Character Name: Dahlia Moore

Age: 21

Birthday: October 30th

Ethnicity: French/Korean

Birth Place: A small, unknown town a few miles away from Paris called, Pellisville

Gender: Female

Appearance: pin.it/5dIpmE3eS or

Sexuality: Straight

Relationship Status: Single

Personality:
Dahlia is very strong willed, she refuses to take anything sitting down. If you are rude to her, she will call you out on it, and simply ask what the thought process was behind that. She is still learning the best ways to interact with people, having grown up only living around her parents her whole life. She loves children and is compassionate towards them much more than adults.

Habits: When nervous, she either messes with her necklace or she picks at her skin with her nails

Hobbies: She plays piano

Fears:
✧ Thalassophobia: Fear of the Ocean
✧ Nyctophobia: Fear of the dark
✧ Trypanophobia: Fear of injections

Likes:
✧ Classical Music
✧ Pirates
✧ Rain
✧ Coffee
✧ The feeling of being understood
✧ Falconry

Dislikes:
✧ People who assume ignorance
✧ The dark
✧ People who make obvious lies to seem interesting
✧ Mugs
✧ Going to the beach
✧ Injustice

A Core Memory: (This will be elaborated in her history, but this is essentially a cause of her fear of the dark.)
Dahlias breathing is shaky, her eyes closed tightly as the damp wall presses on her back. It was her own fault she was here…right? She didn’t listen, the cellar was the only answer. After she was locked in the cold and damp room, she comes out behaved. But the cellar is so dark…Dahlia mistakes blood rushing in her ears as another persons breathing, and as she exhales softly, she opens her eyes, praying that for once they just get used to the dark instead of conjuring up humanoid manifestations of her insecurities. Of course she was not lucky.
Looking out into the dark room, she sees a person sitting in the middle of the floor, a few paces away from her, crouched and hunched over, long stringy hair showing. “Non…” Dahlia whispers, her voice breaking as the breathing in her ear gets louder, the creature crawling to her with strangely long limbs. She couldn’t move, could barely breathe at this point. She was stuck, in the dark.

History:
Dahlia grew up on the countryside in France. It was a nice enough area, with a good school, good neighbors. Although Dahlia never did meet any of them. She was a prisoner in her own house, her parents keeping her to homeschool and shape how they want.
They pushed her, more than what was healthy, berating and screaming at her if she failed. At five years old, Dahlia was taught that emotions and empathy made her weak, and if she cried, she was told to be logical, and sent down into the cellar as the most severe punishment.
She tried to grow accustomed to it, but the need for light always stuck with her. When she turned 18, she finally had enough, packing what she could, she snuck out of her house and ran, as far as humanly possible without stopping. It nearly drove her into several injuries, but the endurance she builder kept her going. She figured out how to get money fast, and booked it to Berlin, unaware of the dangers the await.

Character Quote: "I'm not sure what I'm going to do, but I'm going to do it really, really well."

Anything Else: She has several tattoos that I will link below, a Siamese cat named Bernadette, and she only wears silver jewelry

Tattoos:

pin.it/2C8FOrJsK

pin.it/VYuO9fNwP

pin.it/1MJw5zQDC

Conner Maybank

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Gender: Male
Age: 37
Nationality: American

Appearance:


Personal Effects:

•Lighter (silver Zippo, beat to hell but still works)

•Pocket compass (off-center needle, mostly reliable)

•Crumpled map of Berlin, marked in pencil

•A few sticks of gum (he says it's American, but it tastes like chalk)

•Folded photo—two kids and a woman, maybe a sister, maybe not. Never says.

•Pencil nub and a little notepad with a lot of half-erased stuff

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What is your job:
Whatever pays. Runs courier jobs sometimes, handles logistics for the Americans when they don’t feel like lifting things, and helps translate when there’s nobody else. Sometimes just finds things for people—documents, bottles, people, places. Not a spy, not a cop, just a guy who knows how to move through the city without getting stuck.

Backstory:
Kentucky born. Farm kid turned soldier. Enlisted before Pearl Harbor ‘cause he thought it’d be something different. It was. Served through France, Italy, into Germany. Could’ve gone home after the war, but didn’t. Not ‘cause of some deep trauma, just… didn’t feel like home anymore.

