Name:Karl 'Jäger' Kötes
Age:
25
Physical Appearance:
Tall and blonde, Karl is, whilst not quite the spitting image of the German soldiers wanted in a mere ninteen years, damned close. He stands at a respectable 5'11" and is stocky, but not overly muscular or fat, with the kind of build that feels solid- as he was a wall made of brick, an asset useful in both intimidation and reassurance when he happens to need to do either.

He keeps his silvery-blonde cropped short in a practical military cut and his eyes are a steel-grey, with a slight twinkle in them even after the Great War. His war wounds, thankfully for him, are few, the stand-out exceptions being a shrapnel scar on the back of his left hand, a thick silvery line that stands out even with his fair skin, and the fact that a shell once went off around the bend of a trench that he was running from, partially deafaning him.

Unit Profession:
Rifleman

Personality:
War can do funny things to a man, the Great War even more so. Whilst men around him died and were injured, Karl somehow manages to stop himself becoming totally ruined, instead reserving his amassing fury for first the Belgian and French soldiers he fought against, ans subsequently his own government for their betrayal of his comrades.

Nowadays, despite his still not-insignificant rage for the nascent Weimar Republic and the Versailles Treaty, he always manages to have a few jokes tucked away in his pocket, right next to a spare stripper clip of ammunition and a no-nonsense attitude for anyone that is unfortunate enough to get in his way.

History:

Like most of the boys who ended up fighting and dying in the trenches, Karl was born to an 'average' family. His father was a butcher, his mother a strong believer in the so-called '4K's, those being Kinder, Kircher, Küche and Kleider, or children, church, clothes and the kitchen, singifying the jobs that women were supposed to do. Eventually, his father managed to earn enough money to buy another bitchers shop, and made a decent living, until the call of war shouted for his son.

Karl took to the military well; being around butchered animals had accustomed him to blood and viscera, and although he never excelled within the trenches, a knack for keeping his head down and when to open fire lead to a steadily rising body count, numbering close to 50 by the end of the war. He was no sniper either, but he had been noted by his peers as a rather excellent shot, leading to his nickname of 'Jäger'.

After the war, furious at his government, he left, selling his services as a Freikorpsman for whoever would buy him. Two years on, he ended up with the Baron, gun in hand and ready to earn his keep once more on blood-stained ground.

Equipment:
Mauser Gewehr 98: A steady rifle and one that has stayed by the German's side. Excellent even at long range, and whilst no bolt action is particularly reliable, it can certainly take a beating.
Luger P08
Bayonet
Hand-to-hand weapon- barbed wire wrapped around a carved wooden club
(Rumoured) Looted Ruby Pistolette

Prominent Skills:
Rifling, languages (he speaks three fluently, those being German, Hungarian and French, as well as smatterings of Croatian and Slovak, leadership.

Other:(Anything you think needs to be added, but doesn't have a slot)
Karl has kept his Stahlhelm with him, and eschews all other headgear for it. In his words 'head, neck, and makes a good pot for boiling soup. What more could you want?'

Name: Pyotr Sidorov

Age: 20

Physical Appearance: Pyotr is possessed of a strong Don Cossack heritage: pale-skinned and dark-haired, with sparkling blue eyes and a face that many women could love, topped off by a lean build and a height of 173 cm. Though he'd dress quite colorfully within typical Cossack armies and the Red Guard, the uniform of the Blackshirts does not particularly allow for this, though he does keep his hair grown out somewhat longer than regimental standard.

Unit Profession: Cavalry

Personality: For a man who's knowingly participating in the brutal oppression of a country's population, Pyotr is surprisingly upbeat. Whether it's the exuberance of being a young adult, a lack of comprehension of the effect his actions have upon others, or a degree of sociopathy blunting him to the atrocities being committed in the Robber Baron's name, he tends to show a face to the world that is little other than smiling and optimistic. Rare are the moments when he is morose, and even while sighting some blyat's head with his gun, he tends to retain a cheery smile sure to lighten the mood of his companions.

