FourtyTwo

Armia Krajowa Character Sheets

Name: Pawel Wojtkiewicz
Age: (17 in 1939, 21 in 1944)
Country of Origin: Poland
Religion: Catholic
Division: Operations
Appearance: Pawel is a well-built Polish lad, being one that seems to be most in touch with the ideals of the AK, and what next of a Post-War Poland- free of Communists and Nazis alike. He stands at about 6"0, and you'd almost mistake him for being Aryan, with his good looks and slightly blonde hair. He has a scar running down his left cheek, a subtle one that came from an injury in the line of fire.

Personality: A brave and fiery individual, Pawel is a man that you would want on your side in the AK. He may be young, but he knows how to handle a rifle, and make decisions that make sense. While filled with anger and rage, this is what you would expect of a man who lost his mother, and his father to the Germans. He sees perhaps sense in the ideals of the AK- a free Poland, and alligns himself to the more traditional view, of a Poland in democracy, rather than Communist or Militaristic regimes. He seems to hate Communists to this end for stories relating to his extended family.

Flaw: Hates Communists, and even in the toughest of times, couldn't work alongside one. This could hamper AK support in negotiating grass-roots support with Communist partisans.

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Name: Magda Wojtkiewicz
Age: (16 in 1939, 20 in 1944)
Country of Origin: Polish
Religion: Catholic
Division: Other
Appearance: TBA
Personality: Fiery, like her brother, Magda has a different kind of bravery. She has a deep care for her family, a motherly figure almost, something thrust upon her too quickly. She can think for herself and act appropriately in a situation, though she isn't exactly able to hold herself together in the worst of times. She seems to be knowledgeable, and deeply caring, a Mother-like figure in lieu of the Wojtkiewicz family's parents being absent.
Flaw: Scared of intimidation, perhaps being a little less confident under particular types of pressure.

Name: Janusz Wojtkewicz
Age: (9 in 1939, 14 in 1944)
Country of Origin: Poland
Religion: Catholic
Division: Operations
Appearance: TBA
Personality: Janusz may be considered by most as more than a child, but he seems to share the same sort of ethos that his older siblings have. He's grown up fast, and seems to take a responsibility that perhaps he would have never been asked to take, in a war like this. He seems fairly friendly, and whilst he has a contempt for the Germans, he tends to perhaps be a brighter spark amidst the chaos of Warsaw.
Flaw: Young, inexperienced, unknowing perhaps of the wisdom and forged intellect of his older brother and sister.

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The Wojtkiewicz family lived in Warsaw after the re-division of Russia's former territories, with Wiktor Wojtkiewicz being the first to move followed by the family- Wiktor being the brothers' and Magda's father. They were not poor, but not affluent either- an emerging middle class, perhaps, able to live, work and play in a distinctly Polish city. They were a Catholic family, and the siblings were well educated and brought up. Magda even had aspirations to become a Doctor, had the war not have arrived.

They were were untouched by the Nazis following their invasion, or at least, until 1940, when they were forced to move out of their townhouse to a smaller and squalid settlement, to make way for the Warsaw Ghetto- their townhouse being shared by six families. This hit hard- and while taking pity on the Jews was something they wished to do, they could never bring themselves to help at further fear of their own lives, physically seeing them be brutally harassed and beaten in the street then beyond the walls. Wiktor, a machinist, was taken by the Nazis in 1943, considered "essential" to the war effort, and taken to Germany, to work in a Labor Camp- the siblings do not know if this is something he will come back from, or what state he is in, but the siblings mother, Anna, died of TB in early 1944, leaving them without any parents at all at this point in time. They have scraped together a living, but Pawel and Janusz are already looking to an end to rationing and starving, to an end to the occupation and brutal regime of Nazi occupations- and with the stories of advances in the East by the Red Army, understand that if they wish to free Warsaw, they will have a role to play.

Armia Krajowa - WW2 Polish Resistance RP

I should probably mention, the characters I create may not at first make sense with the divisional structure, but they can click. The Scouts character, before you ask, is a real thing- there were Polish Scouts fighting as messengers and even soldiers if it was dire enough. The point being, at this point in time, Poland is far, far worse than any French resistance RP. These are veterans of the Eastern Front, it's horrifying some of the reports that occurred in Powstanie Warsawskie. It'll make you think twice about the Soviets being the good guys, too. The French may have rebelled for four years, but if you go to the Museum for the Warsaw Uprising in Warsaw, you'll find that what these people did really was mindblowing to liberate their country. The scale of the ruin in Warsaw is something we tend to forget too. Basically, Warsaw did almost resemble Hiroshima, minus a few standing husks of buildings- the sheer devastation and what the Nazis had to do in the end, was incredible, and the scale of urban fighting that occurred rivals many an account from Stalingrad. I seriously have wondered where this RP was for a while.

