Private S. Nikitin

[Private Sergey Nikitin]

Name:
Private Sergey Valentin Nikitin

Occupation:
The army, naturally, with no choice given.

Age:
37

Allies/Axis/Neutral:
Allies. USSR

Physical Description:
There is nothing particularly striking about him. Well, maybe there wasn't, but you would be surprised how vibrant hazel eyes look in the filth of war. His hair is dark and scruffy and usually neglected. When he thinks about it Sergey will run a few quick fingers to smooth it out, but the lice are usually the ones to decide the styles. His face is unshaven but not quite bearded and darkened by grime. Just like everyone else.
His uniform is kept as clean as he can manage, but even that is becoming tattered and sullied.

Personality:
Sergey has grown increasingly distant in the months his country has been under siege. Stolen from his home and placed on the front lines, the 'soldier' feels cheated and wronged. Not to mention useless, as there is no real thing he can do to stop the assault. You will call him wispy, or at least heard it said, not too long after meeting him. The way he acts, like every little thing must be examined closely but with little effort, and the way he watches nothing, lost in his own consciousness. He seems oblivious to the things around him but is actually rather keen on most things. Most of the time and in the right scenario he has a good sense of humor, when he's not too busy being terrified or angry.
Courageous, in his own way and quick to follow orders. Sergey is not very happy when he runs into even an alley from another country, but he is grateful for their help when he does.
So he's slightly unstable and quick to enrage, but really a good guy to have as a friend, if only because he's more difficult to deal with as an enemy.

He speaks very little German, better English, and absolutely no Italian. The only oral language he needs to know is Russian, and all the rest are simple enough to understand. It's all in the uniform.

History:
Sergey was born in Novgrod, a small town not far away from the glorious city of Leningrad. He grew up there a happy child in a family of two other children on his father's farm. When he was seven, though, his father had a little fall, and was bedridden for three years. It was a broken leg, and there was no repairing it. Not properly, anyway. For the last two years of his life, his father was always gimping around, needing the support of crutches to get anywhere. He died of some kind of complications the injury provoked. Something to do with poor circulation, Sergey never meant to commit it to memory.

When he was fourteen, Sergey completed his education and began to work full-time for the farm. He had an older brother, whose job it was to lead as head of the family, but he was only sixteen. There was no way for him to support the family, so Sergey had to drop out and work for him. For two more years he worked hard in poverty, until his sister, one year younger then him, was married to a rich and elderly merchant. The man agreed to help support Sergey's family if she would be wedded to him, and they agreed. Sergey was able to go back to school and complete his courses. He dropped a few classes, feeling awkward and out of place, but continued his studies in literature, arts, and a few months in science. He learned what little he does of other languages from a friend of the family, who was very gracious to his mother, but also during his time in the army.

At 23, the Russian boy stopped working on the farm, and became employed in trades. The merchant played no role in this, giving the family an almost inadequate amount of money and never sending letters at Christmas, but Sergey was quick and understood just how to sell the materials.
For many years he worked this. He wasn't as prosperous as he would have liked, but he was awarded with a family for his efforts at 27. With one daughter and a suitable house, Sergey was living beyond the life he once had.
And then the war broke out.
With German forces invading from different directions, he was called away to defend Leningrad, a city not too far away. Before leaving, he made sure to send his family as far back as possible. They could be dead, alive or what ever. His wife could even be remarried, but that's unlikely. Maybe not. He wasn't always the most…faithful, sure, but what is a harmless flirt here and there.

So. Leningrad. A city of ruins, and here he has been for many months.

Picture: