And lo and behold, I'm going to play a werewolf Berserker. ^_^

Player Character App (Shadow Ops Operative)

Name: Markus Lenion
Gender: Male
Age: 89
D.O.B.: October 31st, whatever-fits-age-89

Feral: 5' at the shoulder, 300 pounds
(Image)
Werewolf: Stands at 7'10", weighs in at 468 pounds.
(Image)
Human form (second image from the left): 6'7", 320 pounds
(Image)

Species: Werewolf
Nationality: American
Ethnicity: Norse (mostly). Some Irish.
Religion (if any): Worships Máni, and believes himself to be a descendant of Hati Hróðvitnisson.

Markus was born on October 31st, 1852 to a pair of werewolves of Norse and Irish decent in a small cabin in the far reaches of what would become the Colorado Rocky Mountain range about 24 years later. Due to having been conceived while his parents were in wolf form, Markus possessed features that were often more lupine than human beyond the extent of the norm. Their pack was small, comprised of an Alpha pair and two other families and, as werewolf packs tend to be, were tightly knit. So Markus grew up on the borders of the human and lycanthrope worlds. Often as he grew, he and his father would head down into the valleys surrounding the mountains to visit the human towns for supplies and the occasional sugary treat. Of course, as often as they did that, so too did they go hunting together. Markus learned the manner of the forests and rocky ranges of his home well before he could rightly call himself a grown man.

Markus grew and learned much like any wolf pup would. He played in the meadows with the other puppies under the watchful eye of their pack, went on hunts with the senior members, and shared in the feasts that followed. He took an affinity to the hunt like any other hot-blooded wolf, and was soon hunting on his own.

In 1889, during the influenza outbreak, Markus lost his mother to the disease. This showed the wolf that his idyllic little world couldn't last forever and that he would eventually have to leave the safety of the den and the security of the pack structure he was a part of.

The opportunity came late in the year 1892 when Markus was hunting elk in the highest reaches of the mountain range. As he stalked his prey, a lone animal separated from its herd, he sensed an intruder, though he estimated that it was a long way off. Once he had the chance, Markus took the elk down, snapping its neck with his powerful jaws.

As he stood over the corpse, he heard a twig snap behind him. He spun around and planted one paw on the elk, snarling at the intruder. He took in the sight of a lone human, rugged and stocky in stature, pointing what seemed to be a long rifle at him. The man's face was contorted in horror, gaping at the shear size of the beast before him. Markus took a step toward the man, emitting a low pitched growl to warn him away. The man didn't take the hint, instead raising his rifle and firing at Markus. It was then that Markus lost control for the first time.

When Markus regained his senses, he found the shredded remains of the man strewn around him, his rifle clutched between Markus's teeth. He was bleeding from several bullet wounds, but they had merely grazed him due to his thick lupine skin.

He left the pack after that incident, too horrified at having partook of human flesh to face them. Tasting human flesh had changed him, had shown him the allure of the bestial nature that lurked inside of him. The feeling of losing control, of allowing his instincts to run wild, had been terrifying and utterly intoxicating to him. As much as he felt the moral wrongness to consume the flesh of another intelligent being, he began to desire and prefer it over the meat of another other creature.

In 1917, when the United States joined the Allied forces in World War I, Markus went with them, listed under a false name and a false past. While fighting in the trenches on the battlefields of France, Markus finally had another opportunity to slake his lust for conflict and war, taking his fill from the German soldiers he encountered as the Allied troops took ground. He made sure to do so in private, away from prying eyes that would tip the balance of the Masquerade.

Markus returned from the war in 1921 when the US officially ended its involvement, but he did not return home to the mountainous den. Instead, he retired to the Appalachian mountain range, setting up a small cabin and hunting and living in seclusion. Occasionally he partook of human flesh, but would often stay away from it for fear of retaliation by those aware of the existence of werewolves and the other supernatural races.

Markus lived peacefully, alone, until the winter of 1940 when he was approached by a group of men appearing to be soldiers. He had not kept up with the news, and was slightly surprised by the news of a new World War. And this time, the soldiers appeared to know what and who he was. There had apparently been a paper trail connecting him to his WWI identity which had allowed the government to track him down.

For recruitment, no less. Markus agreed wholeheartedly. After all, it meant he would have a chance to legitimately hunt humans again.

