Name: Marilyn “Merry” Evans
Gender: Female
Age: Seventeen
Appearance:

Rank: Private
Class: Engineer.

Weapons and Equipment: A basic Gallian-2 Rifle, a standard weapon for any Engineer, and a Viper-E-1 Pistol. Merry does not carry grenades or any form of explosive on her, as explosions scare her. For equipment she carries engineer tools and ragnaid canisters for healing allies.

Personality: Merry is one of those people with a complete "can do" attitude. She tries her hardest in everything she does, and tries her hardest to keep her teammates positive too. This positivity can come off as clingy annoyance to people who don't like constant interaction. She can also come off as childish or innocent, but she is far from this. Merry has a rather complex past, one she doesn't often share with others, that shapes her into a rather complex person.

Merry has a very youthful personality and an optimistic outlook to life and adventure. She can be quite reckless in a sort of 'charge ahead first, think later' sort of way. Despite this she loves being given orders as it takes the pressure off her her needing to make a plan. Merry will sometimes get stir crazy when being forced to sit still for long periods of time but normally she'll go about everything with a cool approach. She sometimes struggles to be affectionate and outwardly emotional however she manages to controls fear/sadness/clinging emotions. Under stress Merry will either, yell and angry get though it or lock up and be unable to continue. Despite this Merry is an extremely hard worker and loves her work. So much so that she would rather sleep in her mechanic garage then her room. She often has trouble sleeping if she is not surrounded by her work, and no one likes a sleep deprived mechanic on her third cup of coffee.

Bio: Merry grew up in the cold, and often unforgivable, Diebal Mountains. She lived in a small village of Wooly Goat herders, mostly made up of family members and a few stray Darcsen who wanted to get away from the mining. Merry grew up surrounded by people who cared greatly for her, as children often died early in their lives due to the cold, and thus is greatly comforted by being around people. There was no official school system up in the mountains, so Merry got all of her necessary schooling from an elderly Darcsen. She was taught how to hunt and shoot by her mother and aunt, a custom in the mountains, and gained her love for tinkering with machines at a young age from her father and older brother. Ever since she was young Merry was always itching to take stuff apart and put it back together, which often lead to a lot of broken machines when she was still learning.

Life in the Diebal mountains were often harsh, since there is snow on the ground all year. This has lead to Merry becoming very hardy. She doesn't seem at all phased by the cold and years with little food due to famine adapted Merry into rarely needing big meals. But when she is offered an abundance of food she can't help but want to eat all of it, as if not knowing when her next meal will be. This also means that extremely hot temperatures makes her uncomfortable and she is often found complaining if it is even considered slightly warm.

Regardless of the cold, life in the cold mountains was peaceful. The small villages rarely had any visitors, except for the rare trader, and the only dangers seemed to come from wild animals and the possibility of supply shortages. The populations of the villagers were also rather small, meaning everyone knew everyone. There was no time to dislike each other, as everyone needed to work together to survive. Merry, because of her young and quick body, worked as a mail deliverer between each of the small villagers. Once, while delivering a stock of rations to a group of Darcsens, an explosion went off in a nearby mine. Merry was easily overpowered by the falling snow, but was rescued by the group of Darcsen she was delivering to. And although no one was killed by the blast Merry remains jumpy around explosives.

RP Sample: Just a paragraph or two about a day in the normal pre-war life of your character, nothing fancy.

Other: Montley Leonard is my all time favorite.

Name: Damien Varrot
Gender: Male
Age: 19

Rank: PFC
Class: Scout
Weapons and Equipment: Gallian-S1, Grenade bandoleer with space for three B-Type M1 grenades, Small Ragnaid canister and first aid pouch, Father's knife which doubles as a bayonet.

Personality: Damien is a real calming presence, kind and care free, he makes an effort to be encouraging and reassuring to his squad mates. Deep down there's a fire in him, one that wants to bring out the best in his fellow soldiers. Damien brandishes a certain brand of eager confidence that teeters on the line of cockiness. He mainly does it to bring out the camaraderie between his squad mates, especially his fellow scouts, since they're usually the first into the fray. Part of him does it to forget about the horror that war has brought to him and his home, about what he's endured so far. In battle, he is reckless, throwing himself into the fray so nobody else has to. If it's risky and dangerous, he's the first to volunteer. This has given the young scout a secret thirst for glory he tries hard to hide, reminding himself that war is no glorious competition, and that he has others to look for, although his seemingly natural ability and family's military history can't help but bring it out of him, especially in moments of victory.