History: Born on the eve of the new century, Pyotr was rather too young to be considered for service in the Great War, but was nonetheless trained well in the skills the Don Cossack Host held in their culture from youth, namely the arts of horseriding and of war at both short and long range, though never in as serious a situation as his future might suggest. Life was good for him, a state certainly helped by the relatively affluent nature of his familial lineage, so it was a great shame when the Russian Revolution of 1917 took place, in two separate strokes in February and October dethroning the Tsarist regime and replacing it with the Bolshevik party, which consequently decided to persecute a great deal of those Cossacks who previously benefited from the Tsars' favour.

Naturally, this did not sit well with Pyotr, and as soon as his parents gave their blessing, he took his horse Varvara and joined the Volunteer Army, a part of what would be called the White Army serving to try and dethrone the Bolsheviks in the ensuing civil war. For the next several months, he was deployed in but a few engagements with Red forces, mostly relegated to patrolling areas firmly in control of the white movement, and as a result becoming increasingly unhappy. Ironically, it was in his last battle under the White Army's banner that he came to a distressing revelation: ultimately, this was a battle of Russian versus Russian. That wasn't how things should be, he felt, not in a country as great as it had once been.

Thus, with little more than a written note at his last known position making this felt, he defected from the White Army, fleeing back to his home and strongly encouraging his miraculously-still-alive family to flee the country with him, before it was too late. Some members did; others did not. Leaving those who remained to whatever fate might befall them, Pyotr and his group made their way Westward, riding for two months through Russia's lands, and eventually reaching disputed territory between the Red Army and Polish forces at the time. Gradually, relatives peeled off from the group, either to help fight off those damn Bolshevists, or because they were sick of travelling, until by the time he reached the Polish-Czechoslovakian border, Pyotr was on his own, only Varvara and the reminders of his defection left to accompany him.

And yet he travelled further still, feeling restless, and uncontent with simply going back and settling somewhere with another relative. Eventually, he found he had travelled almost the entire length of Czechoslovakia, and so wound up in a small country bordering it, as well as Germany and Austria. A relatively tiny state called Borovia, which it seemed was having some troubles with its working class population. And whilst it was no grand war, Pyotr decided that perhaps this was where he belonged - in his mind, a worker's revolution meant another Red Terror, and what sort of man would he be if he didn't help put down such a threat, even at this small a scale, before it ever began?

So he travelled to the capital of Asnio, got himself hired as a mercenary, and was placed into the ranks of the local capitalist Baron's conscripts; some time later, he was deemed sufficiently skilled as to be relocated to the Blackshirt army proper, and now wears the uniform with no little amount of pride, for the short period of time he's had access to it.

Equipment: Pyotr's weaponry is composed of items stolen as he defected from the White Army, considered against usual Blackshirt fare, and decided to keep around anyway - perhaps unwisely, considering the additional expense the Baron must put into purchasing the ammunition for his weapons probably doesn't put him in good standings with the man.
Dragoon Rifle and detachable bayonet - A weapon from the Mosin-Nagant rifle line with good muzzle velocity and an effective range of up to half a kilometer, this gun is designed for use by mounted infantry such as Pyotr. Not a carbine along the lines of the M1907, but still shorter and lighter than the original M1891, it can and does have both an iron sight scope and a bayonet attached, but requires a stripper clip of five 7.62×54mmR rounds to fully reload, making it somewhat less convenient to use than the en-bloc-bearing Mannlicher in common use by the Blackshirts.
Nagant M1895, "Private's model" - Another Nagant weapon, this a 7-round revolver with a gas seal mechanism that, in combination with 7.62×38mmR rounds designed for use with this weapon, greatly increases the muzzle velocity of its bullet, rivalling and even surpassing that of his Dragoon Rifle. However, its range is sorely limited, the trigger pull is remarkably heavy, its single-action hammer requires recocking after every shot, and the gun is very time-consuming to reload, requiring each cartridge to be ejected and replaced manually. Because of this and his designated role as mounted marksman, Pyotr would rather stick to the Dragoon Rifle and its bayonet even within the pistol's effective range.
Varvara - Pyotr's horse, a black Russian Don about 15.2 hands tall and three years of age. The breed is well known for its stamina and endurance, though currently in short supply, and in fact were bred specifically as mounts for Cossack cavalry so they could travel long distances in short spans of time, with energy to spare. This endurance is not quite as necessary in the urban environments Pyotr is currently posted in, and she is often mildly restless as a result; she is also unarmoured, but as Pyotr prefers to fight from larger distances, this is not an issue quite as frequently as one might imagine.