Psychological Profile: Markus is a hunter of men. He's quiet, methodical, and diligent, born of years of hunting humans and hiding the remains of his kills and covering his tracks. Markus has never been formally educated in a human school and thus lacks knowledge about complex mechanical tools and advanced social nuances.
Why do you fight?: Food (mostly). For fun.
Defining Quote: *looking at the dead-strewn battlefield* "Such a waste."
RP Sample: Do I have to?

Reposting my app. Might fix the human profile pic later.

Accepted.

[Malshan]

Reposting my app. Might fix the human profile pic later.

Accepted.

Thanks!
I'll look into getting a post up tonight after work.

[Agritum]

Bump. The RP is still very much alive, but some personal issues in the last two months slowed down my OPing.

Don't worry about the lack of discussion here, we have since moved to the Discord channel. Link on the first page.

[Nova Urbinum]

Player Character App (Shadow Ops Operative)

Name: Desmond Ciarán Lynch
Gender: Male
Age: 19 years of age
D.O.B.: 14th of January, 1923
Physical description: Quite short, very thin. Doesn't have a muscular build but is very athletic.
Species (if Human, specify if Mundane, Mage, Witch, Minuteman or Esper): Mundane human
Nationality: Irish
Ethnicity: Irish
Religion (if any): Roman-Catholic
Bio: Desmond Ciarán "Dez" Lynch was born in the small village of Sallybrook, county Cork, in Southern Ireland on the 14th of January 1923. Desmond was born in the middle of the Irish civil war, and only two years after the infamous burning of Cork, in which British auxiliaries burned down the historic city centre of the biggest city in Southern Ireland. Born in this age of political turmoil in Ireland, Lynch's family had to choose a side. His father was a fervent anti-treaty Republican and member of the Irish Republican army. Tomás Lynch fought for more than a year during the Irish war of Independence, only to be killed in a roadside ditch in Upton, county Cork, on the fourth of October of 1922, during pro-treaty Free State raids near Upton, south of Corcaigh. This meant that Tomás, Desmond's father, was only four months short of Desmond's birth, and, as a result, Desmond grew up without a father.

Desmond went through a rough childhood, where he lived with his single mum, uncle, aunt, and 7 cousins on a farmstead outside of Cork. His mother was an alcoholic, and his stern uncle often had to watch over him, which was bad for Desmond, as his uncle was abusive, and often noted how he loved his own children more than Desmond. Before the nickname of "Dez" clang on, his uncle called him a "little IRA bastard", due to his father's political affiliation and Desmond's height. This name sadly became very popular among his cousins, who saw their father as a role model. Desmond found a sense of compassion with his church, whose pastor treated Desmond as a person. This connection to the local parish priest and church made him very pious, and he believed that, although his early life wasn't great, he could still worship God and Christ with the people around him. This piety made it so that Desmond didn't drink. His uncle and aunt forbade him to go to school, because they felt that that was too expensive and time-consuming, and that Desmond would learn enough working the field. Thus, Desmond did not go to school, and grew up semi-illiterate, until his cousin Mary taught him how to read.

After seventeen years of working a hard and unfruitful life, Desmond decided that he wanted to go join the military, as he wanted to feel respected by his peers and the people around him. The Irish army refused him, as they were low on funds, and there was not a dire need for recruits. He joined the British army instead, which greatly angered his family. He sailed away from port Cork on the 17th of January 1940, a mere three days after his birthday, and arrived in Camberly, county Surrey, where he went through basic training with other members of 2nd Battalion. His time there was far from easy, as the men in his company were mainly of Ulster-Scots descent. To embarass and humiliate Desmond, his platoon leader, a fierce unionist, gave Desmond the "privilege" of becoming a radioman. This was naturally difficult for Lynch, as the radio backpack was very heavy, and he was all but muscular. He did adapt to it, though, and got through basic training with a big muscles, a sturdy back, and a raging dislike of Ulstermen.

In May of 1940, Desmond's battalion was shipped out to Boulogne, to fight the Germans and to hold Calais. Fighting began on the 22nd of May, when the German 2nd Panzer division attacked the outskirts of the French city of Boulogne. Their tanks pounded the defensive works held by the Irish Guards, but Desmond wasn't in the trenches, oh no, Private Lynch sat in a shelled-out hole in a French forest outside of the city, together with two other men, when their forward position attracted fire, and both his sergeant and assisting lance corporal were killed. Lynch kept his head down, pretending to be dead, but carefully tried to radio through information by occasionally whispering into the microphone attached to his headphones when he heard large vehicles pass. Desmond's information to high command was incredibly important for the troops trying to repel the enemy attack, and this caused Desmond to be mentioned by name in a British army report about the battle of Boulogne. After German troops had passed, Desmond covered himself in dirt, and fell back to the allied lines through the thick forests, where he narrowly avoided being caught by German patrols twice. His behaviour in the field didn't earn him a promotion, as the lieutenant didn't feel that an Irishman of that age should receive chevrons, but his treatment slowly improved, and he was taken in as a member of the unit. He and his unit were succesfully evacuated from Boulogne and later Dunkirk during operation Dynamo, and he somehow managed to blend in with the other Ulster-Scots troops.