Bio: For as long as he's been alive, Damien Varrot has been taught to live by a code: Protect your home, protect those close to you and always give everything you got. Damien was born and raised in the city of Vasel, where his father worked for the Town Guard and his mother helped run a clothing store. Damien's father Edward, who was brother to Captain Eleanor Varrot, was also a career Gallian military man. Lined up to follow in his father's footsteps and join the military, Edward Varrot enlisted Damien in the Vasel Junior Military Academy, where Damien would begin to hone his skills as a soldier. This was just as the drums of war began to echo in the distance, and murmurs of war muddled throughout Vasel. When the Empire approached Gallia's border, Damien's father received orders to deploy after 5 days. Immediately Damien tried to enlist in the army, but without graduating first, he wouldn't be able to enlist. His father refused to try and help Damien enlist, saying it would be best to finish school and allow things to blow over with the Empire. Little did he know of the wave of conflict that would rush across the country side and into Gallia's cities, Vasel being one of them.

"Stay in Vasel, Damien, take care of our home."

As the Empire approached, the people of Vasel scrambled to assemble a large enough Town Guard to defend Vasel whilst it's population evacuated. As volunteers trickled in, Vasel stood out as a natural leader, helping Town Guard leaders plant strategic defense posts and how best to use the city's geography to their advantage. Given a gun and his own part of Vasel to defend, Damien would get his first taste at war protecting his home like his father told him. Sadly, the town's forces got rolled over and as East Vasel fell to the Empire, Damien was forced from the fight, his comrades making him retreat and abandon his home. Giving up the Vasel bridge in the process, Damien took the loss of his hometown to heart as he and his mother fled to Randgriz, where he would be offered a position into the Gallian Militia, appointed to be a scout due to having more experience in battle than some of his peers, albeit just a little, and appointed to PFC thanks to his family's military history and participation in the Vasel Junior Military Academy. Damien declined, deciding to head out towards the border and help those who needed to get to Randgriz and hopefully find his father, it's there that his story truly begins.

RP Sample:
Haven't played in a while, but Ted Ustinov never let me down.

Name: Felix Lozach

Gender
Male

Age
20

Appearance

With lighter hair tho'.

Rank
Private

Class
Shocktrooper

Weapons and Equipment
He carries the MAGS M1, as per infantry regulation. A B-Type grenade.

Personality
Hot-Headed and impatient, it's not altogether uncommon for emotions to get the better of Felix. Oftentimes, he straddles the fine line between confidence and bravado, not fully considering the consequences before acting. A terrible liar, and a thorough extrovert, he wears his heart on his sleeve, and despite his apparent asininity, he is moderately intelligent.

Bio
Born to immigrant parents from elsewhere in the Atlantic Federation, Felix's youth was often of two worlds: the first being of modern Gallia, and the second being his parents' homeland. In many ways, the town of Wallenstein raised him just as much as his parents did, as Felix grew up with a deep sense of Gallian identity, but received the bulk of his education from his parents'. Though not Darcsen, his family's religious beliefs were considered heretical by most of the Yggdist sects, teaching that the Valkyrur were a race of invasive monsters, rather than saviours.

As a young adult, Felix found work in a library, of all places, though only partially by choice: few places were willing to hire a heretic or a man of foreign blood, and in a town like Wallenstein, information like that traveled fast. Thankfully, Ms. Driscoll, a graduate from the university at Vasel, was much more open-minded, and had no such qualms about hiring Felix. When news of the Second Europan War came around, though, Felix made the decision to join the army, and he was all-to-eagre to prove his worth. What happens from here has yet to be written.

RP Sample
There was never anything more annoying that someone who asked for a long-archived book. Sure, the card catalog confirmed its existence, but it also confirmed the fact that it hadn't been removed from the library in nearly 20 years. At that point, it had no doubt been moved around an ungodly number of times, to the point that the decimal system would be absolutely useless.

Pushing the ladder back and forth, Felix found some comfort in the fact that the day was nearly done. All the other requested materials had been found and collected, and all that was left was one final book. Looking down at the card, he reminded himself of the title. It was a religious novel, written nearly 50 years ago by some Yggdist scholar, "The Lies of the Albigensians". Just the title left a bad taste in Felix's mouth, though he did take some small pleasure in the fact that it hadn't been read by anyone in nearly 20 years. Whenever the topic of religion came up, Felix always suggested another book, "The Culture and Faith of the Southron", that examined his culture from an academic and neutral perspective. It usually didn't change any minds, but it was better than outright propaganda against him.

