Age: 25 Gender: Male Ethnicity: Bulgarian Rank: Captain (Military Police) Birthday: March 10th
Physical Appearance: There's nothing very particular about Marko's appearance at first glance. Standing just short of 6'2'', his height makes him distinguishable, but other than that he's rather plain looking, as he doesn't have a large build to match his height; though he is toned, he's relatively slender otherwise, his weight roughly in the region of 176lbs. He has very dark, very sleek hair that reaches his chin at its longest part; slicked down, it would be unusual for his hair to be stuck up or out of place. His eyes are actually a hazel colour, but in certain lights, have more of a dull, greyish hue to them, and his skin, slightly marred from bumps and scrapes and the like, earned over the years, is lightly tanned, a pale olive colour.
Distinguishing Features: In Marko's eyes, were one to look for long enough, they'd see little emotion; most of his emotion is shown by his expressions themselves, whereas his eyes tend to be blank. His facial features are also quite angular, particularly his prominent jaw line, large nose and heavy brow. Both his ears are pierced, but he rarely wears anything in either ear (unless he can get away with it).
Personality: Some might describe Marko as a prime example of bipolarity. Whereas he has his notable mood swings, they would be highly exaggerating. If someone were to meet him for the first time under normal circumstances, they’d likely find him to be generally polite, albeit in an off-hand manner. He doesn’t seem to say much at first, which can make him seem stoic at times. Of course, there are certain deciding factors that can change first impressions from the norm considerably. If he doesn’t like the look of someone at first, it will be quite a task for him to like them at all - thankfully, this is a rarer occurrence than one would think. The typical outer shell of impassiveness, however, is not one that is hard to crack. Once Marko has warmed to someone, he’ll be happy to let them see the cheerful and friendly - albeit often peculiar - layer beneath. He has an eccentric way of thinking; he can be known to question the most tedious of things, like why the sky is blue, or why certain foods taste the way they do – yet he's normally just questioning himself in this regard. However, when it comes to people, warming to someone and thoroughly trusting them are poles apart in his eyes; it takes a surprising amount to gain his trust, but he’s dedicated to any that do. As a child, he was poorly behaved and a bully to others around him. Incredibly, despite all of the maturity he did get, these are traits that have stuck with him. He definitely has a tendency to pick on people, although his means are quite varied. To friend and foe alike, he’s the type to get a kick out of messing with others’ heads. Unless it’s clear he hates someone, though, it usually isn’t done with spite, though he likes to give bad reasons for doing so, too. He mostly just does it for attention. Any slyness about him is also rather obvious. Outwardly, he’s also a very proud and boastful guy, arrogant and headstrong. This likely stems, funnily enough, from an inferiority complex of sorts. He thinks everything he does is fantastic, and that the world revolves around the oh-so-wonderful him. He thinks, hoping that eventually he’ll have reached the point where he believes it, or it manifests, or both. The best way to get on his bad side, therefore, would be to spurn him, or point out particularly weak points. This would be at one’s own risk, however. He’s irritable, and pushing the wrong buttons can invoke a nasty temper in him. In spite of this, he’s strong, both physically and mentally. Even if it doesn’t seem possible, he can endure a lot just by gritting his teeth and bearing it. He’s the type who can’t see failure as an option. And if he fails at anything, he’ll make up an excuse as to why it wasn’t really a failure for him, whether he has to explain it aloud, or just tell it to himself. That isn’t to say he’s completely hard-hearted, though, by no means. He adores children and animals and flowers and is actually pretty sweet and loving if one did happen to get on that side of him. The fact is, if one were to tease him about having a soft centre, he would probably get annoyed.