The thing that very much irritated him, though, was that there were no Catholic church services. Unhappy about his situation, and unwilling to go to hell, Lynch did something that could end his career. He visited his platoon leader and complained about the lack of any Catholic institutions near them. He expected to be fired for his "ingratitude" and "rudeness", but he was amazed to see that a Catholic chaplain was assigned to second battalion. He made good friends with father O'Doherty, but eventually had to say goodbye when the chaplain was killed in Egypt. In september of 1940, second battalion shipped out to Egypt, where they were to defend against Italian and German attacks (The Irish Guards weren't in Egypt in our timeline, but the point of divergence would be caused by staggering British casualties in Egypt). During his time there, Desmond tried to work on camouflage tactics, as that was what got him through Boulogne in France. He painted his Brodie helmet a kind of beige-yellowish colour, similar to the Dunkelgelb helmets that the Germans wore. He bought fabrics from the local egyptian populations, mostly because he didn't waste his money on liquor and gambling, and experimented with the beige-yellowish colour of his helmet and black spots. His ingenuity was spotted by an officer of the long range desert group, who commended him for his good work. His notable skills in radio broadcasting without being detected and camouflaging himself earned him a reputation among his officers in command and commanding officers, who forwarded the young Irishman to HQ, as they believed that his skills could be used elsewhere.

Lynch was reassigned to the Shadow Ops squads, elite formations that he had never heard of because they were so secretive. He went through extra commando training in late 1941 and early 1942, and is now completely ready to move out deep behind German lines and do whatever is necessary to get his pay and respect.

Psychological Profile: Desmond's rough childhood luckily manifested itself in piety and compassion, but his disdain for anything Protestant or Ulster-Scots kind of counterbalances these beliefs. His character is mostly based on his belief in God, and he could best be described as a "Catholic puritan". These terms may sound like they might be opposites, but his "Puritanism" hails from the fact that he very much dislikes sinning, and harshly judges people who drink, smoke, engage in adultery, say sinful things, etc. He's not a man of humour, as a joke could easily offend him, but he is a reliable soldier in the field. He's mentally stable, well, as mentally stable as a veteran who's seen friends of his die in the field can be. Aside from being very pious and strict, he is a bit of a dick in general, which can be seen in his pessimism, refusal to bond with anti-Catholics, protestants and soldiers that sin, and his reluctancy to fully trust the British, a people that he often critiques openly.

Why do you fight?: Desmond fights to get paid and to receive respect from his peers.

Defining Quote: "You're laughing at my smock now, but you won't be laughing once you catch a bullet in your leg and I get out unscathed."

RP Sample: A historical Kaiserreich RP
A WW1-styled RP

[Agritum]

Player Character App (Shadow Ops Operative)

(Image)

Name: Desmond Ciarán Lynch
Gender: Male
Age: 19 years of age
D.O.B.: 14th of January, 1923
Physical description: Quite short, very thin. Doesn't have a muscular build but is very athletic.
Species (if Human, specify if Mundane, Mage, Witch, Minuteman or Esper): Mundane human
Nationality: Irish
Ethnicity: Irish
Religion (if any): Roman-Catholic
Bio: Desmond Ciarán "Dez" Lynch was born in the small village of Sallybrook, county Cork, in Southern Ireland on the 14th of January 1923. Desmond was born in the middle of the Irish civil war, and only two years after the infamous burning of Cork, in which British auxiliaries burned down the historic city centre of the biggest city in Southern Ireland. Born in this age of political turmoil in Ireland, Lynch's family had to choose a side. His father was a fervent anti-treaty Republican and member of the Irish Republican army. Tomás Lynch fought for more than a year during the Irish war of Independence, only to be killed in a roadside ditch in Upton, county Cork, on the fourth of October of 1922, during pro-treaty Free State raids near Upton, south of Corcaigh. This meant that Tomás, Desmond's father, was only four months short of Desmond's birth, and, as a result, Desmond grew up without a father.