I'll fix my CSes appearances in time.

The divisional system ,while I like it, is a bit weird too. The AK wasn't massively organized outside of Warsaw- it was easily uprooted, and inbetween 1939 to 1944, the distance between Poland and Britain/France kind of meant that most of any attempt to rally resistance was actually incredibly hard- also considering that the whole country was locked down by the Germans, and had in essence, become divided into two pre-1941 into an intergrated German state (in which my mother's family existed), and

Oh, and another thing. SOE and other foreign groups were involved. But there is one key point. An SOE agent, if known to the Soviets..ohohoh. Well, they'd be gone. If the Soviets knew an SOE agent was in the Armia Krajowa, they'd think that they were supplied by the British, and because AK was going to become an illegal and terrorist organization after hostilities...well, they would be in a demanding position to have that person removed. They were responsible, mind you, for some incredible stuff. The Blyskawica is one of these beautiful and bastardized things that we kinda stole in the ideas department :D So keep that in mind, I'd personally still want a character like that in the RP to exist if someone else did it, but it's worth keeping that in mind.

I don't agree with dice-rolling myself too, I don't know entirely why. While I like the idea behind the risk element, it really would hamper the story-going element for me. So in short, while it means anything and everything is possible, it means that it flushes routes that I could have wanted to write out kinda go, and almost feels like I don't have any responsibility in designing the fate of my characters and those to be shot at. If it's possible, since I really, really have been wanting to fuel an RP like this for a while, I'd like to kind of have the opportunity to be trusted with the responsibility that of course, anything that my characters do isn't going to be gun-toting risk, but in a controlled manner that is discussed and responsible. I wouldn't feel comfortable with it is the point. I've done enough combat-based RPs to understand stupid, and opponent risk- dice rolling wouldn't work to me personally.

WW2 Polish Resistance RP

NO FUCKING WAY. I've been waiting for this a long while. Count me in, I have already got a trio of characters in mind, that would fit the time period. Since this is literally my family history (I'm a 3rd Generation Pole in England), and I know the time period very well , I'd love to be involved. Also, the language is something I know too, so if in doubt, ask and I can help.

Juggernauts (BigPapaBelial and kingkonrad) IC

"You were always one for theatrics. Let's move, Carl." He said, looking at the dead man, disapproving yet somehow knowing full well, as he moved up, lugging his Mk48 back, stepping over the bodies as he followed the track, aware that the gunshots had been heard. Good. Then they'd be scared, maybe thin themselves out. It was CSAR action- Combat Search And Rescue. Normally, a group of USAF Parajumpers would have been sent in, to unfuck the work that even a Special Forces group had gotten into, which said a lot. In these parts of the mountains, nothing less than a platoon would do. It was why Knight was here- and why Ross knew that if they had any chance of finding these men, without the loss of any more assets, it would be them. Keeping a cool head, thinking straight, and hitting like a bolt of lightening with the roar of thunder in the background would buy them time- this being figurative of course, for the mess they'd make on the way down.
"Shit, stay right, keep your head down. Wait for the moment, till they're open entirely." He said, almost grabbing Carl as he ducked behind a rock, letting the patrol pass as they moved with considerable pace, one yelling as they had flashlights on, paranoia setting in.
"Ready?" He asked, raising his Mk48, poking his head out of the cover, before standing, and getting a good hold. The LMG barked as he pulled the trigger, aware that this was only a six man team. Now they were making more noise, but not any more than needed. They wouldn't kill any hostages. They were still in doubt of what the fuck was going on. Distant shots could have been anything, and it was dragnetting any patrols in the valley, which worked exceptionally well. And it was why Ross was fairly confident when he accurately scattered shots into the front of the patrol, one man at the back popping off a shot at Ross's arm as he went down too, with Carl's help. Six men down, in a hail of fire. They hadn't even fought back, but it was stirring the pot. They needed to move. There was this village, and one below it, with the forest starting to form again.

Moving about 500m downhill, Ross saw the village's vague lighting through the fog, looking to Carl as he moved up by some rocks.
"I got an idea. Walking in guns blazing is an option, they won't be on full alert. They've lost a six man patrol. I don't think there's a lot more. And if there is, well, good thing we're suited up." Ross said, looking to Carl as he moved back up, chuckling under his visor as he moved through the cedar forest, to a small overlook point, quickly checking the LMG in his hands as he exhaled, aware he couldn't move any faster than a moderate jog in this. Movement meant moving fairly briskly from point A to point B, but it was worthwhile.
"I guess that whatever left has headed up now. So I think it's about due course we make an entrance." He said, nodding to him, as he clambered over the log, moving slowly as he saw a few hostiles point flashlights vaguely in the direction they came from.