History: Marko Iliev, son of Veselin Iliev and his wife Aleksandrina, was born in a poor town within the confines of Wall Maria. A relatively average boy, he had an eye defect that, though it continued into his teen years, had little affect on his life otherwise. But there was one glaring issue Marko did have, and that was his terrible behaviour. An initial growth spurt had made him stand a good amount taller than the other kids around town, and he instinctively picked on them, whether it was telling them what to do, stealing their stuff, or just typically beating them up (with the latter, he got into a few fights when the other kids would fight back). His parents were at a loss for what to do with him other than scold him for it and hope he'd grow out of it... Of course, the way Marko acted left him with very few friends. He did have one friend that stuck by him, though - a boy of a similar age to himself, Mihai Ionescu. The two of them were practically inseparable for the majority of their childhoods, sticking side by side and messing with the other kids (it tended to be, when they worked together, that Mihai would be the one to start a fight, and then Marko would pitch in and finish it) or causing havoc elsewhere in the town (they'd managed to break a few windows using rotten apples before) together; Mihai was, in a way, like a brother to Marko... Which Marko guessed was the closest thing to a permanent family he could stick with... ...After all, Marko's mother died in childbirth (his younger sibling also perishing in the process). But, Mihai was still there for him. And not a year later, Marko's father fell victim to the plague that swept through Maria. But... Mihai was still there for him. Left orphaned and without a home to go back to, he had little choice but to join the army's trainees, not exactly wanting to spend the rest of his life out in the field or groveling on the streets. So, along with his friend, he did just that, signing up to the military. The two of them continued to be best friends throughout their three years of training, but this came to an abrupt end when the top 10 of the squad were revealed. Marko had made it, Mihai had not, which had lead them to both go their separate ways. Marko, able to choose from all three of the legions, decided that as he'd spent so long clawing his way out from the bottom, he'd take the easy road and be rewarded for the hard work he spent training - he joined the Military Police. Mihai, on the other hand, went to the Scouting Legion, and that was the last he saw of his friend. Marko was 20 when Wall Maria had been breached; though he was never on the front line, he was assigned to evacuate civilians from the affected towns, his own birthplace lost along with them. The loss of life in the military from that incident laid heavy on his mind for a long time; he'd never been too sure as to whether Mihai had been amongst them, or not. To this day, even after having gained the title of Captain, he still wonders if he made the right decision in joining the Military Police, whereas he could well have gone with his old friend to the Scouting Legion - after all, the right path isn't always the easiest. He can't exactly complain about the cushy life he's been given otherwise, though; playing cards, drinking and smoking when not on duty isn't something he can knock. When he can shake off the underlying guilt (which is easy enough until someone just happens to put into perspective the fact the Scouting Legion are actively face-to-face with titans on a regular basis, losing soldiers left and right), he actually enjoys the job.
Likes: -Yogurt: It's his favourite foodstuff. It's a shame dairy's so expensive... -Alcohol: The good stuff, mind. His drink of choice is rakija. Again, expensive stuff. -Roses: They're pretty and they smell nice. What more is there to add? -Getting his ego stroked: Really, what self-absorbed guy doesn't like this? -Money: And yet, he never seems to have enough of it... -Bossing underlings about: He likes the sense of superiority the captaincy gives him. -Pretty girls: Weak point, free for exploitation. Self-explanatory. -Tobacco: Even more expensive! Still, nothing beats a glass of rakija and a smoke. -Fixing stuff: It's a weird obsession he has; he likes to take otherwise broken things and make them work again. Dislikes: -Being spurned: One of his anger buttons, depending on the degree it's done to, anyway. -People touching (their) eyeballs: As a kid, he had bad eyesight, and so anyone doing this freaks him out. -People touching his stuff: Unless he gives permission, he'd rather people kept their hands off. This includes his equipment. -Losing: At card games, or chess... Or, in general, really. -Overly-hard work: He'll collect taxes and happily direct civilians about but he's grown too accustomed to not doing much else. -Food being too salty or too sweet: He can be a picky eater, in this sense.
Strengths: -Physical strength: His actual strength is decent. Not anything abnormal, but above average. -Intelligence: Again, he's not the most brainy person inside of Sina, but his mind is definitely sharp enough. -Resilient/Stubborn: He's not easily swayed, nor does he keel over without much of a fight. -Courageous/Not easily shaken: To the point where he'd be brave enough to face a titan without breaking a sweat, which some might perceive as recklessness. Weaknesses: -Actually reckless: He does tend to jump into things often without taking everything into account first; occasionally he'll step back and think things though, but usually it's head first. -Heavy-footed (not very agile): This is one of the things that let him down in training, and were he in the Scouting Legion, could well have cost him his life already. He's decent enough with 3DMG, but he's not particularly fast when on foot. -Not much of a team player: Speaks for itself; he's alright when in charge, though. -Easily angered: If the right buttons are pressed, pissing him off is relatively easy. So when his comrades are aware of these buttons, they're not difficult to exploit. -Soft-centered: Again, his strings are easy to pull - if you're a defenseless child or a cute lady. Fears: -Rejection: It's horribly cliché of a grown man, he thinks, but he's faced it before and has become wary of it happening again. -Failure: Particularly of the type that could cost him his job. He doesn't know what he'd do if he was released from the military. -Going blind: Again, something that would eject him from military service... But worse, as he's sure if this happened (the initial fear stemming from his childhood), he'd otherwise be useless, not even able to find a civilian job. Quirks: -Shakes his head to say 'yes', nods to say 'no': It's a habit, passed down through his family, who were from a strange part of the world, clearly. -Starts a lot of his sentences with 'eh': Or, 'eh?'; it's a sort of verbal tic, but it's more a pause he takes before he can figure out what he wants to say.
