Some backstory on my two sides

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Some backstory on my two sides

Postby Battle Hardened Fox » November 18th, 2016, 2:30 am

Let me start this new intro with a story of two (fictional) men...
Over 100 years ago, in Europe. World War 1, 1916. Two men, radically different but with the same fate and same future.
A young German, Gottfried Fuchs, was preparing for his first run into no man's land. A young man, just turning 17, pressured into sneaking into enlistment to fight. Father was a pastor and mother was a nurse. He was deeply religious, and never wanted to fight anyone or hurt anyone. He found his calling as he wanted to be a field medic to help his countrymen, and to save their lives. His parents pressured him, and so did his friends.
He had a good childhood, he went to church every Sunday and helped whoever needed it. He never hurt anyone, and always forgave. He saw the good in everyone and wanted to help everyone, even if they didn’t deserve it. Being the son of a nurse, he learned much about first aid and treatment. His mother taught him how to deal with scrapes and cuts, all the way to deep punctures and broken bones. His brief time in medical school taught him more and expanded his knowledge on it.
He never worried about going hungry, or being labeled as "stupid" as he had a proper education. The worst thing he has ever done to somebody was lie to his father when he dropped a bottle of alcohol on his shirt and blamed it on their cat.
He looked over the trench, peering into no man's land for the first time, his brow full of sweat, his hands clammy and his boots shaking. He was to follow the men after they climbed over the top.
On the other side of no man's land, a French soldier was readying for his journey into no man's land. Hervé Renard was part of a "trench cleaner" squad, the guys that charge into the trench and clean up the "mess" in there.
Hervé was never a good guy, well he was, but if you saw his written history, you wouldn’t believe it. Having lost his mother and father in a bar fight when he was 7, (fight was over mis-labeled wine. Not being racist there but his parents loved the drink.) Having to live in a orphanage and being bounced around from home to home, he ran away at age 13.
He never liked to hurt anyone, but he did what he can to live. Lying, stealing, fighting, and even cutting off a woman's fingers once so he can have a hot meal. Whatever bad he did, it never stayed on his mind. He shrugged it off and continued what he did best, survive.
He had no proper education, but knew how to read and write, quite professionally I might add. It pays to be a good con artist. Anyway, he kept up his act for a good chunk of his life, before being arrested at the age of 24. He soon escaped his cell and accidently ran into a truck full of new army recruits. Seeing fighting in the war is a better solution than rotting in a cell, he stayed with it.
His peered over the trench, a small smirk went across his face. He saw the barren waste, he picked where he can run to and where he can hide in to avoid the gunfire.