Desmond went through a rough childhood, where he lived with his single mum, uncle, aunt, and 7 cousins on a farmstead outside of Cork. His mother was an alcoholic, and his stern uncle often had to watch over him, which was bad for Desmond, as his uncle was abusive, and often noted how he loved his own children more than Desmond. Before the nickname of "Dez" clang on, his uncle called him a "little IRA bastard", due to his father's political affiliation and Desmond's height. This name sadly became very popular among his cousins, who saw their father as a role model. Desmond found a sense of compassion with his church, whose pastor treated Desmond as a person. This connection to the local parish priest and church made him very pious, and he believed that, although his early life wasn't great, he could still worship God and Christ with the people around him. This piety made it so that Desmond didn't drink. His uncle and aunt forbade him to go to school, because they felt that that was too expensive and time-consuming, and that Desmond would learn enough working the field. Thus, Desmond did not go to school, and grew up semi-illiterate, until his cousin Mary taught him how to read.

After seventeen years of working a hard and unfruitful life, Desmond decided that he wanted to go join the military, as he wanted to feel respected by his peers and the people around him. The Irish army refused him, as they were low on funds, and there was not a dire need for recruits. He joined the British army instead, which greatly angered his family. He sailed away from port Cork on the 17th of January 1940, a mere three days after his birthday, and arrived in Camberly, county Surrey, where he went through basic training with other members of 2nd Battalion. His time there was far from easy, as the men in his company were mainly of Ulster-Scots descent. To embarass and humiliate Desmond, his platoon leader, a fierce unionist, gave Desmond the "privilege" of becoming a radioman. This was naturally difficult for Lynch, as the radio backpack was very heavy, and he was all but muscular. He did adapt to it, though, and got through basic training with a big muscles, a sturdy back, and a raging dislike of Ulstermen.

In May of 1940, Desmond's battalion was shipped out to Boulogne, to fight the Germans and to hold Calais. Fighting began on the 22nd of May, when the German 2nd Panzer division attacked the outskirts of the French city of Boulogne. Their tanks pounded the defensive works held by the Irish Guards, but Desmond wasn't in the trenches, oh no, Private Lynch sat in a shelled-out hole in a French forest outside of the city, together with two other men, when their forward position attracted fire, and both his sergeant and assisting lance corporal were killed. Lynch kept his head down, pretending to be dead, but carefully tried to radio through information by occasionally whispering into the microphone attached to his headphones when he heard large vehicles pass. Desmond's information to high command was incredibly important for the troops trying to repel the enemy attack, and this caused Desmond to be mentioned by name in a British army report about the battle of Boulogne. After German troops had passed, Desmond covered himself in dirt, and fell back to the allied lines through the thick forests, where he narrowly avoided being caught by German patrols twice. His behaviour in the field didn't earn him a promotion, as the lieutenant didn't feel that an Irishman of that age should receive chevrons, but his treatment slowly improved, and he was taken in as a member of the unit. He and his unit were succesfully evacuated from Boulogne and later Dunkirk during operation Dynamo, and he somehow managed to blend in with the other Ulster-Scots troops.

The thing that very much irritated him, though, was that there were no Catholic church services. Unhappy about his situation, and unwilling to go to hell, Lynch did something that could end his career. He visited his platoon leader and complained about the lack of any Catholic institutions near them. He expected to be fired for his "ingratitude" and "rudeness", but he was amazed to see that a Catholic chaplain was assigned to second battalion. He made good friends with father O'Doherty, but eventually had to say goodbye when the chaplain was killed in Egypt. In september of 1940, second battalion shipped out to Egypt, where they were to defend against Italian and German attacks (The Irish Guards weren't in Egypt in our timeline, but the point of divergence would be caused by staggering British casualties in Egypt). During his time there, Desmond tried to work on camouflage tactics, as that was what got him through Boulogne in France. He painted his Brodie helmet a kind of beige-yellowish colour, similar to the Dunkelgelb helmets that the Germans wore. He bought fabrics from the local egyptian populations, mostly because he didn't waste his money on liquor and gambling, and experimented with the beige-yellowish colour of his helmet and black spots. His ingenuity was spotted by an officer of the long range desert group, who commended him for his good work. His notable skills in radio broadcasting without being detected and camouflaging himself earned him a reputation among his officers in command and commanding officers, who forwarded the young Irishman to HQ, as they believed that his skills could be used elsewhere.