Roleplay Sample: [April 21st 1917; Lake Dojran, the Macedonian front]
When he had closed his eyes, it was late afternoon, and there had still been a pale light shining behind the grey clouds. When he had opened them again, it was pitch black. It seemed the blizzard had never stopped once. Neither had the shelling.
He wondered why he'd fallen asleep, seated on the trench floor, his legs crossed and his shoulders hunched over, hugging himself for warmth... Then, momentarily, he wondered how he'd managed to sleep at all through the noise. The barrage was near deafening.
Shaking the settled snow off his coat, Bulgaria rose with a stagger, his legs numb from the cold. With no source of light, he was forced to pat around the wall to get his bearings. There were no soldiers in the trench around him; those who were not on lookout were behind in the galleries, he expected... He hoped. Squinting, he looked up at the black sky above. It was difficult to make out what was bullets and what was snow. It was perhaps midnight, were he to take a guess - it was too dark to go looking for a watch or a clock of some kind - and the British had been firing relentlessly since the previous morning. It had come as a shock, at first. But that was natural - how often did open fire not come as a shock? Yet since he had last checked, only three of his men were wounded. It was both relieving and gratifying, to think that, whilst knowing that the shells were flying far overhead.
Perhaps England's aim was just abysmal. Or perhaps he was wasting perfectly good ammunition on purpose. Maybe he'd bored him to sleep - maybe his tactic was to bore him to death. Unlikely. He was there to defend what was his - his land, his people, his honour and dignity. The Entente's task was to break through the Balkans. His task was to liberate Macedonia. There was no room for error. Losing here would open the way for the enemy to enter Sofia. They would do it over his dead body.
When the hail of bullets ceased, it came suddenly, and as the silence filled the air for a moment, it was almost as if the battle was over. Cocking an eyebrow in both surprise and suspicion, he felt around for the trench ladder, and - beginning to get the feeling back in his legs - climbed, peering over the top, cautiously - though the likelihood of him being shot at was incredibly slim. He licked at his chapped lips for a moment, mulling over whether this was some kind of trick to lure his men out... Was England aware he wasn't hitting his targets? Perhaps he'd given up entirely. His mind toyed with the notion of victory for a moment... But he remembered he'd been told not to get cocky. Vazov's tactics were working almost perfectly, but if he got ahead of himself, he could mess up. That was normally his downfall.
Still, he narrowed his eyes, spending a while watching the other side of No Man's Land. So much so that, when they came, he was startled - if only because he was surprised he hadn't seen them first.
The first voice to break across the hissing northern wind cried backwards, towards the galleries. 'They are coming!'
And come they did - armed, in a line, fading in from the dark abyss of the other side; seeming to carry themselves without concern, without doubt, advancing over No Man's Land like Angels of Death. Interesting... So England thought he'd won, after all. How he wished he still had the capacity to smirk. He jumped off the ladder and went for the nearest machine gun, as the men departing the galleries upon being called forth would soon do, too. He was confident, he wasn't afraid of England or the Entente or the fact that they outnumbered him greatly. But his soldiers were naught but humans; naught but men incapable of suppressing this level of fear. He'd witnessed many officers abandon their uniforms for parade clothes and white shirts. All this time, they expected they would die. Yet their morale was superior. They were defending their homes, their families, their freedom.
He locked on to the other nation, aimed, and put his finger to the trigger. Silently, he thanked his men for their bravery.
Additional Information (OOC):
Name/Nickname: Bul/Yogurt Time Zone: GMT Contact Info: ask for my skype! Introduce yourself: i like butts
Have you read the rules? JAEGAR!!
...we lived in fear of the Titans and were disgraced to exist in these cages we called walls.
Hey guys! The Activity Check from November 2nd to November 14th is now officially CLOSED!
Also, the Military Police Ball Event is now up in the Events Section. Come to the Military Police Headquarters to dance with a date or unwind with some good ol' fashioned alcohol. The event lasts all through the month of November!