[R94] Signup Thread

[Barry Goldwater]

Yeah.

Signup format

(insert pic here, if you want) Name: Gender: Age: Religion: Keep it simple - Orthodox, Catholic, Jewish, Animist, Atheist/Agnostic. I shouldn't have to explain what they are Background: Equipment: Keep track of this as required. Biography: (I want to see at least one paragraph, five sentences minimum. Anything shorter will be rejected immediately. The longer, the better - usually, at least. Also, don't forget to explain how you ended up in Moscow in time for the game's start)

Character backgrounds

Fresh Blood 'Better an end with terror, than a terror without end'. You are a soldier in the ranks of the Bloody Shirts, either an 'old guardsman' who had been with them since you first heard Dr. Ahronovitch rail against the evils inherent in the old Russian system or a relatively new addition, freshly promoted from the ranks of the Opolcheniye, who's just earned his red jacket. Perhaps you were a middle-class college student who joined the Bloody Shirts to bring an end to a blatantly unjust government (despite having personally greatly benefited from it...) out of the good in your heart, or perhaps you're Ahronovitch's 'salt of the earth', a member of the oppressed & ignored under-class who had the great pleasure of being callously trampled into the ground by the 'superior' nobility and watching 'pious' priests gorge themselves on fine meats and cheeses while you scrounged in dumpsters for table scraps. Either way, you are a fighter absolutely committed to bringing down the old order, unleashing your own brand of bloody justice upon your former oppressors, anderecting a truly just system in its place where all men are equal under the blue sky - probably in that order. No matter how much blood must flow, no matter how many heads must roll and how many hundreds of billions in rubles of property must burn, you will see a world of true equality, where everyone can live in peace and prosperity without regard for birth or station, become reality - or else die trying. Players who choose this background will start with the following: AK-47 OR AK-74 OR SKS OR Dragunov OR Saiga-12 TT Pistol 8 Mags Bayonet 2x Grenades All-weather boots Black Heart 'The eye is the lamp of the body. If your eyes are good, your whole body will be full of light. But if your eyes are bad, your whole body will be full of darkness. If then the light within you is darkness, how great is that darkness!' You are one of the Black Hundreds, and though your side has quite clearly lost the war, you still wear their black coat with pride. Yes - even beneath the crushing agony of defeat, even as you wonder if God has truly forsaken your lot, you will still wear that coat, because do you not hold your faith close to your heart? It was easy to proclaim faith in God in the good times before the masses rose against their betters and slew God's own appointed, but now times are hard, and God will see (for He must see) that your faith is not hollow, that you will follow Him even as He wills you to stain your hands in blood and His enemies bear down on you with flame and lead, that you are still at His command where all His fairweather followers (men you knew, ate and drank and bunked with) have already deserted Him. Even with the knowledge that the woman you serve now is a paranoid wreck of a regent, living for naught but vengeance and power - you know this, your comrades know this, even your superiors must know this no matter what sweet lies they tell about her - you will still wear that cloak, because do you not pride yourself on your iron loyalty to the Romanovs? Where would the world be, if men forsook oaths of fealty to their overlords over the occasional idiot Tsar or bloody-minded Tsarina? In the interest of order, for only within order can the people be kept in their rightful places and enjoy the prosperity their masters would have graced them with in good time, you must fight for the return of the Romanovs and through them, for God - no matter what comes your way. Players who choose this background will start with the following: AK-47 OR AK-74 OR FN FAL OR Zastava OR MP5 M1895 Revolver 8 Mags Bayonet 2x Grenades Light armor Crusader 'The chief beginning of evil is goodness in excess.' You are a Crusader, likely