Both of the men, they waited, and waited...
Soon, their officers blew the whistles, the artillery was fired, both armies charged. Hervé and the French climbed the trench, Hervé carried his grenades and trench knife in hand, he never liked using guns except for his small M1911 he stole from an American. His dove behind a crater as the rest of the army ran into incoming machine gun fire.
Gottfried sat beneath a ladder as he saw his fellow men run into death, he just covered his ears as he heard the shells and hail of gunfire go over him. His officer blew his whistle again, signaling the other men to climb over. Grabbing his kit and Luger, he quickly climbed the ladder, only to quickly dive behind a small hill made of dirt and mud, barley giving him enough cover, but enough so it'll be hard to spot him.
Hervé took a breath before running out of cover and towards the German lines, he heard the bullets whistle past him but he didn’t care, he loved the rush of danger, of death. He lobbed over a grenade toward a small group of German soldiers behind a destroyed tank.
Gottfried held his breath then peeked out from his cover, upon looking up the first thing he saw was the gibs and blood launched towards him from Hervé grenade. Blood covered his face and uniform, his first instinct was to scream, and he did. The volley of gunfire from the Germans masked it, he hide again behind his cover.
Hervé smiled as he saw the explosion, knowing that it was a few men less he would have to deal with. He got up so he can get even closer. He attempted to run to the other side of the tank, only to have a bullet rip through his leg. A clean sniper shot, he screamed in pain as he fell down. He quickly got back up and hobbled to a crater, before falling in. He groaned as he laid down in their, the mud and dirt landing on him as the shells landed right near him. He kept pressure on his wound, blood still poured out but it seemed to slow down. He looked around, no French medic in sight. He wanted to scream out for a medic, but every time he did, a explosion would block out his call. He kept trying and trying..
Gottfried cowered behind his cover, praying silently as he regretted going into this war. He covered his head and hears, and curled up. He rocked slowly on the floor as he laid there. That is until he heard a scream, a unfamiliar scream but a scream for help, a call for help. Almost on instinct, he stopped immediately and looked around, he saw the top part of a helmet stick out from a crater. He listened again for the scream and there it was, from the crater. Grabbing his kit, he quickly ran to it, and dove into the crater.
Hervé saw as Gottfried landed in front of him. Happy at first at a medic was at his side, but it quickly turned to fear and anger as he saw it was a German medic. Gottfried saw him and saw his leg was wounded, and he appraoched to treat it, but only felt the cold metal of Hervé's pistol against his head, he backed away slowly as he saw the French man aim his pistol at him. Gottfried raised his hands in surrender, before pointing to his kit and to Hervé's leg, signaling he can help him.
Hesitant, Hervé knew he wouldn’t live if he didn’t get treated soon, he lowered his gun. Gottfried quickly opened his kit and began to treat the leg, checking for the bullet and cleaning the wound. The battle raged on as Gottfried treated Hervé, enemy helping another in this time of war. Gottfried knows he should kill Hervé or leave him to die, but his promise to help those in need, his need to help those, even if they don’t deserve it, he didn’t wanna have someone's blood on his hands.
Minutes felt like hours as triage was performed, Hervé in pain as dirt kept going into his wound but Gottfried kept cleaning it. War waged all around them, the sounds of battle seeming to get louder then quiet, then louder again. Gottfried kept telling Hervé comforting things, even if he couldn’t understand. He said it in a way to calm him down, to make him feel better.
Hervé understood what he was trying to do, he would reach over and cover Gottfried whenever he heard a shell come close, shielding him. Gottfried kept pushing him away when the shell landed, he knew it wasn’t gonna hit them that time.
After a agonizing 2 hours, Gottfried treated his leg, it still had a hole, but it was treated and bandaged. Hervé gave Gottfried a smile, a genuine smile, one he hasn’t gave in a long time. Gottfried looked at the Frenchman, smiling right back. He reached over help him up...
Briefly forgetting that the gunfire was still going on, a German Sniper saw the bloodied Gottfried and thought he was a french soldier.
A bullet tore through his neck. He held his wound as blood spewed out between his fingers, he gasped out, trying to scream. Hervé got covered in more blood as Gottfried fell infront of him, Gottfried's eyes peered at him and stared at Hervé the whole time he was on the floor. Hervé reached over for his medical kit, but by the time he did, Gottfried died from blood loss.
Hervé, now mad and full of rage, stood up and looked around, unsure where the shot came from. He pulled his pistol from the dirt and aimed it, moving it around to try to find who shot the bullet.
From the french trench, a machine gunner scanned the flat ground, before seeing Hervé. He couldn’t tell if he was German or French.

A hail of bullets came across no mans land, most of them hitting Hervé all across his body. His body peppered in bullets from his own country, he fell to his knees before looking up, then falling back. His head landing on Gottfried's torso.

Both soldiers, both who knew what their duty was, both who disobeyed what they were supposed to do. Hervé was to kill Gottfried and the Germans in the trench. Gottfried to leave Hervé and treat his own countrymen.
Both soldiers being the backstory to my name, to a metaphor for how my personality can be.

I can be either as helpful and forgiving as Gottfried, or as uncaring and merciless as Hervé. Fortunately I'm more like Gottfried.

I wrote this because I was bored and wanted to show the back story to Demente and Holy. Holy being Gottfried and Demente being Hervé.
I always picture these two as a devil and angel figure for me, the "good" and "bad" side of me. For what makes me make my decisions sometimes. While I wont use these two as a excuse for what I do, I just think it’s a fun and interesting idea to compare my choices to what these two are.

These two characters are fake and I choose the name, I don’t know if they were real peoples names. The pictures are of real people though, just I needed reference for how they looked like in WW1.

Im sorry if this doesn't go here though, I just wanted to write some backstory, as I have mentioned these two before on Skiver.

My name is Battle Hardened Fox, a WW1 and WW2 history lover, and one of the younger Skiver's on here. Im a nice guy, but I can be sometimes split on how I act depending on how you are to me. I used to pitiful guy and all that but I fixed myself. I am now better and I look at things more optimistic now. If you ever need someone to play with, add me on steam! My name isnt that hard to find, heh.

Also i havent written anything in a long time so dont criticise me too hard heh, I mean I only used to write Fanfictions .3.

I hope you all have a great day :3
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Everybody out of my way. I got a hat full of bomb, a hand full of penis, and a head full of empty.
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Re: Some backstory on my two sides

Postby crazie » November 18th, 2016, 9:14 am

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