Lynch was reassigned to the Shadow Ops squads, elite formations that he had never heard of because they were so secretive. He went through extra commando training in late 1941 and early 1942, and is now completely ready to move out deep behind German lines and do whatever is necessary to get his pay and respect.

Psychological Profile: Desmond's rough childhood luckily manifested itself in piety and compassion, but his disdain for anything Protestant or Ulster-Scots kind of counterbalances these beliefs. His character is mostly based on his belief in God, and he could best be described as a "Catholic puritan". These terms may sound like they might be opposites, but his "Puritanism" hails from the fact that he very much dislikes sinning, and harshly judges people who drink, smoke, engage in adultery, say sinful things, etc. He's not a man of humour, as a joke could easily offend him, but he is a reliable soldier in the field. He's mentally stable, well, as mentally stable as a veteran who's seen friends of his die in the field can be. Aside from being very pious and strict, he is a bit of a dick in general, which can be seen in his pessimism, refusal to bond with anti-Catholics, protestants and soldiers that sin, and his reluctancy to fully trust the British, a people that he often critiques openly.

Why do you fight?: Desmond fights to get paid and to receive respect from his peers.

Defining Quote: "You're laughing at my smock now, but you won't be laughing once you catch a bullet in your leg and I get out unscathed."

RP Sample: A historical Kaiserreich RP
A WW1-styled RP

Unfortunately it seems that there is not enough chemistry between the group and your app.

Denied.

[Agritum]

Aaaand we're back into fighting gear!

viewtopic.php?p=36021885#p36021885

[Finland SSR]

Aaaand we're back into fighting gear!

viewtopic.php?p=36021885#p36021885

The tide has turned!

[Vrijstaat Limburg]

Hey, I posted an app about a year ago, and I was wondering whether I could still join up with another character? Do you guys still have some space left? (:

[Agritum]

Hey, I posted an app about a year ago, and I was wondering whether I could still join up with another character? Do you guys still have some space left? (:

Kind of. What was it?

[Cylarn]

Hey, I posted an app about a year ago, and I was wondering whether I could still join up with another character? Do you guys still have some space left? (:

Kind of. What was it?

viewtopic.php?p=33858941#p33858941

I think this is it.

[Vrijstaat Limburg]

Kind of. What was it?

viewtopic.php?p=33858941#p33858941

I think this is it.

Oh, that app was incredibly bad. I've very much grown over the last year, and wondered whether I could make a new, better application? Maybe there's some characters / positions that you still need covered?

[Kassaran]

Oh, there's a Jerome right above the app, I made some edits to it regarding some poor grammar, but that was already something to be expected. I'll write out a post here today/tonight for Jerome's reactions to his first time in a battle...

[Wolfenium]

viewtopic.php?p=33858941#p33858941

I think this is it.

Oh, that app was incredibly bad. I've very much grown over the last year, and wondered whether I could make a new, better application? Maybe there's some characters / positions that you still need covered?

Of course you can make a new one. :3

[Vrijstaat Limburg]

Player Character App (Shadow Ops Operative)

Name: Magnus Andreassen
Gender: Male
Age: 22
D.O.B.: 13th of June 1920
Physical Description and/or Picture:

Species: Mundane
Nationality: Norwegian
Ethnicity: Caucasian (Norwegian)
Religion: Lutheran (Non-practicing)
Powers/Magical Specializations: N/A
Bio: Bio: Magnus was born on the isle of Hitra off of the coast of Trondheim. His parents were fishermen and nearly lived on the calm waters of both the Fjord and the North Sea. Magnus's childhood as a working-class kid was rather uneventful, with little to no irregularities whatsoever. He went to a small public school on the island, and his grades were neither bad nor extraordinarily good.

He did grow up to be athletic and physically fit, though. When Magnus went through puberty, his growth took a hit, and he developed a short man syndrome, which caused him to act like a loose bolt, frequently becoming aggressive with those that joked about his height. He got into several fights, and got stronger and tougher because of it.

After about five years of light torment and pestering, he felt that he should join the army, to amass respect and be seen as masculine, and thus he left the isle of Hitra in '38 at the age of seventeen, and sailed for Trondheim, where he enlisted at a recruitment agency. It was not only a great way to reinforce his ego, but it would also reaffirm a sense of masculinity, or so he thought. In actuality, however, it was all very much different, with other Norwegians in his company taunting and joking about his height far more than his schoolmates ever did.

