Name: Veronica Callaway

Gender: Female

Age: 22

Appearance: [url=http://puu.sh/u2XDP/84ca086405.jpg]Here[/url]

Rank: Private

Class: Scout

Weapons and Equipment: Gallian-1 Rifle, B-Type M1 Grenade, Small Ragnaid canister, Scout Uniform

Personality: A complex one of sorts; Veronica has been known to swear like a well-educated sailor, but to have a heart of gold. Someone who hates lies and manipulation, but is not above resorting to such if she has to get even with someone. A person with the patience of a saint, and a rage heavily repressed because of it. A girl who does not like war, but understands the necessity to fight. She likes to take the time to stop and smell the roses, but can zero her focus on the task at hand.

Bio: Veronica was born out in a small rural town in the Gallian countryside. Her parents had both immigrated from far west to the quiet little country to get away from the big Empires of the world and seek a quaint living. It worked, for the most part. There was always some kind of work needing to be done, so her mother became a school teacher and her father became a factory worker. There was hard times when neither of them were always home, but Veronica passed the time by reading books on anything from history to fantasy. These were good days indeed, but it was not to last.

When the East Europan Empire came knocking at Gallia's borders, it was the Army who came knocking on Veronica's. With her father moved into a military factory making tanks, her mother taken to help teach tactics through historical battles, and Veronica having been more than 18 by the time, there was little she could do but accept. She was sent off to basic training, but her performance washed her out of any slot in the regular Army (at least that's what she was told) and she was drafted into the Militia. Though quick on her feet, she had to work through endurance problems with running. Because of this, she was made as a scout. Paired with her 20/20 vision with an attention to detail, and she could more than make up for her shortcomings on running. Being a scout also meant having the lightest uniform and equipment in the unit, while not having to be a hawkeye crackshot like snipers were expected to.

She completed her training and was no sooner shipped out to the frontline. Her first engagement was in Squad 13, which was also her last engagement with the squad due to it having been decimated to the point where it would take too much effort to draft replacements to fill all the holes in the command and squad structure than to disband it altogether and use the remaining members to replenish other squads. Of course, the other reason was that Squad 13 was believed to be a bad omen, and was never going to be reinstated into the militia again. It's rumored that those who served brought bad luck to the other squads, but it could very well be seen that those who survived did so by the power of their own luck outweighing the squad number's bad.

RP Sample: "Nothing fancy"

[u]Squad Thirteen's First and Last Engagement[/u]

The air was cold as rain pelted the ground around them. The dirt roads had quickly turned to mud, but it wasn't thick and slushy. Still, because of this, command had decided to forego armored support to avoid tanks getting stuck. The infinite wisdom of the brass never ceased to amaze Veronica, on both sides. Who the hell wanted a town like this, anyway? It was far out into the country where forests and hedgerows kept troops from seeing beyond the horizon in almost all directions, and had no strategic importance that she could immediately think of. But, the enemy was here and had set up shop, so in an effort to relieve the pressure on squads down the line, they were going to force the Imps into a firefight here and see if they couldn't lure them out. The plan had a good idea, but it never went like that. "No battle plan survives contact with the enemy" as the saying went.

Why the fuck couldn't they wait until it stopped raining? No one knew how long it'd last, but everywhere Veronica looked in the sky, all she saw was dark gray clouds. It could be a half hour, or it could be the rest of the day. She held her rifle close and peered around the corner of what was left of the outside wall of a house. The Army had shelled the shit out of the town yesterday, the day before, and the day prior to that. What was left was a few houses that somehow remained mostly untouched, but mostly ones who had their roofs caved in and top floors blown out. A small church still had it's steeple intact, which she eyed intently. A sniper's nest if there was ever a good one. The rain played hell with her vision, and the shadows the clouds darkened hid Imperial sharpshooters, who's patience earned them their daily kills and notches on their rifle stocks.

"What do you see?" The Lieutenant, and squad leader, asked her.

"A whole lotta nothin'...but they're here. I can [i]feel[/i] it. I just can't see it and that's what bothers me." Veronica whispered to the man behind her. All down the walls were Squad Thirteen's troops, hugging the walls and trying to stay dry.

"We need to know what's out there."

"And I'm telling you I can't see jack!" Veronica hissed lowly, trying to voice her exasperation at not being able to see anything either. She knew damn well those Imps were out there, waiting.

"Alright, move forward."

Veronica did a double-take. Was he seriously asking her to just walk right out there? It was like asking her to shoot herself in the foot. But, that's how the old tactics went. How do you check for snipers? You send a guy out there and see if he gets shot. They thought that one up at Lanseal. But orders, despite how stupid, were orders. She looked back and made a silent prayer to herself before jumping out around the building with her rifle up in her shoulder. She breathed heavily and scanned the immediate area in front of her, but the Imperial snipers were even more patient than that. For as the common tactic to send a guy out as bait was put, so too was the common follow up tactic of letting the pointman not get shot and allow the rest of the squad to think it safe to move up.

Veronica slowly walked out, looking this way and that, asking the Imps where the hell they were with her mind as if it would get them to show themselves. But they didn't. Not yet. They let her walk over to a pile of sandbags near the corner of the crossroads before the church. She looked up into the steeple window again and wished she had an arm to lob her grenade up that high. She was almost certain that there was a sniper hiding in there, mostly because she'd be there too if she was him. But they let the minutes pass while she tried to pick them out, and they thought about how her head would look if they shot it in certain areas. Finally, after ten agonizingly quiet minutes, Veronica ducked back behind the sandbags and looked back at her Lieutenant. She nodded, seeing that one of the shocktroopers had crept through the ruined building and set up his T-Mag on a window to cover her.

The Lieutenant signaled the rest of the squad forward and that was that. The squad began moving up, and just when they had reached the intersection, all hell broke loose. Snipers quickly and expertly picked off what few lancers and snipers were assigned to the probe attack as well as the Lieutenant. From one of the buildings, an Imperial tank destroyer who's running engine was hard to pick out from the sounds of the downpour and thunder, burst out into the street and promptly fired. The last thing Veronica remembered was watching the shell fly towards her and impact the wall of the house she was next to. A few weeks later and she woke up in a Gallian field hospital out on the reserve line way back from the frontline with more metal inside her than she'd care to have known. As soon as she was fully recovered, she was handed her new transfer orders. Much to her dismay, the war had not ended while she was out.