to be an idealistic man between 16 and 40 coming from the many walks of life - farmers, carpenters, factory workers, bank tellers, all of these and more are fighting together under St. George's Cross - who signed up for the 11th Crusade in hopes of realizing your ever-wise and benevolent overlord's dream of a New World Order beneath his silken fist, where there will be no suffering or poverty and all men will sing their praises to God and the Stuarts as they should. Alternatively, you heard that Moscow remained relatively undamaged even after three years of war and saw this as a good chance to get rich, maybe even win a knighthood and some medals while you're at it - and hey, if shooting up schismatics can actually get you a ticket past the Pearly Gates (unlikely, but why not) then even better! Regardless of the nobility or lack thereof in your motivations for being here, you're now flying on what your officers are saying is 'statistically, probably' one-way trip to Moscow with a gun, your friends from boot camp, and some really shifty looking Croatian fellows - while your blue-blooded officers are sipping champagne, gobbling up filet mignon and pushing figures back & forth on a table in the safety of your Finnish bases. They say that, statistically speaking, you'll probably die in the streets of Moscow, and go down in history as just another number in Europe's casualty tables; the time to prove them wrong is coming, perhaps faster than you might have liked. Players who choose this background will start with the following: SA80 OR OR FN FAL OR MP5 OR Steyr HS OR Bennelli M3 Beretta 92 8 mags Bayonet 2x Grenades Ballistic vest OR light armor Deserter 'The deserter knows his life is forfeit if he is taken, so he will not flinch from any crime, no matter how vile.' You once fought for either side in the civil war, but have for whatever reason broken your oath - maybe you were a conscript who disappeared at the first possible opportunity, perhaps you didn't like the direction in which your cause was going, maybe the commanding officer urinated in your weekly rations while drunk. Even a Black Hundred may have found that his iron loyalty was rusting in the face of the Tsarina's descent into paranoia and base brutality, while a Bloody Shirt may have come to see that there's rather too much blood on his clothes and that he's become just as monstrous as the people he's fighting in his quest for justice and true equality. Whatever his motivations for casting aside his past loyalties, the Deserter now finds himself in Moscow - perhaps they have friends or family there, maybe they were just stationed there when they bolted, or they made straight for the capital after abandoning their old unit in the hopes of getting lost in a sea of strangers. Players who choose this background will start with the following: TT pistol M1895 Revolver 4 mags Hand weapon 1x Grenade Running shoes Civilian 'You can no more win a war than you can win a blizzard.' Though you've lived through three years of war, you are still a stranger to it. You may have found yourself in Moscow at the war's outbreak - perhaps you actually live here, or your loved ones did and you were paying them a visit, or maybe you just worked here and got trapped when the Duma declared martial law and Bloody Shirts started prowling the streets alongside the police. Alternatively, you could be a refugee of one of many outlying towns and villages, driven to seek refuge behind the Duma's barricades when the Black Hundreds or their own Bloody Shirts burned & raped & pillaged their way through your hometown; even the clergy, held in contempt by the progressives dominating the Duma and utter loathing by the Bloody Shirts, can find safety in the great city after all, where at least the Duma is keeping the peace and restraining the Bloody Shirts from doing anything beyond acts of petty theft and vandalism. Whatever your background, you've been stuck in the capital of the 'new Russia' for the last three years, hoping every day that no great disaster (like say, Black Hundreds overcoming the garrison) befalls you, but now that the war is finally over, maybe - just maybe - you'll be free to leave at last. Players who choose this background will start with the following: Motorcycle OR Car OR Truck