Prominent Skills:
Horse riding - Pyotr is a skilled rider, able to direct most horses readily enough. Indeed, he has been trained to be able to control them even without the use of reins, freeing up his hands to fire his weapons from atop his mount. Speaking of which...
Marksmanship - Pyotr's sharpshooting skills are damn good. Not only is he great at targeting opponents with a rifle in his own right, he is more than able to do so from atop a horse, accounting for all the creature's movements in the process, a feat matched by few others who are not mounted riflemen themselves.
Melee combat - Less notable in this age of long-distance weaponplay, but when pressed, Pyotr is more than capable of using his bayonet to lethal effect, either mounted on his rifle like the head of a spear or held in hand like a sword or dagger.
Outland survival - Whilst not particularly relevant in an urban environment, Pyotr is more than capable of making do for himself and others in an environment that would otherwise be considered wilderness, namely large stretches of the Russian tundra.

Other: N/A

Name: Servác Zdráhal
Age: 18

Physical Appearance: Servác is someone identifiably Czech, dark brown eyes, seemingly black in some lights, and somewhat wavy hair of similar but darker coloration. His 5'5" average height, although at his age might not be his full height, build might best be described as lean considering his lack of overt musculature but not fat either. His natural black hair is cut to regimental standard as all facial hair is shaven off.

Unit Profession: Vehicle Driver; Cargo Truck; Tatra TL4 primary vehicle



Personality: He is not a particularly talkative person and is quite taciturn when he does speak at all however if one is able to draw him out one would find a kind of idealism not found in those more directly touched by the war. Although this idealistic attitude comes with some realism he primarily wishes to be a 'soldier' and given his current crowd that might not turn out to be such a good thing. Although he is quiet his wit is usually sharp, though often kept to himself, he rarely makes overt showings of his emotions but his body language is normally the best way to tell.

History: Servác comes from a moderately wealthy family in what used to be the Austro-Hungarian province of Bohemia. His father was one of the few Czechs able to serve with the government and encouraged his son to learn German, not that Servác did that with particular gusto. Two things always mattered to Servác as he grew up both before and during the war, an older cousin Silvestr and vehicles, the ones he would see in the street occasionally were of great importance.

When the war started, twelve at the time, Servác watched his cousin go off to war for the Empire. This not only built up his idealism around soldier-hood but also forced him into his other interest vehicles. Now without a nearby cousin to bug, young Servác was found in most of his free time with various mechanics, some of which showed him parts of their crafts, and as he got older he worked a little for some of them.

While Servác was gaining skills and continuing his education, time and the war continued. 1918 and the dissolution of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, however his cousin did not come home instead one of his friends from the army came to explain. He was not dead he had defected a few years before to the Russian side and the Czechoslovak legion, and was likely still in Russia. Servác exuberance knew no limit in his ideals about soldiering rose even higher despite the after-war consequences becoming apparent.

This state continued for a while before after a particularly bad argument with his parents, his father mostly, about his future he fled taking his skills and a few things he managed to pick up along the way eventually coming to Borovia. After joining the Blackshirts, particularly because of his not especially common knowledge of vehicles and the repair and driving of them, he has stayed to 'be a soldier' whatever that will mean in Borovia.

Equipment:
Mostly standard issue: Mannlicher M1890 Cavalry Carbine, Frommer Stop Pistol
Acquired as part of his idealization of soldering: Trenching Spade
Issued and used as a truck driver: Tatra TL4 Truck, with mounting for a machine gun emplaced if not used always

Prominent Skills: Truck Driver, Languages (Fluent in Czech, German with a mild accent, Understandable Slovak), Vehicle repair and other mechanics (Often needed if one deals with vehicles of this day a lot)

Other:(Anything you think needs to be added, but doesn't have a slot)