Berlin’s busted and weird, but it makes a kind of sense. At least it doesn’t pretend to be okay. He gets by with odd jobs, knows which doors not to knock on, and where

Friedrich Schmidt

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Gender: Man
Age: 32
Nationality: German
Appearance: pinterest.com/pin/759278818467764799
Personal Effects:
His father's WWI trench watch
Simple wallet. Inside: hospital ID card, government ID card, the German Pharmaceutical Society membership card, photo of his parents
Small leather folio. Inside: pharmacy license, some medical reference pages, pencil, small notebook, simple business cards
Matches
Handkerchief
Pocket knife
Keys to his apartment and necessary hospital areas

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What is your job Pharmacist at a hospital; medication dealer on the black market
Backstory
Born in 1915 to Wilhelm (bricklayer) and Margarete (seamstress) Schmidt, Friedrich grew up in Berlin. His father was fighting in WWI as an infantryman when he was born. Being born into a working-class family, Friedrich finished primary school at age 14 (1929), at which point, he began an apprenticeship under a local pharmacist. The pharmacist, Schulz, agreed to take Friedrich on because he knew Friedrich's father; Wilhelm had worked on repairing his building years prior. During his apprenticeship, Friedrich attained more freedom from his parents. When he wasn't working and studying, he frequented local bars with his friends. The teen was introduced to Berlin's gay bar scene, which thrived before the Nazis took over. Friedrich began to question and explore his sexuality, finding himself more at home in gay clubs. He even heard of an institute started by Magnus Hirschfeld to help queer people and spread awareness of topics such as sex and sexuality. However, German society still looked down on gay people at the time, so Friedrich hid this side of himself for fear of losing his apprenticeship and family. In 1933 at age 18, he finished his apprenticeship, continuing to work at Schulz's pharmacy. They had a good professional relationship, and Friedrich wished to learn more from his mentor. Unfortunately, around that time, the Nazis took control. It was then that Hirschfeld's institute and various gay scenes were raided and destroyed, pushing Friedrich further and further into isolation. For fear of being arrested, the young closeted gay man now steered clear of the gay scenes. Unfortunately for him, someone in the neighborhood recognized Friedrich had been hanging around a known homosexual and reported him. The Gestapo interrogated Friedrich, suspecting him of being a homosexual himself. Fearing for his own safety and attempting to divert suspicion, Friedrich outed a friend, Klaus Schneider, to the Gestapo, a decision that would haunt him for the rest of his life. Klaus disappeared after that. Then, when Friedrich was 24, WWII began, at which point he was forced into the military as a medic based on his pharmacist experience. He spent the war in various parts, tending to wounded soldiers first in France and then on the Eastern front. His father, Wilhelm stayed in Berlin to help repair infrastructure after air raids, while his mother, Margarete, used her seamstress skills to give aid to the hospitals in the area. By the time the war ended, both of Friedrich's parents had died from the air raids, leaving him with no immediate family on his return. Due to the ruined state of Germany after the war, Friedrich wasn't any better off than his parents. He managed to get a cramped apartment with a few other veterans and a job at a hospital. Still, the young man needed extra money, so he's been selling various medications on the black market to make ends meet.

Annelise Müller

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Gender: Female
Age: 26
Nationality: German

Appearance: Annelise stands at an unimpressive height of 5’5 with light brown hair and green eyes. Her skin is somewhat pale, and her body is slightly broken down from the added responsibilities of having to help rebuild the city, or at least attempt to, due to the significant loss of life caused by the war. She doesn’t walk with a limp per se, but if she’s on her feet for the majority of the day, by evening time Annelise will often be seen using a crutch. Random bruises and scratches throughout her body is a normal occurrence.

Personal Effects:

•A picture of her husband.

•Pocketbook which has a few things inside, primarily:
-Personal keys
-Some face powder and lipstick
-A small, compact mirror

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What is your job:
Teacher.