[EmperorBatman999]

Viktor on the "hunt"


Viktor and his bandits

Name: Viktor Zubadev
Gender: Male
Age: 25
Religion: Irreligious (believes somewhat in God and Jesus, but does not practice and knows well his very lifestyle breaks all commandments)
Background: Deserter
Equipment:
TT pistol
M1895 Revolver
4 mags
Hand weapon
1x Grenade
Running shoes

Biography: Viktor Zubadev would give it to you straight - he is an outlaw, an outright outlaw. It was always his life since the age of fourteen, but even before that he had tendencies towards kleptomania...particularly from the wealthy. There wasn't much there for young Viktor on his farm with his town south of Moscow, and boredom and a sense of adventure led him to trying to take things from his wealthier neighbors. Such actions extended from playground antics to learning how to infiltrate the yards of the middle-class and take some loot to pawn out. By his teenage, he was a prolific criminal, joining a gang and partaking in high-profile crimes such as robbery and murder. By Zubadev's late teenage years, he was a leader himself in a gang. They traveled the countryside, evading police and robbing travelers on the highways.

Of course Viktor has a code. He expects honesty. Viktor would want anybody to give it to him straight, as he would to them. He can be brutally blunt, very honest, and very strongly opinionated. Viktor also would like to think he's fair (for a thief at least). He only takes things from the well-to-do, and he at least tries not to hurt anybody unless they either run or try to pull a gun on him.

Viktor continued his banditry into the initial beginning of the war. Viktor joined a group of irregulars fighting for the Loyalists as a band of guerrillas in the countryside. From here he used the opportunity to turn his criminals into "freedom fighters" where they focused (most) of their illegal activities on known Tsarists. This worked out reasonably well considering the upper-class core of support for the Old Regime.

However, Viktor left the Duma forces after becoming disillusioned with the rise of the Bloody Shirts. Suddenly what little commitment to the cause (which was always more focused on Viktor's desire for wealth) vanished at the sight of random executions by Bloody Shirts and Black Hundreds alike. Viktor now finds himself back in Moscow again, trying to decide where to go next. Viktor can be a ruthless, hard-living man and he travels across the Russian countryside (It was said he's gone between Vladivostok and Petrograd himself ten times by motorcycle). He can travel great distances on foot, by horse, car, truck, or motorbike. With all the senseless brutality Viktor has seen, even he has grown sick of it all. Viktor now desires to fight everything that is truly evil. Perhaps fighting for the true good will redeem Viktor of his criminal past...and still gain some nice loot on the way.

[Watercress]

Anthony, enjoying a light snack

Name: Anthony Knowlton
Gender: Male
Age: 19
Religion: Catholic
Background: Crusader
Equipment:
SA80
Beretta 92
8 mags
Bayonet
2x Grenades
Ballistic vest
Biography: Born in the proud University city of Cambridge, Anthony was a member of a family of Academics - His father a Professor of Physics at Trinity College, his mother a Professor of English Literature elsewhere, and indeed later on, his three siblings (His elder brother, and his two younger sisters) would follow in their academic footsteps. But Anthony, Anthony would be the exception. Always something of a rebellious and independent-minded tyke in his youth, Anthony generally did not seem keen for the academic interests and tastes of the rest of his clan. While achieving decently well at school, he never met his father's high expectations, greatly harming the boy's confidence and psyche. As he grew into adolescence, this independence did not necessarily turn into deviancy and rebellion - although there was certainly conflict with his parents over his refusal to go to university - but instead Anthony poured his energies into other pursuits. He excelled at many sports, in particular Cricket, with great, if unfounded, ambitions to play professionally, and he also grew increasingly devout and zealous in his Catholic faith (something of an oddity for a teenager like himself), perhaps in rebellion to the secular Academia of his increasingly alienated household.

After graduating from Secondary School at 16, Anthony drifted from temporary job to temporary job, with little stay or reprieve. He stubbornly refused to go onto university, but with his sporting dreams unattainable, he had little purpose and direction in life. He did consider joining the military, but his generally lanky and thin body meant he usually failed the physical tests.But finally, a solution presented itself - the Eleventh Crusade, an opportunity for glory, advancement, and a place in Heaven. Anthony eagerly followed the tide of popular fervour in favour of the Crusade, and quickly signed up to join the volunteer Crusader forces, who were much less stringent with their physical requirements, much to the concern and objection of his parents. For Anthony, this was a divine task, his purpose assigned by God - to solider for the New World Order, for his benevolent Stuart monarchs, to liberate the Russians from their Schismatic heresy, and to maintain the sacred social order from the threat of the radicals. Nonetheless, his idealistic, perhaps naive, ideals, are likely to clash quite deeply with the brutal realities of war, especially for the completely green and unprepared Anthony. For while a devout, even fanatical Catholic, and a obedient servant of the Stuarts, Anton is fundamentally a good, kind, and merciful man, much in contrast to his fellow Crusaders, and in particular the Utashe.

[jacb547]

Ivan fighting with the guerrilla.