After a year or so, the joking mostly stopped, as the company now saw Visekorporal Andreassen as a respectable member of the company. There still was some chatter and joking, but Magnus had learnt to accept that, as the violence of yesteryear could not help him here, not in the army.

Those jokes did come to an abrupt end in 1940, when the German Wehrmacht invaded Norway. Magnus's battalion tried to move north, to group up with major general Fleischer's sixth division. After a two-day journey by train, the men had to march through the highlands of the Finnmark with their equipment. One serviceman died, and the battalion needed desperate rest afterwards. On the 9th of April, a day after the battalion arrived in Narvik, German and Allied troops got into skirmishes, and those skirmishes grew to become more and more common. On the 11th of April, Magnus's second company was tasked with holding the lines, and swapped with a battle-weary British company. The fighting wasn't necessarily harsh, as the Allies outnumbered the Germans, but the ferocity of the opponent was a force to be reckoned with, and, when they assaulted those lines, they were met by the very same ferocity from the Norwegian side, since these men were here to defend the last strip of the country that they knew and loved.

Andreassen, who was athletically capable, acted as a runner for second lieutenant Aagard, and risked his life to send vital messages to him. Aagard officially commended him on his ability to act as a runner, two days before he got shot and died in an Allied field hospital.

The platoon, after twelve days of fighting, was now rotated back to the rear again, and staff sergeant Hagen, a good friend of Magnus, took command. Sporadic fighting continued, and eventually culminated in a large although slow-moving inter-allied offensive on nearly 5,500 German soldiers, Fallschirmjäger and stranded Kriegsmarine sailors.
Magnus and his company assaulted the town of Grangseidet, and were successful in clearing out German resistance. His company officer-in-command, however, was shot, and Magnus was able to drag him out of combat and bring him to safety, something that ended up in his commendation for the medal of heroic deeds. The company commander often jokingly referred to Andreassen’s short stature, claiming that, if it weren’t for Andreassen being a relatively small target, he wouldn’t have gotten out alive.

After several months of bitter fighting and frontline rotations, many Norwegians, including Andreassen, managed to flee to the UK. During operation Compass in early June, several thousands of allied troops were evacuated, and, though the Norwegian military high command would have rather continued to fight, the remnants of the fifth division, after their miraculous escape from Trondheim and their heroism in Narvik, were eventually shipped off to Rosyth in Scotland. After having arrived there, Magnus immediately volunteered to join the No.10 inter-allied Commando, and started training with other Norwegian volunteers in the No.5 (Norwegian) Troop.

In August of 1940, he received the medal of heroic deeds, and was promoted to Korporal at the age of twenty. The Allies needed to get war veterans like Magnus into higher positions, because there was a need for war veterans to help train volunteers, especially with the commando units.

After a full year of training with No.5 Troop, Magnus was selected to join the Shadow Ops, in which he would serve with magical creatures that he had never even heard of before.
Psychological Profile: Andreassen has two clear sides to him. He's a jovial and happy soul, friendly to those who know and respect him, and very fond of joyful activities, such as having a drink. On the other hand, he's got a short man complex, which means that he likes to overcompensate for his height. Magnus is fairly arrogant, and finds it hard to hold himself back from getting into fights that make comments on his height.
Why do you fight?: Some people may have some deep-rooted reasons for fighting. The destruction of nazism, defence of the opressed peoples, or even quite possibly simply 'the adventure'. For Magnus, it's none of these things. If one asks him why he fights, he'd quite possibly shrug his shoulders. When he joined the army, he didn't expect the impeding German attack. He just wanted to walk around in a fancy uniform, be respected by others, and be seen as a masculine figure. When the Germans attacked, he did what was asked of him, and he will do what is asked from him until the day he dies.

If anyone wants him to fight, it's fate. He doesn't have any personal aspirations, and, if he really had to think of a reason why to fight, it'd be to liberate his home, but at the end of the day, he knows that he's in Scotland, and that he'll be tasked to fight, so the question "Why?" has never really bothered him, since it has no effect on anything at this point.
Defining Quote: "You don't suppose Jerry hid some akvavit 'round here, do you? I could go for a glass right now."
RP Sample:
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[Rupudska]

With Agri's permission, I have recently started a Quest version of WoF on another site, if anyone's interested.

[Minroz]

Man, I think I missed out the plot. I didn't really know WoF is back in action, lel. What happened?

[Agritum]

We are back on line.