Backstory:
Born into a middle class family as the first and only child, Annelise Meier didn't face any of the challenges that the poor usually dealt with. She had a relatively uneventful upbringing and would often spend time with Karl, one of the Müller boys from next door.

Throughout her many years as a student, Annelise became interested in teaching. She was smart, and she would offer to tutor other students who weren't doing quite too well. Later in her teen years, Annelise would eventually be given the chance to teach orphaned children. She did well and in little time was offered her own classroom in a secondary school.

Annelise would eventually go on to marry Karl. The wedding took place a few months after her parents were killed in a random act of violence. She was devastated, but she had to move on for the sake of her own family. However, that hope didn't last long. Karl was dragged away to war, and she never had the chance to see him again except through old photographs and the slight resemblance from his brother.

Caz Raffs

Gender: Male
Age:29
Nationality: Irish American
Appearance:

Personal Effects: He always carries a large hospital corps pouch. It has a long strap that goes over his shoulder, so it rests on his hip. In it are various things relating to treating wounds, such as burns, shrapnel, and the etc. A large metal water canteen that sits on his opposite hip.





What is your job?
Caz is a member of the American forces' medic unit. He treats the wounded soldiers and when he's given free time he goes out with other like-minded medics and offers aid to the war-torn Berlin.

Backstory: Caz originally came over to America from Ireland for a better life when he was a child with his parents. What better way to repay his new home than enlisting? Being something of a gentle soul he took on the role of Medic to help others. It grieves him to see the state of Berlin but he tells himself that the Nazi's had to go.

Emil Weiss

Gender: M
Age: 47
Nationality: German


Personal Effects:

• Walther P38 pistol with leather shoulder holster
• Extra loaded magazine, secured in a small belt pouch
• Leather gloves, carried in coat pocket
• Small canvas evidence pouch
• Leather police identification wallet
• Leather notebook with pencil
• Small folding knife
• Tarnished silver pre-war pocket watch
• Pack of 6 hand-rolled cigarettes
• Dented brass lighter
• Handkerchief
• Coin pouch with a mix of Reichsmarks and Allied currency
• Pack of chewing gum, courtesy of American GIs
• Small water-damaged portrait photos of his late wife and missing daughter

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Occupation:

Homicide Detective with Kriminalpolizei.

Backstory:

Confidential Journal Entry - 1947

I was born on a quiet street in Charlottenburg, back when Wilhelm II still had his portrait hanging in every schoolhouse. My father was a train conductor, and my mother worked her fingers raw just to keep soup on the table. When the Great War came, he marched off with a crisp salute and a promise to be home by Christmas. We buried an empty box two years later. After that, it was just me, my mother, and my little sister Anna. She was the light of our house, sharp as a tack, always humming something sweet.

Sadly, Spanish flu took her early and fast, and I never had a chance to say goodbye.

In 1924, I joined the Kriminalpolizei, or “Kripo” as it was shortened to, figuring if I couldn’t fix the world, maybe I could at least hold a corner of it together. I worked homicide mostly, focusing on murders, disappearances, the kind of cases that crawl under your skin and stay there. I wasn’t the fastest or the loudest, but I had a nose for the truth, and I kept my reports clean. Didn’t take bribes, didn’t look the other way. That made me a pain in the ass to some, but reliable to the ones that mattered.

Then the Nazis came, and the whole department turned sideways. Half the force put on black uniforms and started sniffing out “undesirables.” I kept my head down and my file thin. When the war hit full on, I reenlisted just to get away from what Kripo had become.

Now it’s 1947 and I’m back in Berlin, walking beat-up streets that don’t know if they’re dead or just sleeping. My wife, Klara, didn’t make it. I was told exposure to something nasty during the final raids. My daughter, Lotte, vanished in the confusion when everything fell apart. Some nights I hear her voice in my dreams, calling from somewhere deep underground.

I keep working cases though, which keeps my hands busy, my mind half-sharp.

The city talks to you if you know how to listen...broken windows, blood on the bricks, whispers in the ruins. Something’s wrong here, more than just war trauma or ghosts of bad decisions. The air feels...tight. Like Berlin’s holding its breath, waiting for something to crawl out of the dark.

Despite all of it, I keep showing up...