Name: Ivan Arminikov
Gender: Male
Age: 27
Religion: Orthodox, not very enthusiastic.
Background: Black Heart
Equipment: AK-47
M1895 Revolver
8 Mags
Bayonet
2x Grenades
Light armor


Biography: Born a Noble in European Russia, he was always wealthy and pious. Military minded since a young age he learned to shoot as soon as he could, Ivan signed up for the Russian Army at the age of 18 and fought numerous wars against separatists. Ivan was promoted to the rank of Lieutenant during his tour on the military, although being a noble did help, and was assigned to Moscow during his final years in the army. With an undying devotion to the Romanovs Ivan took part in the coup attempt and was imprisoned in the streets, stripped of his military ranks he was incarcerated to face a trial and likely execution. His life was however, saved by an unlikely event. As soon as the war started the military pledged neutrality and allowed Ivan to leave to fight for his Tsar. Experiencing combat in Petrograd he was captured once more when the city fell, instead of being executed on sight he was being brought to Moscow in order to receive a public trial. Fate however allowed him to escape when Tsarist guerrillas ambushed his convoy and rescued him. Now armed once more he is on Moscow's outskirts in a scouting mission.

[Kip]

Name: Aleksandr Kaverin
Gender: Male
Age: 30
Religion: Orthodox
Background: Civilian
Equipment: Car
Biography:

"Aleksandr Kaverin has a way with words." The statement was one that Aleksandr grew accustomed to throughout his childhood and school-aged years - his mother told all of her friends at the market and at her book clubs, and his father bragged to everyone at the tracks. The Kaverins made a modest life for themselves in one of Moscow's many suburbs, and the quiet greenery of his township permitted him plenty of free time. The Kaverins were far from rich, but while many of his schoolmates had to dig in the mines, harvest lumber, or join the army to keep food in their bellies, Aleksandr was able to spend his afternoons jotting notes into a journal and composing poetry. As he progressed through school, Aleksandr refined his words and began to discover his voice, choosing to pursue a career in journalism. Just as his comfortable upbringing gave him time to write, it taught him to appreciate the finer things - delicate flavors, earthly beauties, and the love of life. He found a job writing Food, Travel, and Lifestyle pieces for one of Moscow's major newspapers, enjoying a modest but loyal readership and nearly inviolable job security - until Russia descended into Civil War and anarchy.

After the war broke out, Aleksandr felt compelled to see it firsthand. His life was largely a sheltered one, and he desired to experience adventure while giving words to the voiceless victims of the bloody conflict. His journeys convinced him that no side was the right side - victims were learning to fear the sound of any marching footsteps, or the crest of any banner, no matter its color. Black Hundred or Bloody Shirt, it didn't matter - there was no more Russia, he concluded. Many of his fellow journalists and crewmembers were killed by both sides in the war, and Aleksandr's appreciation for life quickly soured into deep pessimism and distrust for his fellow man, with glimpses of his former cheery self surfacing at the sight of the moon or the taste of a fine wine. He even began training with guns, convinced that international law and human decency had abandoned Russia, and no man - neutral press or otherwise - was safe. He was hardly a crack-shot, but he at least knew his way around a firearm.

Eventually, while touring a rural village near the Pacific devastated by Bloody Shirts, Aleksandr and the surviving villagers were come upon by a Loyalist rearguard formation. The journalist was accused of Black Hundred sympathies based on his associations with the Tsarist-leaning villagers, and taken into custody despite his pleas and frantic waving of press credentials. Had the rearguard been composed of Bloody Shirts, Aleksandr might have enjoyed a swift execution, but one of the Loyalist militiamen - a Muscovite - recognized his name and convinced his commander to spare the journalist, as "Aleksandr Kaverin has a way with words." The statement that defined his family's pride had come back to save him - and haunt him.

Aleksandr Kaverin is back in Moscow, residing under house arrest. He now writes propaganda-filled puff pieces about Bloody Shirt commanders, Duma representatives, and the Loyalist war effort in general, all from within a tenement building barracking newly-drafted Loyalist militiamen and guarded by Bloody Shirt troopers. So far, Aleksandr has been rewarded for his "loyalty to the Duma and inspiring words of liberty for all Russians", enjoying relative freedom to move about the city and a state vehicle to explore it in. Nonetheless, every piece published fills him with betrayal, of his own voice and of the people of Russia, and he is merely biding his time until he can leave the city behind for good...

