((for when the time comes for someone new to replace the dead))
Name: Hans Erikson
Nationality: Norwegian
Description: Hans stands at 5'5" and weighs 77.6 Kilograms. 24 years old. His build is slight, yet athletic. He has a shock of blonde hair which is usually unkempt and sometimes covers his hazel eyes. His skin tone is extremely light and his complexion is bad. Due to an incident described in the background, he cannot speak and his breathing is raspy/gravelly. He's a Up-And-At-'Em kind of guy and he remains relatively upbeat when faced with unconquerable odds.
Background: Hans was young when he first saw an aeroplane. Ever since then, he's wanted to be a pilot. He got his chance in 1912 when the RNoAF was founded. He was the best flyer in his class and soon became the first ace of said class.
Four years into his training, he was called down to the R&D building to help develop an incendiary bomb to combat a new threat; the Blight. Whilst he and one of the other developers were debating on a timer or free release mechanism, it went off; it sent flaming magnesium literally everywhere. It sparked fires wherever it landed creating a raging inferno. Hans was just on the outside of the blast radius and, as such, escaped the worst of the blaze. but, he was still far away from a feasible exit. Smoke filled the room. he scurried out through some of the weaker flames to get outside to the fresh air. He made it out and was treated for minor burns and small lacerations. He could no longer speak, as the hot smoke destroyed his voice box, leaving him with no voice and a rasping breath.
After he was released from the hospital on January 7, 1917, he spent a little time recovering. When he heard about Australia being essentially wiped from existence, Hans volunteered for a spot on the Green Squadron. He was rejected the first time. His second time, however, he was not turned down.
Waitlisted!
He would get up, and try to help the cadet to his feet. best to get him to whatever bunkroom he belonged before a officer got in.
[3] You escort the cadet out of the bar, before he embarrasses himself further. You guide him back to where you think his quarters are, but it's hard to be sure from his directions, given how hammered he is. Still, there's no one about and it's full of empty beds, so he's soon fast asleep set down on top of one, or at least unconscious.
The night is warm and dark outside, and filled with the song of cicadas. A small cloud of insects surrounds every light source in sight outside.
Author
Topic: Apocalypse Pilot Academy [Mission 1: Operation Matchstick] (Read 11269 times)