Climbing down the ladder, he turned around to the front desk, where Ms. Driscoli was preparing to leave. "Cat," he said, colloquially, "I don't think I'll be able t' find that last one. It wasn't on any o' the shelves."
"Don't fret about it. Either it's not there, or it'll turn up eventually," she said. "Go on ahead home for the night. It's late enough as it is."
"There's another thin', Cat," said Felix, timidly. He had meant to mention it yesterday, but it had felt so awkward. "I've decided to join the military. I'll be leaving in a few days."
"I'm well aware, Felix. Don't you think I keep track of my employees?" She chuckled. "Just make sure you stay alive. I'll need you back here when I'm done." With that, she gathered the rest of her things and left the library.

Stepping outside, Felix felt the cool air of the Gallisian countryside as the sun began to set. At its worst, Wallenstein could be unforgiving and close-minded, antiquarian and old-fashioned. The summers were often too hot, and the winters were cold enough that all farming came to a stop. For all its faults, though, Wallenstein was beautiful place, with beautiful people. Under the layer of dirt and dust was a sheet of gold, one that had raised Felix and that his family could call home. For all his discomforts about going to war, knowing there would be something worth protecting gave him hope. If nothing else, he had his raison d'etre, and he would do everything in his power to keep it safe.

Favourite Squad 7 Member: Catherine O'Hara. Snipers are cool.
Taking a step forward, he began his long journey home.

Name: Marcus Cryan
Gender: Male
Age: 18
Appearance: Marcus is a rather thin looking man, more wiry than skinny and standing at a flat 6'0". He bears no scars, and his skin is soft and smooth, an obvious sign of his higher birth, though recent events have begun to leave him rather bedraggled, marred by dirt and grime, and leaving him rather tired looking. Even so, he bears a handsome sort of face, with green eyes that stare out brightly, tussled red hair that just seems to fall into place naturally, and a soft smile that just makes someone want to trust him.


Rank: PFC
Class: Lancer

Weapons and Equipment: EW1-Era Officer’s Revoler, EW1-Era Combat Knife

Personality: Marcus was, once, a rather excitable young child, with his head in the clouds, full of dreams to follow in his father’s footsteps as a soldier within Gallia’s military. That couldn’t be any further from the truth now, after the death of his father, he is a coward at heart. With the war going on, survival is perhaps the single largest priority on Marcus’ mind, and the stress of his family, the war, and numerous other things have left him rather high-strung. He views himself as rather contemptible for his cowardice, but he does little to try and change himself.

Bio: The Cryan family has a long lineage of military service, dating back to the start of the family’s rise to nobility, as a low born elevated to a higher status for their notable service in battle. Raised in a family with such a tradition, Marcus was expected to serve in Gallia’s military just like his older brother and father, who served as an officer during the First Europan War. Marcus grew up listening to storybook heroes and tales of the war from his father, and young Marcus longed to follow in his father’s footsteps.

His father would pass onto him at a young age his old officer’s revolver, and Marcus would often practice firing it under his father’s tutelage, becoming a rather decent shot in the process. His brother, meanwhile, would often pull a few strings to allow Marcus to visit military bases he was stationed at and watch the soldiers practice at the firing range, where he grew to fall in love with the Lance, and he even got to fire one once or twice. The combination of long lost heroes that the Lance evoked images of, and the knightly image together with the massive explosions made a weapon that no child could hate, and this favoritism was noted.

Marcus had only just turned eighteen when he learned of his father’s death, defending Gallia in one of the initial Imperial attacks. Rather than instill a drive for revenge or hatred, his father’s death instead shattered the illusion that his father had been invincible. After hearing so many war stories, and tales of heroes facing down impossible odds, Marcus had built his father up to be something beyond human, and his death hit him hard. Marcus instead grew to be afraid, fearing the death that so easily claimed his father. With combat drawing nearer and nearer to his home, Marcus would eventually flee, running off into some dark night, the only reason why he hadn’t been a member of the military already was due to the fact that he had been preparing to head off to some military academy to become an officer like his father.

Marcus ran, and ran, and ran, leaving his home far behind, and has been on the road for quite a while now, traveling with numerous other refugees and keeping his name as secret as he could, knowing that what he had done was close to desertion. It would eventually reach his ears that his home had indeed fallen, and it was unknown what members of his family had survived, if any. He only hopes that, if he is recognized, he will simply be considered a survivor of the attack, and that he never has to see a family member ever again, both for fear of his life, and for the shame he feels.

RP Sample: Just a paragraph or two about a day in the normal pre-war life of your character, nothing fancy.

Other: Jann Walker’s a pretty cool dude.