[Dan the Man]

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Name: David Murray
Gender: Male
Age: 24
Religion: Catholic
Background: Crusader
Equipment:
-Steyr HS
-Beretta 92
-8 mags
-Bayonet
-2x Grenades
-Ballistic vest

Biography: Born in the fishing village of Yarmouth, Nova Scotia, David Murray had a quiet, humble childhood as the son of a lobster-boat captain operating on the Gulf of Maine. The quaint town of Yarmouth wasn't exactly abuzz with activity, and from a tender age young David would often find solace from the day-to-day through exploration and camping in the surrounding forests. David grew up to be quite a nature lover, and so when he grew older his father began to take him on his annual Winter hunting trips. The boy proved to be an excellent shot, and a fine tracker to boot. Though he was a great outdoorsman and quite intelligent, David's mind was usually elsewhere when made to engage in academic pursuits, and he was a poor student. He enrolled in a community college after graduating from high school, but dropped out after a semester and found himself wandering most of Canada looking for work. From the age of eighteen through twenty-two he worked as a lumberman, game warden, fisherman, truck-driver, and ranch-hand in many places from British Columbia to Newfoundland

But David soon became dissatisfied with his homeland, though for a while he didn't quite know where to go next. Growing up on the coast just a few hundred miles from the PSA bred a deep-seated instinct to stay far away from Canada's southern border, and crossing from Alaska into Russia was no option either, with the country recently descended into Civil War. David found himself back at home for a time, having no other recourse but to return to work on his father's fishing boat. In the Summer of that year, the little town of Yarmouth was visited by Crusader recruiters.

The Crusaders had set up a booth at a local fairground involving a test of marksmanship. Prospective recruits were each given a rather low quality pellet rifle and told to knock down a series of glass bottles at increasing distances. The test was intended to be nigh-impossible to pass, with the goal being to show that joining His Majesty's great crusading army would 'make true sharpshooters' out of every raw recruit. David happened to be on the scene and, having some renown among the townsfolk for his accuracy with a rifle, was asked to take the test. He passed, with perfect accuracy. Virtually begged to join the Crusade by the flabbergasted recruiters, he signed on for basic training on the spot and was given a second sharpshooting test, this time with an actual Steyr HS rifle and slightly more high-tech targets. When he made a perfect score, he was tested again. And again. And again, seven more times in fact. Ending with a perfect score of 100 targets hit out of 100, he was unprecedentedly placed into sniper training immediately.

Though he was wildly successful as a sniper and deployed to the frontlines almost immediately, nobody, not even David himself, really understood why he had enlisted in the first place. Though he had been a practicing Catholic when he lived with his parents, he only attended mass on holidays spent at home, and certainly could not have been said to be taken by any kind of spiritual fervor. Though a fine sharpshooter and outdoorsman, he was not a violent man by nature (though his life as a drifter has given him something of a dark sense of humor), so it certainly wasn't the allure of being a war-hero. Most of David's family and friends have chalked up his enlistment to an unspoken, but evident desire simply to see the world. Whether the hazards of the front lines will allow him to make it that far or not remains to be seen.

[EmperorBatman999]

OOC: David Murray is the name of my neighbor.

[Amaz]

Name: A.P. Saint-Claire (né Georg Makov)
Age: 29
Religion: non-religious
Background: Civilian
Equipment: Motorcycle

Bio: He was not born in the fires of hell. Rather, he was conceived in that same abyss which seemed would forever be his home. It was in the backwater town of Borovsk.

It was there that the villagers made their daily rounds, where young boys and girls had the freedom of the spaces of open fields, where his family enjoyed a comfortable life as the local phyisicans, and where he himself soon developed aspirations toward the sciences enchanted by the prospect of one day visiting the heavens. It was where happened all quotidian habitudes so long as the sun rose in the east and set in the west.

The sun froze over one day. And it happened on the day where the tensions between princes and people, the individual and the collective, the native and the stranger, could no longer be reconciled. It happened as swiftly as the candle goes once the temperatures of winter have reached their seasonal trough, and the fire that burned thereafter was not the secure warmth of survival, but the menacing scorch of death.