Opening up, he moved down the slightly snowed slope, into the village main, taking out two contacts, aware that now, they were going loud. Firing on a cluster in the middle of a small square, he felt a few rounds richochet, as he moved down, aware that he had to maintain this pace, a relatively fast walk, and begin to clear out each structure in the village. They had to find the team, and Ross could only guess that if they found bodies or captives, either way, it wouldn't be good. Firing a hail of rounds into a man on a roof, he quickly moved up, and into a small tentment, looking around. Empty beds. Fuck.
"Search ahead, I got your back!" Ross called out over the comms, as he moved outside, into a little fire, a man on a rooftop of a shack firing with an AKM as he got tapped out by a stream of 7.62 back from Ross, the Mk48 being accurate in his hands despite it's bulk and size.

(This wasn't my greatest post, but I did what I could.)

The Matter of Britain

Also, got an incredible idea for an intro post. It involves some Sigur Ros. It fits, trust me.

The Matter of Britain

Done. I mean, I've done what I can on that one to fix it, edited parts of it out to make it more sensical (some bits were retarded, even with my shitty knowledge of the Vikings).

Halvar is essentially a typical Viking, but with a little more intellect. I wouldn't say he's material to become a King in his own right, but he could become a Lord, perhaps through methods that are a little underhand. He isn't just brutal, he has a very razor sharp approach to people.

The Matter of Britain

Basically, I had not much to go on I'm afraid- as aformentioned it was quite vague, I'm glad you picked these out, this will all be fixed.

The Matter of Britain

Vague CS- this is not the final product. This might, or might not work- essentially, Halvar will be playing a role in consolidating perhaps a new age of Viking raids on Britain, starting with finishing up the job in Manx.

Name: Halvar Dyras Sigurdsson
(OOC: Could be known as "The Serpent" to the residents of Manx, for a particular act he might do.)

Age: 31

Appearance: Halvor looks very contrary to many Vikings of his era, perhaps being a little more eloquent than most, though of course, more rough than any Romano-British soldier could be found. He keeps a short head of blonde hair, shaved almost, being very contra to the usual look of many Vikings, with long flowing hair. This is a rather personal, and painful choice to make, being something that perhaps he prefers in maintenance. A pair of Nordic blue eyes, and a thick, yet somewhat well kept full beard reinforces the point- this is a Norseman, through and through. He stands at about 6"4, and whilst not being the largest of his compatriots, can wield a two-handed axe with fairly good ease, and a Crossbow with significant talent, as he is fairly stocky. In most meetings, be it trade or war, he can be seen wearing an almost full suit of chainmail, over which he wears a red and blue shirt tunic. While being very heavy, many Vikings such as Halvar are able to fight effectively with them on, and it goes up the whole length of the neck, with a Viking helmet (NO HORNS, GUESS FUCKING WHY?*) and fur overcoat joining them. A two-handed Norse Axe is his weapon of choice, with a iron blade that has seen many an opponent felled like a tree trunk. A shortsword and blue and red wooden iron-reinforced shield sit on a holster on his hip and back respectively, the two handed axe incompatible with the two due to their size. Otherwise, he can be seen wearing a blue-dyed woolen tunic when on ship

Culture: Norse

Religion: Norse Paganism

Backstory: Born in the southern realms of Norway, Halvar was brought up in the old ways, the Norse way. His father was a raider and from a young age, he often was taught how to fight, how to hunt and how to read runes, as well as how to help sail a Longboat- from working on the rigging to helmsman duties. He was fairly clever, and whilst not the strongest or the bravest of them all, he had a sharp mind, a mind that did not dreamed but realized. Blood wasn't a scary sight for him. He embraced it quickly, and at the age of 16, took part in his rite of passage, joining his father on an expedition to the western coast of Alba, to raid monasteries and the riches that the Celtic Monks had set up along the fragmented coast. Whilst Scotland was not the glory days of Northumbria, with the tales of gold and immense treasure of false Gods that had been taken, it was a way of subjegating and harassing the mostly disorganized locals, whom on Halvor's first trip, showed far more resistance. He lost his father on his first expedition, and the only thing that ever avenged his loss was perhaps seeing the raiding party's Jarl ordering the murder of the whole population of several Pict fishing villages, of which he took part in. Despite the loss, he returned home remorseless and willing to continue where his father had began him, hungry for the taste of more. He stayed at Orkneyjar, at the Viking garrison of Lerwick, learning of the Celtic cultures from the librarians, perhaps something different to what he had been usually entailed with as a fearless and brutal warrior, whilst trading and often becoming a raiding leader on the West Coast of Scotland. He picked up the language, of those who lived in Fortriu and Del Riata, the Celtic tongue being foreign yet somewhat maintained whenever he has had the opportunity to help trade- be it slaves or iron. While he despised the language, he valued it's importance in dealing with certain disputes. Further raiding parties on the Western coast of Scotland, particularly around Skye and Arran, followed, against Pictish tribes, with slaves taken and trade followed with other Viking civilizations, with Halvor's leadership bringing him about as a key individual to profit from this. He returned home at the age of 26, to find much of his homeland in turmoil. One particular chieftain, Harold I Fairhair, had begun a rallying call to bring the Norse kingdoms together. The bands of isolated Viking parties was in itself, threatened, and Halvar joined him, his own village itself already aligned to the unification of South-Western Norway's fledgling kingdoms.