Makov had up to that point built promising potential in his beloved science. His education brought him to study in Moscow, where he found no difficulty entertaining himself in the very grand city library. He engaged in pleasantries with the international body of students, playing good host to their presence through café discussions, who in turn seemed pleasantly surprised at the volume of acuity he placed behind both learning and conversation. When that didn't seem enough for him, he began delving into foreign languages in order to preserve his international connections and facilitate communication with his new-found friends.

Makov became well accustomed to the university environment and by 1980 had expatriated to the Imperial Union, to escape the political tribulations plaguing Petrograd, during which time he became imparted by an idealistic view of the future for the Eurasian empire. This vision was destroyed, not surprisingly, by 1991, when Makov had returned for a visit to Borovsk. It was an unfortunate misstep that caused Makov (who immediately after arrest took the name A.P. Saint-Claire) the end of his career. The town of Borovsk had fallen to Bloody Shirt advances (unbeknownst to Saint-Claire, who only later recalled the intense difficulties of his 1991 travel from Europe to Borovsk he didn't before make too much note of). Against his pleas, he was arrested for suspicion of espionage from the West, in effect feeling himself a victim to the grave errors of the leaders of his own country. He was held for 2 years in a prison near Petrograd, a time filled with written experiences to an especially prominent authority in the university in Moscow and a recording of his own thoughts in a journal (kept mainly in what French he still knew). He got out by grace of the local lieutenant, who heard one day that he was a respectable and honorable student and fellow alumnus from a Russian university, and not from Europe.

Saint-Claire did not remain long in Borovsk before returning to Petrograd, granted there permission to return but under considerable monitor from the local forces. He continues, though, to write in secret toward his confidant in Moscow of his distaste and disgust of the current state of affairs - that the monarchy has served its purpose but overstayed its tenure, that the Duma cannot last with the incompetence of Russia's political authorities, and worse still, that last great power on earth may soon fall victim to the Imperialist yoke. For now, he travels with nothing but his words, a camera, and a longing to return to Moscow.

"I prayed for a day when the laws of nature could be accommodated by the laws of men - where diplomatic relations between massive states would not be tenuous strands that the slightest offenses could sever. For it was not to us firstly that fate had bestowed this gift of earth, and yet we have rendered it to the worst of abuses for the pettiest reasons the human minds could fathom. I shall die before it ends, but I pray, that there shall be those after me who see to this laborious task."

[Prodigal]

Veniamin (left) speaking with Holy Resurrection’s Rector


Name: Veniamin Zap
Gender: Male
Age: 36
Religion: Orthodox
Background: Deserter
Equipment:
TT pistol
M1895 Revolver
4 mags
Hand weapon
1x Grenade
Running shoes

Biography:
Veniamin "the beggar" has sat on the steps of the small Church of the Holy Resurrection for months, though to the respectable families of his district it seemed like years. "Riff raff" they would call him, "a drunken fool." He responded only with a weak smile and nod of his head.

Zap was born to a respectable military family in St. Petersburg of Baltic German descent, fiercely royalist in political orientation and maintaining all of the etiquettes and favor of their heightened class. For Veniamin, this meant a top-notch military academy—all expenses paid—and an immediate lieutenancy upon his enrollment in the military. While his performance at the academy was above average, he did not rank among the highest of his peers and enjoyed his position mainly due to his status and the efforts of his father. Despite this, he was quite engrossed in military strategy, and books on the topic were the only ones to accompany his Bible and “Lives of the Holy Fathers.”

For most Russian aristocrats, attendance of grand Russian Orthodox Cathedrals was the norm, be it out of an allegiance to their pomp and ceremony or genuine devout belief. For Veniamin’s parents, it was the latter, and this they imbued in their son. In a corner of their bedroom religious icons adorned the wall, accompanying a mixed scent of beeswax and frankincense, and here his parents would pray for sometimes over an hour every night. From a young age Veniamin would join them on his knees, bowing his head, and joining them in prostrations. “The Church,” his father would tell him “is the only reason Russia has stood for nearly a thousand years. In times of trouble it was always the Church that remained steadfast. Without the prayers of our Holy Church, where would our Empire be? Anarchy and death!” His words were to be prophetic.