Four years ago, at the Battle of Hafrsfjord in Eastern Norway, Halvar proved himself a worthwhile and loyal asset to the Norwegian king, who began to unite a fragmented Norse influence, in his home country and across the waves, on the British Isles. It was part of the reason that Halvor earned the title of Huscarl- a personal guard, and elevated in status as the King's personal guards, and more the point, a leader of a group of Norse foot-soldiers under his command. The King immediately sent him to the British Isles with around 100 men, to act as a raiding party. Succeed, and Halvar would obtain a Lordship for whatever he conquered on the Emerald Isles, his knee bent to the Norwegian Empire. Fail, and see Valhalla....it was a true way to deal with things. Halvar is based from Manx, to this end of conquering and capturing, swaying the local King, . To become a Jarl, now that was an aspiration for a lowly warrior, and it would be glorious. The north had been forboding, and few treasures and riches remained. But Cornovia and Gwynned were still available for the taking. And of course, convince the now Viking-ruled Kingdom of Manx to become a Norwegian asset, back to the homeland, as a part of an Empire. Swords were not the only way of achieving that, but in this period, Halvar is aware that any turmoil he brings will need to be followed through with lethal force.

*Find Rage Here.

The Matter of Britain

I'd love to be in for this. Save me a spot, as a Norse Huscarl.

Running with the Wolves (kingkonrad and Enalais)

Scott looked to her, looking around, just knowing she was blanking, lapsing out. It was a shock to the system. Something felt bad about this. Maybe the police had the place swept up. But they couldn't go to them. Not after this. It was something deep within his head. It would be needless. Too much questioning. He didn't want her to have blood on her hands, just protection. But even in this fragile state of mind, things became clearer. These people would hurt a lot of people to get to him. And while defeat was something that could be a nerve of thought, giving up and letting them have him, it wouldn't be right. There had to be a reason. Only then, would he figure out what he was going to be needed for. Perhaps they didn't expect this. The police had closed quickly, and while they had most of the area sealed, Scott could guess that getting out of there was the only choice they had. He knew she had to be scared, but he knew that perhaps, this nurse was his only hope.
"Alexis...I promise, whatever it is that is happening, it'll make sense in my head in time. They want me, not you...but they'll kill anyone to get to me. I need to know why, I don't know how I know this, it's just confusing." He just said, throwing the AK on the floor, and embracing her, hearing a distant siren.
"You said two more halls?"

Moving out into the carpark, running through the door, he looked around, aware that her Makarov was also down too. Perhaps they'd find fingerprints on it, Scott knew that wasn't the priority. This was bigger than police, and right now, he didn't want to go into a cell. He needed to get away from this place with her, somewhere quiet, think this through. Then act upon it and plan his next move. People wanted to kill him, and worse still, he had not a clue what the reason was. All he could say for sure was, that the Arabic, the nature that they came in, it flashed a memory. Bad ones. Almost blinding in his head, like it took some momentum away. But his mind continued to process, to make sure he could save himself and her in this moment.
"Which one's yours? I don't have a clue where we are....we should try and get away from here. I don't think we can go to the police on this one. It'll put you at risk, more than I already am. I'm sorry, Alexis. Shit...I don't know....I just can't let them take me, or it won't be good at all for anyone." He said, following her, scratching his head, Scott confused as he still stood in his patient's garnment, aware that it wasn't good for the cold but it would do for now.
"They can't hurt you if I can't help it...Alexis. Just trust me...I beg you, just let me get my senses back." He said, his words becoming easier to say as he began to at least think it through, looking to her as they were about to get into her car.
"You need to tell me what happened when I came into here."