When the war broke out, Veniamin joined the Tsarist forces, eager to fight for “Old Russia” though despairing at having to fight his fellow countrymen. He eagerly followed the speeches and declarations of its Prime Minister, Vasiliev, taking comfort in the fact that his nation’s “most high civilian” was such a devoted believer. Horrified at the atrocities of the Bloody Shirts, his dedication to the cause was solidified. As he watched Churches burned and clergymen and believers slain he would recall the famous words of the Prime Minister:

“While I was still a child, I recall hearing a number of old people offer the following explanation for the great disasters that had befallen Russia: "Men have forgotten God; that's why all this has happened." Since then I have spent many years working on the history of our revolution; in the process I have read hundreds of books, collected hundreds of personal testimonies, and have already contributed eight volumes of my own toward the effort of clearing away the rubble left by that upheaval. But if I were asked today to formulate as concisely as possible the main cause of the ruinous revolution that swallowed up millions of our people, I could not put it more accurately than to repeat: "Men have forgotten God; that's why all this has happened.”

With the Tsarina’s seizing of power and Vasiliev’s abandonment, Zap’s faith in the Tsarist movement began to wane. As he saw the same atrocities being committed by those who claimed to be faithful believers on the Tsarist side, he lost faith in the cause. Finally, after the Tsarina sold herself to the Papists, Zap fled his commanding position, stowing his military uniform and supplies in his knapsack along with his books and a dozen clove cigarettes. He managed to make it into Moscow, where he laid eyes upon the Church of the Resurrection. Sitting himself at its front, he has remained ever since. Now he sits, with a haggard face and unkempt appearance, surviving off of the goodwill of parishioners, leaving his position only to attend the numerous services performed behind the Church’s doors.

[Agamemnon]

Name: Sergei Mnatsakanov
Gender: Male
Age: 19
Religion: Orthodox
Background: Civilian (farmer)
Equipment: Jeep XJ (truck)
Biography: A young man off his Pa's farm, come to town to sell his produce and caught in the confusion. He grew up in a physically (not sexually, thank God) abusive home with a drunkard father and a terrified mother. Thanks to his father's alcoholism, he has vowed never to touch drink. All he wants in life is independence, to not rely on anything but the sweat of his own brow and to not support anyone except by choice. He has no interest in any of the factions, believing that the bourgeoisie had the right idea, but none of the armed camps fighting over Russia are supporting the belief in freedom. Since he has no experience and no command ability to lead his own faction (which wouldn't survive anyhow), he simply tries to ignore the world and save up money to go somewhere that's not as tyrannical as the people fighting over Russia (wherever that is). With the crap going on that is going on, Sergei just wants to book it out of Moscow ASAP. However, for all his lack of training, discipline, or interest in the war, he's a hell of a shot after life on the farm, and pretty quick too - he's just useless for anything other than marksmanship, running, and of course farming.

[Gone 2 the Celts]

Can I still join?

[EmperorBatman999]

Yeah of course.

[Gone 2 the Celts]

(Pic to come)


Name: Jacob Katzman
Gender: Male
Age: 24
Religion: Jewish
Background: Deserter

Equipment:TT pistol
M1895 Revolver
4 mags
Hand weapon
1x Grenade
Running shoes

Biography:
Under the oppressive fist of the Orthodox Church, all outsiders faced harsh lives, but the small Jewish population in Russia especially suffered. Jacob's parents were executed when he was four, so he was brought up by his Jewish grandparents. He learned from them, and was able to befriend many other oppressed teens. These friendships prompted him to join the Bloody Shirts during the uprising, hoping for a better future for all Russians, including the Jews. Alas, he was horrified when the oppression of the Jewish people continued, and deserted from the Bloody Shirts. He made for Siberia, hoping to survive in the sparsely populated taiga, but encounters with a blizzard and his "friends" forced him to secretly re-enter Moscow for safety. Even now, he is reforming his previous plan so he can simply survive